In his daze, Yan Tuo felt his body swaying.

Not like being in water—this was an unsteady, uncomfortable, unsettling motion.

After several attempts, he managed to open his eyes.

The first thing he saw were clusters of faint cyan light, near and far, dim and hazy.

He remembered—these were luminous stones. In the first half of traversing the Green Soil, you’d always see such stones, and ancient pathway lights from times past. Later, as you went deeper, the light would fade, requiring flashlights or light sticks to see. And after that, the only things that glowed were the White-Eyed Ghosts’ eyes.

Someone was carrying him on their back.

Who was it?

Yan Tuo painfully turned his face, feeling a bald head against his cheek, and mumbled reflexively: “Yu Rong?”

It was Yu Rong.

Hearing Yan Tuo make a sound, she stopped, bent her knees to set him down, then rubbed her shoulders and stretched her neck before plopping down: “Finally you’re awake. I’m exhausted—you’re so heavy.”

Yan Tuo’s head throbbed his mind in chaos.

What was happening now? Was he still dreaming? Why were these transitions so disjointed, and completely impossible to piece together?

He suddenly jolted: “Where’s Luo?”

Yu Rong made a confused sound: “Haven’t seen her.”

What did she mean, haven’t seen her? Yan Tuo leaped up, using too much force—his back burned with pain and his vision darkened: “Luo was with me the whole time!”

Yu Rong glanced at him: “Are you dreaming? When I found you, you were lying alone in a clearing, in a pool of blood. I thought you were dead until I checked your breathing.”

Yu Rong had been grabbed by Feng Mi and thrown into the ravine water together.

At that time, Feng Mi must have given up on living, or perhaps believed she could be revived as long as she avoided the White-Eyed Ghosts or Mad Blade. She didn’t hesitate to seek survival through brutal means, determined to take someone down with her—choosing Yu Rong who was right beside her.

It happened too suddenly for anyone to react, except for Sun Zhou. Already bestial and trained by her, his reactions were lightning-fast, with an instinct to save his master. He darted forward to grab her.

But their fall was too fast, and Sun Zhou, with only one arm, left and little strength, not only failed to stop them but was dragged down into the ravine water with them.

The fierce current instantly scattered the three of them.

However, Feng Mi had miscalculated in choosing Yu Rong to die with—of everyone there, Yu Rong was the strongest swimmer. She had trained beasts and crocodiles in Southeast Asia, moving through water effortlessly. Moreover, being near the sea there and having a thrill-seeking nature, she had survived several storm surges. In the ravine water, she could endure even better than Yan Tuo.

She sighed: “I was afraid the White-Eyed Ghosts would come into the water to grab people, so I held my breath underwater for a while. But the current was too strong and swept me away. When I came up for air, I glanced up and saw at least seven or eight White-Eyed Ghosts already blocking that cave entrance.”

Like a clay Buddha crossing a river—barely able to save herself—she couldn’t worry about the others anymore.

Like Yan Tuo, Yu Rong couldn’t reach the shore either, her body spinning like a top in the current. She eventually swallowed water, but fortune smiled upon her—in her exhaustion, she managed to grab onto a protruding rock and, with tremendous effort, pulled herself up.

“I don’t know how far downstream I was swept. When I got out, everything went black and I passed out. When I woke up, I had no idea where I was. Fortunately, I had my pack with me and some usable equipment, so I followed the ravine shore back upstream.”

When she reached the cave where they had initially hidden, it was empty.

Remembering the terrifying sight of White-Eyed Ghosts crowding the cave entrance, Yu Rong felt there was little hope of finding Xing Shen and the others.

“I wouldn’t give up, so I went back toward the beacon tower, hoping to find some scattered companions. At first, I was terrified, afraid something would happen. But the whole way, it was like walking through the wilderness—no Ground Xiaos, Xiao Ghosts, or White-Eyed Ghosts anywhere.”

“After searching several times, I only found you, lying there motionless. Oh, and a knife on the ground.”

Speaking of which, Yu Rong pulled Nie Jiuluo’s dagger from her waistband and tossed it to Yan Tuo.

Yan Tuo didn’t catch it—he had no strength to.

He watched the dagger fall before him: “That can’t be right. I remember Luo was right beside me.”

Yu Rong said: “She must have been taken.”

Taken where? Across the ravine, officially entering the Black and White Ravine, gone underground?

Yan Tuo shuddered and scrambled up, staggering back the way they’d come.

Yu Rong sat watching him, not trying to stop him.

“Where are you going? No point in looking again—I’ve been back and forth several times already. Though the White-Eyed Ghosts and others are gone, what if they come back…”

“It wasn’t easy carrying you out! Don’t collapse on the road and make me carry you again. Look at your back—the bones are showing through the tears.”

“Go see a doctor quickly, or I don’t think you’ll live much longer…”

Eventually, Yu Rong was tired of shouting. She fell back, hands behind her head.

Too exhausted. Better conserve energy—she’d need it to rescue this stubborn fool again.

In the end, Yan Tuo couldn’t make it back to the ravine’s edge.

First, he didn’t know the way, and the further they went, the worse the lighting became. Second was his physical condition—he’d been soaked in the ravine water, his back was injured, and he’d lain unconscious for a long time. In this season, even kicking off your blanket while sleeping could cause a cold, let alone such deadly exposure to water.

When Yu Rong found Yan Tuo again after resting, his fever had set in. His face was burning red, simultaneously sweating and shivering, his body alternating between feeling submerged in ice and burning in fire. Yu Rong sighed and said to him: “Yan Tuo if you want to die here and now, keep pushing yourself to death. I’ve lost so many companions already, I don’t particularly treasure your life. I’m not Nie Er—I won’t spend all my energy saving you. Out of courtesy, I’m giving you a hand.”

“If you want to live and have a chance to come back here someday, pull yourself together and follow me out. We’re not safe yet. I’ve said my piece—I’m leaving now. For the first hundred paces, I’ll walk slowly so you can keep up. After that, I won’t wait—I’m soaked too, chilled to the bone and dizzy with hunger. I’m not interested in looking after others.”

With that, she left.

Yan Tuo got up from the ground, shivering. His back had gone numb. He wiped it with his hand and felt something sticky—probably not blood anymore, but infected pus.

Though blunt, Yu Rong was right. Even if he could rush back to the ravine now, he could do nothing except exhaust himself.

Yan Tuo looked back once more into the deepest darkness.

He had to survive first, then return.

He stumbled after Yu Rong, falling and getting up several times. After the last time he rose, Yu Rong came back and offered her arm, saying: “Come on.”

The journey back to the Golden Human Door was not smooth. Yu Rong didn’t know the way either; she only knew to head toward the light, toward areas with more luminous stones.

But the Green Soil area was vast, with four Golden Human Doors far apart from each other—the mine exit Lin Xirou had found was even as far as Yutang County, showing just how wide the area was.

So in the end, perhaps having taken a wrong turn, they wandered endlessly in the maze of luminous stones. Yan Tuo’s condition worsened, and Yu Rong wasn’t much better: she could endure more than Yan Tuo mainly because she wasn’t injured and was mentally more positive.

But even positivity couldn’t fight hunger and cold.

Yu Rong had lost all sense of time, not knowing how many days they’d been down there. She only knew she was now as hungry as a wolf, her eyes practically glowing green. At first, she could still pull Yan Tuo along, then support him, then they supported each other, and finally, neither could support the other. They often collapsed and passed out, only to be shaken awake by the other.

…

Yan Tuo couldn’t tell how many times Yu Rong had shaken him awake.

They gazed at each other wearily, each seeing their ghost-like wretchedness in the other’s eyes. Yu Rong gave a bitter smile and said: “No idea where we are. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Got any last words? Better say them while you still can.”

Judging by their conditions, she figured she’d be the second to die.

Yan Tuo looked at her for a while: “I haven’t found Luo yet. I can’t die.”

Yu Rong burst out laughing. She wasn’t trying to discourage him, just used to speaking directly: “You’re burning like coal. In our Bangtooth Village, there was a famous brain-burned fool called Ma Hanzi. I’d say you’re just about there yourself.”

“Have you thought about it? Even if we reach the Golden Human Door and get out of the forest, it’ll take another day or two. At the Door, only Que Cha and Sun Li were left, and we don’t even know if things are normal there—even if they are, who has the strength to carry you out?”

Yan Tuo said: “I won’t die.”

Nie Jiuluo had no family left. If he died, no one would ever look for her again.

He couldn’t die, and his mind couldn’t burn out. He had to live clear-headed, to return.

He rested a while, gathering strength, then slowly explained to Yu Rong: “There’s no signal down here. All of Luo’s and my daily items are up there. Find my phone—in the contacts, there’s someone called Lü Xian.”

“Call him on the satellite phone, tell him my situation. Have him bring enough medical supplies and equipment to wait at the forest entrance, or if you can provide directions, have him hire guides and helpers to come in.”

“Working from both ends will save time. He’s a decent person, just greedy and a bit cowardly. If he won’t come, name your price—any price—and add some threats. He’ll come.”

Yu Rong listened mechanically, her stomach growling continuously.

Wasn’t Yan Tuo being too optimistic? He was still thinking about doctors and rescue.

She just wanted food—even a piece of bread would be good.

Yan Tuo continued speaking, his tone calm: “If my luck runs out and I die early, before seeing any hope, then… you can eat me.”

Yu Rong startled, suddenly alert: “What the hell are you talking about? Your rotten meat—how could I stomach that?”

Then, as if horrified, she mumbled: “Me, eating people, eating you—how would I be any different from a Ground Xiao?”

Ground Xiaos could blame their nature for eating people, but if she did it, how could she still be human?

Yan Tuo smiled faintly and said softly: “These are last words, right? Let me finish while I still can. If you can’t get past the mental barrier, then starve to death. But if you go mad with hunger, want to live, and all you have is my meat, then you can eat it—I authorize it.”

Yu Rong said nothing, pressing her hand against her stomach to stop its sounds, her skin breaking out in goosebumps.

Yan Tuo continued: “If you feel guilty about eating me, then help me with a few things in return.”

“First, bury me beside the Black and White Ravine. Second, help me find out what happened to Luo—tell me at my grave. I pretty much know my sister’s whereabouts, but even in death, I’ll worry about Luo.”

That was all—thinking about it, there was nothing else to say. Everything was settled.

Having spoken so much, Yan Tuo was exhausted. He closed his eyes, his vision still jumping and blurring with white spots.

In his haze, he suddenly saw his mother Lin Xirou, sitting cross-legged on that hospital bed, staring at him steadily, her gaze infinitely gentle yet infinitely sorrowful.

And his father Yan Haishan, standing beside the bed, still looking emaciated as he did when seriously ill, his lips moving slowly, seemingly with countless things to tell him.

Yan Tuo said in his heart: Dad, Mom, bless me. Don’t let me die—not this time.

He had seen Yan Xin but hadn’t had the chance to say a single word.

And Luo, suddenly gone without a trace.

This time, don’t let him die. Give him more time.

Just as his consciousness was scattering, he heard Yu Rong shout angrily: “Who’s there?!”

Who? Who could it be? Who had they encountered?

A faint hope suddenly sprouted in Yan Tuo’s heart. He painfully lifted his eyelids.

Yu Rong was turning her head to the diagonal front, her back hunched, arms trembling, tightly gripping Nie Jiuluo’s recovered dagger.

Yan Tuo followed her gaze.

There, behind a tall stack, a blurry shadow was slowly emerging.