But the protagonist is, after all, the protagonist, and overshadowing the others meant no one would be happy anymore. Seeing Fan Jia’s fury swell to its absolute peak, unable to tolerate it any longer, he pulled a small knife with a bronze handle from his robes and lunged with blinding speed toward the man who was laughing the hardest. Before anyone could process what was happening, a bloody tongue had dropped onto the floor. The laughter finally ceased, and everyone stared blankly at the severed tongue, unsure how to react. After he wiped the knife clean on that man, he turned back, and everyone involuntarily took a step back, instinctively evading this swift, murderous demon.

Seeing this action, Xiao Shu was suddenly reminded of Li Bingyu, who had been rendered mute, and wondered if this was the person who had cut out Li Bingyu’s tongue. If it was him, then the murderers of those patients, doctors, and nurses must also be among this group. However, upon reflection, something still felt wrong; if it were truly them, Wen Shu should be with them, and Yuan Qi had only mentioned six fake doctors disguised as the undead dying, not that all the patients and medical staff were dead. There had to be another hidden complexity that required further investigation to uncover the truth.

The man whose tongue was removed held his neck, stunned for a long moment as thick, crimson blood bubbled relentlessly from his mouth. Xiao Shu pulled a roll of gauze from her robes—something she’d grabbed on the way out of the hospital, initially intending to bandage a wound on her own hand. The turmoil of their journey had made her forget it until now. When she remembered, Yuan Qi had already used his own blood to heal her injury, rendering the gauze useless in her possession.

But just as Xiao Shu offered the gauze to the injured man, his eyes turned fiery red in an expression of pure rage. He slapped the gauze from her hand, drew a dagger, also with a bronze handle, from his waist, and spun around, lunging directly at Fan Jia, aiming a vicious stab at his eyes. Fan Jia reacted with incredible agility and speed; in the instant the dagger struck, no one could clearly see what he did, but the blade snapped with a sharp crack when it was only three inches from his face. All one could see were Fan Jia’s fingers—a faint trace of blood resting lightly on his index finger and thumb, suggesting he had used just those two digits to break the steel.

This act left the others unable to hold back any longer; superior strength always signaled danger. Thus, except for Yuan Qi, who consciously stepped closer to Xiao Shu and Zhang Yuqiu, the rest of the group drew their own daggers and formed a tight circle around Fan Jia, rapidly brandishing their blades in front of him in a defensive posture.

Seeing the situation escalate, Fan Jia showed no sign of backing down. He merely offered a cold laugh. “Don't think I’m one of your servants. You send one, I cut out a tongue; you send two, I cut out two pairs of tongues, until no one here can speak, and then you’ll have no choice but to obey me. Otherwise, you won’t even get the chance to reincarnate.”

The statement was chillingly abrupt. Noticing Yuan Qi standing beside her, Xiao Shu lowered her voice and quietly asked, “What’s Fan Jia’s background? Why is his speed so phenomenal?” Yuan Qi murmured softly, “He’s from Shaolin Temple. Abandoned as a child, he was later beaten to death by some unreasonable brutes there.”

“Oh, that explains his speed; so, an undying body can carry the skills learned in a past life into a new one?” Xiao Shu inquired further.