After two fierce battles with the spider folk, we dared not leave the Sea of the Dead, instead following the lake shore eastward. According to Xiao Shu’s observations, the scroll map was fairly accurate; the places we passed bore about a seventy percent resemblance to what was drawn. If we continued along this path, barring any surprises, we should reach the Monkey Clan’s territory, marked with a skull, by the second morning.

The two of us walked relentlessly, moving forward and forward. We rested when tired and drank the water of the Sea of the Dead when thirsty. After a full day and night of acclimation, we had completely grown accustomed to the coppery smell of the Dead Sea. Xiao Shu no longer felt nauseous, and I no longer resisted drinking that intensely sour water; we barely noticed the scent of blood in the air anymore. Perhaps this was habit; the Sea of the Dead had become our reliance in this world, inseparable from us moment by moment.

But things always have a contrary side. Just as we were congratulating ourselves on the constant company of the Sea of the Dead, the unexpected occurred. A towering circle of cliffs abruptly rose from the lake shore, blocking our eastward path. Xiao Shu estimated the cliff face spanned several kilometers, bordered by dense, untouched jungle. It seemed our plan to proceed along the lakeside embankment was about to be altered.

Xiao Shu pulled out the scroll map from his backpack, cross-referencing the terrain.

I leaned closer and asked, "Are we on the right path? Is this cliff marked on the map?"

Xiao Shu pointed at the map with a finger, a trace of vexation in his voice. "The map shows several jagged lines here, suggesting mountains. But it doesn't mark a cliff that extends right to the water's edge. I had assumed the embankment would lead straight to the skull marker."

I took the map and looked where Xiao Shu indicated. If those jagged lines represented mountains, there was indeed a range near our current position. Beyond this range lay the Monkey Clan's territory. In that light, the destination wasn't far now. The regret was that the next segment offered two choices: swim across the Sea of the Dead, or traverse the mountains.

"How should we proceed?" I looked up at the hundred-meter-high precipice, thinking that if we took the mountain route, we could jump into the water if we encountered spiders. But this plan was immediately vetoed by the Bowel-Piercing Gu inside my stomach and the Hunchbacked Crone. The Gu rumbled restlessly, and the Crone’s voice echoed in my mind: "Don't take that risk. What if the water below is shallow, and you hit the bottom? You’ll be crippled even if you don't die."

The Crone was right. While the Sea of the Dead could heal external wounds, it couldn't regenerate lost tissue. Xiao Shu’s scar, the pitting on my skin, and the severed joint on my right hand were all testament to this fact. If I jumped from the cliff and indeed struck the lakebed, severing a limb, the Sea of the Dead could not change the reality of a wheelchair-bound future.

"Let's swim across, then," Xiao Shu said, touching the scar on his face. It seemed his thoughts aligned with the Crone’s.

Saying this, Xiao Shu wrapped his book and map—anything easily dampened—in his storm poncho, then removed his shoes and balanced them on his head. I followed suit, taking off my own shoes and placing them on my head. Barefoot, I took two steps into the Sea of the Dead.

The water temperature felt relatively comfortable, not at all cold. So, we picked up our pace, taking long, confident strides forward.

However, just as the water reached our calves, before we were even halfway submerged, a wave began rolling toward us from the horizon. Xiao Shu and I exchanged bewildered glances, having no idea what was approaching. We stood rooted in the water, waiting for the surge to reach us.

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