Yingzi, clutching Xing'er, tiptoed down the corridor haunted by the Man-Eating Pupa insects, yet there were no creatures or scattered corpses in sight. Recalling the scene just moments ago made her skin crawl; terrified that the disgusting things might suddenly reappear before her, she quickened her pace, bordering on a run, as she swiftly crossed the hall to the wall fissure.

The fissure was about two feet wide, utterly clean inside, devoid of any filth—just an ordinary crack. Who knew why it was never repaired, left splitting there for so long. Just as Yingzi hesitated whether to squeeze through, Da Mao leaped down from her shoulder and, in a flash, bounded out to the other side of the wall crack. He stood there, waving his paws at her in a beckoning gesture. Yingzi bent low, securing Xing'er tightly around her waist, striving to keep herself suspended mid-fissure, careful not to touch either jagged edge. In less than a minute, she had passed through the crack and arrived at the shore of the Sea of the Departed Souls. If Ming Xiaoyu and Hou Dayong knew they had slipped through that fissure so easily, they would surely be so enraged their inner organs would smoke and bleed from seven or nine orifices. This was the advantage of having a child. Wang Jue, too, had passed through this corridor safely while holding Xing'er.

The Sea of the Departed Souls shimmered a translucent red under the blazing sunlight, like a mirror carved from ruby—crystalline yet undeniably luxurious. This was the most spectacular sight Yingzi had ever witnessed. She paused by the lake's edge, holding Xing'er, fantasizing about dissolving into that scarlet water, letting go of all her troubles. This reverie was so absorbing that she almost lost all sense of time. Only when Da Mao urged her did she snap out of it; otherwise, she would have remained staring until the setting sun's afterglow stripped the brilliant lake surface of all its splendor.

Jijijiji... Da Mao let out an impatient cry. By the time Yingzi regained her focus and looked for him, he had already leaped from the shore onto a small wooden boat. Someone must have moored the little vessel nearby. Da Mao trotted directly onto the deck, simultaneously untying the rope fastened to a mooring stake and chirping his incessant calls. Hearing this, Yingzi instantly understood that Da Mao wanted her to board quickly. With Xing'er, she zipped onto the boat, casually setting the bundle down near her feet, grabbing the oars, and pushing off into the lake.

Truthfully, at that moment, she had no idea where she was going or even what this place was. She only felt that the ruby-like lake surface was beautiful, free from conflict, free from slaughter—a true paradise where she and Xing'er could live without worry. It was this simple, primal yearning that drove her to flee with Xing'er to the Sea of the Departed Souls, escaping the future the demons had plotted for them.

The boat had not traveled three or five li when the skies turned against them, and a fine mist began to fall. The raindrops, just like the lake water, were reddish and transparent, carrying a faint, pervasive scent of gore. Xing'er, lying supine next to the footrest, smelled the brine of the Sea of the Departed Souls and instantly came alive, his eyes flying wide open as he wailed at Yingzi. Startled, Da Mao darted behind Yingzi and hid. Yingzi, however, felt no fear, for this was her own flesh and blood. She abandoned the oars, snatched Xing'er up, and was about to unfasten her clothing to nurse him when the image of the collapsed midwife slumped in the wicker chair flashed in her mind. She surmised that he required human blood instead of milk. Without another thought, she brought her finger to his mouth, letting him suck her fresh blood.

At first, it was just a slight prickling pain. After a while, Yingzi felt her entire arm turn cold, utterly drained of color, losing all sensation as if it were wax. Touching it with her other hand felt numb and tingling, as though separated by a thin layer of paper. She tried to withdraw her hand, to make the little one stop drinking, but the infant paid her no mind, closing his eyes and sucking with desperate abandon. Having already been drained twice since giving birth, Yingzi could not withstand the ordeal. The world spun, and darkness rushed over her vision.

When she awoke, the boat had already docked. Yingzi lay on her side, Xing'er pinned beneath her arm, still crying softly. The shore was lined with Golden-Haired Great Apes, all craning their necks to peer at the boat. The mooring rope was already secured to a stake on the bank; the vessel rested steadily within the small harbor.