The direction indicated by the Black Blood remained an endless sea of the Undead. The Buddha said, “The sea of suffering is boundless; turn back and find the shore.” I scanned left, right, front, and back, yet saw no trace of solid ground anywhere. With no other choice, I had to follow the direction the Black Blood pointed.

After swimming for what felt like an eternity, our pace slowed to a crawl. My limbs ached, my head spun, and my strength was rapidly failing. Glancing over, I saw that Wang Jue was just as exhausted as I was, though Hou Dayong showed no sign of fatigue whatsoever.

“How much further until we reach land? Are you sure your Black Blood is pointing correctly?” I asked Hou Dayong impatiently.

“Just hold on a bit longer. The Sea of the Undead is like this; when it rains, the entire world transforms, and then slowly reverts to its original state.”

“The problem is,” Wang Jue asked worriedly, “based on the current situation, the crack in the wall we came through has likely been submerged by now. If we keep swimming on the surface like this, can we ever find the original entrance? Could we swim right past it without realizing?”

I felt Wang Jue had a very good point. Regardless of whether the Sea of the Undead expanded or shrank, the original structure shouldn't change—that was basic common sense. Floating on the surface, finding an entrance submerged beneath the water seemed nearly impossible.

Hou Dayong shook his head, stating firmly, “Do not judge the Sea of the Undead by the rules of the mortal realm. This place has its own set of laws. When you swim in ordinary water, you constantly need to breathe, correct? In the Sea of the Undead, you can survive indefinitely without needing air. That is the difference between the two worlds.”

Alright, Hou Dayong won. Wang Jue and I were left speechless, silenced by his logic. He had more authority here; we ought to respect his counsel.

The next stretch of the journey was agonizing. My arms and legs felt as if they were filled with lead, and the slower I rowed, the heavier my body became, constantly sinking. Maintaining buoyancy on the surface became a significant struggle. Wang Jue wasn’t faring any better; he was drowning frequently, sputtering and nearly dead, only to be hauled out of the water by Hou Dayong. It was pure suffering.

Just as we were enduring this intense misery, a baby’s cry drifted over the distance. Following the sound, a small boat bobbed and swayed as it slowly drifted toward us from the horizon.

I shouted, “There’s a boat!”

Seeing the vessel felt like spotting a savior. Wang Jue and I mustered the last reserves of our strength and swam desperately toward it.

Wang Jue reached it first. He gripped the gunwale from the outside and waved frantically at us. “There’s only an infant on board!” Then, he flipped over and climbed into the boat.

I followed right behind him, swimming to the side. Indeed, there was only a small baby on the boat, wrapped snugly in a pink receiving blanket, wearing a small jade pendant around its neck. It was wailing, eyes shut tight, looking terribly pitiable.

Wang Jue grabbed my hands from the boat and pulled me aboard with significant force.

The boat was not large, just big enough to hold four people. Once I was aboard, I grabbed an oar and began rowing toward Hou Dayong’s position. For some reason, his movements had become unusually slow; he seemed somewhat depleted as well.

After considerable effort, I managed to row to his side. Hou Dayong didn’t rush to board; instead, he motioned for me to bring the child over for him to see. I found this request strange—aren’t all infants more or less the same? What was there to see?

However, I respected his wishes and carefully brought the infant across the gunwale for him to look at. The very instant I held the baby by the edge of the boat, Hou Dayong snatched the bundle, flung the infant into the Sea of the Undead.