Yuan Qi tilted his head, pondering for a long time. In truth, he didn't know much, so he replied, "That, I don't know. Everyone receives a body different from their previous one, but this shell he currently inhabits is even better than his original frame. Relying on memory to practice a few moves, his prowess naturally resurfaced."

"I see!" Zhang Yuqiu nodded from the side.

As the saying goes, "The monk can run, but the temple cannot." This wasn't entirely appropriate here. However, although Zhang Yuqiu's four-word exclamation was barely a whisper, it still reached the ears of the group of livid, near-dead men. Thus, a feint tactic was instantly cemented among them through unspoken agreement.

They advanced, three of them lunging simultaneously at Fan Jia with their daggers, while the fourth darted with blinding speed toward Zhang Yuqiu, pressing his blade horizontally against her heart. Just as Yuan Qi moved to intervene, another man spoke up, "If you don't make a move, you can remain neutral. If you fight, you draw a clear line. Which side will you choose to stand on?"

A profiteer remains a profiteer to the core. The meager shred of sympathy lingering in Yuan Qi's body was forcefully shoved into the deepest recesses of his soul by this sudden threat, screaming from the corner: I am a man of conscience, but circumstances compel me; I cannot save her.

Everyone who has heard this should understand what happened next. Yuan Qi retreated quietly to the side, much like a deserter fleeing the battlefield. This action disappointed Zhang Yuqiu profoundly, yet simultaneously bred resentment. Xiao Shu, however, remained remarkably calm. Noticing the fluctuating color in Zhang Yuqiu's face, he teased, "He owes you nothing; why are you upset? The person you should be angry with is that 'important figure' who dragged you into this mess yet can barely save himself."

His words dripped with sarcasm. Fan Jia was indeed struggling to handle his three assailants in a flurry of fists and kicks. Hearing Xiao Shu's remark, he continued to parry his comrades' attacks while retorting, "Are you a good-for-nothing? She just acted as your shield moments ago—have you no gratitude to repay?"

Xiao Shu rubbed his forehead, then glanced at Zhang Yuqiu, whose heart was being held at bay by the dagger. He inquired, "If he plunges this dagger into your heart, will you become just like those people from the asylum?" Zhang Yuqiu nodded, her eyes swimming with tears. This cunning little woman always deployed this 'honey trap' maneuver at critical junctures, using an irresistibly pitiful expression of sorrow to sway the men around her into rescuing her.

"Fine," Xiao Shu sighed. "I haven't even forgiven you for separating me from Xiaoyu, and now I have to save you first. But, you did save me once, so we're even." The moment the words left his lips, he launched himself upwards, kicking out toward the living dead man holding the dagger to Zhang Yuqiu's heart. No one expected his kick to soar so high, connecting perfectly with the wrist gripping the weapon. Caught completely off guard, the man's wrist jerked violently, sending the dagger sailing far away with a clang as it hit the ground. Seeing his weapon gone, the man glanced at Xiao Shu with an expression of utter bewilderment and actually asked, "Why did you move before I even called 'action'?"

This question only deepened Xiao Shu's own confusion. "We aren't filming a movie; what's there to call 'action' for?" Following this, he delivered another kick to the man's waist, sending the bewildered fellow tumbling backward and rolling several feet away to avoid a third strike.

However, when the bewildered brother managed to scramble back up, he seemed like an entirely different person—eyes blazing crimson, face set in a murderous scowl, embodying the very image of a maniac. He snatched the dagger from the ground, gripped it tightly, and suddenly sprang more than three feet into the air, flipping his body mid-flight to launch another attack toward Zhang Yuqiu.

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