Carried by the current, the wooden boat drifted steadily toward the open sea.
The coastline and the figure of the fish-man faded from view, lting into blurry silhouettes on the horizon.
Lu Li had no idea what lay ahead.
He had hesitated, but in the end, the two trials had compelled him to set out to sea. For all their strangeness and mystery, they seed to be trying to tell him sothing, to teach him a lesson.
Whoever had arranged these trials didn't seem malicious.
Only one question remained: how had Richard passed these trials?
Neither the first nor the second trial seed like sothing a man with Richard's warped perception of reality could have passed.
Perhaps the trials he faced were different from Lu Li's?
Unfortunately, Lu Li knew too little about the Corpse of the Ancient God to draw any conclusions.
The oil lamp cast its light over a small patch of water around the boat, but beyond it lay an endless, inky sea. The indescribable consciousness that had once called to Lu Li was gone, leaving only a faint pull, as if guiding him toward so unknown destination.
Lu Li slowly scanned the dark surface of the sea. After the shore had vanished from sight and the boat had drifted two or three kiloters out, he caught a flicker of sothing strange at the edge of his vision.
A hazy image ford in his mind: a figure in a black cloak, sitting in a boat that nearly rged with the color of the water. But when Lu Li turned to look, he saw nothing but dark waves.
It was as if what he'd seen had been nothing more than a trick of light and shadow on the water.
Lu Li didn't think so.
Perhaps he was being overly cautious, but in this situation, there was no such thing.
For the next few minutes, Lu Li kept his gaze fixed on the spot where he thought he had seen the silhouette.
It could have been a coincidence, or it could have been a sign. Ten minutes later, a boat erged from the darkness.
But unlike the nearly invisible silhouette Lu Li had glimpsed, this boat was identical to his own. And sitting in it was Richard.
Richard's boat was moving toward Lu Li—or more accurately, hurtling toward him.
Lu Li instinctively tried to steer his boat away, but he imdiately rembered he had no oars. The boat was not under his control.
Richard's boat was moving far faster than Lu Li had anticipated. Before he could react, it slamd violently into the side of his own vessel.
A crack of splintering wood echoed across the water. Lu Li's boat nearly capsized, and he was thrown overboard.
The lamp was sent flying, sinking quickly beneath the waves. Lu Li found himself in the embrace of the cold, dark water, and he instinctively held his breath.
Bubbles erupted around him. Lu Li righted himself and began to swim for the surface.
But just as he neared the surface, Lu Li had a startling realization: he could breathe underwater.
He had swallowed a mouthful of seawater when he fell, an experience that should have brought on a fit of painful coughing. But now, Lu Li felt no discomfort at all.
After a brief pause, Lu Li suppressed his instinctual fear and took a breath.
His lungs didn't fill with water, nor did his airways rebel against the unnatural act. Lu Li could truly breathe in the dark depths of the sea.
It felt like a dream.
Lu Li considered this. If the water didn't hinder his breathing, then...
Lu Li tilted his head down and looked.
Beneath him stretched a dark, bottomless abyss.
He watched the oil lamp sink slowly into the depths. The small fla inside its glass housing flickered a few tis like a distant star, then winked out, swallowed by the darkness.
The last source of light in this underwater world was gone.
In that sa instant, the call from that indescribable consciousness echoed up from the depths.
It was down there, sowhere deep below.
Splash.
Richard plunged into the water beside Lu Li. He turned, gave Lu Li an unreadable look, and then, like a fish, swam down toward the abyss.
Richard had heard the call, too. He swam as if searching for its source, drawn toward it with every fiber of his being.
Lu Li, who had nearly reached the surface, narrowed his eyes. He turned and followed Richard down.
There were no signs of life in the dark ocean depths. The deeper they descended, the darker it beca—not a re absence of light, but sothing deeper, more absolute. Yet Lu Li could still see. It seed the Night Calamity held no sway here.
It reminded Lu Li of his journey on the soul ferry. There was so connection between the two experiences, but he couldn't quite grasp what it was.
Richard swam downward with speed. Having grown up in Belfast, he was naturally a strong swimr.
Lu Li was only a basic swimr, but his waterlogged woolen coat weighed him down, helping him keep pace with Richard's descent.
As they descended, the dark water grew ever more silent. The turmoil from the surface couldn't reach these depths.
With no points of reference, Lu Li couldn't tell how deep they had gone. It could have been hundreds of ters, or even more.
In this lifeless, silent void, depth seed to lose all aning, as did ti, and the very concept of aning itself.
Richard swam ever deeper, seemingly tireless. The bandage on his leg had long since co undone, lost to the water, leaving a faint trail of blood in his wake.
His movents grew slower, his once-smooth kicks becoming convulsive jerks, like a broken doll's.
They had no idea how much farther they had to go.
Just as Lu Li thought Richard was about to exhaust himself, a strange object lood ahead in the darkness: a stone column, coated in a thick layer of silt.
...
The temporary refugee camp outside the Sentry Post was overflowing with people who had fled from the other side of the mountain.
Few had remained in the Sentry Post itself. Most, gripped by panic, didn't dare to stay and continued their descent down the mountain.
People huddled together. Mothers clutched their crying children, separated relatives called out for one another, and so tried to describe what had happened in Belfast.
"A tsunami! A tsunami has struck Belfast!"
"It was horrible... waves tens of ters high..."
"Monsters! I saw monsters co out of the sea and attack people on the shore!"
Their shouts blended into an incoherent din, making it impossible to discern who was telling the truth. But one thing was certain: sothing terrible had happened in Belfast.
On the outskirts of the camp, two police officers were speaking in low tones.
"That smoke... looks like it's coming from the old psychiatric hospital, doesn't it? What's going on over there?" the younger officer asked, gazing at the black plu rising to the west.
"Since when do you care about so abandoned hospital?" the older officer scoffed.
He had a point. The young officer looked away, his gaze drifting up toward the peak of Sugard Mountain. "You think this disaster will reach us?"
"Who knows... I've already told my wife to pack a bag for her and the kids," the older officer replied.
"You're planning to run?" the young officer asked with a frown.
The older officer nodded and gestured toward Sugard Mountain. "If Belfast can't handle a catastrophe like this, what chance do we have?"
He pointed up the mountain, where a steady stream of people, like a column of ants, continued to pour down the slopes.
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