He examined the bandage that was tightly wrapped around his ribs and found that there was a bruise underneath that was soft to the touch.

He still had mashed herbs on his chest, revealing a jet-black wound where the hook had hit.

He turned to his side and sat up on his elbows. A shimmer of sunlight penetrated through a crack in a shutter, illuminating a large wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. There was an altar on the cabinet with flowers picked yesterday and a turtle carved out of snowflakes in stone. His coat and leather vest were folded and placed on the small table beside the bed, and two holy spears were padded.

Lucian stretched out a trembling hand and grabbed the weapon. He examined her gun first—from the stone to the brass components, just as she had taught him years ago. His fingertips felt for a deep crack in the stone. That's the memorial they left behind when they were in Ionia. He couldn't help but smile, and then picked up his gun. The metal parts on the body of the gun are slightly deformed to the touch. This is a new injury that needs to be healed as soon as possible.

He snorted to his feet and tucked his guns into holsters. He then placed his hand on the handle of the gun and felt the height and inclination of the gun. Both guns were a little crooked. He adjusted the holster and tried again. This time it worked. He picked up his leather vest, carefully reached into his hands, and put on his long coat.

Lucian moved to the window and opened the hinges. The sunlight came in with a faint sobbing sound. From this angle, all he could see was a small river that meandered, and some bushes. The night of the Eclipse has passed, and it is now morning.

Hammerstone should no longer be here.

Lucian had to return to his ship before he could continue chasing his prey. He glanced back one last time and opened the door.

More than a dozen corpses lay outside the door.

A young woman sits among the dead, holding a cloth and gently scrubbing the body of an old man. She looked up at Lucian, a pair of gentle almond eyes, already swollen from crying.

"You shouldn't get up." She said.

"I'm fine. You bandaged it for me? ”

She nodded. "My name is Mira. We met you near the bay. ”

"How long ago?"

"At dawn, I was looking for my father."

He looked down at the old man at her feet.

She shook her head, a hint of frustration in her eyes.

"Not him," she said. "I should have gone out to look for it, but we didn't have enough of them."

She picked up a clean towel: "If you're feeling better, come and help." ”

Lucian stared at the dead. They lay on the ground, freshly cut fern leaves hastily laid beneath them. A few of them had their eyes still open—inky black orbs, looking into nothingness.

He turned his head and said, "They should be allowed to come." ”

She seemed to be about to say something, but a commotion from the other side of the village interrupted her. A group of people followed an ox cart with more corpses on board. Mira looked at it for a moment, then hurried over.

Lucian followed her not far away. People came out from all sides of the village, some fast and some slow – some obviously more anxious.

The villagers were clustered around a young man. He clutched a heavy cane and spoke in stutters. He shouted, "They can't do this! They don't have the qualifications! At the same time, he kept clubbing the ground with his cane.

"What's wrong?" Mira asked.

"The Natu are going to burn the corpse!"

The villagers responded to the call of the young people, and several others fell into a state of grief.

"Who are they?" Lucian asked.

"Fire worshippers." Mira said. "From the west side of the island."

"They're going to burn her soul," one old man shouted. "Leave nothing for your ancestors." Lucian saw fear in Mila's eyes.

She rushed to the bullock cart and hysterically pulled at the piles of corpses. Among the dead were several elderly women, but most of them were young men and children. None of them were her father. Mira took a few steps back, her face as dead as ashes.

The old man sighed and hugged his head. Mira reached out and hugged him into her arms. She whispered a few words in his ear, and the old man seemed to feel a little comforted.

She said to the villagers, "We have to get everyone back, is there anything we haven't been to?" ”

Lucian watched as everyone gossiped. Many suggestions were made and rejected. There are too many missing people, and there are simply not enough survivors. Mira looked desperate and fell silent.

He stepped forward and said, "I know where to find more people." ”

The top of the mountain was deserted and dead in the skylight. The furious storm had passed, leaving only the dead in a patch, scattered among the willows and grass.

Mira and the villagers scattered around the cliff to check it out. Soon someone discovers their relatives, friends and lovers. The young man with a cane fell to his knees beside a prone woman. His anger had been completely replaced by sadness.

Lucian looked at Mila. She crouched beside the corpse of an old woman and whispered in her ear. Perhaps a prayer, Lucian speculated.

She looked up and said to Lucian, "He's not here." ”

He looked at the dead bodies on the ground, and his chest seemed to be crushed. She could have saved them, or at least could have done her part. She is kind to the point of being stubborn, and does not allow herself to abandon anyone in need.

Mira stood up. "I'm going to send her home."

Lucian leaned down and slowly picked up the old woman. Her body was fluttering, as if it would shatter at the touch of it. He carried the old woman into the bullock cart and placed her on a bed of leaves on wooden slats. He stood still for a moment. Then go back and help others.

They toiled until the middle of the day. There were so many dead that the car was almost out of place. Lucian and Mira loaded the last of the bodies onto the cart, and the other villagers secured them with ropes.

Lucian stepped aside and held himself to his side. Bursts of pain spread to his lower back. He's done too much, but it's still not enough. Tired, he sat down on the edge of the cliff and looked out at the sea. He was already sweating profusely this morning.

"Are your bones okay?"

"Passable."

Mira sat down beside him and handed him a kettle.

"There's not much left." He took it in his hand and weighed it.

"You're thirstier than I am." He put down the kettle, stood up, and took off his long coat. The sea breeze brought a cool gust of coolness. He sat down again, slowly drank the water, and closed the kettle.

Mira didn't say a word, and stared at the sea for a long time. Far away in the sea, a large group of turtles surfaced to breathe and dived again.

"Did you see how they died?" She asked.

"It was already like that when I came."

Mira glanced down at Lucian's pistol. "But you've seen it before, right?"

He nodded.

"So how-"

"No matter what I say, I can't help you find your father."

Mira nodded, hanging her head.

Lucian watched as the waves crashed against the reef below, rising and falling as the water level gradually rose. Soon the tide will reach its highest point and he will be able to set sail. Lucian returned the kettle to Mila, stood up again, and put on his coat.

"What's the fastest way to get to the docks?"