Chapter 117: Emerald Green in the Rock

They were leaving that gray-white hell behind; the dusty yellow they had grown weary of for weeks had never seemed so lovely.

The ominous color, like weathered bones, gradually faded, which was undoubtedly a good omen, yet the length of the transition passage still exceeded William's imagination.

In his memory, the descent had taken only a short while, with the gray-white covering the entire cave wall, but the return journey now took far longer than the arrival, with stubborn, bristly, leaf-like white patches still clearly visible.

These irregular spots were distributed as if seeping upward, as though trying to assimilate and expand their own range; he even suspected that in some trend invisible to the naked eye, the gray-white was rising and would one day reach the surface.

It was impossible not to recall vitiligo, eroding the surrounding normal skin, and this land was already critically ill, with no knowing when it would spread from within to without.

Even if he was certain he would never see that day, the thought sent a chill through him and deepened his fear of the land.

He quickened his pace, moving closer to Kraft. To save torches, they had decided to light only one at a time; now it was Kraft's turn to illuminate the way, and this man's condition was far from good, leaving little energy to notice whether William was keeping up in time.

When the white had almost completely vanished from their vision, the two arrived at another dead end of chaotic rock folds.

"Wait, let me rest for a while." Handing the torch to William, Kraft sat down against the vertically wrinkled rock, shifting his position uncomfortably.

Pressing his knuckles against his temple, he slightly eased the tightly furrowed wrinkles; the headache had improved subjectively compared to before, but an uneven spot on his back was annoying.

He reached for that slightly protruding spot; the sensation in his palm differed from the surroundings—it was not a bulging rock curve, but a prickly, granular texture.

"What is it?" Kraft propped himself up and looked behind him. That was a third color besides the gray-white and dusty yellow: a faint, barely noticeable scattering of fine green, distributed like scattered crystal dots.

Because it was too fine, it was hard to notice in the torchlight, roughly resembling quartz grains in granite.

This was far too rare; as a color that was relatively striking and soothing to the spirit, green was hard to miss right under one's nose.

"Looks like some kind of mineral?" William leaned close to the patch of grains, rubbed them with his fingers, and licked a bit of the rock dust that stuck to him. "It's not something commonly traded, otherwise I'd surely recognize it. Come to think of it, the taste is somewhat familiar, but I can't quite recall it."

"I advise you to get rid of the habit of identifying minerals with your mouth sooner rather than later, or sooner or later something will happen." This action, which touched the nerves more than pain itself, severely disturbed Kraft's attempt to calm down, his expression of disgust twisting into a knot.

"If I survive today, I'll remember." William brushed the dust from his hands, chose a spot to lean against on the other side, and then discovered another piece of similar glowing green at his feet.

His boot carelessly covered it, wiping it from his vision; out of sight, out of mind. By now, William had already ruled out several gemstones he knew. Besides, with tomorrow's sun unlikely to rise, who cared about a mineral with no value even for collection?

"Rest a bit, don't worry about these things." He raised the torch to take over the guard post, allowing Kraft to get better rest within the limited time.

The latter had not stopped for a moment during the high-intensity activity, yet had not shown the slightest sign of reaching his limit. Such a resilient state of mind was like someone who, after bleeding half their blood away, still bounced around and claimed they could undergo another round of bloodletting therapy.

In William's view, the fact was simply unreasonable: Kraft's condition was improving at a visible rate. He soon released the fingers pressing his temple, his scattered gaze refocusing, and grasped the object in his sleeve before William's panting had even subsided.

"The next section is above; we can return to the mortal world." He took William's hand and pulled the captain up from the ground with considerable strength to spare.

This time, William learned his lesson; when the sensation of falling backward struck, he immediately closed his eyes, successfully avoiding visual disorientation, and waited on the spot for Kraft to light the torch and illuminate the stable environment.

They had returned; though in William's view there was no visual distinction, returning to the normal world still brought him great comfort, a sense of homecoming ease.

However, as they advanced, the changes around them grew stranger.

The previously unnoticeable star-like specks of green on the rock walls gradually increased, forming distinct angular blocks. Like sugar cubes rolled in dust, their edges shimmered with the bright color peculiar to crystals as the light source moved.

The reflected green light flickered on in turn as the torch passed, jumping out from the edge of vision like needlepoints, flashing unsteadily. As the tunnel merged with another ascending path, the green became denser, fitting the characteristic rich mineral deposits of the southern hills.

The cave builders, upon entering this place, did not pass straight through but crashed diagonally into this mine passage, expanding a parallel chaotic transition zone resembling intestinal duplication malformation before drilling back into the depths, leaving a space that looked ready to collapse.

Deep cracks requiring steps to cross densely covered the cave walls, interlaced like a spiderweb; piles of peeled-off rocks littered the ground, with cross-sections revealing abundant glowing green crystals.

Treading through required careful footing to avoid being cut by sharp edges, and one had to beware of slipping and falling into the rubble pile bristling with crystal clusters and stone corners.

William picked out a piece to examine. This mineral, resembling a gemstone, was brittle and soft, often broken and shattered, with some parts ground into light-green powder that trickled down as he lifted it.

The green crystals did not match any of the bulk minerals he recalled transporting, but these powders unexpectedly awakened some memories; he must have encountered them somewhere before.

He held it under his nose and sniffed; the dust made his nose twitch, causing several sneezes, but he detected no smell.

Seeing that Kraft was busy ahead and not paying attention to this side, William scraped a layer of mineral powder from the crystal surface and, out of curiosity, licked it with the tip of his tongue.

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This was an old method long tested. After all, minerals take many forms, and the products obtained from different collection methods are even more diverse; having an additional means of identification beyond appearance and touch was important. Insiders usually possessed some ability to make preliminary judgments through taste, though accuracy was another matter.

Of course, it was best not to do that on the ice plains.

"Pah!" William spat out the mineral powder in his mouth. A slightly astringent taste spread in his saliva, followed by a faint metallic rust scent; indeed, there was a bit of a memory, he must have tasted it before.

As he recalled, he walked upward along the half-collapsed cave. Meanwhile, Kraft stopped without warning and bent down to pick something up.

"Don't look; I think I've encountered this mineral before. Give me some time, and I'll surely remember." William stepped forward and took the object from his hand; it felt smooth and curved, completely unlike the texture of a mineral.

Although it was shattered beyond recognition, one could still see its incongruity with the surroundings; it was a material formed by firing clay.

The relatively uniform thickness and the remaining curved segment indicated it came from a larger whole, likely a man-made object. He looked at Kraft incredulously for an opinion. "A pottery shard?"

Kraft nodded in agreement. "The craftsmanship is quite good; it doesn't look like a clay pot for holding water."

"What does that mean?" William couldn't figure out how a well-made pottery vessel could appear here; his intuition had already fast-forwarded to an ominous premonition. Finding something unexpected here could never be a good thing.

The good news was that he soon had no doubts; not far ahead, the remains of a strangely shaped pottery vessel appeared before them.

It had fallen from a blackened stone-laid base; at least one-third of it was smashed directly upon impact, and the rest of the remains was further destroyed by falling rocks, basically completing the transformation of the quantifier from "piece" to "pile."

Judging by the remaining parts, there must have been a large bulbous belly and a... long neck? The hollow cylindrical part on the ground was one segment of this neck.

Considering its original shape in this way, aside from size, it was surprisingly similar to Father Adrian's curved-neck distillation flask; its bizarre structure was certainly not for a container used in normal daily life.

As the two approached, a sharp cracking sound burst forth under their boots. Kraft lifted his foot to check the sole and discovered it was not mineral grains but another kind of debris, hidden beneath accumulated dust.

He pried out a small piece stuck in his sole; it had broken the skin on his finger. "Glass?!"