The bonfire’s light began to fade within a few hundred meters of running, plunging the surroundings into near total darkness. Fortunately, Xing'er hadn't dropped his torch, and we navigated the forest of stalactites in the cavern, stumbling forward with only that faint light to guide us.

Halfway through, we found Ah-li, still standing obediently where we had left her, though she was terrified and crying uncontrollably. I scooped up Ah-li, continuing to run while murmuring reassurances, “It’s alright, it’s alright, we’ll be fine! Be brave…”

But before I could finish, a rustling sound, like an incoming tide, rose up behind us. Xing'er started to turn his head to assess the situation, but I used one hand to wrench his half-turned head back around. “Don’t look,” I commanded. “Just run forward with everything you’ve got.”

Truthfully, in that moment, I was utterly desperate. Without the protection of the Undead Sea, without any outside rescue, running deeper into this endless cave system—whether we could escape the clutches of the spiders, I hadn’t the slightest clue. Or perhaps, running had simply become the only option left to us; running meant a few more seconds of life, not running meant immediate consumption by the spiders.

Yet, even with that thought, fate hadn't granted us a smooth escape route, nor allowed us to run until sheer exhaustion before collapsing beneath spider legs. Instead, our path was cut short early on, blocked by a concave, sky-like rock wall at the cavern’s lowest point.

The path finally ended. We had no choice but to turn and face the tidal wave of the spider army. Xing’er raised the torch, positioning himself alone between me and Ah-li, his voice carrying a note of tragic heroism: “You find a way to get Ah-li somewhere high. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

It happened faster than the words were spoken. A few spiders, palm-sized, darted from the ground in the torchlight, leaping directly onto Xing’er. He remained unruffled, transferring the torch to his left hand, and used his right to pluck the attacking spiders off his body one by one, crushing them in his grip. Splut, splut… those that landed in his palm dissolved instantly into a spray of ichor. When some spat venom at him, he seemed entirely unaffected, dealing with those invaders with his bare hands.

In that moment, I hoisted Ah-li onto a cluster of gigantic stalagmites, and the two of us huddled together on that narrow summit.

Watching Xing’er fight the spiders without a trace of fear, I suddenly felt Xiao Shu had been incredibly foolish. No, not just foolish—stupid to the extreme. He hadn't needed to risk his life saving Xing’er earlier, because Xing’er clearly wasn't afraid of spiders; the spiders posed no threat to him. We could have just left Xing’er on that rock and bolted for freedom ourselves.

But then, I paused. Was I any less foolish than Xiao Shu? I had secured Ah-li in a safe spot, then returned to fight alongside them, ultimately leaping into the encirclement myself and allowing the spiders to cut off my retreat. Wasn’t Xing’er the same? Since the venom couldn’t corrode him, he could have swaggered right through the horde, maybe even stomped a few for show, leaving the spiders utterly helpless. Yet here he was, standing at the very front, shielding me and Ah-li from the spider swarm.

Fine. We are all fools, giving up our chances of escape for the sake of the others. Since this is the choice everyone has made, then we are honor-bound to meet the challenge of fate head-on!

With that thought, I jumped down from the stalagmite, leaving the trembling Ah-li behind, and charged into the mass of spiders, shouting loudly, “Come on! Come after me! Aren’t you looking for revenge? I’m the one who burned your comrades by the Undead Sea!”