Chapter 6

The stone pillar glowed, but no light membrane appeared. Esk circled it several times, finding no anomalies, leaving him utterly disappointed. He sighed deeply, removed the crystals he had installed, and the pillar dimmed.

Ang watched from afar. When he saw Esk’s futile efforts, he glanced at his wrist—the last light membrane had dissolved into this leather ornament. Could the ornament be needed to open the teleportation channel?

Seeing Esk remove the crystals and the pillar dim again, Ang knew the key to his return home likely lay in those crystals.

The removed crystals had shrunk by a full circle. Esk sighed in pain, blew on them gently, then placed them back in his satchel.

Returning the same way, Esk shrugged as he passed Ang and said with a bitter expression: “Failed again. Still can’t open it. Maybe we’ll need to learn your survival methods sooner than expected.”

My survival methods? Growing vegetables? Ang tilted his head and kept walking after him.

Seeing Ang still following, Esk laughed: “Why are you still tagging along? Planning to come back to the underground city with me? Well, fine—the wasteland’s too dangerous. Next time I come, I might not see you at all. If you want to follow, follow.”

Ang tilted his head. He felt Esk had misunderstood. The underground city? Did it have blue crystals?

As they neared the cave, they saw a zombie crouched before Ang’s cave, howling loudly.

The little zombie had woken up to find Ang gone. It stopped leaving the cave, instead howling outside, as if believing that if it screamed loud enough, Ang would appear.

As expected, after howling for a long time, Ang finally appeared. The zombie leapt excitedly, howling as it ran toward him, then refused to leave.

So Esk continued walking, and Ang continued following—except now there was a little tail trailing behind: the zombie walked step by step behind Ang.

One human, one bone horse, one skeleton, one zombie—a strange group. They climbed up the slope, reached the summit, crossed over, and found before them an endless wasteland: flat, desolate, without end.

Walking in one direction from morning until evening, just as the Wind of Rest was about to rise, they suddenly saw an unexpected “gully” appear where the ground had seemed perfectly flat.

As if the earth had been sliced open, it sank downward. Seeing this “gully,” Esk beamed with joy: “I thought I’d miss it and have to spend another night outside! Hurry—the underground city’s here!”

As Ang’s group entered the gully’s boundary, the wind across the wasteland grew stronger—but was blocked at the edge. Inside the gully, the wind weakened significantly, acting like a cave’s windbreak.

Ang looked up, feeling the sharp wind howling overhead. The chilling sensation here was stronger than inside the cave. Would guiding that chilling energy here be more efficient than in the cave?

Esk glanced back at Ang and said: “Hurry up. Watch out—the evil wind might blow you away.”

After the warning, Esk’s habit of talking to himself kicked in again. He muttered: “This used to be a great river. The water flowed here, hit the magma geology, seeped underground, carving out vast subterranean spaces. Our underground city was built inside those spaces. Thanks to them, our people wouldn’t have been blown to dust by the evil wind.”

Esk mumbled on, not expecting any reply. As he said, walking the wasteland day after day, he had no one to speak to—so he’d grown used to talking to anything.

He used to talk to his bone horse. Now talking to a skeleton wasn’t strange at all. And he had a feeling—this little skeleton, Ang, seemed to understand him. At least more than his dumb bone horse.

Ang listened silently, observing around. Perhaps because the Wind of Rest was blocked outside, the gully’s environment was far better than the wasteland. In the corners, shrubs grew; moss clung to the shaded rocks; insects moved occasionally.

Ahead, in the shrubbery, a stone caught Ang’s attention. Thick, invisible black mist coiled around it. When Ang looked over, the mist stirred, slowly forming a human face.

“That’s Blackface—a wraith. Old Lich Phelin’s pet. Blackface, this is the little friend I brought back. Don’t scare him.” Esk introduced, then spoke to the wraith.

The mist-formed face had hollows where eyes should be. It lingered deeply on Ang and the little zombie, then dissolved back into mist, wrapping around the stone.

Continuing downward, a crack opened on the gully’s side—ten meters wide, four or five meters high—the entrance to the underground city.

At the entrance stood a figure holding a finely crafted staff, peering down the gully.

He was a withered, emaciated “man.” His exposed skin had no luster, wrinkled and dry, muscles shriveled like they’d lost all moisture, utterly lifeless. His eye sockets sank deep, cheekbones jutted high—he looked like a mummy.

And indeed, he was a mummy. Seeing this “man,” Esk called out from afar: “Hey, Phelin! What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re welcoming me? That’s too much ceremony.”

He was the master of the wraith they’d just seen—Old Lich Phelin.

Phelin smiled gently: “Blackface saw you return, so I came to check. How was it? Any luck?”

The old lich asked subtly, but Esk knew what he meant—he simply didn’t want to pressure Esk.

Esk forced a weak smile and shook his head: “No. They’re short on food too. Won’t sell.”

Phelin nodded, slightly disappointed: “Understandable. Arable land grows scarcer. No one has enough. Selling us food means some of them starve. Don’t blame yourself—it’s not your fault.”

Esk gave a bitter laugh: “Since I couldn’t buy food, I went to the Sea of the Departed. But the teleportation channel still won’t open—and the magic crystals have shrunk by a full circle.”

Phelin didn’t seem bothered. Instead, he looked even more disappointed: “Still won’t open? That’s normal. A thousand years have passed. Who knows what the Palace of Rest is like now? I hope Your Majesty is at peace. Let the crystals shrink. Without food, magic crystals won’t feed anyone. Don’t worry. You’re tired—go rest.”

Phelin’s gentle reassurance made Esk’s eyes redden. He sniffed, walked past Phelin, then managed a faint smile: “I met a quiet skeleton in the Sea of the Departed. It followed me back. Heh—I wonder if it understands me. Like it has wisdom.”

Phelin’s gaze shifted to Ang. He glanced at him casually—until his eyes landed on Ang’s wrist. Then he trembled violently, eyes widening in disbelief.

Esk had already entered the entrance and didn’t see Phelin’s reaction. He saw Phelin stumble forward, abandoning his elegant staff on the ground, trembling hand reaching out to grasp Ang’s wrist—but halfway, he realized his mistake and snatched it back, looking utterly flustered.

If Esk had stayed outside, he’d have been stunned to see the normally calm and composed old lich in such a state.

After a long moment of excitement, Phelin looked at Ang with desperate hope and asked: “You… are you the new Watcher?”