Chapter 281
Splitting into two parties doesn’t feel very auspicious.
By the time Eivass left the vicinity of Magnetic Hammer, dawn was breaking. He hadn’t even noticed the passage of time. The only thing that finally reminded him was Magnetic Hammer saying, “Are you hungry? How about we grab something to eat and then get some more energy?”
Magnetic Hammer had also been drinking until morning yesterday, only waking up in the afternoon. Now, he was full of energy and ready to have breakfast before going fishing with William.
Eivass reluctantly replied, “I think I’ll go back and rest first,” declining on the spot. He then went upstairs to find Sherlock.
Regarding the room assignments from last night, Jack had taken Magnetic Hammer’s bed in the master bedroom, leaving the room for Sherlock and Eivass. Lily had gone to Haina’s room to sleep with her. Ultimately, this was how they had to split. Even if Lily could have stayed with Eivass, Haina and Sherlock couldn’t have slept together.
After returning to his room, Eivass was surprised to find that Sherlock hadn’t slept yet. Or rather, he might have slept for a while, but as Eivass entered, Sherlock, dressed in his pajamas, was intently hunched over the desk, writing and drawing. Seeing this, Eivass almost burst out laughing. It looked so much like a child propping up a desk to do homework.
Hearing the door open, Sherlock glanced back indifferently. Upon seeing Eivass, he ignored him and returned to his writing and drawing. “What are you writing?” Eivass asked, closing the door casually and leaning in for a closer look. “Haven’t slept?”
He couldn’t quite understand. It looked like some kind of mind map—just a few words, then several lines branching out to different words, with smaller text densely packed along the lines and next to the words, filled with speculations.
Hearing Eivass’s question, Sherlock abruptly slammed his pen down on the desk. He flipped his small notebook back a few pages and, pinching the book in the middle with his fingers, handed it to Eivass. “Just haven’t slept for a day… Read it from the beginning.”
Sherlock said briefly, “I just asked Haina and her aunt a few things and interviewed Mr. Jack. I’ve basically sorted out all the clues I could gather. In short, we’re in trouble.”
“How much trouble?” Eivass countered. “Are you talking about the time flow issue here, or the fact that they don’t have names? Or perhaps the King of the Wild Hunt Legion here?”
“All of it, and none of it,” Sherlock replied. “I’ve confirmed a very important point—it’s helped me sort things out. First, there are no young people over thirty in this village.”
Hearing this, Eivass shifted his gaze from the notebook to Sherlock. Eivass confirmed, “You mean there aren’t any… or they aren’t present?”
Noticing Eivass’s serious gaze, Sherlock smiled with satisfaction. “When I told Haina, she was a bit confused and couldn’t react immediately. Yes, that’s what I mean—at least thirty years ago, there were no newborns. To be precise, the oldest young person in this village is twenty-six. There’s no one older than twenty-six… Everyone older is an ‘aboriginal’ whose age and name are unknown. I first suspected this when I realized that old Supervisor William didn’t recognize Meg. When I mentioned Meg, he had to pretend to think about who Meg was. For his age, this is impossible. So, I went to ask Haina’s mother and learned that he came here about sixty years ago. —But he looks only in his sixties now. Moreover, Haina’s mother spoke as if she had seen it herself. She looks only in her early thirties… but when I asked her age, she just smiled and didn’t say anything.”
Sherlock said solemnly, “So I thought of a possibility… Are the people here truly all alive?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions yet,” Eivass replied after a moment of thought. “Let’s confirm one thing first. People here do die. And they can leave at any time.” The former was like Eivass’s grandfather, and the latter was like Haina’s biological father and his teacher—the village’s original old blacksmith. Haina’s father left Eagle Cape Village and never returned; and the old blacksmith did indeed go to the royal capital to study in his youth.
“So this isn’t a ghost village, at least. I’ve also confirmed they are all living people. Jack can grow up, can’t he? Haina too.” Eivass stated confidently, “I’m not so incompetent that I can’t tell the difference between the living and the undead. Compared to that, I think what’s more deadly is that the people here have no names.”
As he spoke, Eivass shared his own findings with Sherlock. If this were a game, not having names would be normal. But if this were placed in reality, or rather, in the realm of the occult, the meaning would be entirely different.
Because the act of “naming” itself belongs to the power of the Twilight Path, it is a precursor to remembrance. Even for those who are dead and have no souls, the power of the Twilight Path still exists—this power refers to the person’s name. Because someone still remembers them, and their name is still inscribed upon the world, even if its physical body disappears and its soul is gone, Necromancers can still summon it. What they summon is the “name” of this Undead—the lingering shadow of the deceased in the world.
A person can only be correctly recorded if they have a name, or at least a designation that accurately refers to them. Otherwise, they cannot exist in history, books, or even the entire world; their existence will be devoured by others. Even if a person is stripped of everything, they still have their own name.
The Ancient Kingdom of Anxi has a highest form of punishment—a punishment more cruel than capital punishment, desecration of corpses, or even imprisonment of the soul. It is called “White Punishment,” which is to completely erase all traces of a person’s existence through rituals and violent means. Their name will be erased, and everything they did will have another person’s name attached to it, or be completely destroyed. Their descendants will all be killed, and even their students will be killed. All those who remembered them, all their friends, their memories will be rewritten. This person will be painted into an unforgettable blank—no appearance, no name, no memories. Such a punishment has only been used three times in the 3,800 years of continuous inheritance of the Ancient Kingdom of Anxi. Because of the existence of White Punishment, there are no records of what they did to warrant such a punishment, and we don’t even know which era the perpetrators lived in.
…And Eagle Cape Village is as if the entire village has been executed with “White Punishment.”
“I want to visit that swamp tomorrow. All outsiders enter the village from the swamp, while the villagers enter the village through the forest path,” Sherlock said, taking his notebook back from Eivass, his brow deeply furrowed. “But they all say it’s a forbidden area—yet if it’s a forbidden area, how did they find those outsiders?”
“So, are you going?”
“Of course, we’ll go secretly. But since it’s a forbidden area, I suspect it might be quite dangerous… So, you’ll accompany me. And bring Lily and Haina… We’re not aiming to find anything, but at least to take a look.” Sherlock marked on his notebook, clearly outlining the plan: “Besides this, we also need to visit people who knew your grandfather. My suggestion is that after we return, we split into two parties. You and Lily go first to ask the village elders; they might know something. This is also the secret you’ve been pursuing, and I’m not suitable to overhear. Then there’s Haina’s father. Her father’s departure was very unnatural… There was no argument, nor did he take any money. His daughter was only a few years old then, so there’s no reason for him to leave the village without notifying anyone and never return. So, I suspect either he died somewhere silently, or he knew something. To find out about this, we’ll probably have to ask that old blacksmith. I can take Haina to ask him about this. Lastly, we need to see where the villagers are buried. I don’t believe this village has no local deaths… Of course, if that’s truly the case, then this information is even more valuable. And where there are deaths, there must be funerals, graves, and worship rituals. This requires you to ask the local Priest. Then I’ll go around the surroundings, and Haina will take me to a couple of suspicious places nearby. To find that old Supervisor—although I’m not in supervision, Haina is. She understands the details.”
Sherlock drew two clear task lines on his notebook: “Swamp—Elders—Priest; Swamp—Blacksmith—Supervisor. We’ll split up like this first, and return after we’ve investigated. Because time here is chaotic, we don’t know when it will get dark… But just in case, as soon as dusk approaches, no matter where we are or what progress we’ve made, we stop immediately and go home. If we absolutely cannot return, we stay at the current inquirer’s home for the night. Safety first. Unless everyone is present, we do not go to the swamp alone.”
“Understood,” Eivass nodded seriously. Although he appeared to be a child, Sherlock was ultimately the oldest and most socially experienced among them. Eivass always followed the advice of insiders: readily accepting it. The only issue was… In this somewhat horror-movie-like atmosphere, splitting into two parties seemed rather inauspicious.
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