The three of them stared blankly at the photo pendant, none expecting that a perfectly good family portrait would be missing someone. Wang Jue reluctantly tucked the pendant away into his pocket, his expression a mixture of ineffable sorrow, as if mourning Xiaoyu’s fate.

“Do you think Xiaoshu saw this car?” Zhang Yuqiu asked. Her primary concern was still Xiaoshu; regarding the photograph stripped of Xiaoyu, she felt nothing but confusion, astonishment, and a relentless mental calculation of Xiaoshu’s route—wondering if he had passed this way and witnessed the carnage on the vehicle.

“He must have passed by here. And he clashed with them,” Wang Jue replied.

“How do you know?” Zhang Yuqiu asked, curious about his certainty.

“When we arrived, besides the vehicle tracks, there was a distinct bicycle tread mark on the road; I don't know if you noticed it. That indicates someone else, besides us, rode a bicycle along this path to reach this spot.” As soon as Wang Jue finished speaking, Zhang Yuqiu and Hou Dayong turned to search for the tire marks. Indeed, in addition to their own tracks and Wang Jue’s, there was an extra set. However, that mark abruptly ceased right here; it didn't extend anywhere else, nor was the bicycle anywhere nearby. Zhang Yuqiu wondered aloud, “So there was an extra vehicle, but the tracks end here. How did Xiaoshu leave? Did he reach this point, change his route, and carry the bicycle away?”

“He wasn't carrying the bicycle away; he was abducted. Let’s search the surroundings; maybe we can find that missing bicycle,” Wang Jue deduced. The three then dispersed, fanning out in a radiating search pattern centered on the wrecked Jeep. Sure enough, behind a thicket of bushes, Zhang Yuqiu discovered the bicycle, crumpled into a ball, and shouted in shock, “Come look! What happened to the bicycle?”

Wang Jue and Hou Dayong walked over one after the other. Seeing the bike, its front and rear wheels utterly deformed, twisted and wrenched apart like strands of noodles, they fell silent, unable to utter a word.

After a long pause, Wang Jue finally said, “This looks grim. Maybe all three of them are in danger.”

“Sigh,” Zhang Yuqiu sighed, “Didn’t those living dead imply Xiaoyu was their new successor? How could something like this happen?”

“That was just their wishful thinking. Would Xiaoyu willingly choose to be that successor, turning himself into a Puppet King to manipulate the undead?” Wang Jue countered.

This question rendered Zhang Yuqiu speechless; she couldn't think of any justification for how events could have spiraled into this current state.

Just as the three stood there, at a loss over the mangled bicycle, a voice called out from behind them, “Are you looking for Xiaoyu?”

Wang Jue spun around sharply, discovering the person standing behind him was none other than Wenshu, his colleague of many years. Wang Jue gasped, “Wenshu?” Just as he moved to greet her, Zhang Yuqiu pulled him back, demanding first, “Are you the real Wenshu, or a fake? It’s not that malicious woman in disguise again, is it?” It turned out that after returning to the shelter, Hou Dayong had recounted in detail how Li Bingyu had impersonated Wenshu to deceive Xiaoshu. Now, facing this woman Wang Jue called Wenshu, Zhang Yuqiu was wary; she pulled Wang Jue back, insisting they verify her identity first. If she was an impostor, she would kick her away immediately.