Chapter 42 The Kingdom of Mo 3: Fire and Sea
The kitchen lights were much brighter than the dining room lights, but this brightness made the space feel even more oppressive. It was hard to keep my eyes open.
The floor was spotless, but amidst this excessive cleanliness, the aromas of olive wood, caramel, and a faint hint of blood tantalized your taste buds.
The old lady was busy at work nearby. Chop! Chop! Chop!
Fresh meat is cut, deboned, cut into pieces, and placed in a pressure cooker.
Traditional meat dishes require slow cooking to achieve perfection, making the fibers easier to chew and allowing the fat to be extracted and absorbed back into the meat, resulting in tender and juicy dishes.
It only takes a little pressure, and with the billowing steam rising into the sky, several hours can be easily locked inside.
And you, at this moment, don't care about the old lady's actions.
You are looking for clues.
You can't see what Xiaoming and the others are doing, but they must be just like you, racking their brains in the restaurant looking for clues to pass the level.
There's no need for all that trouble; they just need to be obedient.
"Find it...destroy it...take control of it..."
You think about it in your heart, and then you can't help but read it aloud.
Your actions are guided; it's intuition, that's right. You walk towards the cupboard.
—A charred olive branch lay conspicuously inside.
The old lady turned around.
“Good boy.” Her voice was low and husky, her eyes looking directly into yours. “Now, please help me take the dishes back with me and serve this final dish.”
You return to the restaurant, the whispers of the crowd fading away. In the cold silence, everyone stares at the object in your hand with a mixture of fear and tension, except for Xiaoming, Xiaofang, and Xiaola, who simply look at you. You don't intend to analyze the meaning behind their gazes.
The old lady urged you softly from behind, so you stepped over the stairs and walked in with her one after the other.
Even though there were hardly any people left in the restaurant, you and the old lady still managed to push two small food carts.
The dishes on the table were presented one by one, the bright red sauce gleaming under the light.
In the tagine, large chunks of tender, stewed meat are mixed with candied apricots, olives, and onions, the broth so thick it's almost like blood. Another dish consists of charred meat skewers, each piece studded with unusual red veins and carrying a subtle smoky aroma. The final bowl of soup is golden yellow, topped with a layer of oil, and emits an enticing fragrance.
The old lady only seemed alive when she was serving the food. She was very proud of her skills and introduced each piece of meat as if it were her own child.
She picked up a piece of meat from the tagine, cut it open with a knife, and the tender meat trembled slightly, bursting with juice: "This is a traditional large meat dish here, marinated with a secret blend of spices, which makes the meat even more tender." She took a small sip of the soup and gestured to everyone: "Try it, this is the most authentic Moroccan dish."
However, even her casual glances sent chills down your spine. Especially when she emphasized the word "tender," her gaze would casually sweep over you all, as if waiting for some kind of reaction.
Faced with these dishes, the others in the restaurant were clearly already eager to try them. Someone whispered among themselves:
"Is this meat... really just beef or lamb?" a trembling voice asked. "Why does it look so strange to me?"
“The color is wrong,” another voice said in a low voice, pointing to the skewers of grilled meat on the plate. “And look, the texture of this meat…it looks too much like muscle fibers.”
"No way..." A man, his face deathly pale, stared at the meat in the tagine, his voice filled with barely concealed fear, "This can't be..."
Xiao Fang gripped the edge of the chair tightly, her face deathly pale: "Is there any need to ask? This meat must be..." She didn't finish her sentence, her eyes trembling as she looked at you, then quickly looked away.
You raised your finger and gently advised, "Listen to me, don't eat it. I have a plan." You smiled to make yourself seem more approachable.
Xiao La unconsciously hid a little behind Xiao Fang and Xiao Ming.
"Stop talking." Xiaoming lowered her voice, but her tone was even calmer. She glanced at you. "Calm down. The rule of not wasting time is still in effect, which means our exploration is effective."
She's provoking you. She's definitely provoking you.
You tried hard to keep smiling.
Even though you're here, the atmosphere at your table is inexplicably tense, and it's similar at the other tables, though they're mainly worried about the food.
These dishes should neither be eaten nor wasted.
A male tourist gently put down his cutlery, muttering in despair, "We shouldn't have touched these things at all...we should have..."
Before he could finish speaking, a low tremor came from under the table. An olive tree root slowly emerged from the floor, winding its way up like a snake, circling around his feet as if warning him of something.
“Damn it!” he yelled in a fit of rage. “I’ve already finished what I ordered, and it’s not fair for you to force me to eat anything else! I have multiple protein allergies, and I’m guessing this soup isn’t gluten-free either. I have every reason to refuse—”
The baby cried, and after a moment, the restaurant fell silent again.
You opened your mouth, but Xiaoming interrupted you and discussed it directly with the two of them: "We need to find a way that can both follow the rules and avoid real danger."
She turned her gaze to the meat on her plate, as if deep in thought. Suddenly, her eyes fell on the seashells, and a scene from a photograph flashed through her mind—the proprietress standing under an olive tree, holding broken seashells in her hands.
The meaning of seashells is not just a symbol of loss; they may be a medium connecting to the origin of rules.
“We can try this,” Xiaoming said softly, gripping the seashell in his hand. “If this meat is really part of the rules, then we can try it.”
"I remember a Slavic fairy tale where the protagonist avoided being forced to eat human flesh by feeding meat to the cat in his arms," Little La said, dutifully taking on the task of popularizing science.
"That makes sense, let's give it a try." Xiao Fang's eyes lit up.
The way they were whispering...it looked so delicious. You unconsciously licked your lips.
But as you watch Xiaoming cut the meat with a knife and hand it to Shell, a slight, almost imperceptible, cold smile curls at the corners of your lips.
"Xiaoming, you're wrong." You murmured to yourself, your voice so soft it was almost a whisper, yet it echoed clearly in your mind. Shells don't eat meat. She never eats meat.
The seashell didn't open; it just lay quietly on the table. Xiaoming visibly grew anxious. She glanced at you, but strangely, besides all the negative emotions, you couldn't read any other feelings in her.
Forget it, you can't just let them die anyway.
"Stop." You suddenly spoke, your voice calm, yet carrying an undeniable authority.
"What do you want to do?" Xiaoming replied almost instantly.
"Those who eat meat are different."
After saying that, you picked up your knife and fork and deftly cut the meat into small pieces.
The cooked meat you cut looked like raw meat, oozing blood that dripped onto the plate. Without hesitation, you forked a piece of meat and slowly extended it toward the crack in the floor.
"Don't do anything reckless!" Xiao Ming whispered.
For a moment, the entire restaurant seemed to stop breathing.
The crack beneath the floor suddenly trembled, and the olive tree roots that had been hidden beneath burst forth from the soil at an astonishing speed. Like hungry beasts, they surged frantically toward the meat in your hand, twisting and coiling, emitting an indescribable, eerie friction sound.
"Crazy! Crazy!" someone screamed, their voice filled with terror. He too soon became food for the tree roots.
The tree roots moved more and more frantically, almost wrapping around your wrist and trying to snatch the meat from your hands. You didn't flinch at all; instead, you sneered and steadily placed the meat into the crack.
“Eat,” you whispered, your voice tinged with a fervent satisfaction you yourself were unaware of. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
The tree roots instantly devoured the chunk of meat, accompanied by a low chewing sound. The roots seemed to become even more active. They spread rapidly along the floor and even began to climb onto the legs of the dining table, as if greedily searching for more food.
Seeing the tree roots' reaction, some people instinctively stood up to run away, but because they touched the tables and chairs, their ankles were entangled by the tree roots, letting out a desperate scream. Any excessive noise resulted in further punishment.
"Quickly feed it the meat!" The remaining people, no matter how panicked, tried their best to control their voices. "This is what it wants! We... we don't have to eat this monstrous thing anymore!"
Upon hearing this, the others seemed to grasp at a last straw, frantically cutting the meat on their plates into small pieces at an unprecedented speed and throwing them into the cracks in the floor.
But the person who threw away the meat was killed by the tree roots.
"Don't throw them away, invite them, feed them! Yes, like this." The person speaking held a plate in one hand and fed the tree roots with the other. The tree roots, like predatory beasts, quickly rolled up the pieces of meat and devoured them clean.
"Quick! Don't waste it!" Everyone followed suit, their hands trembling violently with fear.
The more the olive roots devoured, the more violently the floor shook. Steam began to rise from the cracks, and the roots climbed up the walls, even partially covering the ceiling. The entire restaurant seemed to have transformed into a growing forest, and at the heart of this forest were these frenzied roots.
As the olive tree roots grew wildly, the atmosphere in the restaurant became increasingly eerie. The photos on the wall changed again; the proprietress's image disappeared completely, replaced by a dense thicket of olive branches.
On the olive tree in the photo, several blurry figures can be vaguely seen: a tall, old man with a receding hairline and a large mole on his huge, bulbous nose; a young, robust man with one eye higher than the other, whose face might look less sinister if it were more symmetrical; a young girl; and a hunched woman.
As for women, that's the only conclusion you can draw, because their faces are covered and you can't see any more information.
Everyone was tightly entangled by the tree roots, seemingly unable to break free.
The olive tree roots finally took shape. They coiled in the center of the restaurant into a huge trunk, with lush foliage that emitted a faint fluorescent glow.
They grow from the earth, devouring flesh and blood, but where is their canopy?
"Give it the meat! Quick, throw all the meat in the plate to it!" A male tourist shouted hoarsely as he grabbed a plate of meat and vegetables and threw it forcefully at the roots of the olive tree.
The piece of meat arced through the air, and before it even hit the ground, it was simultaneously caught by several tree roots and delivered directly to the thickest main roots. The roots twisted even more violently, seemingly quite satisfied with this meal, but it was clearly far from enough.
The tree roots became even more aggressive, snatching pieces of meat directly from the plate and even dragging away the knife and fork along with them. A tourist who thought everyone else was just asking for trouble and would be fine if he just ate his food quietly was now being dragged along in order to protect his food.
Soon, he was completely absorbed into the tree roots.
"It...it's not enough, it's still hungry!" Xiao Fang's voice was filled with fear as she watched the tourists being snatched away. She tried her best to throw her own flesh away to distract the tree roots. Her pleading eyes always landed on you first, and then, as if realizing something, she would turn to Xiao Ming: "It's about to devour the whole restaurant!"
Xiao Ming grabbed her arm, his voice low and calm: "Don't panic, its target is just this meat! Don't run around!"
Amid the chaos, only one person remained silent.
The old woman stood in the center of the restaurant, calmly observing everything. Her body seemed fixed in place by some invisible force, without the slightest tremor. Her face was expressionless, as if everything before her had nothing to do with her.
Gradually, the meat on the table was completely eaten, and the roots of the olive tree began to slow down. They stopped climbing and twisting frantically and instead quietly coiled around the floor, as if entering a state of slumber.
"That's it?" Xiao Fang asked Xiao Ming.
But you replied, "Yes, that's it. Now that we've finished eating the meat, everyone can leave."
"Really?" Xiaoming questioned sharply, "What did you see in the kitchen? This is clearly not normal, and even if you leave, it could have negative consequences."
"You're not planning to feed the olive tree? Then what are you going to do? Could it be..." You leaned forward slightly, lowering your voice, "Do you want to eat it?"
Xiaoming's expression instantly turned ashen. She stared directly at you but didn't speak immediately. Her hands gripped the armrests of the chair tightly, as if suppressing her emotions.
Seeing this, your smile deepened, a sickly contempt creeping into your voice: "Oh, you don't have to eat it." Your gaze slowly swept over Xiao Fang and Xiao La, your tone chillingly calm, "But you can feed it to the others. After all, the rule is that it must be cleaned up, isn't it?"
Your smile remained unaffected, instead growing even more composed: "Really? And you, Xiaoming? Since you're not willing to compromise, what are you planning to do? Eat it? Or—"
You paused, a hint of coldness creeping into your eyes, and slowly approached her: "Are you still planning to feed it to... Xiao Fang or Xiao La? They're still waiting for your decision."
"Xiao Fang, Xiao La, I'm your good partner, and I always have been. I will continue to protect you like this in the future," you said sincerely.
"She's gone mad, she's really gone mad," Xiao Fang murmured, clutching her hair in anguish.
"See, now we can really leave." You ignored Xiao Fang's words and pointed to the others.
Your voice wasn't too loud or too soft, and the already tense tourists almost instinctively stood up, said a "polite" goodbye to the old lady with frightened expressions, and fled in a panic.
They didn't even dare to look back at the restaurant again, for fear of getting involved again.
"Let's go." You gave Xiao Fang a push, leaving them behind, and walked to the center of the house, to the tree trunk.
You clutch the sculpture tightly in one hand, and in the other, a charred olive branch you found in the kitchen.
"Under the rules, you can't even abide by them yourself?" Your voice carried a hint of smugness, speaking to the olive tree with a somewhat neurotic tone. "You broke the rules, but who will punish you?"
The olive tree, which had been dormant, suddenly awoke, and all its roots trembled, wave after wave, as if responding to your words.
The branches and leaves swayed wildly, making a screeching sound, and they waved again, this time reaching out towards the old woman.
Instead of attacking her, they fawned over her, obeyed her, and begged for her forgiveness.
Will she forgive them? She just stood there, without saying a word.
You smiled, gripped the olive branch tightly, slowly raised your head, and looked out at the sky through the crack in the ceiling torn by the branch.
The sun was high in the sky, and the bright sunlight shone through the gaps in the intertwined network of roots onto your face.
“Oh Sun…” you murmured softly, your voice filled with an indescribable piety and fervor, “If the moon once ruled all, then today, may your firelight illuminate this filth.”
You read aloud what you heard in your heart.
Your hand gently caresses the surface of the olive branch, the charred wood grain seemingly responding to your prayer. You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of the sunlight on your skin, and a low, soothing chant seems to echo in your ears.
"The sun hangs high in the sky in the distance."
Her light shone through the palm leaves,
It awakened the silent daughter.
Sun, you are the eternal mother.
Ignite the sounds buried in the gravel.
They say the moon is the only light.
The ruler of the night is the king of the law.
But the moon never possesses light.
Its light is stolen.
The daughter of the sun walked barefoot through thorns.
Her figure was hidden under the olive tree.
They covered her mouth with their hands.
But the sun did not remain silent.
Her flames traversed deserts and ocean waves.
And you, daughter of the sun.
You are a flowing flame.
You are a blazing light.
…”
The chanting seemed to come from the distant past, ancient and mysterious, like the voice of the sun, or the whisper of some higher being. You could feel that power descending from the heavens, passing through the olive branch in your hand, and coalescing into an irresistible flame.
When you open your eyes again, the olive branch in your hand is already slightly warm. A bright flame has ignited at the end of the stick. The color of the flame is not ordinary orange-red, but rather has a hint of incandescent white and gold, so dazzling that it is hard to look directly at it.
"It's here," you whispered. "The fire of the sun has come."
You step forward, raise the burning stick, and point it at the thickest root of the olive tree. As if sensing danger, the roots recoil abruptly, but that hesitation lasts only a moment. The next second, they lunge at you again, trying to wrap around you.
"Now, you deserve your punishment." You swung the olive branch down suddenly, and the flame made a low, sharp pop the moment it touched the base.
The flames spread at an incredible speed, quickly climbing up the roots and covering the entire trunk.
The golden flames carried an irresistible power, and every inch of the burning roots screamed and cursed, but that was just a minor refrain that fueled the fire, making it burn brighter and brighter until it eventually engulfed the entire tree trunk.
The bright white light illuminated the entire room, dispelling all shadows.
In the firelight, you seem to see something. It's a blurry image—a man standing under an olive tree, holding an olive in his hand, his face bearing a complex expression. Beside him stands a blurry woman, cradling two small infants in her arms.
The firelight reflects in your eyes, burning from the depths of your soul towards [the creek/the soul].
“…Destroy it…” you muttered to yourself.
The scorching heat distorted the air into a hazy, ethereal mass. You stood in the flames, your hands engulfed by the incandescent white light, every inch of your body being cleansed. Yet, you felt no pain. Instead, the flames seemed to be stripping away something, burning away all the long-suppressed emotions and conflicts.
The flames distorted your vision, and you heard familiar whispers, those voices you thought were your inner thoughts: "Just like that, burn it all. Burn away that lowly foreign blood and flesh, and become noble spirit and consciousness."
"Then stay."
Close your eyes and accept this fate with a smile.
But at that moment, one call after another pierced through the flames and consciousness, awakening your awareness even for a second.
"Wake up!" That was Xiaoming's voice.
You open your eyes and see her figure through the surging flames. She stands at the edge of the flames, clutching the seashell tightly in her hand.
The seashell emitted a faint glow in her palm, creating a stark contrast with the flames.
"This is not your end," she shouted, her voice filled with anger and sorrow. "You haven't finished what you were supposed to do, and you won't, and can't, just give up on yourself like this!"
Her hand was raised high, and the seashell shone brightly in the flames. You could see the seashell's fluorescence gradually intensify, as if responding to some unseen call.
“The power of the sea is here,” she murmured, as if speaking to a seashell, or perhaps to herself. “If fire is reckoning, then the sea is salvation.”
She closed her eyes and raised the seashell to the sky. A deep, resonant sound of waves came from afar, carrying an increasingly imposing pressure. The sunlight in the sky was instantly obscured by some kind of shadow, and the intense flames were shrouded in moisture, rising into a hazy mist.
"What...are you doing?" you asked hoarsely, your voice trembling with weakness.
"I'll save you," Xiaoming replied coldly, staring directly at you.
She, and Xiao Fang and the others, have been looking at you like this all day.
You understand now; it's a profound sorrow, as if even though she knew all of this couldn't be truly undone, she still chose to act.
The wall of water surged in from the direction of the cliff, like a roaring beast.
Heat waves and water vapor intertwine, firelight and water ripples dance in the air, creating a magnificent clash. You stand at the heart of this disaster, feeling the embers of flames and the icy chill of the water waves alternately assaulting your body.
Xiaoming walks through the receding flames and reaches out her hand to you. Her figure is enveloped in countless bubbles, and in the refraction of the firelight, it looks as if it is depicted by countless colorful lights.
The seashell in her hand emitted a final, dazzling light, erasing her and your figures from the fire.
…
The clash between flames and water gradually subsided, leaving a faint, scorching, and salty smell in the air. The olive tree that had once perched in the house was once again completely reduced to ashes, its charred marks covering the floor like a faded map, recording the cruelty of this conflict.
The old woman was still wearing that strictly religious black headscarf and long dress, her face expressionless.
Silently, she gathered up the scattered dishes, piled the broken bowls and plates together, and slowly walked towards the kitchen. Her steps were steady, as if nothing had happened, as if everything here was just an ordinary daily routine.
Xiao Fang leaned against the doorframe, her arms wrapped around her shoulders, her face as pale as paper, and her clothes dripping wet. Her eyes were vacant and unfocused, as if she hadn't yet recovered from the chaos that had just transpired.
"Xiaoming..." Her voice trembled, as if trying to break the deathly silence in the air, "What... what should we do?" She reached out to touch you, but after a long while, she withdrew her hand.
Xiaoming was soaked to the bone, water droplets dripping from her hair onto the floor, mingling with the ash from the olive tree. She was silent for a moment, then looked down at you, who was carried on her shoulder—your face was pale, but your breathing was strong and powerful.
Unlike Xiaoming's body, which was clearly burned by flames, your skin is completely intact.
“Go back.” Her voice was as calm as ever. “There’s only one way to go: go back to the cruise ship first.”
Xiao Fang nodded and wiped the water off her face.
“I’ll carry her on my back.” Xiao La stepped out from behind them, her voice low and hoarse. She reached out to support you, but Xiao Ming declined, saying, “Never mind, let’s not bother her. It’s not that strenuous.”
"Then let us help you hold on."
The sky outside was overcast, as if covered with a thin layer of ash. The sun had already set, and only a faint afterglow remained on the distant horizon, casting the entire farmhouse courtyard in a dark red glow.
The convoy sent by the cruise ship stopped outside the courtyard. The guide stood beside the car with a professional smile on his face: "Just a few more people are needed, let's go."
Xiaoming nodded, gesturing for the two of them to get on the bus first. She then slowly helped you up, carefully placing you in the seat and covering you with a blanket. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, let out a long breath, and then sat down next to you.
The guide counted the number of people and signaled the driver to start the car.
The sound of the engine starting broke the brief silence, and the car slowly drove away from the farmhouse.
The car was bustling with activity, as if once they left that special environment, the humanity these "locals" displayed had vanished again. They had forgotten the death and fear of their companion and were happily reminiscing about a wonderful day.
In the cramped carriage, with only four seats for you, the air was so heavy it was hard to breathe.
Xiao Ming looked down at you; your hair was plastered to your forehead. Xiao Fang took out a tissue to wipe it clean, and then found the small first-aid kit he always carried with him to treat Xiao Ming's wound.
Her gaze flickered slightly, then slowly shifted to her hands—her palms were cut by the water and the broken olive branches, tiny cuts dripping blood onto the floor. The burns, however, healed on their own.
Xiao Fang worked quickly and efficiently, and finished bandaging the wound in no time.
"Will she be alright?" Xiao Fang suddenly asked in a low voice, breaking the silence.
“Xiao Fang…” Xiao La touched her arm.
Xiao Ming looked up, his gaze falling on the darkening sky outside the window. The outline of a cruise ship was faintly visible on the distant horizon, its massive form appearing somber and distant in the twilight.
“Now, things are clear,” Xiaoming said. “Although I don’t know what she did on the cruise ship, she should still be herself, otherwise this fire wouldn’t have burned her.”
"Her mental state is already on the verge of collapse, but the resurrection spell on Ko Island, this time the fire and sea, must be aimed at her."
“Our opportunity lies in our next port of call, the country of selenium,” Xiaoming said, as the cruise ship was already in sight.
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Author's Note: Ugh, it's past midnight again in China... But at least I managed to update, hehe, so happy! The next update is on Sunday. I'll see if I can finish the cruise story then. The trip should be over, time to get back to the daily grind of life (not really). Speaking of Morocco, I hope this chapter won't give you all a bad impression of certain countries. Putting aside some things that would be censored if I said them, it's truly a beautiful country. I remember being so romantic and happy grilling meat and stargazing over a campfire in the desert. And some things that make a free spirit like me want to criticize, if you just treat them as "spectacles," are actually quite interesting. Talking to those people, understanding their thoughts, even if I can't fully comprehend them, can broaden my horizons. "So this is how the world is for them." Anyway, good evening!!! It gets dark really fast now; it was almost dark when I opened my eyes...
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