Sakurako extended her right hand, intending to strike, but seeing Xing'er’s innocent expression, his small mouth pouting as if deeply wronged, the hand poised to fall stopped mid-air. Ahli, whose arm had already been bitten, quickly recoiled and huddled in a corner, tears welling in her eyes.

One deeply wronged, the other deeply hurt; Sakurako was only now beginning to grasp the difficulty of being a mother. If she didn't punish her own child, Ahli would have suffered for nothing; but if she struck Xing'er, how would he view her, his mother?

Difficult, difficult, difficult... Sakurako shook her head, turned, and picked up Ahli, bringing the bruised, discolored, and purple arm into the sunlight for a closer look. A row of teeth marks was clearly embedded in the skin, each one piercing the surface deep into the tissue, each saturated with bright crimson blood.

Out of options, Sakurako carried Ahli to the Spring of Immortality and sprinkled a few drops of the water onto the wound on his arm. The gash began to close, yet the purplish-blue discoloration remained. Naturally, whether it was the water from the Sea of the Undead or the Spring of Immortality, wounds could be healed. But the bruise on the skin clearly indicated blood stagnation; since there was no actual pain remaining, the mark could not vanish quickly. An experienced doctor would usually tell a patient to wait until the blood pooled beneath the skin was fully absorbed by the surrounding tissues, and then the bruising would naturally fade. However, looking at Ahli's discolored arm at that moment, Sakurako was suddenly reminded of the midwife lying in the wicker chair, and the feeling of ten thousand arrows piercing her heart returned with full force. She should never have clung to a sliver of hope and brought Xing'er into this world. Since matters had come to this, when would this lifetime of suffering finally end?

Thinking this, Sakurako left Ahli by the spring and stormed back to the mountain cave. Seeing Xing'er squatting alone, picking up pebbles, she grabbed him up from the ground and placed him standing on a large flat rock.

"Stand still!" Sakurako snapped.

Startled by his mother's sudden action, Xing'er froze, standing rigid as ordered, staring straight ahead, occasionally glancing sideways, trying to discern what scheme his mother was plotting.

Sakurako snapped a small branch from the cave entrance and began whipping it haphazardly across Xing'er’s legs until she was breathless, yet he showed no reaction whatsoever. The expected torrent of tears and pleas for mercy was nowhere to be found.

"Mom, what are you doing?" After being struck for a long time with no sensation of pain, Xing'er simply wondered what his mother was up to.

Sakurako picked up the branch and looked at it doubtfully, seemingly realizing it was too thin to have any impact. She walked back to the cave entrance and broke off another branch, this one as thick as two fingers, holding it as she prepared to resume corporal punishment.

Ahli, hiding nearby, saw Sakurako switch to a larger implement. Based on his past experience, he was certain Xing'er was about to be beaten until he cried his eyes out. His heart softened, and he ran up to hug Sakurako’s leg, pleading, "Auntie, please don't hit Xing'er anymore; he is still young and doesn't know any better!"

"He is still young and doesn't know any better..." Hearing Ahli say this, Sakurako hesitated for a moment, her hand holding the branch trembling in mid-air. She widened her eyes fiercely and spoke sternly to Xing'er, "If you need blood, you can take mine. But if you ever dare touch anyone else again, I will skin you alive."

However, the common people do not fear death; how can one frighten them with death? Sakurako’s words passed through Xing'er like wind, entering one ear and exiting the other—or perhaps never even entering the left ear—let alone making it out of the right. Why? Because he had never truly experienced physical pain in his entire life. And yet, Sakurako failed to grasp the difference between her son and ordinary people, or perhaps, in her heart, she had never truly viewed her son as an anomaly at all!