Desolate Ridge, Origin Mountain.
Inside an excavated cave on one of the peaks, a few steps were all it took to see wine jars and bones scattered across the ground.
Tiger Seven, the current nominal leader of Desolate Ridge.
At that moment, his tiger face looked dejected, his massive body seated on a crude throne made of stone.
Endless worries spread through his heart as his tiger eyes turned toward the old fox down to his left, whose face looked just as miserable.
Sounding gloomy and somewhat accusatory, Tiger Seven asked:
"Broken Abacus, these calculations of yours aren't working out. Didn't you say we could raise a banner, trick some demons into building me a palace, and leave all the odds and ends to them from then on?"
"And now? Look outside the cave. You call that thing a palace? Rotten mud slapped over rotten stones. Sure, it's tall, but I don't even dare lean against it, for fear it'll collapse."
"I lived there for two days. When it poured outside, it drizzled inside-and it was raining mud!"
"The rain alone has knocked it down twice! I figured I'd be better off living in a cave than in that thing. Look at this cave. At least it doesn't leak!"
The old fox lowered his head, his left hand unconsciously fiddling with the old abacus beside him.
Tiger Seven shook his head gently, his voice growing even more tragic:
"Broken Abacus, you also said that once we had lesser demons, we could make them do everything. Whatever I wanted to eat, I'd only have to give the order."
"And now? The moment I open my eyes, how many demons outside the cave are asking me what we're eating today?"
"What are we eating? I don't fucking know what there is to