"We’re technically closer to a town that’s usually called Dawn’s Grace, but it falls under a slightly special categorisation. It’s massive, but also rural, so it lacks the facilities we need to contact the court once the mission is done. We’ll have to spend a bit more time walking as a result, but there honestly isn’t much we can do about it."

Yin Long listened to Li Mei Yen’s voice drag on from his side, it was like buzzing that dug at the inside of his ears. Lan Yun’s gaze had made him accept their proposal and join their group, but now that he was actually walking with them he felt like it was the first time in hundreds of years that he was interacting with others.

Other people… did their words always feel so short yet drawn out? It felt like the sentence was over in a flash yet the echo of the words continued to bore against his eardrums for what felt like ages.

Other people… did they always look so scared to him, so weak and fragile?

Shen Sheu. Curly black hair that hung down to his shoulders, a roundish scar that covered and had removed his right eye, a slightly narrowed black left eye. A sword was strapped to his waist, his hand constantly resting on its hilt as he casually strode alongside the group.

He was afraid.

Was it ambushes? He constantly surveyed the surroundings despite acting casual, the gentlest flapping of a birds wings would make his eye quiver slightly. When a leaf fell and brushed against his shoulder, the scarred flesh around his right eye wriggled imperceptibly. He suffered from surprises, so he was afraid of being ambushed.

Ting Dao Goh. Short brown hair and a pair of crimson eyes, a tall figure that slightly contrasted with her youthful face covered in freckles. She walked proudly and strongly, two small hammers strapped to her waist.

She was afraid.

Was it stabs? Her steps faltered momentarily whenever she got closer to Shen Sheu, or more specifically, the sword on his waist. Each time the tip of the sheath hit the ground it looked as if her toes curled slightly. Her thighs tensed and her eyes darted once. Once in a while, she would reach for her hammers, as if to assure herself, but her hand would always brush against her abdomen and she would quiver once. She suffered from stabs, so she was afraid of sharp weapons.

Ho Dong. A thin frame held together by dark black hair and strong golden eyes, thin lips pressed tightly together beneath a nose that looked as if it had been broken more than a few times. A bow and quiver was strapped to his back, a shield tucked away beneath them. He looked vigilant, his gaze constantly moving to take in the surroundings.

He was afraid.

Was it betrayals of the heart? He tried to hide it, but he stuck closer to Shen Sheu than the others, each step he took he made sure to take a certain amount of distance from the two girls. Each time a bump in the road made them step closer to him he would purse his lips a bit tighter. Each time his gaze swept over them, a bead of sweat would form on his forehead. Each time he had to move closer for even the briefest moment, one of his fingers would drum against his side. He had suffered from betrayals, so he was afraid of women.

And finally. Li Mei Yen. Tall and firmly built, orange eyes that were slightly muted but still kept a close eye on everyone around her, dark green locks that hung down past her shoulders, a few strands hanging over her eyes. She too had a sword strapped to her waist, the sheath a bit too large for the blade, probably because she hoped to pull it out just a bit faster than her opponent.

She too, was afraid.

Was it betrayals, abandonment? A pace behind everyone else. A watchful gaze that lingered on their backs, making them feel as if she took care of them. But every time one of them left her view her eyebrows would tremble quietly. Every time one of them slowed down and ended up getting closer she would take another step back. An even pace, a certain distance. A watchful gaze. She had suffered from betrayals, so she was afraid of people.

They were all of them afraid, they were all but a single step away from crumbling. They had suffered, and now they were afraid, and thus their suffering continued.

Since when could he pick it out that well? Since when could Yin Long dig into other people’s trauma and fears so well? Was it the suffering he decided to carry on his shoulders, the vomit of prayers he had spoken for others? Or was it just a simple result of using the law of Yin more than ever before?

He couldn’t tell. Once again, he couldn’t tell.

But in this instance, it didn’t matter. He was already a blackish mass swirling with yellow, a sink and bowl made for all the wastewater of the world. Seeing a bit more from outside the sink wouldn’t matter, learning about the suffering he would bear before the time came wouldn’t make a difference. In the end, the wastewater would all find its way to him.

His gaze slid slightly, the droning that hammered against his eardrum echoing without pause, words and sentences flying by, becoming one and then separating without rhyme or reason. The droning became a subdued humming when his gaze finally stopped, landing on the girl walking right by his side.

A cracked smile that couldn’t even be described a caricature, a gentle breath that pushed him ever onward. Hair and eyes that dragged him down into his memories, a light that held him above the roiling mire.

She too, was afraid. She too, had suffered. She feared the blade, and she feared the light.

"Ah? Lucky, there’s already some prey."

A slight change to Li Mei Yen’s tone dragged Yin Long’s gaze away from Lan Yun, the mood hanging in the air had changed in an instant. Yin Long’s gaze rose, the surrounding trees and shrubbery finally becoming clear in those murky eyes. The thing his gaze landed on, the prey Li Mei Yen had picked out, was a group of people making their way through the woods.

There looked to be about ten or so people in the group, four of them stout men who were working together to carry stretchers filled with the dead. Well, as dead as the Netherworld allowed them to be, Yin Long could still see the suffering in those blank eyes, the hands reaching out for him despite the lack of any movements. They too, were suffering. They too, were afraid.

Other than the four doing the heavy lifting, the remaining members of the group seemed to serve as guards, a green cape adorned by a falling leaf hanging around their necks. They looked to rough to be villagers, too sharp to just be citizens looking to help these suffering souls reach a resting station. And indeed, Li Mei Yen’s whisper reached him at that time.

"Scavengers, that’s what they’re occasionally called. They gather up the bodies of the dead and bring them to their masters. Even in death, they can serve as excellent fuel after all. A falling leaf, that’s the mark of the Rising Tree Pavilion. Direct enemies of our court."

Since their group could see them, the reverse was obviously also true, the guards tensing up straight away. The air around them started to twist slightly, the familiar scent of Qi seeping out from them. It was too strong to be called a warning, too filled with the stench of blood to be taken lightly. Direct enemies, that part probably wasn’t a lie.

"Qi… I’m surprised that they’re even capable of cultivating down here."

The words slid out of Yin Long’s mouth without his own thoughts. This was the Netherworld, only their souls had descended here to suffer. Their bodies, their dantians, all of it was still up there, rotting in the real world. And yet, these people managed to cultivate. Had they delved into soul cultivation to make up for the lack of body? Had they altered their souls? Or was it perhaps external aid? Yin Long didn’t know, and perhaps he didn’t care, but there was someone who had heard his soft mutter, someone who knew a little more than him.

"Hmm, the leaf on their cloak is rather small so they’re probably just outer disciples, fresh arrivals. I doubt they’ve managed to cultivate a lot so that’s probably just the cultivation level that they brought down with them."

Li Mei Yen carefully scrutinised the opposing party, both sides slowly approaching each other with tense bodies, hands on their weapons. They would fight, both sides knew that, it was just a matter of who made the first move and when. But it meant little to Yin Long, who instead questioned the one who whispered to him.

"Brought down with them?"

Twice now, Yin Long had died. Both times his soul had fallen here, there was no way he could have brought anything along with him. It felt like a natural conclusion, but the gaze Li Mei Yen momentarily cast his way looked a touch dumbfounded.

"Yeah? You know, the cultivation they had back before they died? It’s not like it’ll just vanish when they descend. I can’t say I know why though, most say that it’s just so that people will have more desires, but its open to interpretation."

This was the first Yin Long ever heard of it, cultivation following you down here. He could understand it if it was him, he cultivated inside his soulsea after all. But other people used their dantian, they cultivated inside their own bodies. The Qi that existed there… it should never be able to follow them down here.

Would the same apply to him? The laws he cultivated, the Qi he once gathered in his soulsea, had it fallen down here with him? The first time he died he hadn’t been here long enough to check, and this time… this time he had been to focused on other things to check. The thought never even crossed his mind, it hadn’t felt like a realistic one.

"I’ll leave that one to you. You have a sword at your side so you should have some knowledge of fighting, but just bolt if you feel like you can’t do it."

Li Mei Yen’s voice reached him again as he sank into his own thoughts, dragging his mind back to reality, his gaze back to the front.

The two groups were already so close that he could almost feel the breath of the opposing party. In a moment they would strike, in a moment they would suffer.

The one she pointed at was a man who was already wounded, blood seeping out of some bandages that tied up the stump that remained of one of his arms. But strangely enough, this taller than average man had four arms, well, three now. Each arm was already holding a rather thin curved sword, a scimitar if he recalled the name he read once correctly.

The man was tall, but his dark brown eyes quivered slightly. He suffered from groups before so now he feared fighting multiple opponents.

Yin Long saw his own reflection in the man’s eyes. Ragged and worn, murky eyes that couldn’t reflect anything, a fractured face. He too had probably heard the whisper, a faint light of relief surfacing in his pupils. There was an end to his suffering, a pause to his fear. How joyous.

"Okay."

Yin Long’s response was simply, the lips reflected in those eyes barely moving. The more he looked, the deeper he sank into those eyes. There was a flash of tears, a crying man clutching a small bag as he roared. A flash of pain struck Yin Long’s abdomen, right where the man’s still bleeding stump was. Pain and suffering, how familiar he was with them now.

"Come, give me your pain."

He couldn’t even tell if he was talking to himself or to the man now, his feet bringing him forward as his hand landed on the blade at his waist. It was brittle, a few hits alone would be enough to crush it. But it had to survive, he had to protect it.

So he wielded it. The reforged blade, still covered in his own fractured reflection. Not even the cold light that the sun brought down could fix the reflection he saw, and not even in the reflection could the light enter his eyes.

Sounds reached his ears as the others in the group met up with their respective opponents. Or perhaps they were all fighting together, he couldn’t tell because he was focused on the man in front of him. The man slowly approached, holding his three weapons in a wide stance.

Left waist. The man had lost his lower right arm so that should be his weakness, but the man had made up for that weakness by lowering his arms slightly. But in doing so his left waist was left slightly open, just where the arm connected to the body. It would need to be a quick strike, precise, but it would do the trick.

"Ah…"

How long had it been since Yin Long felt this? A simple fight, blade to blade, quietly observing your enemy for openings. There was nothing to think about but the one in front of you, it was like looking at a puzzle slowly complete itself as you slid the pieces into place.

The man moved. Arms swung, blades cut through air. The scent of metal and the stench of blood. As the weapons swung, Yin Long saw his own fractured reflections. One in his own blade, two in his opponent’s eyes, three in his blades. Six of him, a thousand fractures.

The blades from the left came high and low, one aiming for his thigh and one for his throat. The blade from the right came at a middling height, it’d probably cut just beneath his ribs. Dodge one and be cut by the others, dodge two and get cut by the third. The man hadn’t fully extended his hands either, he was taking advantage of their length so that he could chase after Yin Long should he try to dodge back.

But there was space. For Yin Long, there would always be space, a gap.

His left hand rose, his right arm swung the sword upwards, his leg rose slightly. He imagined the sensation of Qi, pictured it flowing through his body. And it did. The Qi he was so used to flowed out of the section where his soulsea used to be and ran into his arm, into his sword. The fractured reflection was covered up by his Qi, the weak blade reinforced to withstand a clash.

His sword met his opponent’s scimitar and pushed it up, his other hand met the flat side of his opponent’s other scimitar and pushed it up. His raised leg found the flat side of the last scimitar and stepped on it, using it as a foothold while he raised his other leg.

An instant, enough to kill a man, enough to save a man. The three weapons continued on their path, but two of them went above Yin Long and the last one went beneath his feet, a quick and light step bringing him past it. The man looked a bit dumbfounded but then quickly braced himself for retaliation.

But nothing came, Yin Long’s blade did not cut through him.

Yin Long stood still in his spot, his arms lowering again. His chest ached, yet was warm. Three swords, it was the first time he had ever faced someone with three swords. If he studied him carefully, he would be able to find ways to make his own attacks less avoidable, especially when he used his special techniques.

When was the last time he felt like this? The desire to improve his technique, the desire to prolong a fight so that he could study his opponent.

He couldn’t help but think of the past. He did this a lot back then. Every fight was for this purpose, every movement. This was who he was, this was what signified him. This was what made him.

The man was confused, but didn’t waste this chance, raising his weapons and swinging out again. Two descending strikes and one stab, the scimitar wasn’t terribly suited for stabbing but it allowed him a bit of flexibility in his follow-up so it was a good choice.

Yin Long observed his movements, there was much he could learn here. For a moment, his chest felt warm again. The lump of coal floating in the darkness moved for just a moment, a few crack-like embers spreading across its surface. But as Yin Long observed the swords, he saw something.

That girl. Just a short distance away, looking at him with that crumbled smile of hers. Amber hair and brown eyes that seemed to look at him oh-so gently, oh-so encouragingly. As he looked at her, the hair on her head burned away and cracks covered her, verdant green light pouring out.

His skin burned, his blood boiled. His brain bubbled and hissed as it melted, skin crackling as it peeled back to reveal cooked flesh. Ah. Ah, this pain, how could he forget it? A doll fulfilling its purpose, the pain of failure. Ah, how horrible he was. As quickly as it had appeared, the green light disappeared, but the burning pain remained. It would always remain.

The embers that appeared on his lump of coal faded, the coldness returning to the void. The kindling remained cold and dark, devoid of its spark.

His body stiffened for a moment and then loosened up, almost helplessly. His Qi had followed him here, so did that thing too follow him here?

The man didn’t let up even as Yin Long showed the opening, he was wary so he maintained his attack. But as his weapons approached Yin Long, something burst out from his body.

Blood spewed out from his neck and back, momentarily forming a pair of sharp yet feathery wings that quickly morphed into a crimson cloak. But the cloak was a bit different from normal. It was no longer a clean and striking crimson, something resembling oil mixed with ash had become part of it. Yin Long had taken on the pain and wastewater of the world, and in turn it had marred his bloodline.

Their Qi and cultivation somehow followed them down into this hell, and it seemed like bloodlines were no different.

The hems of the cloak became sharp and jagged blades, like crooked fangs that gnawed at the world. The two crimson blades collided with one of the descending scimitars and the other blocked the incoming stab by pushing it aside.

As for the final weapon, Yin Long raised his own blade and welcomed it. The descending scimitar met the sword, which tilted just as they met. Sparks flew as metal slid against metal, the scimitar cutting down next to Yin Long once it slid past the tip of the sword.

And then, all Yin Long had to do was flick his wrist slightly. The tilted blade straightened and cut forward in a simple and fluid motion. Blade met neck and continued without pause. The man had four arms, but it seemed like his neck followed a standard human anatomy, at least there weren’t any bones in the spot that Yin Long had picked.

Head left body and blood shot out, Yin Long’s gaze never leaving the girl that looked at him with the same gentle look he was used to.

Ah. So he too was afraid. Afraid of her and of himself.