Bishui Plain, the Nation of Salt.
It lies between Stone Gate and Mingyun Village, with Dragonspine looming behind.
Before the Archon War, the land was calm, its terrain flat and unbroken. But after the war, mountains collapsed, the land caved in, and Bishui's waters flooded in.
What had once been towns and homes now slumbered beneath a vast inland lake. Only a few broken ruins jutted from the surface.
At the center of the lake, upon a sealed altar, three figures appeared—fresh from their breakfast at Wanmin Restaurant.
Taro, Zhongli, and Madame Ping.
"We're here."
Glancing once at the stele, Taro looked toward Zhongli.
"Since this is where Havria fell, let's begin."
"Mm."
Zhongli nodded, raising his right hand. The seal that guarded the site dissolved into a faint glow, revealing the dark mouth of a cavern below.
After all, it was a seal he had set. Undoing it was simple.
"Huu~"
At his side, Madame Ping placed a hand to her chest, drawing in a long breath.
"By the Archon's blessing… may all go well."
This was about Guizhong's revival. Of course she prayed for success.
"..."
Zhongli stayed silent. He wanted to grant blessings, but could he really?
Truthfully, if anyone could decide this outcome, it wasn't him—it was Taro.
"Let's go."
Taro lifted a foot and leapt down.
Without a word, Madame Ping followed.
Zhongli came last, and as he passed through the entrance he re-formed the seal, sealing the cavern shut.
The matter ahead was too important. No outside interruption could be allowed.
If anything disturbed Taro's ritual, Zhongli would be angry.
They fell for several seconds. A pool shimmered below, reflecting faint light.
None of them were ordinary mortals, of course. They each touched the water lightly, and landed without so much as a splash.
"Forward, that is where she lies."
Zhongli lifted his hand. A hidden gate shimmered into view.
They walked through without pause.
The passage resembled a wet limestone cave, with salt-hardened corpses frozen where they had fled.
The three stayed silent, ascending steps lined with traces of life—faded belongings reduced to dust, no longer recognizable.
At last, a palace-like structure appeared.
Zhongli raised a hand, golden light flowing. The great doors groaned open.
Inside, only salt statues.
And in the center—a salt crystal flower.
"Havria's death was quiet," Zhongli murmured. "She left little residue behind. Yet she was a god. Even the fading echoes of her death are more than mortals could endure."
It matched his memory exactly, but still the sight made him sigh.
Havria had been a god—yet too kind, too gentle, too weak. In an age where gods clashed with wisdom, armies, and blood, her endless concessions doomed her. She could not survive.
"Now, I must ask Taro to test it."
His wistfulness faded. He turned, eyes bright with expectation.
"Taro…"
Madame Ping's lips parted, voice low:
"If it proves impossible, please—spare yourself first."
Taro smiled. "I accept your kindness. Now watch."
"You'll have our protection."
She and Zhongli exchanged glances, retreating to give him space.
"No need to be so tense."
Taro smiled faintly, lifted his hand, and let his mana surge. He began the first attempt.
"Tenth Tier—Holy Light's Redemption!"
This time he didn't start with a Super-Tier. Super-Tiers required chanting unless fueled by cash-shop items, and he could only cast four in a day. Best to begin lower.
Soft radiance filled the hall. Behind him appeared the phantom of a Seraph of Order, its wings blazing with light.
The glow surged forth.
At the altar, the salt blossom shimmered. A shadow began to take form—the figure of Havria.
Crack—
"Hm?"
Taro frowned. The seraph's projection flickered and dissolved. The light vanished, and the forming image shattered into nothing.
"Resurrection failed?"
The spell had cast, yet it failed.
Three possibilities.
First: spell rank too low.
Second: the target's level too low to qualify.
Third: higher powers interfering.
The second was impossible. Havria was a god, however weak. She met the conditions.
The third could be dismissed as well. If higher powers had blocked it, the projection would have collapsed instantly, not midway.
Which left only one answer: insufficient spell rank.
At a distance, Zhongli and Madame Ping clenched their fists.
Failed?
Even so, they dared not interrupt.
"The tenth tier is still too low," Taro muttered. "Seems I'll need a Super-Tier after all. Tch—today's your lucky day."
He flicked his wrist. A white-bound tome appeared, etched with angelic images.
A cash-shop artifact—the Book of Holy Angels, a lower-tier substitute for the World Item Cup of Hecate.
Within it lay a single Super-Tier resurrection spell.
Super-Tier: Archangel's Mercy.
Using the book granted one free cast per day, with no XP penalty. Limited, but useful.
Taro cupped the tome gently. His voice dropped:
"God said: All shall be redeemed."
"Super-Tier—Archangel's Mercy!"
Magic arrays burst from beneath his feet, expanding a hundred meters in every direction, enveloping the hall.
Complex runes burned bright, forming chains of order that soared upward into infinity.
Taro ignored the ritual chants written into the spell.
Only edgelords recited those lines. He never bothered.
He simply waited.
Would the god of salt rise again?
(End of Chapter)
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