The ocean crossing Qing Liao and Amami Yoko made encompassed a total distance of nearly one thousand kilometers and took a full five days. There were no additional encounters with demonic cultivators, or any other signs of human existence of any kind. They were left alone amid the creatures of the sea, who were large and abundant. Ranging from sharks to dolphins to mighty whales and more they filled the waters on all sides. Using the diving pattern throughout, the two cultivators saw little of this. There was only the constant churn of light to dark according to the patterns of depth variation and day and night.

Endless strange shapes flowed paST in the dark, dimly glimpsed even in the enhanced vision of cultivators. These induced considerable curiosity in Liao. He would have liked to stop and take a better look, perhaps even catch some in nets and fill his storage rings but dared not. Instead, he was left with the knowledge that however familiar he'd become with the wilderness on land, he knew almost nothing of the deep.

In the end they made landfall along a rugged, empty coastline full of hard and rocky slopes. Viewing the land from the shoreline, Liao saw nothing more than a line of endless mountains waiting behind the coastal forests. Having studied the maps of the old world well, he had no desire to cross these mountains here. "If we go north," he told his companion. "We should encounter a major river soon enough. We can take that as our route over the mountains."

This suggestion met with ready agreement. It did not take much to discern that one born underwater had little inclination to undertake a long overland trek through rugged mountainous terrain.

Half a day to the north they found a small bay marked out by rocky islands covered in low shrubs and thick grass. Liao killed the mere handful of demons lingering atop a small island and they made use of the few spare hours this offered up to rest and recover. Drying out, welcome now that they had moved north into chillier climes, they also restored what strength they could by filling their stomachs. Liao's storage rings held sufficient reserves of trail food, mostly nuts, such that they could survive on carried supplies for many weeks without any need to stop and harvest. Though he expected that, if necessary, he could forage for vegetables on the move without losing too much time.

They had to cover for each other while they stole a few hours for sleep, each cultivator killing such demons as made the approach from across the shallow bay. Thankfully, the tally was small, not even one each hour. There was no sign of any mob developing. "We should keep to formerly wild lands on the way back," Liao took the lesson of this shift in frequency as a sign. He explained the full distribution of demons across former sect holdings in the morning while weaving a simple shirt and skirt from grass and willow for Amami Yoko to wear. Though nakedness was apparently of little consequence to one who'd grown up in a land where swimming was more common than walking, some protection remained useful in the scrub and forest they would soon traverse. Beyond that, Liao found he was uncomfortable traveling with a woman in a state of complete undress.

The straw sandals he made, at least, were taken with genuine gratitude.

He also took the chance, as the sun rose, to explain the overall plan, though it remained a very rough scheme even as contained within his mind's eye. "The goal, from here, is to return to Mother's Gift without drawing notice. Fate has drawn the eyes of the demonic cultivators mostly away from this region," he scowled then, knowing that the reason was so that they could plunder Amami Yoko's home.

For her part, the water cultivator simply listened to this in silence.

"We do need to avoid traveling too far north, where the Prowling Shadow stalks the great forests of the taiga, or too far to the west where the Schism Rider rampages across the vast steppes." Using his daggers, he carved out a crude map in a patch of loose mud. "We are here, on the Black Dragon Coast," he made a mark with his finger. "And our goal is here, far to the southwest. The straight route would cross the peninsula, the sea again, and then the central plains of the former orthodox heartland, but that is a dangerous route with many demons and the possibility that Scoria Scorn or some other demonic cultivator might jaunt back to check on the lands they recently vacated. Instead, we'll follow the mountains, keeping to the river valleys, west and southwest until we reach the Great Silt River. From there, we will pass through the ruins of the True Heart Sect's land and then south over the mountains to reach the basin and Mother's Gift."

Liao hoped the summary was sufficiently clear that if they were separated Amami Yoko would at least have a chance to follow the mountain route herself. That way she might get close enough to Mother's Gift to be found by the scouts. A wan hope, but one he felt desperate enough to consider given their current circumstances.

"That is a great length of mountains," the water cultivator noted with blatant trepidation.

"Mountains are safer," her reaction made sense, but Liao pushed back immediately. He had been granted command and had at last come to a point where he possessed knowledge enough that deference to his choices truly mattered. He might not pursue authority, but given the chance to use it appropriately, and perhaps save this woman's life, he dared not shirk it. "Demons congregate near former settlements where the echo of vital qi remains and there were once many people. They are rare in the mountains, where people were few even at the height of the old world, and as you have already seen, can be blocked in their pursuit by steep slopes. So long as we stay beneath the trees, it is the best route."

"You know the land and I do not," acquiescence came swiftly enough. "But it will be hard to go so far from the sea."

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"I do not think there is anywhere at sea that is safe," Liao replied sadly. It was a tragedy, to know a hidden land had fallen, to understand that the demonic cultivators had found some means to locate them and would surely, in time, take them all. Five powerful demonic cultivators would press Mother's Gift severely. Other lands, bereft of the Celestial Mother's guidance, would not be so lucky.

This somber declaration meant they began their long mountain trek in silence. At Liao's best guess, the total distance was some three thousand kilometers. He suspected he could make that trip, alone, in as little as ten days. Now, needing to both dodge demons and cover each other at rest, he intended to slow down and more than double that allotment. A long journey, among the longest he'd made. He wished so much of it was not through country he'd never visited.

He suspected, or rather he was quite certain, that there would be many unforeseen complications. The only real solace attached to taking this route was that the longer journey would give Amami Yoko some time to regrow her hair. The wounds on her legs had already largely repaired themselves, thanks to pills Liao carried, but he had no concoction designed to increase hair growth. He was left watching as she silently ran her hand over her bare scalp again and again. This happened with great frequency and made him wince every time.

They traveled light, carrying only weapons, storage bands, and bamboo water jugs. Silence was their general companion on the march. Amami Yoko was not much inclined to talk outdoors, a habit that seemingly came from a life in water where one simply could not do so. She possessed a system of hand signals used to relay essential information instead but claimed that these were a sect secret and not to be taught to outsiders.

In this way, and through numerous other small habits and ticks observed over time, the woman who'd escaped the devastation of her sect would cling to the pretense that it still existed. This was surely counterproductive, such denial would accomplish nothing in the end, and a cultivator must always strive to advance. Obsession with the past presented a dangerous preoccupation, one the encounter with the remnant soul of Shingo made abundantly clear.

Despite this easily discerned difficulty, all possibilities of counsel eluded Liao. He had no idea how to help anyone grapple with a loss on such a scale as Amami Yoko had suffered. Even though he held out Mother's Gift as a prospective place of safety, healing and, ultimately, revenge, he knew promises linked to some unknown place were nothing more than vaporous dreams. The only truth that fully impacted was that it was a long way from the ocean. That reality, one whose formidable distance inscribed itself into their feet each day, could not be opposed.

The mountain route forced adjustments upon them both. Amami Yoko struggled with the endless walking and the burdens that constant ascent and descent across irregular substrates of root and stone imposed upon her body. Even as a potent cultivator the needs of the body mattered still, and she had never walked at length or in a land of changing elevation before. It took time to retrain muscles and adjust qi reinforcement patterns accordingly. She bore such weariness and soreness as this induced without complaint, seeking in battle with her endurance an escape from time spent reflecting on her loss. With each new day she demanded they push harder and further.

This made evading the demons easier, so Liao could hardly refuse such dedication, however suspect its origins might be.

For his part, Liao was forced to learn to manage the complex problems that arose from existing in the wild with enemies on all sides. Enemies that not only unerringly sensed their presence but constantly encroached upon their route. Simply traveling hard was not enough to keep ahead.

If they dared to move in a straight line they would pull demons towards them in a vast spiral pattern that would cause movement on a scale that could not possibly avoid notice. An occasional flashing flicker of plague qi high in the western sky suggested that Schism Rider, at least, kept some measure of his attention directed towards the mountains of the east. In order to prevent that from transforming into a genuine search, Liao had to range out and disperse the demons as they moved, obscuring the agitation that spilled across the red mass by coating it with a veil of empty death shadows.

This required many complicated steps, all of them discovered along the way. First, he ordered Amami Yoko to deal with any demons in their immediate path. With her strength restored she was more than capable of slashing through lone ghouls or ogres, often slaying them without breaking stride. Giants remained an obstacle to be avoided, but that was something that the twisting topography of slopes, cliffs, and valleys rendered genuinely easy.

Next, he mandated that they chart out a semi-random circuitous path full of periodic double-backs, diversions, and bursts of speed. Liao had despaired of finding a proper way to explain the need for such erratic motion, but he was forestalled in his concerns when the water cultivator simply suggested 'a standard tuna trap pattern, reversed' and implemented a method of movement that, though now confined to two dimensions, left the demons constantly scrambling to adjust to their changing position. Liao added to this by drawing on everything he'd absorbed from Grand Elder Artemay and Zhou Hua regarding geometric patterning to calculate equations by drawing in the dirt and deriving out which demons were those whose deaths he must prioritize in order to stymie their aggregation.

Implementing the results of those algebraic determinations meant he had to range widely, covering more than twice the amount of ground as the water cultivator. Even though his bow allowed kills from hundreds of meters distant, that did little to spare his feet and knees. This was not, however, overly burdensome. It made for long days, short naps, and a continual narrow focus on the present moment, but he could endure.

It did grind down his general enjoyment of time in the wild, however. The lush environment, endless mountain vistas coated in vibrant mixed forests full of countless fur-bearing animals and a legion of owls and foxes that hunted them was something he had no time to appreciate. Nor could he do much to explain the wonders of the wilderness on land to his companion, constantly in motion as he remained. He was limited to pointing out the occasional bird in passing. It was a wretched realization, the knowledge that not only would Amami Yoko experience these lands primarily as a place where she could only flee, but that she could not take the time to learn what wealth they possessed.

Something he realized was true of almost every other cultivator.

Ruined Wastes. He fully understood that name now. A land perpetually hostile to humans, one that left only wretchedness in place of lives lived. They might outrun the demons for a time, but they would find no safety. To survive was a constant churning, mobile battle. A tragedy whose imposition he would never forgive the plague.

But vengeance could wait until one precious life was saved.

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