Xiao Shu turned around and found that the person restraining his cell phone was none other than his uncle, Li Taiming. He glanced at Li Taiming, then turned back and pointed at Amang, who was leaning against the staircase railing, confused as to why his uncle was holding his phone. Shouldn't they call the police if there was a murder?

“No calling the police! This is where illegal surgery takes place. If the police are called, the people who just had the operation will be questioned,” Li Taiming cut straight to the heart of the matter, and Xiao Shu instantly understood.

“Did you see that dark shadow just now? It was incredibly fast! It kicked me down, and swoosh, it was gone,” Xiao Shu admitted, feeling a slight tremor of nervousness.

“Of course, I saw it,” Li Taiming murmured, his gaze somewhat vacant. “Otherwise, why would I stop you from making that call?”

Noticing the confusion clouding his eyes, the usual depth gone, Xiao Shu frowned involuntarily. “What’s wrong with you? Why do you look so dazed?”

“Huh? What?” The question snapped Li Taiming back to his former sharpness. Shaking his head, he said to Xiao Shu, “Haven't I always been like this? What’s different?”

“Oh, nothing, you seemed to be daydreaming just now.” Xiao Shu was utterly baffled by the shift in Li Taiming’s expression. However, seeing him return to his usual demeanor, he didn't dwell on it. Amang’s corpse was still draped over the banister. Xiao Shu walked over alone, carefully lifting him down to lay him flat on the ground for closer inspection.

Besides having both eyes gouged out in an act of clear vengeance, Xiao Shu discovered a wound on Amang’s chest. Pulling the layers of clothing aside, the injury was immediately exposed to the daylight. It was about three cun long and half an cun wide. It didn't look like a wound inflicted by a sharp object like a knife or a dagger, yet it felt disturbingly familiar.

Xiao Shu closed his eyes, remembering, remembering, and remembering again. Suddenly, he located the trace of that wound somewhere deep in his memory. Yes, he had seen it before, back on Goldware Street, during the confrontation when several commoners were fighting an old woman over a gold bowl. That boomerang, flying out from the corner, striking a vital point—roughly half an cun thick, with its two angles spanning about three cun wide—matched Amang’s injury perfectly. Was it her? Li Bingyu? A question mark blossomed in Xiao Shu’s mind.

While he was lost in thought over Amang’s corpse, a female voice pierced his thoughts: “What are you thinking about while staring at the body?”

Xiao Shu spun around to see Li Bingyu standing right behind him. She was wearing a tight black bodysuit underneath a deep crimson trench coat, projecting a definite air of seasoned allure.

“When did you buy that coat?” Xiao Shu deliberately steered away from her probing gaze, trying to conceal his thoughts, and casually brought up the deep red trench coat.

Li Bingyu walked up beside Xiao Shu, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “Just as I was coming downstairs, a beautiful woman lent it to me because she thought I was dressed too provocatively.” She finished with a wicked smile, as if harboring a secret only she knew.

Xiao Shu kept his eyes averted, feigning composure. “Did someone offer it freely, or did you force them to give it to you?”

“You guessed both wrong! I took it off her corpse.” At the mention of ‘corpse,’ Xiao Shu felt a headache brewing. Realizing he had been crouching too long and circulation wasn't optimal, he stood up, regained his composure, and chose not to ask who had killed the woman. He walked straight downstairs, heading toward Xiaoyu’s ward. He knew that when Death itself stood before you, the best tactic was to pretend ignorance and flee the scene as quickly as possible.