Hell

In the depths of a murky sleep, Huai Shi felt himself falling.

Down through the darkness, down and down again. It seemed many people were falling with him—some screaming in terror, others struggling numbly—but soon, they all vanished.

He fell into water, as though sinking into a deep pool, yet also as weightless as a floating corpse, drifting with the current through the darkness.

It seemed he was already dead.

Yet it also seemed he was still on the road to death.

Almost there.

A voice told him so.

But death seemed endless, carrying him bit by bit into deeper darkness, until icy tides delivered him to a muddy shore.

A hunched figure emerged from the gloom, looked down at him, bent over, grabbed his leg, and dragged him toward a grass hut on the mudflat.

A knock at the door.

The door opened.

The stench of rotting corpses spread outward.

Inside the grass hut, only the bloodstained operating table was lit. A white-haired old man with a face full of wrinkles wore a mask as he dissected the corpse before him with complete concentration, occasionally stepping away to add a few strokes to the sketches on the nearby table.

Under the dim glow of an oil lamp, preserved specimens hanging from hooks all around dripped embalming fluid.

The hunched figure pointed at Huai Shi and held out a hand toward the old man behind the door, asking for something.

The old man cast a glance at the boy on the floor with clouded eyes and slowly shook his head. "He's not fully dead yet. Why did you sell me a living person?"

"Soon, soon..."

The hunched shadow made a strange sound, like the cry of a dog mixed with a fox. "He'll be soon... There's still Source Matter... still Source Matter..."

"I can only give you half. Leave him here if you want it; drag him away if you don't." The old man folded his sleeves and watched coldly.

The shadow seemed enraged and let out a shrill scream.

The old man remained unmoved, gazing at it indifferently until it dejectedly stretched out a hand. "Half, half..."

An ancient bronze coin was tossed into its hand.

"If there's nothing else, get lost. Don't disturb my work."

The old man looked down at Huai Shi, frowned, grabbed one of his legs, and laboriously dragged him onto the operating table, casually sweeping the mangled corpse that had been there aside.

The sound of the shadow closing the door as it left made Huai Shi's pupils tremble. He tried desperately to move, his lips twitching, but only coughed up a mouthful of bloody foam.

"Not dead yet?"

The old man pried open his eyelids and examined the whites of his eyes in surprise. His withered hands felt every bone in Huai Shi's body before he finally nodded with satisfaction.

"A very standard structure. Though the strength is lacking, he should make a temporary spare part... if I can preserve the best possible condition."

He sighed.

Hoarse, rasping sounds came from Huai Shi's throat, but they did no good.

"You have something to say?"

The old man watched his trembling pupils, sounding slightly helpless. "You're about to die. Wouldn't it be better to die quietly? I've seen plenty like you. You crossed the border and fell into hell, so isn't death only natural? Your Source Matter simply hasn't dispersed yet. What is there to complain about?"

He took out a bottle of medicine and poured it into Huai Shi's blood-flecked mouth. Violent spiciness and a bizarre sourness assaulted Huai Shi's throat. A scorching sensation like molten copper flowed down his throat, igniting his body like blazing fire and allowing him to release a hoarse groan of agony.

"This is a medicine I bought from that dog-headed man. It's used for making mummies; it keeps the organs active when someone is at death's door. Don't think it'll save your life, though. It merely converts what remains of your lifespan into vitality and squeezes it out... That way, you can say a few more words before dying, and my work becomes easier. Why not cooperate a little?"

The old man lowered his head. "Remember, don't scream. I hate noisy sounds."

Huai Shi struggled to suppress his cries of pain, his entire body convulsing. Just as the old man had said, he could actually make weak sounds in his dying moments.

"...Where... is this?"

"In your terms, hell at Depth Twelve. My corpse workshop, a place that sells little items to customers. Before long, you'll become one of those little items."

As the old man spoke,

"Can we make a deal..." Huai Shi swallowed the taste of pain and gasped with difficulty. "I actually quite want to keep living. Let me go."

"No. I already bought your corpse. How can you not die? Besides, you only have a few minutes left. If you die outside, I'll have to drag you back in again."

Under the dim light, the old man's two eyeballs rotated on separate axes. One black eye watched Huai Shi, while the other red one focused intently on where he was about to cut. "Look at your body. Your Source Matter is depleted; you don't have much time left at all... Your vitality may be abundant, but you're already like ashes, nearly burned through. Wouldn't it be better to die obediently? At least you could burn off your remaining value..."

Huai Shi stared blankly at the ceiling covered in dried bloodstains. Pain had been replaced by numbness, and even his voice had become dry and hoarse.

"I can't die here yet..."

"Why can't you die?" the old man said seriously. "Anyone can die."

As though the conversation had stirred his interest, he began chattering on.

"I've seen many people. They all thought they were important, that they played the most special role in this world. But when they came here, they all died.

After they died, the world continued onward, The Sun Rises as Usual, and reality did not stop or stagnate because they were gone. So they were wrong. They were no different from anyone else."

He pointed to them one by one as he explained to Huai Shi. "This one was once an exalted figure; this one was once a righteous champion who personally slew countless evildoers; this one was once a dictator's teacher. Under his instruction, that dictator changed from a tyrant into a wise leader of an era. This is the dictator he taught... Yet they all died.

Since one is born, death is unavoidable. Even gods are the same. A hundred years, two hundred years, watching the world change beyond recognition... After a thousand years, even a god would find this world boring.

Compared to them, what are you?"

"But I still don't want to die."

Huai Shi blinked desperately, refusing to let uncontrolled tears blur his vision. "How about this? Don't let my frail appearance fool you—I'm actually a tough guy. A man's tears are worth a fortune. I'm already crying, so could you let me go?"