The thousand-acre mangrove forest was a massive labyrinth, its dense foliage blocking all light, plunging the depths into gloom. Years of dampness filled the air with the stench of rotting vegetation, and a thin miasma hung around them, keeping everyone huddled in the cart.
No environment could be worse. Even Hell's Corridor, devoid of its terrifying insects, was paradise compared to this.
"Look at the great route you chose!" Moya grumbled for the umpteenth time. As the only one who could drive, he manned the wheel, but the terrain was impossible—twisted roots everywhere, thick branches hanging like spears from the canopy, plunging into rotten silt to sprout new growth.
This was Moya's first real mangrove. He'd read in Association journals that such a vast forest might be a single organism, but seeing it was surreal.
Bang!
The cart jolted, tossing everyone inside. "Watch where you're going!" Lav rubbed her bruised elbow.
"The ground's full of holes! Be glad we're moving at all—walk if you're so brave." Moya shot back, eyeing Lav. "Amateurs... always picking lousy routes."
Rick winced—Moya used to call him "rookie," and he had chosen this path. "Ahem... Any way to deal with the miasma?"
"You planning to go out?" Moya jerked his chin at the cargo hold. "Masks back there."
Rick found a mask, looking like a ninja. "Wait here, I'll clear the path." He grabbed a climbing pick and hopped out.
With Rick 开路 (blazing a trail), they moved faster, though bumps still jolted them.
"Hey..." Lav tugged Moya's sleeve, panicking as she crawled to the front. "What now?" Moya snapped, nearly crashing into a tree. "He... he's awake..." Lav pointed back, stiff-faced.
Moya spun—face-to-face with Shust's bloodshot, ferocious gaze. "Fuck!" He whipped around, cold sweat pouring. He knew Shust was weak, but those eyes felt like a sword hanging over his head.
Outside, Rick didn't notice the commotion, clearing a rotten log. Distracted, Moya rammed the cart into the log, knocking Rick into the mud.
"Hey!" Rick tried to rise as the silt exploded. A slimy tentacle shot out, coiling around his wrist. "What the hell?!" He drew his dagger, but seven tentacles burst from the ground, binding his limbs and neck.
Choking, Rick's face turned purple. The tentacles squeezed his chest, forcing air from his lungs. Before he could see the creature, he was hoisted up, powerless. A suffocating stench rose as the monster revealed itself: two platter-sized eyes on an octopus-like head, an eight-tentacled maw lined with spiral teeth, exhaling anesthetic fumes that sapped his strength.
"Mo... Moya..." Rick croaked. As consciousness faded, a figure tossed something into the monster's mouth—purple mist erupted, and the creature released him, vanishing into the mud.
Rick fell, hitting something... "Achoo!" A pungent smell jolted him awake. He touched his neck—deep bruises. Lav stood nearby, muddy, tucking a vial into her belt.
"What did you make me smell?" Rick panicked, recalling Shust's poisoning. "You... ugh, thanks a lot." Lav pouted. "Peppermint insect sap—for waking you. Think I'd poison you?"
Remembering the eye-watering scent, Rick grinned sheepishly. "My mistake." "Hmph!"
Lav seemed to hold a grudge for Rick's earlier actions and turned away, ignoring him as she climbed into the cart. But as she did, Rick noticed her ankle was twisted, making her limp slightly.
"Sigh... Things just keep getting worse." Rick shook his head regretfully, dragging the climbing pick into the cart.
With Rick and Lav both covered in stinky mud, the cart reeked. But Rick's presence eased Moya's tension from Shust, letting him focus on driving—though his glances at Rick held a hint of guilt.
After catching Moya's guilty looks several times, Rick couldn't help but say, "Just drive. You almost got me killed, but I've been through worse. Since you came to save me in the end, I'll let it go."
"About that..." Moya blushed deeper, while Lav in the front seat huffed loudly.
"Rick..." Moya glanced at Lav, who still ignored him, and said shamefully, "I wasn't the one who saved you."
"Eh?"
"It was... Miss Lav..." Moya nearly buried his head in the steering wheel.
Rick looked stunned—he never expected the one who saved him was the girl they'd underestimated.
"Really! I was still figuring out what to do when Miss Lav ran out, threw something into the monster's mouth, and it just ran off. She... she didn't even wear a mask..."
Rick opened his mouth, but thanks stuck in his throat. Lav caught his awkward expression in the rearview mirror, blushing: "I didn't think about it. Don't worry."
"Are you feeling okay?" Rick asked with concern.
"I'm an insect expert; I know how to protect myself." Lav smiled sweetly, cheered that Rick finally acknowledged her abilities.
Rick suddenly remembered falling on something—and Lav's twisted ankle. "Did I hurt your foot when I fell?"
"Um, but it doesn't hurt much." Lav forced a smile.
"No, what if something's wrong? Let me see!" Rick moved Shust to the cargo hold and patted the seat beside him. "Come here."
"No, it's fine!" Lav blushed, waving her hands.
"Don't argue. Come here."
Under Rick's insistence, Lav sat beside him, blushing as she lifted her injured left foot to his knee. Removing her boot, Rick held her jade-like foot. The warmth of his palm made Lav cover her eyes, face burning.
Rick focused on her swollen ankle, unaware of her shyness as he gently prodded the swelling.
"Ah!" A sharp pain made Lav cry out.
"Does it hurt?" Rick frowned.
"A little." Lav played with her clothes, avoiding his gaze.
"Maybe soft tissue damage." Rick took a salt vial from his pocket, wet it with water, and began rubbing her ankle.
"What's that? Salt?" Lav eyed the vial curiously.
"Yes, but not ordinary salt. Moya and I found it in a forbidden zone—it's great for injuries."
"Ah! Don't touch there, it tickles!" Rick accidentally brushed her sole, eliciting a giggle.
"S-sorry." Rick realized how intimate their position was, his mind wandering as their skin touched. Distracted, he kept brushing her sole.
"Eek!" Lav clamped her mouth, thinking shyly: He must be doing it on purpose, but... it feels good.
Suddenly, the cart jolted, and Lav fell into Rick's arms. "Sorry, not on purpose—carry on!" Moya turned, grinning awkwardly before focusing on the road.
Rick and Lav froze, realizing they were embracing—Lav practically lying on him as he massaged her foot.
"Sorry!" Lav pushed away, curling up, face bright red.
Rick reluctantly released her, feeling a twinge of loss.
After an awkward silence, Rick broke it tentatively: "Your ankle..."
"It's better, thanks."
"Oh... So..." Rick scratched his head, struggling for a topic. "What was that monster?"
"That's a Vermin Cockroach, soft-bodied family, Demon-Rank combat insect. Its eight tentacles regenerate, and the oral secretion is anesthetic. An amphibious species living in wetlands."
Rick hadn't expected Lav to answer so elaborately. "You really are an insect expert?"
Lav pouted. "Still don't believe me?"
"No, no." Rick waved his hands. "It's just... incredible that I'm sharing a cart with an insect expert."
"Being an expert just means reading more books." Once started, Lav babbled on. "Do you know how boring reading is? The most painful thing in the world! Every book is thick, mostly dense text with only a tiny illustration..."
"Not so bad. I don't find reading painful." Rick touched his chest pocket, where the Association pamphlet—the thing he cherished most—rested.
"You haven't read enough. Try spending your whole life reading—it's no better than facing a Vermin Cockroach." Lav made an exaggerated gesture.
"Your whole life? That's extreme." Rick couldn't imagine such a thing.
"What did you throw into the insect's mouth earlier?"
"Feather Moth powder."
"Feather Moth?" Moya in the front seat spun around. "Impossible! I know Rhinoceros Beetles hate its smell, but never Vermin Cockroaches! And why was the powder purple?"
"It's a modified formula—mixed with several moth powders, but Feather Moth is the base." Lav was about to explain further, but seeing Moya's astonishment, she wagged her finger with a mischievous smile. "Too complicated for amateurs to understand."
"Amateurs?" Moya deflated—karma struck fast. He'd just mocked Lav, and now the label boomeranged.
But this confirmed Lav's expertise. Though her skill remained to be seen, traveling with an insect expert was prestigious.
Letting go of prejudice, the trio bonded. Moya and Lav no longer just sniped at each other, instead asking about each other's fields. Rick couldn't contribute much, but removing the cotton from his ears was a relief.
Time lost meaning in the mangrove's perpetual twilight. When they ate "dinner" by their internal clocks, Moya noticed the wetland flooding, water rising to the wheels.
"How can water reach here?!" As a guide, even Moya was unprepared.
"Mangroves grow in water. This forest isn't the shore—it's part of the riverbed." Shust, dumped in the cargo hold, spoke up.
"Riverbed?" Moya panicked. "You mean the river will submerge the entire forest?"
"No shit." Shust snorted and fell silent.
Rick patted Moya's shoulder. "Relax—your cart is amphibious."
"But it's a forest! Only canoes navigate such complex waters." Moya pointed at the dense roots. "We can see and avoid them now, but underwater, we'll ground or tangle the propeller in vines."
Rick grew anxious. "Then what do we do?"
"Give me the antidote. I'll lead you out." Shust stared at Rick with piercing eyes.
"I don't trust you." Rick donned his mask and climbed to the roof. The water rose rapidly. Moya activated the cart's river mode, but its land-designed buoyancy failed—half the cart submerged in still water.
The murky river swirled with debris, shadows darting like lightning. Glimpses of fangs and claws made Lav and Moya tremble. "Lucky this secondhand cart is waterproof." Moya steered around web-like vines.
"I admit it—choosing this route was a mistake." Lav chastised herself. Fantasy had blinded her to adventure's hardships.
"Heh, my idea wasn't great either."
"45 degrees right!" Rick yelled from the roof, spotting underwater obstacles first. He navigated and guarded—evidence: floating leech corpses.
An hour later, they'd crawled less than 500 meters. Rick slew half a dozen 2-meter leeches, unclogged the propeller three times, and freed the cart from a log. "Fuck, at this rate, we'll barely move all night."
Leaning on a branch, he jabbed away a water worm. Exhausted, he faced constant danger—both physical and psychological. "30 degrees left!" He swatted a log, "I swear, never setting foot in a mangrove again."
As the log splashed down, Rick thought he saw something dodge underwater. A stone toss drew no reaction. "Did I imagine it?"
Rubbing his eyes, he saw only the swaying insect lamp. "Maybe too dark. Hopefully not another Vermin Cockroach—those things are disgusting..."