Hearing Bingyu’s question, Xiaoshu replied indifferently, “He is dead. Life only comes once; the dead do not return.”

“What?” Bingyu’s eyes widened, utterly refusing to believe Xiaoshu’s words. Seeing her indignant expression, Li Taiming gently drew her into his embrace. “You should trust what Xiaoshu says. Aren’t you a perfect example yourself?”

“Hmph!” Bingyu wrenched herself free from Li Taiming’s arms and delivered a sharp slap across his face. “I was revived by the water of Peach Blossom Pool. That young man just now clearly wasn't dead, yet you burned him to ashes as if he were deceased. And you!” Bingyu turned, jabbing a finger toward Xiaoshu’s nose, her voice seething. “All that talk of benevolence and morality, constantly condemning me for wanton killing. And now? A living soul is burned to death right before your eyes, yet you remain unmoved.”

No matter how sharply Bingyu chastised them, neither Li Taiming nor Li Xiaoshu spoke. Though they hadn't discussed the matter of reanimation openly, both were acutely aware of it. If those corpses hadn't been burned to ashes, the scene from Jingyin Mountain would certainly repeat itself. Of course, Li Taiming hadn't been present when that incident occurred; only Xiaoshu had truly experienced that catastrophe.

After weeping for a long time, striking him for a long time, and kicking at Li Taiming’s legs for a long time, Bingyu finally quieted down, retreating alone into the guardhouse to sob. Xiaoshu glanced at Li Taiming, a hint of sarcasm lacing her tone. “So, you prefer the loli type, huh?”

“Sigh,” Li Taiming replied, his expression grave as he sighed. “Actually, I prefer the yujie. Women are far more captivating when they are mature.”

Startled by Li Taiming’s unexpected declaration, and seeing how earnest he looked, as if he weren't joking, Xiaoshu couldn't help but double over, clutching her stomach in laughter. As she laughed, she pointed at Li Taiming’s hair, which fell to his collarbone. “With that appearance of yours, frail and near the end of your years—and you still fancy a yujie? The yujie types are all captivated by shota.”

“Indeed,” Li Taiming maintained his serious demeanor. “So, I suppose I have a romantic rival now.”

“Ha?” Xiaoshu laughed so hard she couldn't stand upright. “You call me your rival? Then where is this yujie?”

“Alas,” Li Taiming looked helplessly toward the sky. “I just hope that when I finally meet her, you won't be around; it would mean one less competitor for me.”

Just as the two were trading banter, a shriek erupted from inside the guardhouse. Whatever had happened, Bingyu sent out a piercing cry for help to her companions. They instantly dropped their smiles and sprinted toward the guardhouse. Li Taiming ran ahead, fearful that something terrible had befallen Bingyu, while Xiaoshu kept her eyes fixed on the ground as she ran. A trail of blood marks stretched from where the old man had been crawling, leading directly into the guardhouse.

Seeing this scene, Xiaoshu gasped, a cold thought striking her: This is bad. That old man probably wasn't dead; he must have already reanimated. When she reached the doorway of the guardhouse, her fears were confirmed. The old man was covered in blood, wielding a length of wooden root and viciously stabbing toward Bingyu’s chest. Bingyu dodged frantically, trapped in a corner with no room left to defend herself, when Li Taiming suddenly brought his sickle down with force behind the old man, aiming for the base of his neck. In the blink of an eye, the head separated, and black blood sprayed violently from the severed neck, leaving both Xiaoshu and Bingyu utterly stunned.