"You stab me first, or I stab you first?" Elliot asked, holding a spear.
"Brother... do we really have to do this?" Morax's face was filled with confusion.
"Of course. Did you think I was joking?"
"But..."
"What's the point of this?" Morax really didn't want a hole carved into his body.
"If you don't immerse yourself in their world, how can you truly experience human emotions?"
"But we don't need to put holes in ourselves, do we? We could just go over and ask to join them."
"......" Hearing Morax's words, Elliot found himself momentarily at a loss. He opened his mouth as if to explain, but stopped halfway.
"People are naturally cautious. If two strangers just walk into their village saying they want to join, they won't trust us so easily."
"Why wouldn't they? Are they worried we'll steal from them?" Morax asked in puzzlement.
"Not robbing—stealing," Elliot corrected.
"Then they..." Morax began to argue, but then it struck him—humans didn't have spatial storage. They couldn't carry their valuables around, so they had to hide them in their homes.
Thinking it over, it actually did make sense.
"Tsk..."
"Humans are such trouble." Morax could only mutter in complaint.
"Quit whining. It's just a hole." With that, Elliot raised the spear and thrust it into Morax's right kidney, piercing straight through.
"Even gods are made of flesh!!!! That hurts!!!"
Morax hadn't expected Elliot to strike so decisively. Before he could even brace himself, his side was already pierced through.
"Don't dawdle—now do me." Without hesitation, Elliot tossed the spear to Morax.
Morax caught it, paused for a moment, and looked at him uncertainly.
"Brother... are you sure?" he asked.
"Quickly, now."
At that, Morax no longer hesitated and drove the spear into Elliot's kidney.
Clenching his teeth against the searing pain, Morax stared at him in shock.
"Brother... are you alright?" he stammered.
A hole had been driven through Elliot's body, yet not a cry escaped him—not even a muffled groan.
"I'm fine... Let's go."
Though Elliot outwardly appeared calm, the injury was real—his tone betrayed a subtle strain. Otherwise, Morax might have suspected that he felt no pain at all, or that he hadn't even struck him properly.
This reaction... was far too calm.
"Remember, your name is Zhongli. In the human world, you must live as a human. Do not use the Geo element, and never reveal your identity as a god. If you don't understand something, ask me. And keep your words few—the more you talk, the more likely you'll slip up." Elliot reminded him once again.
As for the name Zhongli, Elliot had chosen it for Morax. He had considered other names, but none sounded quite right. Zhongli suited him best.
"Alright..." Morax replied with difficulty, pressing his bleeding wound. Cold sweat beaded across his forehead from the intense pain.
"Good. Let's go."
Supporting Morax, Elliot staggered with him toward a nearby village.
It was a place Elliot had spent half a month observing.
The village had no god's protection and lived off fishing. It was about the same size as Watatsumi Island, with a population of less than two hundred. Elliot planned for him and Morax to live there for five years.
The two of them, bloodied and weak, leaned on each other as they slowly made their way to the village outskirts.
"Hey! Are you two alright?!"
A woman drying salted fish gasped in shock. She dropped her work and rushed toward them.
As she approached, Elliot subtly tugged at Morax's clothes.
At once, both of them collapsed to the ground.
That tug was their signal: if Elliot pulled on him, Morax was to feign unconsciousness and not move.
"They're badly hurt!" The woman cried out at the sight of the blood-soaked holes in their bodies, their clothes almost entirely drenched in red.
She let out another shout and ran back toward the village without looking back.
Before long, several young men came running.
"These two! Hurry!"
Soon, Elliot and Morax were lifted onto stretchers.
"Grandpa Lian, quick! These two won't last much longer!" shouted one of the men carrying Morax.
"Lay them on the bed, quickly!" a woman's voice ordered.
"Heavens, such terrible injuries! What happened to them?" another woman exclaimed in alarm.
"Little Rou, prepare clean water and cloths! Qing'er, bring the bandages and my herbs! The rest of you, out—this room is too small. Don't get in the way, wait by the door."
A firm, commanding middle-aged voice spoke right by Morax's ear.
Soon, the room was filled with hurried footsteps.
Their clothes were carefully removed, and they could clearly feel hands wiping the blood from around their wounds.