Zhang Haiyan reapplied makeup on the face of Nanra, which should be the first time for this little girl to wear makeup. The young girl’s tender face, enhanced with some blush, seemed to have regained its breath. He used a special leather to patch her scalp and put on a wig. During this process, he meticulously recorded all the data on the girl’s face.

After about an hour, the scars on Nanra’s body were completely covered. Then he applied a preservative and deodorizing solution to her, and carried her out of the room.

“Do you already know their whereabouts?” Ma Dexun asked him, and Zhang Haiyan nodded. “She will lead us to them.”

Herman and his group had been in the jungle for two weeks, making it difficult to catch up, but since it wasn’t the rainy season, their tracks were very obvious to someone like Zhang Haiyan.

Ma Dexun looked at the seemingly sleeping Nanra in surprise, trembling slightly. “What happened to her? What did you do to her?”

“This is a form of Chinese sorcery,” Zhang Haiyan said, carrying the corpse on his back, with the little girl’s face resting on his shoulder. “Let’s go; she’s urging us.”

Ma Dexun looked on in disbelief, standing still for a moment until Zhang Haiyan turned to look at him, prompting him to follow.

The two of them prepared their luggage, pickling and packing all the food from the church. Ma Dexun took out all the iron tools from his home, and Zhang Haiyan examined them. They were all low-quality iron knives. The jungle here grows rapidly, often requiring machetes to clear the surrounding banana plants, rampant rainforest vines, and trees. But these knives had already developed nicks and would shatter if they clashed with the Englishmen’s sabers.

After searching for a while, Zhang Haiyan noticed a pen on Ma Dexun’s shirt. He took the pen off and weighed it in his hand. “This one.”

“This one?”

“Yes. If your weapon is too long, you’ll rely on it too much psychologically. If the opponent’s weapon is stronger than yours, you’ll be at a disadvantage. When your weapon is short and difficult to use, you’ll have to rely on another skill, which is your mind,” Zhang Haiyan explained. “The stronger the opponent, the less killing depends on the weapon.” He handed a short knife to Ma Dexun. “They have twelve people, armed with sabers and guns. We need to get close to them before we act. So, when you encounter them, don’t reveal your intentions.”

The two of them placed the bodies of the other children in the church and set it ablaze. The cross in the fire seemed to have a different meaning; in the humid air of Perak, the huge flames evaporated the mixed heat of dryness and moisture, scorching the pores on Zhang Haiyan’s face. The sun was nearing dusk, and passersby stopped to watch the burning church.

Ma Dexun knelt in front of the fire to pray, and the entire scene resembled a poster. Zhang Haiyan was somewhat surprised at how resolutely he followed Ma Dexun here and would continue to follow him.

Perhaps it was because Nanra resembled her.

Zhang Haiyan suddenly understood.

Nanra looked like his mother back in his hometown.

The impression of his mother in his memory had faded, with all the details gone, leaving only a vague outline—her short hair was the most profound part of Zhang Haiyan’s memories.

I miss you so much, Mom.

Zhang Haiyan looked at the fiery clouds on the horizon. Then, one day in the late 18th century, he patted the corpse on his back, transforming his longing into murderous intent. Together with Ma Dexun, the two of them, one alive and one dead, embarked on a journey into the depths of the rainforest in southern Perak, where towering tropical ancient trees reached the sky, a place almost never visited by anyone.