"Without the floods caused by the Chi, I'd hardly recognize the way anymore..."
Elliot was wandering aimlessly north of the Guili Plains.
Before the floods had spread, this land had been a vast meadow where Glaze Lilies bloomed in abundance, with several crystal-clear rivers flowing through it.
Because of this, farmland stretched across the region—fields cultivated by Gui Zhong's people.
According to the original tale, Gui Zhong would perish in a great flood. The land here would be completely washed away, and the wild Glaze Lilies would vanish. From then on, finding any wild Glaze Lilies would become nearly impossible.
The one who caused that flood was most likely the Chi of Qingce Village. The great flood that struck before the founding of Liyue was almost certainly its handiwork as well.
Elliot was convinced of this because he knew from the story that Chi was the only God Morax ever tore apart.
Morax had ripped its body into pieces, scattering and sealing them across different locations.
For the Warlord Morax to rage so furiously, there could have been only one reason—Gui Zhong's death.
So Elliot suspected that the Chi of Qingce was both the culprit behind the flood and the beast that killed Gui Zhong.
Though he knew this, Elliot could not bring himself to strike at it. After all, this was a creature Morax himself had torn limb from limb to seal away. Resonance with its karmic debt was inevitable.
Lost in thought, Elliot had unknowingly wandered into this place.
"This must be the Stone Gate, right?" he murmured. The landscape had changed so much that even he struggled to recognize it.
Still, no mission notification had appeared, which meant he remained within Liyue's borders.
"What... happened here...?"
Elliot's eyes widened at the sight before him, stunned beyond belief.
A village lay there—over a dozen wooden houses in view. But scattered all around them were skeletal remains.
Some bones still bore the remnants of tattered clothing.
From the sizes of the skeletons, it was clear that the entire village had been wiped out.
The air was thick with death, oppressive and suffocating—this was no ordinary place, but a ghost village.
Elliot stepped inside. Everywhere he walked, bones littered the ground. Inside the houses, furniture lay rotted and warped, as though soaked in water for years. Fungus spread across wooden surfaces, mold blooming in dark patches.
"This village... it must also be the work of Chi..."
From the evidence, the villagers had likely drowned in a flood. Their bones clustered in corners, wedged into crevices—as if swept there by surging waters before meeting their end.
"An ill-omened place..." The deeper Elliot went, the stronger that thought pressed against his mind.
[I love this place!! Once we take over these bodies, let's settle here for good!]
[I agree. The atmosphere here is exquisite. I love it too.]
[I can sense many of our kind nearby. Who would have thought human resentment could be this delightful?]
[They're trapped here, drifting like wandering souls. How laughable—they probably don't even realize they're dead.]
[If they knew, they wouldn't be wandering souls anymore.]
[Even in death, humans are as insignificant as ants. Their grudges are too shallow to make any real mark here.]
Still wearing his mask, Elliot suddenly heard the voices of karmic debt stirring within him.
He froze.
Why was it that even without removing his mask, he could hear the voices of his karmic debt?
Worse still, the environment here stirred a strange sense of familiarity... even comfort.
He... almost wanted to stay in this ghost village of bones.
Startled by the thought, Elliot shuddered.
Was he being assimilated by karmic debt?
And then he felt it—an aura unlike anything before.
It was thick with omen, death, slaughter, plague...
The very embodiment of sin, the gaze of something evil.
Elliot dared not remain any longer. He fled the village at once.
As he left, the oppressive sensations melted away. The voices of karmic debt faded into silence.
In truth, his trip had been little more than a gamble, hoping he might chance upon the God of Salt, Havria.
He hadn't found her. Instead, he had stumbled into a place saturated with an aura more sinister than he had ever felt.
And he knew—had he lingered a moment longer, he might never have wanted to leave.
That place carried a pull far too strong, a lure impossible to resist.
Like the instinct to breathe, it demanded his presence.
The feeling was as if a drowning man had suddenly found air there. Only by staying could he breathe freely; the moment he left, he would suffocate.