If this strike had landed, Ming Xiaoyu’s story would have ended. He would be watching this world, teeming with specters and demons, from some heavenly vantage point, silently praying for those left behind by separation and death.

However, unexpectedly, just as the blade was about to touch Xiaoyu’s shoulder, the iron weapon silently snapped off the wooden handle, sliding harmlessly down Xiaoyu’s shoulder before clattering onto the floor. Everyone froze. The thug stared at the broken handle for a good two or three seconds, then suddenly threw it down, clutching his chest and collapsing in pain next to Dan Erduo. Dan Erduo stared at Xiaoyu in astonishment, cautiously prodding the thug’s nostrils with a finger. Then, as if seeing a ghost, he recoiled with all his might, terror blazing in his eyes.

“Is he dead?” Bing Yu asked flatly.

“No, no, no, don’t come closer! I have children at home, and an elderly mother waiting for me to care for them—spare me…”

Alas, before the word “me” had fully escaped his lips, with a sickening thwack, Dan Erduo’s head tumbled to the ground. Bing Yu held the blade up, examining it from every angle. “Another loving father and dutiful son! If you cared about them so much, why did you come here?”

Xiaoyu watched the severed sickle blade fall in two pieces. He deliberately pressed the blade under his foot, closed his eyes, and told the group, “I don’t want to walk that path. Take my corpse back and return it to my sister. Have Old He take good care of her.” Hearing these final, will-like words, Xiao Shu slumped in defeat, unsure how to face the impending death.

“Fine,” Bing Yu declared haughtily, raising the scythe. “You want to die, but I don’t. And I doubt anyone else here does either, so don’t blame me for going on a killing spree! Don't say I didn't warn you later. I especially hate people who accept favors only to badmouth you behind your back. So, watch yourselves from now on.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she took the lead, scythe in hand, charging down the corridor.

At that moment, beyond a disorganized rabble, there were few sane people left. Having been confined to that cramped five-square-meter cell for so long, sudden freedom made everyone hysterical, compelled to vent their frustrations. The prisoners, eyes bloodshot, clutching anything they could use as a weapon, rushed toward the control room like demons, only to collide head-on with the ice-cold beauty, Li Bing Yu.

Bing Yu’s flying knives danced wildly, her celestial sleeves fluttering as she leaped through the crowd like a swift bird. Where she passed, bodies lay strewn and blood splattered, yet not a single drop stained her pale yellow attire.

The two prison guards were stunned silent by the spectacle. They exchanged a glance. One muttered to the other, “We can shoot escaped convicts—can she?” The other replied, “If we tried, could you even catch her?” With that, both guards simultaneously collapsed onto the floor, closing their eyes in feigned unconsciousness. Finally, one added, “We were knocked out. We didn’t see anything.”

Just as the two guards were preparing to pretend nothing had happened, the booming voice of Bai Huaqian erupted nearby: “Are you trying to steal our business? Every one you kill is one less for us.” With that, the plump sphere of flesh charged into the center of the convicts, hacking wildly, every strike drawing blood, though his technique lacked Bing Yu’s elegance.

The two of them fought their way until there was no space left to stand in the corridor. The shrewder convicts, bringing up the rear, saw the tide turning and immediately bolted. However, no matter how fast they ran, they couldn't outpace the vanishing speed of Li Xiaohao’s legwork.