At that critical juncture, Da Mao bounded out of the woods, a tight-fitting garment held firmly in its jaws. This was what Xiao Hao had specifically sent it to fetch for Yingzi, a precaution against another attack by the undead fish. Before this moment, however, Yingzi hadn't noticed anything special about the garment, treating it merely as an old piece of clothing, tossed aside to mildew and rot.

Now, with Congcong drowning and entirely surrounded by the undead fish, Yingzi stomped her feet in frantic distress. She yearned to rush into the water to save him, yet the bitter lesson of the previous encounter held her back, making her believe that even sacrificing herself might not be enough to bring him back. Just as her anxiety peaked, Da Mao thrust the garment into her hand and began chattering excitedly. She gave Da Mao a puzzled glance, then touched the musty tight-fitting suit in her grasp, suddenly recalling the time Xiao Hao saved her while wearing a similar piece of close-fitting attire. Those piranhas, upon biting the fabric, would immediately flinch back, daring not to approach and attack again.

In that instant, Yingzi achieved sudden enlightenment. Hastily shedding her everyday clothes, she swiftly pulled on the protective garment, ignoring the insect-eaten holes along the waistline, and plunged into the water with a resounding splash, swimming toward Congcong.

Congcong, by then bitten a dozen times by the undead fish, was struggling between pain and evasion. Seeing Yingzi swimming toward him from a distance, he clung to hope like a lifeline, desperately paddling toward her. Finally reaching a distance of barely an arm’s length, he suddenly performed an acrobatic leap—a Carp Leaping Over the Dragon Gate move—vaulting out of the water right over the shoal of fish and landing squarely on Yingzi’s head. He locked his four limbs tightly around her head, gripping her as if she were the only thing preventing him from sinking, holding fast without any sign of letting go.

For Yingzi, this aerial assault was utterly unexpected. It felt as if she’d been mugged by an unseen assailant, and she instantly panicked. After gulping down several mouthfuls of water, she sank straight to the bottom. She flapped and cooed, managing to pry Congcong’s four paws loose from her head. Through the pink, clear water, she peered around. Seeing Yingzi clad in the tight suit, the shoal of fish refrained from attacking, merely circling above their heads. Wherever Yingzi swam with Congcong—east or west—the fish followed suit, giving the distinct impression that they were determined to keep the pair from surfacing. Fortunately, the Sea of the Undead did not claim living souls; even staying submerged for three or four hours, provided one kept their mouth shut, brought no sensation of breathlessness or fatigue. However, the moment one opened their mouth, the unbearably bloody water would rush in, filling the lungs until the belly felt distended, and only upon forcibly closing the mouth would the influx cease.

Utterly constrained, Yingzi could only adopt an indirect, winding tactic, swimming deeper into the Sea of the Undead, hoping that after maneuvering with the fish for a while, they would eventually lose interest in pursuing. The Sea of the Undead was immensely vast. Yingzi, with Congcong on her, swam for over half an hour without sighting the embankment on the far shore. The lakebed, however, noticeably dipped in the center, where a stone structure shaped like a roof was situated right in the middle.

In all her time in the Sea of the Undead, Yingzi had never seen any sign of human habitation besides herself, let alone architecture. Discovering such an edifice in the center now instantly triggered her long-dormant curiosity, like the sudden opening of Pandora’s Box. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep soundly for several nights unless she swam close enough to investigate. Consequently, Yingzi had Congcong climb onto her back, and stroking with her arms, she began swimming toward the stone structure.