novelraw Chapter 31 : Chapter 31
Chapter 31 : Chapter 31
Chapter 31
In the deep silence of the night, sounds carried far.
Commotion rose once more from the sleeping village. The noises from each household gradually merged together as the villagers gathered with torches, forming a crimson river that surged toward the empty house.
The door to the empty house had already been broken, lying crooked on the ground. The two traveling guests lodged inside stood in the doorway, neither frightened nor angry.
By the firelight, they could see the scene within. Two dead mountain spirits lay sprawled across the floor, and blood from their wounds had spread across a large patch of ground.
“Mountain God Grandpa!” a villager cried out in shock.
The crowd erupted into noise, their faces twisting beneath the flickering torchlight.
“They killed Mountain God Grandpa!”
“Avenge Mountain God Grandpa!”
“Catch them!”
“Kill them!”
The villagers charged forward savagely.
Cai Suhong lifted her large ladle and struck the bottom of the pot with it. A tremendous clang burst outward, shaking the villagers until each one staggered drunkenly, swaying from side to side. It took them quite a while to recover.
At last, their minds cleared. Anyone capable of killing the mountain god was not someone they could possibly contend with.
So they stood there stiffly, at a complete loss, and once again looked like a group of simple, honest villagers.
An old woman pushed through the villagers and stared fixedly at the two mountain spirit corpses inside the house. She walked past Lang Qingyun and Cai Suhong, threw herself to the ground, and felt at the creatures’ mouths, noses, and necks.
The two mountain spirits had long since died completely. Their corpses were cold and rigid.
Suddenly, the old woman burst into hysterical laughter. “Dead! Dead! They’re dead!”
For a moment, the villagers outside were too stunned to stop her. When they saw what she was doing, all of them changed expression and cried anxiously, “Pull her back! Pull her back! Defiling Mountain God Lord’s corpse will bring retribution!”
But with Lang Qingyun and Cai Suhong standing in the doorway, not one of them had the courage to go inside.
“That’s not a mountain god,” Lang Qingyun said. “Those were two mountain spirits that ate people. They’re already dead.”
The young man they had previously rescued from the pit suddenly began to sob. “Mountain God Grandpa is dead. What are we supposed to do from now on?”
In the night, beneath the firelight,
those inside the house were laughing, while those outside were crying.
One laughed until her heart seemed to tear apart, while another cried so hard he beat his chest and stomped his feet.
Both seemed deeply grieved.
And both truly were deeply grieved.
For those who could not bear the poll tax, whether they could survive after losing protection depended on luck. The more people gathered together, the more conspicuous a target they became. And the more conspicuous they were, the more they had to rely on luck.
A village that had endured for so many generations could never have done so by luck alone. In this remote place, they had found a shelter.
Their Mountain God Grandpa, who sheltered them, cared very much about sustainable development and cherished this little village of his. The creatures did not allow other demons or monsters to discover that a village and so many people still existed here, and they did not demand too many human sacrifices. When the villagers’ lives grew difficult, they would even guide them to fruit groves hidden in the mountains and wild tubers buried underground.
Because of that, when they could not trick outsiders into becoming offerings, although some villagers were still fed to Mountain God Grandpa, most of the people could continue living in peace. There were even quite a few elderly people who had lost the ability to work and were still able to live out their lives safely.
The villagers were crying. Without Mountain God Grandpa’s protection, what were they supposed to do now?
The mad old woman was laughing. When they had failed to catch outsiders before, it had been her son who drew the lot to stay in this house.
The ghosts in the well were laughing and crying too. Some, their obsessions finally dispersed, went on to reincarnate. Others, unwilling to accept it, screamed, asking why these two could live.
Lang Qingyun stood amid this boundless cacophony of laughter, tears, joy, and rage, and felt a grotesque sorrow.
“Let’s go,” Cai Suhong said, tugging at him.
“Don’t go!” The young man lunged at them, trying to grab hold of them. He caught only empty air and fell to the ground, yet still looked up at them pleadingly. “Don’t go! If you leave, what will happen to us? Save us! You have to save us! It was you who killed Mountain God Lord! You have to save us!”
The villagers lifted their eyes hopefully to look at them. They appeared terrified and helpless. They looked so weak, so pitiful.
Cai Suhong laughed in anger. “You pretended to fall into a deep pit. We saved you, and you tricked us into coming here to die.”
The young man said despairingly, “But you didn’t die! You’re still alive, aren’t you? You’re not afraid of the demons and monsters in the mountains, but we are. Without Mountain God Grandpa, we’ll die! You have to save us!”
Cai Suhong avoided his grasp, only to hear another villager ask, “How many people do you need each year?”
Lang Qingyun’s breathing caught.
When Cai Suhong heard that question, the anger she had felt earlier instantly dissipated, leaving behind only a kind of absurd, pitiful helplessness.
They both understood by now. Through years of trading human sacrifices for peaceful lives, these villagers had already grown accustomed to and accepted this way of surviving. They regarded it as something natural and proper, like wind and frost, rain and snow, birth, aging, illness, and death—all of it natural, all of it only as it should be. That was why they felt no guilt in tricking others into dying, why they did not think it cruel to draw lots and send villagers to feed the mountain spirits, and why, the moment the mountain spirits died, they came to these two people who had killed them and decided to offer people to them every year, just as they had once offered people to the mountain spirits, in exchange for stable lives in the future.
“I can’t save you,” Lang Qingyun said. He felt numb, as though his body and soul had split apart, as though he were listening to his own hollow voice speaking.
He could not save them.
Before he obtained the Dao Seed, he too had been a person of Suizhou, powerless to bear the poll tax. When Big Sister was still alive, whenever she came across abandoned children, she would always bring them home. But after Big Sister passed away, he had never once taken anyone in alone. Whenever he saw those abandoned people, he knew that if Big Sister were here, she would certainly have brought them home, yet all he could do was pretend not to see them.
He could not shoulder more people.
It was only after he obtained the Dao Seed that their family’s life improved enough for them to eat their fill and stay warm. But precisely because of the Dao Seed, he still did not dare return home.
When the Demonic Cultivators had hunted him down earlier, he had let the power of the Dao Seed run too unchecked, and the coldness in his heart had steadily deepened. For now, it was still tolerable as long as he did not see his family. But if he did see them, he feared he would no longer be able to restrain the killing intent in his heart and would bring about a tragedy.
He could not even save his own household of ten. How could he save this entire village? And even if he could save this whole village, in vast Suizhou, how many more people were there just like those in this village?
Cai Suhong did not feel things so deeply. She was an inborn strange beast who had never met another of her kind, had never known familial affection, much less felt such sentiments toward mortals. Ever since birth, she had been accustomed to seeing the strong devour the weak. The mountain spirits raising these villagers was no different from villagers raising chickens, ducks, pigs, and cattle. If the villagers were worthy of pity, then so too were chickens, ducks, pigs, and cattle. If chickens, ducks, pigs, and cattle were not worthy of pity, then neither were the villagers.
An embroidered ball rolled up to their feet.
Cai Suhong looked at the ghost child who had squeezed her way up in front of them and asked, “Why haven’t you gone on to reincarnate?”
This little girl had clearly wanted to frighten the two of them away and save their lives. Her resentment had not seemed very heavy. So why, after seeing the mountain spirits die, had she still not gone on to reincarnate?
The little girl picked up the embroidered ball, looked up at them, and first said with admiration, “You two are amazing!”
Then she added, “My home is right here. Where would I go?”
She was remarkably calm. Toward the relatives and neighbors around her, the very people who had offered her to the mountain spirits, she showed neither hatred nor pity.
“A thousand six hundred li from here, there’s a spiritual cultivator sect. You should go there instead. It would suit you better,” Cai Suhong said.
“My home is here,” the ghost child replied, shaking her head. Her eyes were pitch-black, without a trace of light. What bound her from reincarnation was not hatred, but this village itself.
Lang Qingyun took a deep breath, then said to the villagers, “If you truly mean it... then go make offerings beside the well in the village.”
Over the years, the deeply resentful ghosts of those devoured by the mountain spirits had all hidden there. Before, the mountain spirits’ ferocious aura had suppressed them, so although the ghosts hated the villagers, there was little they could do. Now that the mountain spirits were dead, those with lighter resentment had already reincarnated. Those left behind were the ones whose obsessions ran deepest.
Among them were many innocent outsiders tricked here by the villagers, and many villagers who had drawn the fatal lot themselves.
Perhaps these wronged spirits, now freed from suppression, would take revenge on the villagers. Perhaps the villagers’ offerings would dissolve their hatred. Perhaps the villagers and the dead might reach an agreement, exchanging sacrifices for future protection... Perhaps this ghost child, who had died here, would become their new “mountain god.”
Who knew?
Across the lands of Suizhou, how many villages like this were there?
...
Suizhou, amid the mountains and wilds.
The struggle among cultivators for the treasure-seeking compass had been going on for some time. Its ownership had remained unsettled for so long that, amid all the fighting, word gradually spread that the compass could lead one to the Blood-Rust Blade. Many cultivators who had come to Suizhou yet failed even to catch sight of the Blood-Rust Blade were unwilling to give up, and upon hearing the rumor, they too joined the chaos. Quite a few Demonic Cultivators among them acted with reckless abandon, throwing Suizhou into further unrest.
At that moment, the Demonic Cultivator who had seized the treasure-seeking compass set up a formation and lured all the forces pursuing him into it, intending to wipe them out in one stroke. Among that group of cultivators, some were trapped and some were not; some had formed temporary alliances, while others were old enemies to begin with. They all descended into a noisy melee, and for a time no one could extricate themselves.
Then, in the midst of the chaos, a flash of sword light suddenly blazed forth, and with a single strike, the Demonic Cultivator was slain. The sword cultivator who had erupted into action snatched up the treasure-seeking compass and transformed into a streak of sword light, shooting away from the battlefield in an instant.
One cultivator who noticed him shouted loudly, drawing the attention of all the battling cultivators. Once they realized the treasure-seeking compass had been taken, they ceased fighting one after another and gave chase after the sword cultivator.
The sword cultivator did not fly far before descending.
The cultivators vying for the treasure-seeking compass had just suffered a setback and did not dare close in at once. Instead, they halted nearby.
They saw the sword cultivator stop beside an elderly man with white threaded through his hair. Judging from his breathing and apparent combat strength, the old man did not seem to possess any cultivation at all; he looked to be nothing more than an ordinary mortal.
Someone cautiously cast a Five Thunder Spell at them. The five-colored lightning roared through the air, only to strike a pale green barrier midway and vanish soundlessly.
One cultivator frowned in alarm. “A fortune technique? Is he an official of the Zhao Kingdom?”
To break this kind of protective art, which relied upon fortune as its support, one would often suffer backlash. Each cultivator present had his own agenda, and none were willing to make the first move.
Qiu Shufeng took the treasure-seeking compass from Huo Xiao’s hand and stood immovable amid the encirclement of cultivators. “This old man is Qiu Shufeng,” he said. “I have the unworthy honor of serving as the Prefect of Suizhou.”
One Demonic Cultivator, growing impatient, sneered, “How amusing. A mere mortal who ought to be minding his official duties instead comes here to show off his fortune. Do you really think you can hold on to that treasure?”
Although they were blocked by the fortune technique, the surrounding cultivators did not leave. They could not break in, but Qiu Shufeng could not come out either. One sword cultivator alone was not enough to turn the tide. They wanted to see what this mortal intended to do.
Qiu Shufeng paid no attention to the Demonic Cultivator’s mockery. He merely drew a small black hammer from his robe. One end was pointed and the other flat. It looked utterly ordinary, yet it too was a Treasured Artifact with a special effect.
In one hand, Qiu Shufeng held the treasure-seeking compass. In the other, he gripped the small hammer.
The face of one cultivator who recognized the hammer changed, and he shouted, “Don’t!”
But Qiu Shufeng had already brought the hammer down onto the treasure-seeking compass.
With a sharp crack, fine fractures spread out from the point of impact beneath the hammer’s tip, and the treasure-seeking compass shattered.
At once, the gazes of several cultivators turned hostile. This mortal had seized the compass only to destroy it in full view of everyone. What exactly did he mean by that?
Qiu Shufeng said, “I am but a mortal and dare not vainly dream of immortality and endless life. Yet by chance, I once entered an immortal cave dwelling and overheard two immortals discussing the Liju. The Liju delights in eating poisonous grass, and because it eats poisonous grass, it grows colorful feathers. The more poisonous the grass it consumes, the more brilliant its feathers become. Yet poison accumulates within its body, and the more poison it eats, the shorter its lifespan.”
“One person asked: If a Liju, fearing its colorful feathers may fade, refuses to take the antidote, how can it be saved? The other replied: For every poisonous grass the Liju eats and every colorful feather it grows, remove one colorful feather. In time, it will naturally come to understand that poisonous grass must not be eaten.”
Among the cultivators, some remained indifferent, some frowned, some fell into thought, and some only grew more impatient.
Qiu Shufeng seemed not to notice any of it. In his aged voice, he continued calmly, “After leaving that immortal dwelling, I often contemplated that chance encounter. The Liju’s affliction does not lie in the poisonous grass, but in the colorful feathers. I once believed that I understood the principle the two immortals had been discussing. Yet recently, another confusion has arisen in me.”
“What is poisonous grass, and what is the antidote?”
“The Liju’s affliction may not lie only in its colorful feathers. It may also lie in mistaking poisonous grass for the antidote.”
On Sitting-Forgetting Island, Ning Xianmian suddenly dropped the chess piece in his hand and burst into laughter.
In Suizhou, Shuang Wenlü paused mid-step, the corners of his mouth lifting.
The unsurpassed Dao Canon within the Blood-Rust Blade had stirred the world into turmoil, and yet the first person to see through the Blood-Rust Blade was a mortal with no cultivation at all, a mortal who had no intention of contending for it.
Unsurpassed Dao Canon? What unsurpassed Dao Canon!
Cultivation lies in the heart and requires one to seek inward. Forget this antidote, and even if one obtained the Blood-Rust Blade and recognized the unsurpassed Dao Canon within it, one still could not attain the unsurpassed Great Dao in the end.
For the unsurpassed Great Dao that all living beings yearned for was not something to seek from one’s elders, nor from the Blood-Rust Blade, nor from the outside world. It was something to seek from oneself.
Among the mountains and wilds, some cultivators, after hearing Qiu Shufeng’s words, frowned and pondered for a long while. Then they gave him a deep look and departed without a word.
Some cultivators looked regretfully at the shattered fragments of the treasure-seeking compass on the ground, sighed, and left as well.
Some cultivators glared resentfully at Qiu Shufeng and sneered, “So you make up a story and spout a bunch of empty, half-baked grand principles, and you think you can walk away unharmed? Do you take us for fools?”
Huo Xiao lifted his gaze. His Flying Sword hummed, and sword aura flashed sharp and cold.
Now that the treasure-seeking compass had been destroyed, the cultivators here no longer shared the same goal. None of them would start a fight with a sword cultivator who clearly looked difficult to deal with merely to vent their anger. The few who still felt unwilling and resentful had no choice but to let it go.
After the cultivators had all departed, Qiu Shufeng slowly let out a long breath.
The Blood-Rust Blade was in the Demon Abyss, and the treasure-seeking compass had now been destroyed before everyone’s eyes. At last, the turmoil in Suizhou stirred up by the Blood-Rust Blade could settle down. He could also free up his hands to properly set Suizhou’s people’s livelihood in order.
Qiu Shufeng’s actions this time had also involved risk.
Even immortals cultivated themselves out of the mortal world. Once a person possessed abilities beyond ordinary people, arrogance would inevitably arise in them, and they would no longer tolerate being slighted or defied. If he wanted to stop the unrest caused by the treasure-seeking compass, then he had no choice but to destroy it in front of them all. It was inevitable that many of the cultivators who had come to fight for the treasure would be displeased. They all possessed powers far beyond mortals. If they casually caused some trouble for Suizhou, that alone would be enough to give him a headache.
By borrowing the words of those two immortals he had once encountered by chance, most of the cultivators there would no longer deliberately seek revenge. As for those who refused to listen, whether or not the treasure-seeking compass had been involved, they never would have cared about the mortals of Suizhou anyway.
On Sitting-Forgetting Island, Ning Xianmian transmitted his voice to Shuang Wenlü with a laugh. “Karma cycles, and the Dao is wondrous beyond measure. With this move of his, he has saved you some work.”
The Blood-Rust Blade could not remain safely in Lang Qingyun’s hands forever, but neither could it be exposed too early. Qiu Shufeng’s destruction of the treasure-seeking compass had created a convenient diversion, so there was no need for Shuang Wenlü to intervene further.
Shuang Wenlü smiled. “The Heavenly Dao completes itself.”
“I can see that with this realization, his fate has already changed,” Ning Xianmian said.
Back when Qiu Shufeng had accidentally stumbled onto Sitting-Forgetting Island, both of them had seen that in this lifetime he had no destiny for cultivation, only the fortune of being a pillar of the state. His life’s destiny lay in the mortal world, not in cultivation.
And yet, cultivation itself was the act of changing one’s fate. Though Qiu Shufeng had cultivated no technique or spell art, the realization that had arisen in him just now was far closer to true cultivation than any technique or spell art.
Cultivation lies in the heart. All living beings possess a heart. Who was to say that there were no cultivators in the mortal world?
“We’ll see when he can cross his obstacle,” Shuang Wenlü said.
Whatever one clung to was an obstacle. Qiu Shufeng did not cling to the unsurpassed Dao Canon, but he clung to other things.
“If he wants to cross it, he’ll still need one more push. Only when attachment deepens can it truly be let go,” Ning Xianmian said.
...
As the four seasons turned, autumn arrived in the blink of an eye. It was the final phase of the summer heat, the hottest time of the year. The sunlight blazed fiercely, the wheat grew thick and lush, and the coming harvest was already visible. The busy farmers all wore joyful expressions.
Standing on the ridge between the fields, Qiu Shufeng was so hot that sweat streamed down his face, yet his smile was every bit as happy as the farmers’.
“Dangkang truly lives up to its reputation.”
No sooner had Qiu Shufeng spoken than he heard a soft snort in his mind.
Unable to help himself, he smiled. He said to the Farming System, “And thanks to you as well. You’ve helped me greatly. Those grains, vegetables, and new varieties of cotton, as well as the methods for enriching the soil, are all things ordinary people can use. I owe you thanks for all of that too.”
The Farming System, satisfied by the praise, answered with fair-minded honesty, “Dangkang’s bristles are useful too, and your arrangements have also been very good.”
It had seen with its own eyes how busy Qiu Shufeng had become. The many consequences stirred up by the Blood-Rust Blade were already enough to torment anyone, and there was also that restless crowd of local magnates in Suizhou. Even a mere Shenling Wang clan had dared move against the Prefect of Suizhou sent by the Zhao Kingdom. Yet Qiu Shufeng had still managed to find time to arrange the planting zones for those grain seeds and for Dangkang’s bristles. He had needed to choose suitable land, and he had also needed to ensure those things would not be swallowed up by the powerful clans. There was no need to describe in detail how much labor and hardship all this had cost him.
Seeing that Qiu Shufeng was thirsty, one of his attendants handed him a waterskin. He was just about to drink when he suddenly felt something tremble inside his robe. He took out a roll of silk text from within his clothing. It was a minor Treasured Artifact capable of sending messages across a thousand li. One copy was kept in the residence, while the other was carried on his person. If words were written on either piece of silk, the same words would appear simultaneously on the other, making it very convenient for transmitting messages.
Qiu Shufeng handed the waterskin back to his attendant and looked at the silk text first.
There was news again of the long-missing Blood-Rust Blade. It had reappeared within Suizhou.
One document after another flashed through his mind, each reporting people injured and property destroyed because of fighting among cultivators in one place or another. Suddenly, Qiu Shufeng felt dizzy.
“My lord!” The attendant threw aside the waterskin and caught Qiu Shufeng. But the elderly man, white showing in his hair, went limp as he sagged downward. He had already lost consciousness.
Clear water spilled out from the waterskin and soaked into the earth.
Supported by his attendant, Qiu Shufeng was laid down on the ground. His eyes were tightly shut, and loose strands of hair clung to his face. No matter how frantically the attendant called to him, there was no response.
The Farming System shouted anxiously inside Qiu Shufeng’s mind. It had medicinal herbs in its space that could be used directly, but it had no way to stuff the medicine straight into Qiu Shufeng’s body. And with an attendant standing nearby, it was inconvenient for it to use any special methods.
Just as the Farming System was preparing to knock the attendant unconscious first and then save Qiu Shufeng, a farmer wearing a bamboo hat and with his trouser legs tied up walked over along the field ridge. He craned his neck to take a look and said, “Heatstroke? Come, come, make some room.”
The attendant had originally been on guard, but when this farmer gave him a push, he involuntarily stepped back. By the time he tried to move forward again, the farmer had already taken a gourd flask from his waist, supported Qiu Shufeng’s head, and dripped several drops into his mouth.
Qiu Shufeng opened his eyes and first tasted a faint bitterness with a sweet aftertaste in his mouth. Only after a moment did he remember what had happened before. Seeing his anxious attendant before him again, and hearing the Farming System nagging in his mind, he quickly sorted out the situation and thanked the farmer.
The farmer pressed him down so that he could not get up immediately and said with a smile, “No rush, no rush. You’ve just woken up, so take it slow. I think your body is actually in decent shape. It doesn’t look like heatstroke to me. It seems more like you were too worried, and anxiety and pent-up fire struck your heart, causing you to collapse for a moment. A noble person like you—how did you wear yourself down like this?”
At the farmer’s words, the worries that had only been interrupted by his fainting returned to Qiu Shufeng’s heart. His brows unconsciously drew together. Along with his anxiety and urgency, what he felt even more was exhaustion. He had nearly done everything he possibly could. As a mortal without cultivation, what else could he still do?
Looking at his expression, the farmer smiled and said, “How can the affairs of the world ever all go as one wishes? So long as you’ve done your best, that’s enough.”
Qiu Shufeng let out a breath and, supporting himself on his attendant’s arm, slowly sat up. He thanked the farmer once more.
He could not simply do his best and let that be enough.
The farmer shook his head, turned, and walked away, singing with his back to them:
“Life’s roads run north and south, full of forks and turns.
Generals, ministers, and immortals alike must still be made from mortal men.
Dynasties rise and fall from dawn to dusk through a hundred generations,
and the river wind topples the trees of fallen courts.
Prosperity and wealth rest on nothing solid.
One exhausts one’s heart, only to waste away the passing years.
Three cups of rough wine, and one sinks into drunkenness and departs.
Where the flowing water goes, where the fallen flowers drift—who can know?”
The attendant had originally been grateful that the farmer had revived Qiu Shufeng, but upon hearing him sing that, he became unhappy instead and said indignantly, “What does he know?”
If his lord sought fame, rank, wealth, or profit, would he have endured all this suffering? He was exhausting himself for the sake of the common people. Could that be wrong? By what right was that farmer to judge him?
Qiu Shufeng shook his head, stopping the attendant’s indignation. Sitting on the ground, he raised his head blankly to look at the sky.
The sky was clear and pure, and the sunlight transparent and bright.
Such a high sky. Such vastness.
Dynasties rose and fell from dawn to dusk through a hundred generations. Yet amid rise and fall, every individual person’s suffering was real.
How could he simply do his best and let that be enough?
...
No one knew that the Blood-Rust Blade was in the hands of Lang Qingyun and Cai Suhong. The reason news of the Blood-Rust Blade’s presence in Suizhou was exposed was still because of the treasure-seeking compass.
Qiu Shufeng had painstakingly schemed to deal with the treasure-seeking compass, but unfortunately, it was not an ordinary Treasured Artifact. It was a Rule Fragment from outside Qiankun lodged within the compass. When the compass was destroyed, the Rule Fragment was unharmed. It merely changed its vessel and was now called the “Treasure-Seeking Map.”
The Treasure-Seeking Map was likewise fought over by many cultivators, and in the end its ownership still could not be settled. After several rounds of wrangling, a few cultivators who trusted one another only to a limited extent made a contract to use the treasure jointly.
Once some of those cultivators discovered that this treasure could actually locate the Blood-Rust Blade, the situation changed again. In order to obtain it, some concealed the truth, some courted one another, and some brought in outside help. Amid such a chaotic situation of schemes and counter-schemes, news of the Blood-Rust Blade inevitably leaked out.
This time, when the Blood-Rust Blade returned to Suizhou, what it stirred up was not merely turmoil within Suizhou.
It was not only rogue cultivators and Demonic Cultivators who wanted the Blood-Rust Blade. Quite a number of orthodox cultivation sects had already become involved as well. Most of the deeply established sects, such as Tiangong Tower, were still watching and waiting, because top-tier sects like the Sword Pavilion, Sitting-Forgetting Island, and Shuiyue Ward had yet to involve themselves in the matter of the Blood-Rust Blade.
After observing for so long, someone had finally run out of patience and come to the Sword Pavilion to inquire about the situation.