Gods. The word spoke of an existence that should have nothing to do with man, yet it was a word that no cultivator could ever escape. They fought to ascend, they fought to transcend. To the vast sky above, to the seat beyond the clouds, to the realm of gods. To reach this fabled spot, there were few answers more prevalent than this one when you asked others why they cultivated.

Perhaps that was precisely why humans had titled one of their fabled realms the Sovereign God realm.

But this broken little thing… How could it possibly come from something as grand as a Sovereign God? Surely, even the smallest bead of sweat from one such being would contain enough power to shatter people as weak as them. And if it really was from an existence like that, would Li Mei Yen really react in such a lukewarm manner?

Thus, it was unlikely that this was in any way related to someone who could be classified as a Sovereign God. And yet, it received a title tied to god. What a curious thing.

"Young Master…"

A voice and a shiver crept down his spine as his mind momentarily drifted with his thoughts. He felt the hand on his neck, the fingers gently curling around his throat, a delicate yet firm grasp closing up his windpipe.

She wasn’t behind him. She couldn’t be. But he felt her there, pressed against his back. The fingers on his neck, the breath in his air. And for but a split second, he felt the green light and its searing heat, the flesh that burned and the skin that melted.

Ever onward.

He was not afforded a single second of forgetfulness, a single moment where his thoughts drifted. His empty hand rose, the tips of his fingers brushing against his throat. There was no hand there, no curling fingers. But he still felt suffocated.

And thus, he continued moving onward.

"Visrama."

The blade cut through the air as if to leave a scar. The curse flowed like blood and the blood flowed liked oil. And thus, this building was stained. And thus, Yin Long painted his word, each stroke as sharp as a blade and each line as tainted as his own self.

A portrait of death was completed in no time, silence befitting a tomb descending on the Resting Station. Well, at least almost.

"Ah…Ha…Ha…Ah…"

Breaths heavier than stone and wetter than the ocean. Was it spittle or sweat that mixed in with each exhale, or perhaps it was nothing more than a little bit of both.

Whatever the case, Li Mei Yen and her group were gasping for breath, chests heaving as cheeks reddened. It was done. It was done. It was done. Done. Done. Done. They had done it, they’d finished it.

With this, who would dare to even scoff at them? Who would dare to ignore their accomplishments? Who would dare not reward them? This was greater than anything anyone like them had ever done in their court, the news might even travel all the way up to the general if they played their cards right.

They could ditch this little existence, they could finally become something… Something proper.

"But first… This Fragment…"

She couldn’t help but lick her lips as she caught her breath. The skin on them was tattered and torn, her teeth still nibbling them as she looked at the fragment. She wanted to rush, she wanted to finish now, now, now!

But she couldn’t, she shouldn’t. Haste made waste, if she let her desires blow away her reason now then she could lose sight of something important. So her fingernail grew slightly as she nibbled on her lips, piercing her hand so that fresh blood fell to the floor, madness dripping down with it so that none was left in her mind.

"Does such a thing even exist down here?"

A voice mixed in with the sound of her dripping blood. As coarse as steel meeting steel yet as light as a feather, as if not a single one of the words held meaning to it. Her head turned slightly and she looked eyes with Yin Long, the dark murky mess sending a shiver down her spine for a moment.

"A God. Does it exist here?"

His eyes wandered to his side for a few instances as he questioned, was it talking with him right now?

As she looked at him, she let out a small breath. He worked better than the pain when it came to removing the madness. Just a few quiet words from him and the fire inside was starting to fade so that she could think at a mostly normal level. Her gaze then slid back to the looming fragment, that thing really was a strange existence.

"Who knows? When someone tells you about the sky, do you ask why it’s called ‘sky’? When your mom tells you to play in the field, do you ask why it’s called ‘field’? At the dawn of time, some things are given names, and they stick with them throughout all of existence. That fragment, it’s one such item."

The sky was the sky, the earth was the earth, and a fragment of god was a fragment of god. Or if it were to be put in terms more familiar to those of the Netherworld, then this fragment was similar to Visrama. A prayer without an origin yet recognized by everyone, a meaningless thing that meant the world to more than cared to admit it.

Still, that answer alone didn’t really mean anything so Li Mei Yen garnished it a bit more.

"Who named it? Where did it come from? What are they made of? No one really knows. They are simply called Fragments of God, and there are two rumours and one fact known about them. The first rumour is that there are 13 of them scattered all about the Netherworld, seemingly moving about of their own will. The second rumour is that whosoever manages to gather all 13 of them will have any one of their wishes fulfilled. Becoming an unrivalled powerhouse, becoming eternally free, travelling through time, gaining ownership of this land, nothing is impossible apparently."

Li Mei Yen had heard nothing but rumours about these things ever since she came down here. Every journal seemed to mention them, every deranged wanderer, every established noble, they popped up in all sorts of places. Even if she used her meagre clearing to check the oldest records she could get her hands on in the court, that name would still pop up here and there.

And yet, they weren’t things that anyone sought after with much fervour. Well, some always would when they first heard of them, but in the end, the truth caught up with all of them.

"But in the end, those things are all just rumours. Whatever the case is, only one fact is known about them. Anyone who has ever gathered three or more fragments has met an untimely death. A previously undiscovered cavern opening beneath them and sending them to their death, a raging storm suddenly unleashing all its lightning on them, waves greater than any previously recorded buffeting their ship and dragging it down, an earthquake tearing open the land around them and crushing them. To gather the fragments is to find death."

It wasn’t the most common, gathering three out of 13 fragments in a land this big. But of course, with a history as long as the Netherworld, it was inevitable that it would have happened a few times. But the end was always the same, so the scattered rumours were adorned with a kernel of crimson truth.

Yin Long’s gaze naturally slid towards the fragment as Li Mei Yen spoke about it. She had quite a lot to say about it, perhaps a bit more than he expected. But in the end, everything she said could be boiled down to a very simple ‘I know nothing about them.’

It was unknown, yet known by most. Worthless, yet invaluable. If Visrama was the spiritual manifestation of those words then this fragment was the materialistic manifestation of them. And that which didn’t let him leave Visrama alone also wouldn’t let him leave this alone.

"That doesn’t sound so bad, does it, Young Master? It could be a dream or just a foolish wish, but hope is hope, don’t you think?"

A voice so gentle and kind. A warm breath that crept down his spine. A pair of hands around his throat. An unseen expression.

"Hope is a wonderful thing, don’t you think, Young Master?"

The fingers curled.

"No matter how dark the night, a bit of hope is all it takes for people to move forward."

Like a noose, the grip tightened.

"We need hope, don’t we, Young Master? So take it. Grab hold of the hope, let’s dream of a better future, a painless life."

Breath was sealed in his lungs, bruises only he could see formed on his neck. Oh how gently and sweetly his fear urged him on.

The Fragment of God was warm to the touch. What should be sharp edges felt like water. No, what should be sharp edges became water.

As soon as he held the crystal in his grasp, it melted away. The liquid clung to his skin like a leech, creeping up his arm before settling around his shoulder and turning into a very simple -.

The mark didn’t react to any prodding or energy, it simply hung there, occasionally changing colour at its own leisure. Li Mei Yen and her group didn’t look surprised, nor bothered, by him taking the fragment.

Then again, the fragments seemed like nothing more than a curse, be it to them or to him.

"Alright, now then… Is it time to take care of what we came for?"

Li Mei Yen licked her lips again, the nibbling slowly starting up once more as the current reality set in again. Corpses. Corpses. Corpses. Corpses. Corpses. Everywhere she looked. Corpses. Stacked like bales, marked like cattle, tucked away like dust bunnies.

Each one was a resource for the Pavilion, each one was like a coin to them. And they would take that, they’d cut right into their wallet and drain them. They wouldn’t get to steal it for themselves, she didn’t even want to start hazarding a guess at what sort of reward that would get them. But they would still cut open the Pavilion’s wallet, they’d have them standing there gawking without knowing what hit them.

Yin Long’s gaze lowered to the bodies, both those they had created and those that were stashed there. Misery and suffering, pain and torment. He could see them scream without breath, cry without tears, even those he had just killed.

Hands clutching the hem of his robes, fingers clawing at his heels. They saw him, they begged for him, they knew that he would cry for them. So they reached for him, their hands resting around his neck, each bruise overlapping with the one his dear dear fear already left there for him. And in the crying, there was that voice, creeping like the plague as wastewater started to seep out from the corners of his eyes.

"They’re waiting, Young Master. They’re crying, Young Master. You found hope, so give them their salvation. Listen to their cries, their woes."

Hands upon hands on his throat, claws digging into flesh. A gallows made from misery, a noose tied from pain.

"Bear their burdens for them. Sink."

As always, he raised the noose. He tightened their grasp on his throat, until there was no air left for him.

And meanwhile, because they were tied up in their dark tomb, no one in the group could see that the spatial array they had picked out as their escape route started to tremble erratically, a few errant cracks of lightning seeping out from within.