Chapter 6: Salt Rest
Salt Rest had been built around a well that, according to local records, existed long before the Convergence.
In those days, underground water had been plentiful. Merchants crossed the region to replenish their caravans before continuing toward the larger cities. The white soil surrounding the well had given the settlement its name, while its natural reserves ensured modest but consistent prosperity.
All of that had changed after the collision of the two universes.
Now, the walls were constructed from salvaged stone, the watchtowers had been reinforced with whatever materials remained available, and half the houses stood empty. The main well still functioned, but its water was distributed under armed supervision. Every family received a fixed allowance, and anyone caught taking more than their share risked imprisonment or expulsion.
Scarcity had turned even water into an instrument of power.
Han Feng spotted the settlement shortly before sunset.
He did not approach immediately. Instead, he climbed a small rise to the west and observed the walls, gates, and paths leading into the settlement.
Six guards stood visibly at the main entrance. Two archers occupied the watchtowers, while an incomplete defensive formation stretched along the northern wall.
The formation combined traditional inscriptions from the Gu World with energy patterns Han Feng associated with cultivation methods from the other universe. The arrangement appeared functional, although several lines flickered at irregular intervals.
He noticed something more important.
The gate was open, yet no caravans were entering or leaving.
The settlement seemed to be waiting for something.
Han Feng descended the hill and approached without changing his pace. The Art of the Celestial Veil kept his presence inconspicuous, while his dark robes bore no sect insignia or organizational markings.
To the guards, he looked like another solitary traveler attempting to cross a region that had become increasingly dangerous.
"Identification and purpose of visit," a guard demanded when he approached.
Han Feng presented a simple commercial pass he had acquired months earlier. It was common enough to avoid suspicion and contained no information about his true origins, only a travel name and a registration identifying him as an independent merchant.
The guard examined the seal.
"How long will you stay?"
"One night. Perhaps two. I need supplies and information about the northern roads."
"The roads are closed."
"All of them?"
"The ones that matter."
The guard returned the document and pointed toward a desk beside the gate. Behind it, a gray-haired woman recorded travelers in a thick ledger.
Han Feng paid the entrance fee, declared that he carried only personal provisions, and submitted to a superficial inspection. The guards found nothing that justified a more thorough search.
Once inside, he caught the smell of brackish water, smoke, and food prepared from inferior ingredients.
The streets were crowded, but the settlement lacked the usual bustle of a trading post. Vendors offered small portions of grain, secondhand tools, and fragments of spiritual materials recovered from convergence zones. People argued over prices in hushed voices, as though even an ordinary conversation might attract the attention of someone dangerous.
Han Feng headed for the nearest inn.
The establishment was called the Last Drop Inn. Its owner, a thin man with a scar on his chin, informed him that only shared rooms were available.
Han Feng accepted the smallest one, paid in advance, and ordered a simple meal.
He asked no questions about the missing caravans while the innkeeper was nearby. Experience had taught him that people who were particularly interested in hearing questions were often equally interested in discovering who had asked them.
After eating, he went out to walk through the settlement.
Salt Rest had three principal districts. The central area contained the well and administrative post. The eastern district housed merchants, workshops, and storage depots, while the western side consisted of older residences and several abandoned shrines.
Han Feng chose the eastern district.
It was the best place to overhear conversations about cargo and transportation without appearing unusually curious.
In one workshop, two men were arguing over the price of a shipment of ore.
"It isn't worth half that amount," one complained. "The energy disappeared during transport. The material is dead."
"The buyer won't pay more because of that."
"Then return my deposit."
"The deposit was paid before the last energy collapse. The agreement still stands."
Han Feng slowed his pace, pretending to examine tools displayed at a nearby stall.
"Have you heard about the caravan that disappeared?" the first man asked.
The other glanced around.
"Don't talk about that here."
"Why? It's no secret that three caravans have vanished."
"Three caravans disappeared, and the Regional Council prohibited anyone from investigating the old road. That's all you need to know."
"What if someone wants to cross it?"
"Then they'll discover why it was closed."
The conversation ended when a third man entered the workshop.
Han Feng continued walking, storing the information in his memory without attempting to extract more. The old road was probably the location he needed to investigate.
If the caravans had disappeared while transporting materials recovered from convergence zones, he needed to determine where they had come from and which route they had taken.
He found a partial answer in a teahouse near the storage depots.
The establishment was nearly empty. Three travelers occupied a table in the back, while an elderly man cleaned cups behind the counter.
Han Feng chose a seat against the wall and ordered an inexpensive infusion.
When the old man brought his drink, Han Feng casually asked about the condition of the roads.
"If you're looking for a safe passage, you should have arrived a month ago," the old man replied. "Now there are only roads that haven't killed anyone yet."
"Is the old road really closed?"
The old man stopped cleaning his cup.
"Who told you about it?"
"A merchant in the street."
"Then that merchant talks too much."
Han Feng placed a small coin on the table.
"I don't need a map. I only want to know why they closed the road."
The old man studied the coin, then examined Han Feng's face.
"A search party returned without being able to explain what it had seen. Five men went looking for the second caravan. Three came back. One couldn't speak, and another died before dawn."
He lowered his voice.
"The survivor said the caravan was standing in the middle of the road. The animals were still harnessed to the wagons, but there was nobody inside. The crates remained closed. The documents were in their proper places. It was as though everyone had simply ceased to exist."
"And the third survivor?"
"The Council took him away. We never saw him again."
Han Feng took a sip of his infusion.
"Were there signs of a struggle?"
"None."
"Tracks?"
"None that made sense. Investigators found wheel marks leading onto the road, but no tracks leading away. Even so, there were no vehicles when they arrived."
The old man leaned across the table.
"If you want my advice, traveler, forget about that road. The Council doesn't want anyone approaching it, and it isn't because they're worried about the merchants' safety."
His expression hardened.
"There's something there they can't control."
Han Feng thanked him and left the teahouse.
The information wasn't enough to determine the nature of the phenomenon, but it confirmed that the missing caravans hadn't been attacked in any conventional sense.
There were no signs of looting, fighting, or escape.
The vehicles had simply disappeared, while evidence of their journey remained.
That suggested a spatial anomaly.
But Han Feng wasn't prepared to accept the first explanation that sounded reasonable. The black door beneath Three Stones Station also defied the known properties of convergence fissures, and the tablet he carried had reacted in ways he still couldn't explain.
Connecting all these events without sufficient evidence would be a mistake.
He needed to see the road himself.
Before that, however, he needed to discover who was watching it.
An Unwelcome Invitation
The opportunity presented itself shortly after nightfall.
Han Feng was returning to the inn when he noticed two men following him along a parallel street.
Both wore ordinary clothing, but their movements were too coordinated for those of casual travelers. One pretended to examine merchandise displayed at the stalls, while the other kept his attention fixed on the side entrances of nearby buildings.
Han Feng maintained his pace.
He turned into a narrow alley, passed an abandoned storage building, and entered a small courtyard surrounded by stone walls.
There was only one obvious exit.
He walked toward the back, where a stack of empty containers partially concealed an opening in the wall.
Then he stopped.
Footsteps approached.
"The traveler came in here," a male voice said.
"Are we certain it's him?"
"The report described dark robes and a commercial pass. He's the same man who appeared in the valley."
Han Feng remained motionless.
The survivor who had fled the Gray Claw Gang had probably passed the information to someone else.
That wasn't surprising.
What concerned him was how quickly the report had reached Salt Rest—and how much interest it had attracted.
The two men entered the courtyard.
"Traveler," the first called. "We need to talk."
Han Feng turned slowly.
"About what?"
"An incident west of here. We've heard that you defeated several cultivators without revealing your true strength."
"People exaggerate when they tell stories."
"Perhaps. Our employer would like to hear your version."
"And who is your employer?"
The man smiled but offered no answer.
Han Feng studied them.
The first possessed a moderate cultivation foundation. The second had concentrated a small quantity of essence in his right hand.
Both were prepared to fight, although they were trying to conceal it.
"If your employer wishes to speak with me," Han Feng said, "he can come in person."
The smile disappeared.
"That's not how things work in Salt Rest."
"Then we have nothing to discuss."
The second man moved first.
A thin chain slipped from his sleeve and uncoiled through the air toward Han Feng's arm. At the same time, the first activated a binding Gu, causing narrow red lines to appear across the ground.
The attack was coordinated.
Han Feng could have ended the encounter immediately, but he wanted to learn whether the men were acting on their own initiative.
Instead of releasing his true strength, he allowed the chain to wrap around his wrist and permitted the red lines to close around his feet.
The first man gave a short laugh.
"Not so impressive now, are you?"
Han Feng glanced at the chain.
"Who sent you?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
The man pulled hard.
For an instant, it appeared that Han Feng would be dragged forward.
Then the chain went slack.
It hadn't broken or lost its structure. It simply stopped encountering resistance, as though the wrist it had bound had shifted somewhere else.
Han Feng caught the chain and pulled once.
The second man was dragged forward, lost his balance, and slammed shoulder-first into the wall. Before he could recover, Han Feng touched a pressure point on the side of his neck.
The man collapsed unconscious.
The first tried to retreat, but the binding lines still covered the ground.
Han Feng shifted his foot and made a subtle adjustment to the circulation of essence within the formation.
The red lines went dark.
The binding Gu gave a sharp crack as the disrupted formation forced energy back through its channels. The first man's face turned pale.
Han Feng advanced and seized him by the collar.
"I'll ask again. Who sent you?"
The man attempted to gather his essence but realized that its flow had become disordered. The difference in their strength was too great for him to resist.
"The Regional Council," he finally answered. "We work for the investigation team."
"Then why didn't you identify yourselves?"
"Because we wanted to confirm whether you were the person described in the report."
"And now that you've confirmed it?"
"We're supposed to take you to the administrative post."
Han Feng released his collar.
"Tell your employer I have no interest in visiting the post."
"You can't simply—"
Han Feng looked at him.
The man fell silent.
"You may leave," Han Feng said. "Take your companion with you."
The agent hesitated, then carried his unconscious partner out of the courtyard.
Han Feng waited until their footsteps had faded before leaving through the hidden opening between the containers.
The encounter confirmed that the Regional Council was monitoring travelers connected to the recent incidents.
Perhaps they were searching for witnesses. Perhaps they wanted to prevent information about the old road from spreading. It was also possible that they were attempting to identify anyone capable of resisting the anomalies.
Whatever their purpose, Han Feng had no intention of presenting himself voluntarily.
The Tablet's Response
That night, he didn't return to his room immediately.
Instead, he found an abandoned house two streets away from the inn. He entered through a broken window and inspected the interior.
The building was empty except for dusty furniture and water stains spreading across the ceiling.
It would suffice for a brief meditation.
Han Feng removed the tablet from its insulated pouch and placed it on a wooden table.
This time, he didn't attempt to activate it.
He simply studied the inscription beneath the faint light filtering through the window.
The four characters looked ordinary, as though they had been carved with simple tools. Yet the tablet possessed a property he still couldn't explain.
Its surface reflected light unevenly.
At certain angles, one portion seemed to absorb the glow, while another returned it with an almost imperceptible delay.
He slowly rotated the tablet.
Nothing happened.
Then, without warning, the Celestial Diagram reacted.
A thin line illuminated within his consciousness.
The pulse was so brief that Han Feng nearly mistook it for a lingering impression from his earlier meditations. But this time, the reaction didn't originate at the center of the Diagram.
It began at one of its outermost points and traveled through the structure like a silent wave.
The tablet darkened.
For a fraction of a second, the four characters disappeared, replaced by a completely smooth surface.
Then the inscription returned.
Han Feng immediately withdrew his hand.
He felt no pain, detected no loss of energy, and found no changes in his meridians.
Even so, he placed the tablet back inside its insulated pouch.
The reaction had been stronger than any previous one, and he had no reason to continue experimenting.
For several moments, he remained seated, mentally reviewing every detail.
The phenomenon hadn't resembled ordinary activation. No energy had visibly entered or left the tablet. Nor had there been any sign that it had consumed the primordial essence stored within his body.
It was as though the object had recognized something and responded to its presence.
The Celestial Diagram.
The possibility was troubling.
Han Feng didn't know whether the tablet reacted specifically to the Diagram or whether both were responding to a third factor. He also couldn't determine whether someone, somewhere, might have detected the reaction.
He had no way to answer those questions in an abandoned house.
He secured the tablet, stood, and left before dawn.
The Road That Erased Its Travelers
The old road began just over three kilometers from the settlement, beyond a bend between two hills.
Han Feng reached it while the sky was still dark, following a secondary path that avoided the watchtowers.
The area had been sealed off with a barrier of wood and stone, reinforced by defensive inscriptions. A notice issued by the Regional Council prohibited entry under penalty of imprisonment.
Han Feng examined the barrier.
It wasn't particularly powerful. Its primary purpose was to deter ordinary people, while warning formations would alert the guards if anyone attempted to cross.
However, something unusual caught his attention in the inscriptions near the ground.
Several lines ended abruptly without connecting to the rest of the formation.
He crouched to study them.
They didn't appear to have been damaged by an impact. The structure remained intact, yet portions of the pattern simply had no continuation.
Han Feng extended his spiritual perception beyond the barrier.
The road ran through a natural corridor between the hills. A thin layer of white dust covered the ground, and old wheel tracks were still visible near the entrance.
Several meters farther in, however, the tracks ended abruptly.
There were no footprints leading back.
No wreckage.
No bodies.
The road itself remained visible, but Han Feng's spiritual perception couldn't determine its full extent with any precision.
The sensation reminded him of what he had experienced before the black door: the space seemed to exist, yet it refused to provide enough information to be understood.
He didn't cross the barrier.
Instead, he took a small stone from his pocket and tossed it onto the road.
It fell normally and rolled through the white dust before stopping several meters away.
Han Feng threw a second stone, this time coating it with a tiny amount of primordial essence.
It followed the same trajectory.
But when it reached the point where the wheel tracks ended, it disappeared.
There was no flash.
No explosion.
The stone simply ceased to exist.
Han Feng remained motionless.
A faint sound emerged from farther along the road.
It was so quiet that he might have mistaken it for the wind, but the vibration repeated twice, each time at precisely the same interval.
The Celestial Diagram remained silent.
The tablet did as well.
Han Feng took a step backward.
A moment later, another faint sound came from within the road.
Thump.
He couldn't tell whether it was a heartbeat, a mechanical pulse, or something produced by the distortion itself.
He didn't need more tests to confirm that the road contained a genuine anomaly.
His next step was to find records of the disappearances, discover what materials the caravans had been carrying, and understand why the Regional Council was determined to keep the area isolated.
As he turned to leave, he noticed a figure on the opposite hillside.
A man wearing a gray mantle stood without any visible insignia. The distance prevented Han Feng from accurately assessing his cultivation, but his posture suggested that he had been there for some time.
The two watched each other in silence.
The stranger raised one hand, revealing a small dark object between his fingers.
Even at that distance, Han Feng recognized its shape.
It was a black fragment resembling the object Mei Qiu had described.
The man made no attempt to approach. He merely concealed the fragment again and disappeared behind the hill.
Han Feng didn't pursue him.
That decision cost him a possible opportunity to obtain answers, but it also prevented him from entering a situation potentially arranged by someone whose strength and intentions he didn't know.
The stranger knew Han Feng was there.
He also knew that Han Feng had recognized the object.
That was enough to turn their brief encounter into a warning.
Han Feng left the old road and returned toward the settlement by a different route.
Before reaching the walls, he made a decision.
He would leave Salt Rest that morning, but he wouldn't travel directly to Dry Well City. First, he would find a secure location where he could compare the information he had gathered and determine whether the stranger carrying the black fragment was connected to the Regional Council or the Threshold Society.
The black door, the missing caravans, and the fragments seemed to be drawing closer to the same underlying problem.
There was still insufficient evidence to establish a connection.
But it was no longer prudent to treat every event as an isolated coincidence.
Han Feng reached a rise from which he could see the settlement and looked back toward the old road.
For an instant, he thought the white dust was moving against the wind.
Then everything returned to normal.
Far beneath the surface, beyond the reach of every formation maintained by the Regional Council, an invisible structure registered the passage of a presence that should not have been capable of observing it.
It was neither a person nor a beast.
And it was not the black door.
The anomaly remained motionless, showing no apparent sign of consciousness. Yet one of the lines sustaining it had changed direction.
The movement was minuscule, almost meaningless against the vastness of the surrounding space.
Even so, for the first time since the first caravan disappeared, something within the old road seemed to respond to a presence that existed outside it.
The road did not open.
Not yet.
But somewhere beyond what cultivators called space, a route that had never existed had just acquired a destination.