The mountain of corpses from before had now devolved into a viscous, pulpy mass of raw flesh, and the man-eating underworld bugs, drawn by the scent of sustenance, had swarmed the area, almost entirely claiming the basement.

The three of them cautiously glanced down at their footwear. Xiaoyu, fresh from surgery, wore disposable non-woven slippers. Xiaoshu had on athletic shoes, but the relentless running around had worn holes right through the once crisp and clean pair, leaving his small feet exposed. Perhaps Zhang Yuqiu was the best prepared, yet even her sandals, riddled with holes like an ancient sieve, were no match for the thin, wriggling horrors crawling across the floor. Deciding how to traverse the space presented an immediate, prickly dilemma.

"I told you both to hurry up and leave, didn't I? Now look at this mess you can't handle..." Zhang Yuqiu pouted, her voice a relentless drone directed at the other two.

"No need to panic, no need to panic. If there was a way in, there must be a way out," Xiaoshu announced, affecting an air of seasoned composure to reassure everyone.

However, his dismissive words did nothing to soothe Zhang Yuqiu; in fact, they only inflamed her temper. She surged toward him, demanding breathlessly, "What way? What way is there? Give us one practical solution, right now!"

Startled by her sudden rush, Xiaoshu jumped back, stumbling right over the two small leg bones bolted to the concrete floor. He pitched forward, nearly landing flat on his backside. Fortunately, Xiaoyu, standing nearby, managed to catch him just in time, saving this particular fellow—who was proving rather lucky in the face of danger—from a nasty tumble.

"Comrades, we need harmony now; internal conflict will achieve nothing. The situation is what it is; only quick thinking will devise an escape. Otherwise, aren't we just digging our own graves?" Xiaoyu helped Xiaoshu regain his footing while gazing toward the doorway. Though his words seemed aimed generally, any intelligent person understood exactly who he was speaking to.

This only enraged Zhang Yuqiu further. She jabbed a finger toward Xiaoyu’s nose and retorted fiercely, "I came here to save you; it’s not your turn to lecture me." Saying this, she brandished a sickle from behind her back. With three quick strides, she rushed toward the sludgy pile of crawling bugs, though she avoided stepping into it. Instead, she stood on a clean patch and executed a light forward flip toward the less congested direction. Just as she was about to land, she used the blade of the sickle instead of her palm to brace against the concrete floor. A sharp clang echoed as steel met stone, sending sparks flying. Using the momentum, Zhang Yuqiu gripped the sickle handle tightly, driving her elbows down with force, which catapulted her up and out of the mass of insects. When she finally landed, she was outside the basement door, in an area clean and clear, save for a few ant-like trails of man-eating bugs slowly crawling back inside.

After witnessing the stunning performance, Xiaoshu and Xiaoyu could only shake their heads in self-reproach, retreating back into the room to stand near the few remaining severed, desiccated limbs scattered on the floor.

After a long silence, Xiaoyu broke the quiet with a wry jest, "Where did she learn that trick? I heard Shaolin Temple doesn't accept female disciples."

"Perhaps Emei Mountain. Maybe she's a direct descendant of Guo Xiang."

"Hmm, looks like it!"

No sooner had the words left their mouths than a sound like an avalanche—a terrifying, deafening roar—erupted from outside the door, making their ears ache. Xiaoshu cautiously peered out. What slid into the basement entrance, propelled by its own momentum, was a four-wheeled hospital gurney towing two mops. Following close behind came a cold, mocking laugh: "Gentlemen, please take your seats!"