It was raining.
Today's rain was a rare occurrence.
Bosacius slowly opened his eyes.
Sal Terrae rarely saw rainfall, despite being near the sea.
Every day at high tide, waves rolled up and crashed against the coastal rocks. When the moon's pull waned, they receded once more; by next day's sun, the remnants left behind were licked clean, leaving shimmering traces of salt scattered about—that was how sea salt came into being.
"Sal Terrae" was an interesting name.
In Hear the Wind Sing, there was also a mention of Sal Terrae: "Vos estis Sal Terrae." "Quod si sal evanuerit, in quo salietur?"—two tough, cryptic lines.
Haruki Murakami's reference to "Sal Terrae" could be further traced back to Matthew from the Bible.
"Sal Terrae" symbolized hope, so those two lines became clearer in meaning: When salt dies, hope and tomorrow are shattered, and thus humans seek out a new reliance, or, in other words, a new home.
But when summer's salt dies, what could replace it?
Nothing could replicate the salty bitterness of salt. It would be like trying to substitute a lost taste with something else—someone who leaves might never forget that taste of salt.
[Remaining Lifespan: 40 Days]
The closer he drew to death, the more strange thoughts Bosacius had. He needed to let his mind wander, or else the torment grew unbearable.
Rain pattered softly against the wooden beams overhead. Droplets struck the cypress wood with clear, crisp knocks, each becoming a tiny spray before falling one by one around Bosacius's window. Through that simple window, he could see the distant sea.
He had barely settled down here.
Sal Terrae was vast and mostly barren, nearly devoid of human presence—Bosacius's ideal grave.
Even in the remotest place of Sal Terrae, Bosacius chose the most isolated corner, nearly cutting himself off from the world.
He knew full well that he was a walking disaster, and he refused to drag anyone else into his mess.
No one would accept him anymore—he had long been an outcast.
Apart from secretly returning to Liyue once a month to devour Karma, he never left his hut.
And yet, there was a small consolation: in this long, grueling war he was fighting, he seemed to be on the verge of victory.
[Nuo Fu Progress: 99%]
Just one or two more rituals, and Bosacius could fully eradicate the karmic load in the Yakshas. Then he could leave with peace of mind.
He knew he could never have done it alone.
Gazing at the fine drizzle, his head grew heavy again; the Karma brewing in his chest was stirring restlessly.
In the thin haze of rain came a gentle singing voice—soft, blending perfectly with the misty shower, tranquil. Bosacius clicked his tongue, grabbed a bamboo umbrella, and stepped outside.
"Havria," he said.
He lifted the edge of the umbrella to peer up at the lithe girl perched in the cypress tree. She sat barefoot, her pale feet swaying in the threads of rain, the droplets tapping her skin—she had no umbrella, simply letting the rainfall wash over her while she softly sang.
"Bosacius." Havria leaned down a bit, head tilted, moving with the lightness of a cat. "Hello."
"I told you," Bosacius said in a low tone, "don't come looking for me."
Truth be told, he had moved house several times, and this wooden hut was not his first. But no matter how often he relocated, within a day, Havria always managed to find him.
That goddess—did she have nothing better to do?
"Your words are so heartless." Havria blinked her bright amber eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest in an X shape. "You shouldn't speak to a young lady like that. It's rude!"
"A young lady hundreds of years old?" Bosacius asked.
"It means I'm a remarkably experienced maiden," she said proudly.
"I said, don't come looking for me," Bosacius repeated, staring at her intently. His deep violet eyes had grown darker still, shadowed and grim. "Sooner or later, I'll kill you."
"I'm only here to sing. And you're a great listener." Havria kicked her white legs beneath the rain, making them sway. "Could you manage without me?"
Could you manage without me?
Bosacius wanted to argue, but he knew she was telling the truth.
Her singing held a soothing power. Merely hearing it calmed the raging Karma within him.
He should have gone mad twenty days ago—but thanks to the God of Salt's singing, he held on, continuing his Nuo Fu ritual.
Each time he approached the brink of collapse, Havria's songs would appear nearby, pacifying his frenzied soul.
"Have you considered," Bosacius asked, "that if one day your singing fails to suppress me, you'll be the first one I tear apart—the one who's right next to me, singing?"
He was blunt.
"That's fine with me. I believe you won't kill a talented, experienced, beautiful maiden anyway."
Havria cradled her delicate chin and gazed at Bosacius. The drizzle slicked her pure white hair.
"Besides…"
"You've helped us before; you once saved my life—even if you've forgotten. And I know you have something you must accomplish. I don't know what it is, but I'm sure it's a grand battle."
"Consider this returning the favor."
"Bosacius, you're in pain right now."
The God of Salt smiled:
"During the Archon War, I ran away. This time, I want to stay and help you. I am weak and powerless, but I want to help you, help Liyue win its fight. That's all I can do."
"You're responsible for saving everyone else. I'm responsible for saving you."
"A simple division of labor, right?"
Bosacius looked up at her. The rain intensified, weaving a gray tapestry between sky and earth. He tossed her the bamboo umbrella.
"バカ. Don't forget to use the umbrella on your way back."
That was his way of telling her to leave.
After speaking, he turned away and shut the door behind him.
He had barely sat down when the door creaked open again. The goddess walked in, soaked, her bare feet leaving wet prints on the wooden floor. She complained:
"Look at this downpour. My speech out there was so stirring and heartfelt—I was moved, but you still want to drive me away?"
What a fool, Bosacius thought.
Like someone running headlong toward a cliff, you tell them to stop, but the more you warn them, the more determined they become, proudly charging forward as if it proves their bravery.
Bosacius's face darkened with faint annoyance. He eyed her, realizing he really had no way to deal with this woman.
Technically, this was the God of Salt's domain. By law, Bosacius was the guest.
Havria walked further in, her footsteps soft. She slipped her damp legs under the heated table. She exhaled a few frosty breaths, rubbed her hands together, then tossed some coals into the furnace.
"Phew… It's so chilly with this rain."
The crackling firelight danced on Havria's elegant profile as she closed her eyes contentedly and murmured in a lazy tone:
"Bosacius, Bosacius, I'm hungry. Got anything to eat?"
"You're getting too comfortable," Bosacius sighed helplessly.
"A seasoned, beautiful maiden naturally needs food."
She continued,
"You should eat something, too, Bosacius. You keep thinking of yourself as a monster or some evil god, but you're not. You're just a human being, and humans have to eat. How long's it been since you shared a meal with someone else?"
How long…? Bosacius paused.
A year, two years… maybe ten years?
Ever since he started devouring Karma, he'd locked himself away in the mountains.
Truly no way to handle her.
"I've got no ingredients. Just… hmm, two sardines left. No seasonings, no pepper, onions, or garlic. I can't really cook anything."
He shrugged. "Your high hopes might be dashed."
"Sardines are delicious enough."
Havria smiled. She smiled constantly, her golden eyes shimmering with the furnace light. "Seasonings… well, I have some. I have salt."
She proudly produced a short ruler and a small jar, like a cat flaunting its stash of fish:
"This is the Salt Ruler, and this is the Salt Jar. Insert the Salt Ruler into the ground, and the soil can be covered with salt. From the Salt Jar, you can draw an endless supply of salt."
She joked:
"If I'm ever gone, these two treasures are yours to find. Make sure you do."
That was the first vow.
"Just sardines and salt…" Bosacius ignored her remark. "That's all?"
"Yep."
Havria nodded resolutely, amber eyes reflecting Bosacius's silhouette. Outside, rain blanketed the sky with pale lines, tapping out a steady rhythm on the eaves. Havria, still seated by the stove, said with a bright smile:
"Sardines and salt are enough. I'm easy to please."
Sardines and salt.
She was a strange one indeed.
Bosacius pinched a handful of salt from the jar, the tiny grains glimmering, and headed to the simple kitchen table. He scattered the salt onto the two sardines. The recipe was straightforward enough: slice the fish's belly, remove the innards (the fish was still fresh), then pack a thick layer of salt inside the cavity—this cut the fishy smell. He placed them in the furnace to let them rest and soak in the flavor, keeping the fire low so they wouldn't burn.
Havria rested her chin on her hands and watched him quietly, waiting patiently for dinner.
"It's done," Bosacius said.
Simple food—just salt and sardines, no complex seasonings, so pure it was almost terrifying. No muddled purpose or aim—exactly like Havria herself.
'You save so many, and I want to save you.'
Though they had only met a few times.
"It's tasty," she said, taking a bite of the tender fish. Supporting her chin with one hand, she smiled in contentment as her eyes closed contentedly.
Bosacius regarded her silently. After a while, he spoke in a hushed tone:
"Havria… if I really lose control, you have to run."
"Must you talk such boring topics while I'm eating?" Havria protested. "These sardines are so good—I'm not letting you go mad. I want more next summer, you hear?"
She said earnestly, "I believe you'll hold out."
I see…
Summer sardines were at their freshest, just like summer's sea salt. Indeed, it was midsummer now.
But there was one thing Bosacius had not told Havria.
[Remaining Lifespan: 40 Days]
He glanced at the Human Principles System panel.
Meaning that even if Bosacius didn't go mad, even if he overcame the Karma in his soul and everything went as well as it possibly could—he still wouldn't live to see next summer.
He had already begun sacrificing his own lifespan to perform the Nuo Fu.
The best outcome was dying quietly in forty days.
No one could save him.
Havria, however, knew nothing of this.
Bosacius stared at her. Sitting cross-legged by the heated table, the stove's glow gave her features a rosy tint. She gazed at him earnestly, telling him again, "You'll pull through," those golden eyes shining like sea salt gleaned from the wreckage of waves, glowing intensely in the furnace light or the bright summer sun.
"Next year in summer, I'll bring salt, you bring the fish. I still want to eat sardines," she declared, as if it were the most natural thing.
She was utterly sincere.
"Sardines and salt…" Finally, Bosacius let out a helpless smile. "Fine, you win."
"So it's a promise?"
"It's a promise."
Thus came their second vow—the vow of sardines and salt.
---
They formed an odd party of four.
Leading the way was Mr. Zhongli, who had broad knowledge of terrain and geography.
Flipping through maps and explaining ancient ruins as they went was Miss Wanyan.
Paimon stayed home to watch over Qiqi—so Qiqi wouldn't be accidentally buried again.
Zhongli and Wanyan wore normal enough clothes, but Miss Lumine looked rather peculiar: carrying a compass, gunpowder, a folding shovel, and even some black donkey hoof tokens.
Clearly, once Miss Lumine heard it was an archaeological expedition, she assumed they were grave-robbing.
Seino Yaku felt exasperated. Each vow he had to fulfill ended up more bizarre than the last: grave visits, exhuming corpses, offerings on a mountain, and now rummaging ancient ruins.
Sal Terrae wasn't an easy path.
It was an abandoned, lost land, its broken walls haunted by Abyssal creatures akin to ghosts and demons.
Zhongli served as overall guide, Wanyan as historical docent, and Lumine as their "tomb raider." Thus, opening the way fell to Seino Yaku.
[Hilichurl Chieftain]
[lv 40]
It was the first real battle for Seino Yaku's body.
After completing the previous covenant, he had inherited "some adeptal arts."
"Some adeptal arts," meaning three, specifically:
Breath Control – Channeling energy around his body, cultivating from novice to foundation, expelling impurities. This was the fundamental method of cultivation. He taught it to Qiqi as well—thus not cheating the little zombie out of genuine adeptal instruction anymore.
Talisman Arts – Depicting adeptal talismans, forming the "ranks of incantation" to vanquish enemies with charm spells.
Sword Control – Adeptal swordsmanship.
Now God Cutter spun in his hand as Seino Yaku lowered his stance, sidestepping a powerful swing from the Hilichurl Chieftain.
Rubble flew. Seino Yaku stepped forward, scaling the giant creature's forearm, channeling elemental energy into his sword. With a twist of God Cutter near the beast's bowl-sized wrist, he sliced the entire arm off in a gory spray. Another quick pivot and the Hilichurl Chieftain's head parted from its shoulders.
[You have defeated Hilichurl Chieftain, LV40]
More monsters rushed forth, claws skittering across the ground with ear-splitting shrieks, threatening to drown him like a tidal wave. Seino Yaku stood firm in their midst, the talisman in his hand dissolving into energy.
"Ha." The young man spoke quietly.
Geo energy surged outward.
Jagged pillars of rock burst from beneath his feet, row upon row of stone spires impaling the monsters. Blood sprayed. Through the forest of stone, Seino Yaku strode calmly, and with each step, God Cutter found the throats of any creatures in his path.
[You have defeated Mitachurl, LV23]
[You have defeated Rifthound, LV30]
…
[Seino Yaku]
[Level: 42]
He jumped two levels at once.
At last, all monsters lay defeated. Seino Yaku let out a slow breath.
"So amazing!" Lumine cheered and clapped.
She puffed out her chest with pride, placing her hands on her hips as if the glory were hers, shooting Wanyan a smug look.
Indeed, quite impressive.
Wanyan involuntarily nodded. She'd thought this journey would be dangerous, but Seino Yaku's clean and decisive sword skills had made quick work of it. Even Wanyan, who was brash enough to claim Morax had twisted history, couldn't help admiring him. Among all the people she'd ever met, Seino Yaku had the greatest prowess she'd seen—yet he was just a youth.
If only…
Wanyan felt her mind drifting to other possibilities. She held a special position: she was an official from Yinyuan Hall.
Its forebears were originally Sal Terrae's inhabitants, who—after the God of Salt died—sought refuge under Morax in Liyue.
Now, as a descendant of Sal Terrae's refugees, Wanyan believed she had uncovered the truth of her ancestors' demise. If she managed to expose Morax's wrongdoings, Yinyuan Hall might inevitably clash with Liyue's ruling powers.
They would need a mighty warrior.
Seino Yaku was strong enough.
But Wanyan shook her head with a wry laugh. Such events were still far off.
For now, the pressing task was unveiling the darkest part of history!
"I'm exhausted," Seino Yaku muttered, splattered with monster gore. He turned to Lumine: "Why didn't you jump in?"
"To give you some training," Lumine said while using a towel to wipe Seino Yaku's hair. "I was keeping watch."
"Idiot Lumine."
"Everyone," Zhongli interjected, halting their bickering, "it seems I've broken the seal."
He referred to a magical formation—a barrier.
Because of that seal, the deepest region of Sal Terrae had never been discovered.
Mr. Zhongli, learned in all manner of lore, had even managed to remove the seal from these ancient ruins.
With a rumble, this place lost to time for two millennia revealed its face to its new visitors once more.
"Three of you," Zhongli turned, calmly eyeing them, "before we enter the ruins, I wish to form a contract with you. Otherwise, I will not fully release this seal."
"A contract…?" Wanyan frowned in puzzlement. "Pray tell, sir."
"Take items in order, each person only one."
Zhongli studied her with an impassive face. "If there are ancient relics within, I hope you'll abide by this contract."
He added gravely:
"The one who reneges on their words shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock."