The Faith and Salt

Several villagers stood, fists clenched.

Thugs moved instantly, daggers half-drawn, iron clubs raised. They called out names, knowing exactly where everyone lived and how many children they had.

Zheng Laosi, the man who had spat at Xiao Yan earlier, breathed heavily.

The shirtless leader slammed his fish-scale register onto the counter, taking a slow sip of wine.

"My friend," he said, in a tone almost kind. "You still owe last month's incense money."

A strand of damp waterweed dropped from the ceiling. Draft fluttered ledger pages.

The innkeeper helped his trembling wife to her feet, eyes darting desperately toward Xiao Yan.

Xiao Yan glanced out the window.

It was a clear, moonlit night. He had originally planned to just retreat to the attic and rest.

The leader exhaled. "This is difficult."

Letting out a quiet sigh, Xiao Yan slid his broken blade deeper under his belt and stood.

"It is actually quite simple."

All eyes turned to him.

The pockmarked thug sneered. "Who the fuck is this?"

"Oh my!" The bare-chested man mocked, "A fucking hero!"

Not quite.

Xiao Yan stepped forward. The pockmarked thug reached out to shove him.

Crack!

The arm was bent the wrong way. Xiao Yan drove him face-first into the floorboards and planted a boot on his spine. The scream that followed cracked halfway, thick with blood and mucus.

Slats of pale light pierced the window frame.

Xiao Yan had not noticed that he had backed into the moonlight until he turned his head and felt its cold weight on his shoulder.

The stench of rotting fish flared in the room.

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His skin began to crack, resembling the crust of a drying salt flat. Shedding tissue hit the floor in heavy brown crystals, mixing with blood and incense ash.

The innkeeper's wife vomited.

He advanced on the thugs, leaving a trail of crystals and dry debris with every step.

The shirtless leader’s face twisted. "He’s a fucking Salt Eater! Kill him!"

Chaos erupted. Daggers hissed free.

Xiao Yan snatched the basin of boiling fish soup and hurled it at them.

Salty grease and scalding broth sprayed across the room, and a pungent odor instantly choked the air.

The leader clearly had experience with monsters like him. He turned and shouted, "This Salt Eater already molted! Get water—cold river water, now!"

Thugs immediately split.

One team moved in to draw his attention, while others grabbed wine jugs and iron basins, rushing for water.

They could not reach that water—

Xiao Yan swung a heavy wooden bench like an executioner’s axe, sweeping thugs in front off their feet. Without pausing, he lunged toward the doorway, cutting off the gatherers.

A desperate thug lunged, locking arms around Xiao Yan's leg to pin him.

Blistering heat erupted from the raw wound on Xiao Yan's thigh. The man shrieked and let go as if he had grabbed a coal from a furnace.

Another thug lunged from behind, wrapping an arm around Xiao Yan’s throat, driving a dagger toward his kidney.

The blade plunged in with a wet squelch. Xiao Yan barely flinched.

But the wound didn’t bleed red. It wept thick, milky brine, hissing as it hit the floorboards.

A heavy pottery jar shattered over the attacker's skull with a dull thud. The thug dropped.

Zheng Laosi stood there panting, hands covered in clay dust.

Moments later, tables splintered and chairs snapped.

Thugs surged toward the doorway, throwing themselves forward again and again. They crashed against him, as futile as salty surf beating against solid rock.

Floorboards were soon littered with fallen men, groaning and clutching their battered bodies.

Realizing water was impossible to reach, the shirtless leader abandoned all resistance. He dropped to his knees with a heavy thud.

"Spare us! We're just trying to survive!"

A voice whispered in Xiao Yan's head:

Kill them all. Drink the salt from their blood, then vanish into the fog. No one will ever catch you...

Not tonight. Not again.

He stared at the people cowering before him.

Both thugs and villagers wore faces filled with pure disgust and terror. Tavern staff had already scrambled into the kitchen to hide. Outside, soldiers remained deathly quiet.

The shirtless man kept begging, "Please... please..."

Xiao Yan walked toward him, Iron Ward Talisman glinting at his waist, burning hot.

With every slight shift of his weight, dry crystals crunched beneath his boots. He surveyed the devastation around him, expression utterly hollow.

Bands of pale light and heavy shadow stretched across the room. Wood splinters, salt crusts, incense ash, and dark blood coated the uneven floorboards.

"Anyone who can still crawl, get out," Xiao Yan rasped. "You stay."

Surviving thugs turned and ran without a second thought, abandoning their leader.

A shattered oil lamp leaked fluid onto dry wood, mixing with spilled fish soup. The scalding broth was already cooling, and a thick, greasy film congealed on its surface.

Behind the counter, the innkeeper huddled over his trembling wife. Neither dared to make a sound.

Xiao Yan knew he needed to find somewhere to suppress this beastly urge immediately. And yet...

Why not just kill them all? Slaughter everyone in the tavern and blame it on river monsters...

This place was so close to the Salt Rots.

No one would ever suspect the truth. Who was to say otherwise?