Wang Jue and Hou Dayong, hearing the tall one spitting venom about Li Bingyu, hastily turned back, using the corner wall to conceal themselves as they quietly observed the pair’s movements.

All they could hear was the tall one’s endless complaints, while the short one sighed constantly, chiming in with agreement: “A woman’s heart is a needle at the bottom of the sea; you’ll never figure out which side she truly favors. The benefit of a puppet is that it doesn’t need to think. Whatever you desire or intend when you’re conscious, the moment control is seized, everything you previously thought or did becomes utterly useless.” “I simply don’t understand why the Master kept her around; she’s clearly been with us in body only.” “Isn’t that even better? When she acts on her own, she’ll strive to appease the enemy, but when she’s controlled, she instantly transforms into an assassin, and this assassin is right beside the enemy. Such an advantage—is that something you or I could ever possess?” “The problem is, she never managed to kill those two. If she had been obedient, neither of us would be returning empty-handed to report.” “To hell with her. We did our duty regardless; the rest is up to the Master to decide.”

With that, the two left a trail of damp footprints as they veered left down the tunnel. As they rounded the corner, Wang Jue and Hou Dayong crept along the rock wall, moving from the right tunnel entrance to the edge of the pool, careful to avoid detection by those two garrulous living dead.

Once the pair had completely vanished from sight, Wang Jue let out a long sigh. “Hearing them talk like that, it means Li Bingyu showing mercy by not killing me or having me captured was actually a form of restraint?”

Hou Dayong shook his head. “In situations like this, never trust those whose loyalties are ambiguous, because you never know when they might switch sides and punish you. You heard what those two living dead said—even her own comrade harbors a degree of suspicion toward her, let alone us.”

Wang Jue nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing with Hou Dayong’s words. The two men stared at the water stains the living dead had left on the ground and decided to follow the trail, hoping to discover their lair.

One man followed the other—one scouting ahead, the other watching their rear—they truly formed a perfect reconnaissance duo, their coordination seamless. Whenever a situation arose either in front or behind them, they would duck into the uneven crystal stone formations, holding their breath until the danger passed, then quietly emerge again to follow the path marked by those four sets of footprints.

Initially, the tracks were relatively clear, but as they walked on, the dampness from the short and tall men’s feet gradually dried, and the marks on the ground grew fainter. Just as the pair reached a T-junction, the footprints vanished entirely, leaving no further trace to follow.

Wang Jue slapped his forehead, looking helplessly at Hou Dayong. “I knew it. At the crucial moment, those previously reliable clues always disappear.”

“Not necessarily. Didn’t you hear Fan Jia just now? One end of this tunnel leads to the main hall,” Hou Dayong murmured, staring at the ground.

“But he didn’t mention that this section of the tunnel has a T-junction. If we choose the wrong path, and we run into someone like before, getting locked behind crystal pillars would be far more disastrous,” Wang Jue warned.

“That’s precisely why I’ve been carefully searching for those two sets of footprints,” saying which, Hou Dayong dropped to the ground, his eyes nearly touching the surface, meticulously studying every direction of the three-way split. Finally, he pointed toward the right entrance. “They turned off here. Do we follow them, or do we take a different path?”