Clutching our splitting heads, none of us were in good shape. Emperor Yan was no exception. After drinking this astringent liquor brewed from wild plants—straight from the still—we all felt it.
“We can't go on like this. We need to go out and hunt.”
Emperor Yan said this as he struggled to his feet. I chuckled, while Rachel Lan seemed rather sober—she hadn’t drunk enough to pass out. The rest of us had finished all the liquor from the tree stump.
At that moment, Yuna Ji staggered after us, John Chou lay by the fire pit with a wry smile, and Redmond was sprawled on the stone floor, clutching his stomach.
“Miss Yi, are you alright?”
I looked at Isabelle Frost, her face pale as she leaned against a mat made of leaves. She nodded.
“I’ll go out and gather some branches.”
Tonight, we still had to listen to Emperor Yan tell the second half of his story—essentially, the history of this dark land. John Chou seemed to have remembered something, and so did Redmond and Isabelle Frost.
I drifted out and began searching for fallen branches. The three who’d left were nowhere to be seen. Smiling, I landed in the woods and started picking them up.
After a while, I returned and found the three already lying down with their eyes closed, as if asleep. But ghosts cannot truly sleep.
It’s been this way ever since I regained my memories.
Just past noon, Emperor Yan and the others returned, bringing back plenty of fresh game. Yuna Ji was smiling, her earlier anxiety gone.
Today, I took the initiative to handle the animals. Rachel Lan helped, patiently teaching me how to do it. Although I’d spent plenty of time grilling things in the shop, I’d never really learned how to process animals. Yuna Ji rested her chin in her hands, watching with interest.
“When I was little, I was always afraid whenever I saw people in the tribe handling these animals.”
“You’ve always been like that, haven’t you? Want to give it a try?”
John Chou and the others got up from the ground and joined in to help with chores.
By afternoon, I started grilling. Today’s liquor was much sweeter than yesterday’s—still a bit bitter, but much better. Paired with the food, it was pure enjoyment.
“What happened after that?”
John Chou asked. Emperor Yan took a sip of liquor and replied cheerfully.
“Actually, a long time ago, something happened.”
Emperor Yan’s expression grew serious.
He watched as the people in the city became nothing more than puppets. Emperor Yan lived on the outskirts, building his own house and working as a carpenter to earn a living.
After seeing so many homeless people, Emperor Yan invited them nearby, helped them build homes, and taught them some skills. Still, he couldn’t fit into that society. Every so often, he’d return to the Shadowwood to search for three kinds of medicinal herbs.
Sometimes he brought patients suffering from The Stilled; sometimes he went alone.
He’d long since grown used to everything in the forest. Every time he entered, he felt a sense of belonging, and his mood would improve. Living this way made him feel truly alive—not dead.
To Emperor Yan, most people in the city were like the walking dead, endlessly repeating the same actions, every day the same, with no change at all.
One time, after returning from the Shadowwood, something strange happened. The people in the city stopped moving, as if time itself had frozen.
No matter what Emperor Yan tried, he found that no one moved—only he could. Everything here was deeply unsettling.
Unable to figure out the cause, Emperor Yan went to the giant pillar nearby. There, he saw a group of shadowy figures in the central plaza, seemingly performing some kind of ritual.
To find out what was happening, Emperor Yan decided to approach.
“But things didn’t go as I expected. When I got close to the giant pillar, I lost consciousness. When I came to, everything was back to normal.”
Emperor Yan spoke, his face grave, as if recalling everything that had happened.
“After that, all time felt meaningless.”
Up to now, all the residents living in darkness have become the same.
Nothing can be changed. The people from the Dark Banquet come down from time to time, apparently doing something.
“Old Yan, when you lost consciousness, do you remember how long it lasted?”
John Chou asked. Emperor Yan thought for a while before answering.
“It must have been thirteen days. I grow some plants at home, and plants are the only things that can grow in this world. So I know—it was at least thirteen days.”
“Looks like they held another Dark Banquet. But why freeze all the residents in the city?”
John Chou asked in confusion. Yuna Ji giggled.
“It’s no use thinking about it. Come on, let’s keep drinking. There’s always a way to solve those worries.”
Yuna Ji was already a bit drunk. That night, we kept drinking, but John Chou’s expression remained clouded.
When everyone else had passed out, I was tipsy but hadn’t drunk much tonight. John Chou hadn’t, either.
“What are you thinking about, John Chou?”
“Brother, what do you think is the real purpose behind the Dark Banquet?”
I thought for a moment before answering.
“Naturally, it’s to select capable people of the darkness, to join the Dark Banquet.”
John Chou nodded.
“That’s definitely part of it, but I think it’s just one step in their experiment. The real purpose is probably to force something out—like that guy over there.”
John Chou pointed to Emperor Yan, who was already asleep.
“What do you mean?”
“The Founding Emperors grew tired of conflict, but maybe the obsession with fighting is too deep-rooted. Neither of them could win in the end. So, brother, what do you think is the safest method?”
(Irrelevant passage skipped.)
I shook my head.
“Naturally, it’s to create another version of yourself—one ignorant of the past—to replace the original, and then seal away your true self.”
My eyes widened as I stared at John Chou.
“No matter how powerful the Dark Banquet is, they could never seal away the Founding Emperors. So the two of them chose to sleep on their own. What you see now is just another version of themselves, created to avoid war. In other words...”
“The Dark Banquet’s soul-creation technology comes from the Founding Emperors?”
A chill ran through me. John Chou laughed and nodded.
“It’s rare to get such a close look at an almost perfect artificial soul.”