Chapter 99: Directly Ahead

"Quiet."

Kup heard Kraft issue this command, different from his usual consultative attitude, like an unseen blade, blunt and rigid, with a tone of force only briefly heard during that inquiry in the Salt Tide District.

He instinctively chose to obey, shutting his mouth to look at William's steps at the head of the column, adjusting his stride frequency to match. He had already seen the consequences of discounting Kraft's strict requirements; the lesson was so profound there would be no second time in his life.

Imitating Kraft, Kup quickly turned his head back; in a single glance, he saw only the flickering flames of torches, illuminating the bearer's indistinct face, while darkness followed his advance step for step, maintaining a distance of exactly five paces, no more, no less.

Behind him, the thick night was like the tides of the Salt Tide District, a turbid, opaque fluid that buried sharp shell fragments and fish bones in the darkness beyond sight; anyone walking within it would step on one, and days later the wound would rot and suppurate, causing fever throughout the body.

This was Kup's deepest fear before that experience, unable to comprehend how a small cut in the turbid current could be fatal.

Combining the two, he discovered a startling consistency: the column was itself in another, larger-scale turbid current, knowing nothing of what lay beyond the two torches.

The hills he had grown tired of were the same as the ground near his home, swallowed by the darkness filling the gaps from sea or sky, completing the transformation from familiarity to total ignorance.

Something was changing within it, but not as simple as the fragments that caused wounds to suppurate.

The footsteps ahead alternated fast and slow twice, deliberately offsetting William's rhythm; Kraft turned his head again, his gaze passing over Kup's shoulder to the rear, his eyes reflecting the waning firelight.

The arm swinging with his walk stopped, pressing against his left waist; only after training did Kup understand the meaning of this gesture, repeatedly singled out and emphasized.

Pressing his own waist, the solid, reliable hammer handle offered a little comfort; he somewhat understood why Kraft liked doing this.

His gaze withdrew, passing over Kup; Kraft nodded slightly to him, quickened his pace forward, and lightly patted William's shoulder. The sailors met Kup's returning gaze and silently lit a new torch.

The column returned to its original pace; Kraft also retreated to his side, one hand never leaving his waist, while the other pressed against the side of his skull, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Quiet, alright, be quiet... Kup clenched his teeth; Kraft's actions corroborated his thoughts, but out of obedience he could not speak to ask.

The rising thought had already reached his lips, forcibly pressed back, yet in the monotonous journey only the occasionally shifting route and the footsteps in his ears were worth noting, leaving him no choice but to listen.

Under William's lead, the column maintained a slow, rhythmic forward pace, each person unconsciously following the steps of the one ahead.

Footfalls landing with slight time differences came from both sides, merging into his ear canal, mixed with the clip-clop of horse hooves; with his hearing, distinguishing direction and even corresponding individuals was truly asking too much.

But Kraft had indeed changed his steps, as if trying to force someone to march in step with them.

Was it? Someone walking on a mountain road without light? A local familiar with the path, or perhaps something else...

His knowledge could not yet provide another option for someone choosing to walk in sync with them. Conversely, he had never seen anyone able to blindly navigate a mountain road by memory in pitch darkness; even the guide Peter could not do it.

Kup slowed his pace, approaching the three at the rear of the column while trying to distinguish their footsteps.

People who lived on deck had stable lower bodies; legs capable of steadying themselves on wave crests performed well on mountain paths too. The thick hemp-woven soles of the three were much the same, not hard to distinguish from the heavy thud of Kraft's boots ahead.

Achieving his goal so quickly surprised him a bit, but it offered no help; Kup heard no abnormal footsteps from behind.

He released his hand from the hammer handle and looked at Kraft in confusion. The latter did not turn back again; his knuckles bent, pressing against the outer corner of his eye a few finger-widths back, as if suffering sudden, unbearable headache, yet his gaze stared fixedly at the unlit road ahead of William.

A foot in a leather boot struck a stone, stumbling a few steps; this dangerous move frightened Kup into rushing forward to support him, but the horse held him back.

A stinging, rough friction came from his palm; the rope holding the horse suddenly tightened, nearly slipping from his grasp. The mule neighed, rearing its front hooves, attempting to turn back; the suddenly unleashed force dragged Kup away unprepared.

"Let go!"

Kup instinctively released the rope, then realized it was not directed at him, but at Yin Feng on the saddle, hugging the horse's neck, her whole body jolted upward.

The mule, as if startled by an unknown source, forgot the rider on its back and the dangers of the mountain road, breaking its reins to flee backward, charging aimlessly straight. The sailors on the route struggled to dodge toward the mountainside, preventing a head-on collision with the mad horse.

While Kup was still torn between grabbing the rope again or protecting himself, the sailors dared not block a beast far stronger than humans; just as the horse began to move, a figure flew past him at great speed, the wind it generated blowing the cloak, lifting the hood, with golden hair flying wildly.

A bright white arc of reflected light caught the hind legs of the galloping horse, cutting into the most muscular part, breaking the power; the painful leg could not exert force, speed slowed, and the body tilted and fell to the same side.

"Cover your head, Yin Feng!"

He didn't need to say it; Yin Feng consciously let go and covered her head as the horse tilted, curling up to be thrown off. This action likely saved her life; she did not fall under the horse's hooves to be trampled, but rolled into a bush by the roadside.

The mule, its momentum not yet spent, charged a few more steps, struggling to crash into the darkness beyond the torches; then came the dull thud of a heavy object rolling, gravel scraping against fur, several rapid downward impacts fading away, with a tiny echo arriving seconds later, like a faint swallowing sound.

Kraft held his sword, still dripping blood, upside down, pushing aside the bushes to check Yin Feng's condition; William returned from the head of the column, holding a torch to illuminate for him.

"William, go back; the ones at the rear come forward." Kraft opened his cloak to check Yin Feng's injuries; fortunately, the bush behind her was still lush, sacrificing broken stems and fallen leaves to absorb most of the force, leaving only a few scrapes on her exposed hands.

The little one used Kraft's hand to climb to her feet; a few leaves clung to the tips of her hair, and the cloak had torn open on a broken branch, but she appeared unharmed.

Kraft showed no sign of relaxing; during the inspection, he frequently turned his head toward William, urging him to return to his post at the head of the column.

Because William had rushed to the middle of the column, Peter, who had been walking beside him, had already fallen to the edge of the torchlight circle, bewildered and unable to accept the fact that his own valuable property had gone mad and fallen off a cliff, wondering if this counted as reimbursement.

After being startled, the horse not only did not care for this master but fled away from him.

Kup suddenly realized why he had found no problem at the rear of the column. While everyone was concerned about Yin Feng, he followed Kraft's gaze.

The darkness behind the guide did not seem pure, like ink left open on a table overnight, with flying insects and floating dust dropped in; within the uniform background, something wavering had appeared.

With night-blind vision, he could barely make out the dim object like a floating gourd, briefly appearing at shoulder height outside the light circle, lingering for a moment in the darkness before sinking back into the ink-black night sky, depthless and unfathomable.

A hurried glance, as if someone walking backward directly ahead had noticed they were no longer following, poking out a flat, broad face to peer into the light circle.

No sense of being watched; in the blink of an eye, Kup lost all impression of it. Everything behind Peter was normal; what he saw was merely an optical illusion under poor lighting, a face without eyes.