Chapter 43: The Salty and Fishy Land

"Do you know? They say there are underground gangs and such in here."

"I've heard of that. I've also heard of drowned ghosts slipping out of water prisons, and man-eating sea monsters crawling up from the sea at night."

Not far after leaving Elm Street, they soon stood before a cluster of less-than-pleasant buildings; merely seeing them from afar would make one associate them with rot and decay.

These gloomy-colored structures were mostly assembled from wooden planks, growing out of the damp lowlands, proliferating like colonies of fungi, spreading densely.

Rather than man-made objects, they resembled some kind of disordered, alternative life form. They constantly absorbed more small individuals, driving them to bring more materials, accepting all comers without refusal.

From formless reef rocks to wood of various shapes and unknown origins, all the city's leftover and discarded materials gathered here, stacked and joined in an amateurish manner.

The sole purpose was merely to form spaces barely capable of accommodating human habitation; beyond that, there was no energy left to think of anything else.

Over a few months or years, the already poor-quality wooden structures slowly and firmly changed in the humid air, bending and breaking along unreasonable lines of force.

The house owners had to find new materials and repeatedly repair these damages. Holes were covered with planks; for tilting, support structures were added outside. Neighboring residents often built their houses very close together, connecting them with short wooden beams to lean on each other, forming a more stable whole.

Because sufficiently thick and long timber was rare, houses had to lean against each other to a degree less than a strong man's shoulder width, so they could be connected by peripherals as dense as a millipede's limbs and disproportionate to the main body.

Even so, on land softened by seawater immersion and lacking a stable foundation, any effort was destined to be futile in the long run. The buildings would sooner or later tilt to one side under their own weight and lie on the ground.

Usable wreckage was utilized, and another short-lived building grew atop the ruins, repeating the fate of the former.

Under such planning logic, do not expect any normal roads; entrants must advance through the narrow, dirty gaps between crooked houses, where the narrowest spots require sidling through to avoid brushing against the sticky wooden planks on both sides.

Lu Xiusi lowered his head to avoid a wooden strip sticking out diagonally, its surface still bearing bark that hadn't been fully stripped. Kraft stopped at a fork ahead and turned to see if he was following.

"How are we going to get back later?"

Not long after entering the Salt Tide Zone, after turning a few corners, Lu Xiusi quickly lost his sense of direction. They had already bumped into several dead ends, frequently changing their direction of advance.

If they had come here with Li Si, they would have felt fear in this maze long ago, sensibly turned back, and avoided sinking deeper.

"I remember the way." Kraft pointed to his head; the path they had come was clearly imprinted in his memory. He traced the route walked in his mind, forming a map. "This position is about right. Let's ask someone first, then continue moving inward."

Circling a messy pile of scrap, the two found the front door of the building before them and knocked on the wet door panel.

A thin, dry man with a displeased expression opened the door. Seeing the strangely dressed visitors, he wiped his eyes, suspecting some hallucination had occurred.

"Hello, we are doctors. May I ask if you or your family have recently experienced longer sleeping hours or difficulty waking up?" Kraft inquired.

The thin man looked at the bird-headed man who claimed to be a doctor with confusion, not understanding why he was asking this question.

Out of a desire to get rid of them quickly, he still answered: "No, I am alone here, and such a thing has never happened. If you are here to sell some medicine powder, you have absolutely come to the wrong place; no one will buy it."

"Then have you heard of anyone nearby sleeping for longer and longer periods?" Kraft crossed this point off in his mind and continued pursuing other clues.

The thin man grew impatient with the aimless conversation, dropped a dry "I don't know," and hoped these two strangers would leave on their own without disturbing him further.

Kraft sensed his impatience, reached into his money pouch, took out two copper coins, and spread them on his palm. "I am not in the habit of having people help for free. Can you think a bit more carefully?"

The man reached out to take the money, but the hand wearing a black glove quickly flipped and clenched, gripping the copper coins in his fist, making them vanish from his sight.

"Please think carefully. Any news, as long as it has some connection, will do."

He could feel the eyes behind the red glass lens watching him; the money would not be produced until an answer was obtained.

A hand with long, black nails scratched his face. The withered man racked his brains, trying to find something from the chaotic rumors to exchange for the reward before him; there was no reason for him to let go of two copper coins that were practically given for free.

Moreover, this manner reminded him of the wealthy people with strange fetishes he had heard about, who were willing to pay money for things normal people found completely useless. Perhaps he could get even more money from that money pouch that looked very heavy.

"It seems I did hear such a thing a few days ago. They said someone on the Red Algae Well side lost a job they had in hand because they overslept. Does that count?" He stuck out his tongue to lick his dry lips, staring at the fist holding the coins.

"Thank you, this is very useful." Kraft opened his palm, letting the thin man take the two copper coins from his hand and stuff them into a strange part of his clothes. "Interested in earning a few more copper coins? I need someone to take me there to look now."

"But I have work to do today."

Earning some extra cash on the side and losing a job that could still last a few days were two different matters; even without knowing math, one could understand which was more important.

"What if I offer a black silver coin?"

"Two. The work over there still has four days left." The decisive quote confirmed to him that Kraft was indeed one of those "wealthy people with strange fetishes," from whom he could scoop up more benefits.

Although he did not know if this price was fair, intuition told Kraft he might be being treated as a fool. Anyway, since he already knew the place name, he did not mind shopping around for the guide fee.

"Alright, then let someone else earn this silver coin." He pretended to leave, pulling Lu Xiusi, who was carrying the suitcase.

"Wait!"

Just a few steps out, the person behind called them back. "One silver coin is fine. So stingy. I am about to lose an entire four-day job."

This local guide led the two through crooked alleys, drilling deeper into the Salt Tide Zone.

As they went deeper, the messy alleys became even messier and narrower, and the chaotic support structures extending from the shacks became more complex and cumbersome.

The deeper one went, the longer the structures had existed. Like granulation tissue on an old wound, they wrapped and connected; the volume regrown was always a size larger than the original to approach the original strength. Repeated trauma caused more hyperplasia.

Kraft had the illusion of walking along capillaries into the interior of a tumor. The outside was still barely passable, but the depths had begun to necrose due to insufficient blood supply; the discarded waste and garbage were the pus it formed.

They accumulated here, carelessly piled in any space that existed. The congested narrow paths became even narrower, worsening the situation in a vicious cycle.

The sun gradually rose; the heating light squeezed through gaps between the crisscrossing structures. Water vapor rose from the mixture of ground and garbage, carrying a salty, fishy smell, a moldy rot, and the scent of excrement. The passing hot wind carried it into human nostrils.

Wearing a bird-beak mask stuffed with several layers of spices, Kraft still smelled this odor. When passing large piles of garbage, it became even more intense and penetrating, making him several times consider turning back the way he came.

Their guide, however, seemed completely unaffected, breathing these gases directly, whether long accustomed to them or having lost his sense of smell entirely.

The short distance on the map was negated here; the subjective perception of time stretched infinitely. After a long torment, the view suddenly opened up, and they stopped in a small clearing.

"Are you sure this place is the Red Algae Well?" Kraft looked at the pile of rubble before them.

In this rare open space, a messy pile of stones was placed in the middle; no matter how one looked at it, it had nothing to do with a well.

"It used to be a well, that's true."

"Used to be?"

"Just like its name, the water inside was as bitter and salty as seawater, with red algae." The withered man kicked a stone on the ground. "Once drawn out, it was completely useless. Someone fell in at night, and then it was sealed off?"

This explanation was reasonable. The terrain was low-lying and near the sea; combined with long-term seawater flooding, it would be strange if the Salt Tide Zone had any normal wells.

"So can you give me the money now?"

Kraft took out a black silver coin and handed it to him, ending this brief employment relationship.

Next, he had to visit suspected cases in this area of unknown size. Dilapidated, moldy buildings surrounded them; for a moment, he did not know where to start.

Reaching out to support Lu Xiusi, he could hear Heavy and coarse breathing even through the thick mask. "I dare say this is the worst place I know."

"Who says otherwise? Want to find a place to sit for a while before continuing?" Kraft took the box from his hand, patted his back, and helped him catch his breath.

The Salt Tide District was a wretched place, but here it made him feel even worse; an indescribable sense of wrongness had emerged at some point, yet he still couldn't pinpoint what was amiss.

At first, he thought it was the deteriorating environment overstimulating his senses, but as he gradually adapted, the sense of wrongness refused to fade. Stopping his steps not only failed to make him feel better, it only intensified the feeling.

"How much longer do you think it will take us to find it?" Lu Xiusi bent over, hands braced on his knees, his beak nearly poking into his chest.

He heard no response from Kraft.

Kraft remained silent for over a full minute; he had discovered where that sense of wrongness lay. It was not sensory overstimulation, but a certain absence of sensation.

By now, the sun was already well above the rooftops; without the clock tower's reminder, one would know it was already eight or nine in the morning, yet they stood in an unnatural silence, devoid even of the faintest clatter or conversation.

【I was a hired laborer over at the docks; I had to go there every day to find work, and I usually got up very early...】

"That's not very early at all."