"Take items in turn, one per person."
A rather strange contract, thought Seino Yaku.
Mr. Zhongli must have had his reasons for laying down these terms... but that hardly mattered. As long as Seino Yaku could fulfill his pledge, that was enough.
Once the seal was lifted, what awaited them was a narrow cave passage.
The damp cavern dripped with cold water; droplets plinked onto glistening stone. Some fragments of rock emitted a faint glow—these were their only source of light.
The entrance felt cramped and dim. The four of them pressed onward along the wet rock walls. The deeper they ventured, the more the space opened up.
Without thinking, they all fell silent, their footsteps subdued, as if they had stepped into some forgotten kingdom.
Eventually, they reached the end of the cave. A somewhat dazzling light met their eyes, and the scene beyond suddenly broadened into view.
It was a lost world cast in pale blue.
A cold-toned sky, seemingly forever devoid of brightness; towering rock walls and crumbling ancient structures; below, a lake that stretched on infinitely, its still, translucent waters reflecting everything above.
Even the plants here were washed in that same pale, chilly hue. Pine trees clung upside down to the cliffside, their branches swaying in the breeze, casting dark, forlorn shadows. Aside from the thin layer of bluish moss underfoot, there was no other vegetation in sight.
This was a city.
An ancient city.
The true Sal Terrae.
Sealed off for over two millennia, this old metropolis at last welcomed fresh visitors.
Seino Yaku stood on a towering precipice, gazing out from the rugged heights into the ravine below, finally grasping the city's immensity. Row upon row of closely packed buildings spread out below—streets, plazas, alleyways—a glimpse of its former prosperity.
But now the dust of history had settled over that prosperous city, much like how waves perish on the shore and leave only dry salt behind. Like grains of salt from ages past, this metropolis lay old and lifeless, its vitality long lost.
"Look—look! I knew it!"
Wanyan's eyes shone with excitement, and if you looked closely, they were brimming with tears. Overwhelmed, she barely managed to speak:
"So the God of Salt truly held remarkable power; how else could she have built a city this magnificent... If only that sinful immortal Bosacius hadn't destroyed everything...!"
Time and again, Wanyan had dreamed of this city—this homeland sought for generations by Yinyuan Hall. Now it was real before her eyes. How could she not be moved?
A historian, after all, feels a responsibility toward history.
She bit down lightly, as though chewing on a bitter grudge. "If not for him, the Salt People wouldn't have ended up as Morax's vassals!"
A magnificent city indeed...
Zhongli gazed down at it, his golden eyes flickering with some complex emotion—perhaps a tinge of regret.
Miss Lumine, by contrast, indulged in no such melancholy or sense of historical duty. She was simply mulling over how many valuables might be hidden in these ancient ruins.
Money was tight these days.
Seino Yaku had spent a small fortune carousing at Wanmin Restaurant. Spring had come, and they needed new clothes... One only understands the true cost of living after running one's own household.
They might be wrestling with the grand sweep of history, but Miss Lumine was more concerned with the humdrum reality of paying for daily necessities.
This "archaeology" trip—well, tomb-raiding, actually—was her chance to fund the year's expenses.
But the route through Sal Terrae was anything but smooth.
"What are you scribbling now?"
Seino Yaku glanced back at Lumine, who was again rummaging out her battered copy of the Teyvat Travel Guide and a pencil, carefully jotting something on the inside page.
"A journal," Lumine replied without even raising her head. "A travel log."
"What normal person keeps a diary?" the young man teased.
Seino Yaku stole a quick look. The page was crowded with Lumine's neat handwriting—place names, details, everything recorded meticulously. She was traveling in earnest, indeed.
Sensing Seino Yaku's gaze, Lumine lifted her face, eyebrows knitting as her expression cooled. She gave him a nudge in the back with her finger: "Don't look."
What, not even a peek? That hardly seemed fair.
Seino Yaku sneaked a glance at a nearby puddle, hoping to catch the reflection, for he had excellent eyesight.
"'Third day of the Lantern Rite, went with Seino Yaku to... Mt. Aocang in Jueyun Karst. The mountain was full of wild lilies and dandelions—really pretty.'"
He read aloud, unable to stop: "'That idiot suddenly... picked me up, and I got really tim… really timi—? Hey, don't close it!'"
With a snap, Lumine slammed the book shut like a startled hare. Her gold eyes flashed with alarm—like ripples across a pool of scattered light—and her teeth clenched softly as she jabbed Seino Yaku's back with her pencil.
"It's timorous, you jerk."
Her voice was soft, head bowed as she poked him over and over with the pencil's cap. "Idiot, I got scared you'd randomly drop me... It's TIMOROUS!"
She repeated it for emphasis.
"That's timorous."
All that scribbling—he wasn't supposed to see that!
What a jerk. Didn't he know it's incredibly rude to sneak a look at a girl's diary?!
"Is that really the reason?"
Seino Yaku tilted his head at her.
A faint blush tinted Lumine's cheeks. She avoided his prying gaze. "Yes—it's timorous. Timorous."
"And you're still timorous right now?"
Seino Yaku could never figure girls out. Lumine turned her delicate face away, revealing the pale skin at her neck. She wouldn't meet his eyes. Beads of sweat crept along her jaw, sliding down to her collarbone. She looked overheated, and her ears glowed a soft pink.
This expression was the same as what he'd seen back on the mountain—so that had been fear, too?
"Yeah, I'm timorous," she admitted stubbornly. "Heading underground for a tomb raid—who wouldn't be scared?"
"I recall you vowing that you'd protect me no matter how dangerous things got. Looks like you're the scaredy-chick," Seino Yaku teased with a grin.
"Th—" Lumine bit her lip. "That's different. Completely different."
"Then don't be afraid."
Seino Yaku smiled and looked her square in the eye, his azure gaze clear as a lake. In it, he reflected the crimson tinge on Lumine's face:
"Doesn't matter how treacherous it gets down here. I'll protect you, Lumine. So there's no need to be afraid."
He was earnest, wearing an expression that said he'd handle it all.
But for some reason, she looked even more flustered now!
She turned her head away completely, as though refusing to meet his gaze, biting her lip as a flush spread across her ears and cheeks. Fine droplets of sweat trailed down her fair neck.
"That's cheating."
Her voice was barely a whisper, like a tiny insect's buzz.
"What?" Seino Yaku asked.
"You're saying what I was supposed to say." She kept her face turned away, lips pressed tight. "That... you're cheating."
"Cheating..."
At last, they reached the end of the ancient ruins.
They had faced Hilichurls and other monsters along the way, but Seino Yaku's talisman arts dispatched them all. He wielded the adeptal powers more skillfully with each battle, almost merging them seamlessly with his natural talents—a remarkable display for a body with such innate gifts.
Before them now rose the city's tallest structure—something like a grand hall. Zhongli explained that this was once Sal Terrae's seat of power, akin to Liyue's Jade Chamber.
A massive door loomed, three men high, badly rusted.
Its outer plating had mostly flaked away, revealing a reddened inner layer overgrown with vines. Some mechanisms guarded the door, but Mr. Zhongli easily disarmed them.
As gears groaned, layer after layer of rust crumbled off. The vines were pulled aside. The door screeched and finally rumbled open.
Inside, only rubble remained.
A long corridor stretched forth, culminating in a dais at the far end. Unexpectedly, the dais was nearly empty—just one simple clay jar, its interior half-filled with fine salt.
Seino Yaku's attention lingered on that half jar of salt, a curious feeling stirring inside him.
According to the vow, he needed to find a salt jar.
Surely, this was it.
"It's just a jar of salt...?" Miss Lumine sounded underwhelmed. She'd hoped for a bigger haul. "So the God of Salt wasn't exactly rich, huh?"
"Although it's just a salt jar, it's no ordinary one," Zhongli explained. "It's always half full. No matter how you tip it, the jar remains at half."
"Isn't that endless salt...?!"
"I'm claiming this."
Lumine's eyes lit up. She dashed up to the dais, picked up the jar, and hugged it protectively to her chest like a squirrel with a prized nut.
"I'll keep to the contract," she declared.
According to the agreement, they could only take one item each, in turn.
Wanyan gazed with rapt awe toward the depths of the ruins, almost entranced. "Endless supply... Indeed, the God of Salt's authority is formidable."
With every step she took, Wanyan grew more convinced that the mighty God of Salt had been assassinated by a traitor sent by Morax—and that Liyue's rulers had hushed up this dishonorable piece of history.
Pressing onward through another giant bronze door, they found a second dais. A transparent, sparkling ruler lay upon it.
"This is the Salt Ruler, another manifestation of Havria's power," Zhongli said. "Plunge it into the ground, and the soil becomes covered with salt, symbolizing a bountiful harvest of salt."
Compared to the bottomless salt jar, the ruler seemed more precious still. Its power was presumably stronger.
Seino Yaku thought so inwardly.
Yes, next came the Salt Ruler.
His vow demanded finding both the jar and the ruler.
"I want—"
"Please hand the Salt Ruler over to me."
Surprisingly, Seino Yaku and Wanyan spoke in unison.
Tsk.
This was trouble.
They both coveted the same relic.
Seino Yaku realized that to fulfill his vow, he needed the Salt Ruler. But Zhongli's contract was also binding. Seino Yaku hated the thought of breaking it.
Wanyan, meanwhile, refused to budge. Her gaze glowed with fervor as she stared at that radiant ruler. "If I bring this ruler back and show it to the people of Liyue, they'll realize the God of Salt's might... This is the proof!"
"Mr. Zhongli." Wanyan turned to him with resolute eyes. "Please grant me this ruler."
"You said yourself," she continued, articulating her point with scholarly poise—albeit twisting logic to her advantage—
"A contract is fair, and Miss Lumine and Seino Yaku are one group. They've already taken the salt jar. By our 'take items in turn' rule, it should now be my group's turn. Otherwise, it's not fair."
Her argument might have been somewhat technical, but there was a certain sense in it.
Still, Seino Yaku couldn't back down.
He had to fulfill his promise.
"Young man," Wanyan's tone softened as she addressed him.
"I think I've guessed your motives. You just want to use the God of Salt's authority to make money, right? You've already got the salt jar. You won't be lacking for funds now."
She cast a glance at Lumine—her gaze briefly resting on the small shovel at Lumine's waist. In truth, she had disliked Lumine's approach from the start but had held her tongue. What was this? A shovel? A compass?
What did they take archaeology for?
Did they care only about profit?
But as soon as it touched on the deity she worshipped, Wanyan couldn't remain silent any longer.
"My purpose is different," she said firmly.
A sincere light shone in her eyes—like a bright sunrise, both pure and lofty. She fixed Seino Yaku with a determined look, as though hoping to move him:
"I need the Salt Ruler. I have to take it back—it holds a critical key to the truth behind our history. As a historian, it's my duty to expose the ugly side of the adepti to the people!"
Her words were impassioned, but from the start, Seino Yaku didn't understand what she was on about.
He cocked his head, confused.
Money, missions, claiming she was different—did only she have the right to her own cause?
It made him feel as though she viewed him as worthless.
He also had a goal he couldn't forsake—the vow given by a friend.
Seino Yaku lowered his head. His pale-blue eyes revealed no excess emotion. He simply regarded Wanyan calmly.
Your mission has nothing to do with me...
You might think it's grand, but am I so inferior?
He'd already chosen to live carefree and unbothered by others' affairs in this lifetime. Why would he care about someone else's moral stance?
He hated being guilt-tripped most of all.
"I find you annoying," he told her bluntly. "I can't stand the way you speak."
The atmosphere turned frigid.
Breaking the deadlock was Mr. Zhongli's voice.
"You two," he said quietly, "please, no fighting. As Miss Wanyan stated, our contract is a contract, fair to all. The one who reneges on their words shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock."
"However, this is only my personal advice—to both of you."
"Sometimes, giving something up might gain you what you truly want. Likewise, if you yield now, what is rightfully yours will come back to you in time."
"But once you make your choice, there's no going back or second-guessing."
Everything fate bestows already carries a hidden price tag.
Miss Wanyan had no intention of taking Zhongli's advice. She needed the Salt Ruler, that vital piece of evidence, to prove to the remnants of Sal Terrae that the God of Salt was the stronger deity.
Seino Yaku looked at Zhongli and realized the man was eyeing him as well.
Those golden irises were serene as they rested on Seino Yaku, who carefully turned over Zhongli's words, trying to parse the contract's deeper logic.
After a moment, he seemed to understand.
It was indeed fair advice, just like the contract. With one statement, Zhongli had effectively given separate counsel to Seino Yaku and Wanyan alike. Part of it suggested that, for the one who needed something more, letting go might not be such a loss. And the other part implied that what truly belonged to Seino Yaku would remain his if he backed off right now.
The hint was clear enough—Zhongli was subtly telling them both to leave the Salt Ruler alone.
It was up to them whether to heed it.
For reasons he couldn't fully explain—some sixth sense—Seino Yaku decided to trust Zhongli. Strangely, they had only just met, but he felt an innate faith in him.
Where that trust came from, he couldn't say.
"About the Salt Ruler," Seino Yaku said, looking at Wanyan. "I'll let you have it for the time being. By the order we agreed on, it'll be my turn to pick next."
"Wanyan," he added calmly, "I hope you won't regret it."
He had a hunch that deeper in these ruins lay a secret even more significant.