The fake Li Bingyu, seeing the old woman intended for her to finish off Li Xiaoshu, felt this was the worst possible turn of events. Taking the chance to retrieve the dagger, she quickly counted the guards standing near Xiaoshu, Xiaoyu, and Zhang Yuqiu—precisely seven. On her own side, including the three bound individuals, there were five. Seven against five—it seemed victory wasn't entirely out of reach. However, once the two Puppet Kings seated to her right were factored in, the outcome of this confrontation became nearly unknowable.

As the fake Li Bingyu picked up the dagger, tearfully advancing step by step toward Li Xiaoshu, the living dead standing nearby seemed to recoil, automatically stepping back half a meter from Xiaoshu, as if fearing being splashed with blood. She glanced at Zhang Yuqiu seated next to him; his eyes held a deep sense of helplessness, appearing on the verge of weeping for Xiaoshu, yet restraining the tears to prevent his own cowardice from showing. Ming Xiaoyu, however, remained remarkably composed, sitting on the stone bench with an air of self-possession. Just as the fake Li Bingyu was about to reach Li Xiaoshu, Fan Jia, for reasons unknown, suddenly stepped forward and intercepted the falling dagger. “Wait until we find the rest of the Li family before finishing her,” Fan Jia stated. “Killing the hostage now only removes the leverage against our enemy.”

Hearing Fan Jia’s words, the old woman sighed. “That’s not what you truly think, is it? I haven’t even asked you to do anything, yet you intercede for him?” Fan Jia’s eyes were vacant, as if he hadn't registered the old woman’s words. He remained standing silently beside Li Xiaoshu, the dagger held steady in his hand, utterly unmoving.

The elderly woman then descended from her seat and walked over to Ming Xiaoyu. With a sudden, sharp point of her finger, Fan Jia moved with blinding speed, plunging the dagger he held into Zhang Yuqiu’s back. Zhang Yuqiu spat a mouthful of black blood, casting a look of wounded reproach toward Fan Jia for the utterly unguarded assault.

The old woman then returned to her seat and spoke casually, “Don’t blame Fan Jia; he is fond of you. It’s just that I dislike others controlling my pieces.”

Upon hearing this, Ming Xiaoyu took a deep, slow breath, looking gently at Zhang Yuqiu. Though silent, his expression seemed to convey a profound apology.

The fake Li Bingyu observed all of this. Like the other puppets, she stood woodenly beside Xiaoshu, feigning ignorance of Zhang Yuqiu’s injury.

It was at that very moment a commotion of shouting voices drifted in from outside the door. As everyone turned to look, they saw another woman, identical in appearance to Li Bingyu, hands bound and limping, being ushered through the doorway. Following behind her were none other than the Tall Brother and the Short Brother.

The situation instantly became chaotic. The Tall Brother, spotting someone in the hall who looked exactly like him, and then seeing the ‘Li Bingyu’ standing stiffly next to Xiaoshu, froze in stunned silence. What in the world is this spectacle? he thought. I was only gone for a quarter of an hour, and they’ve cooked up a clone?

While the Tall Brother was dumbfounded, the Short Brother stepped forward and scrutinized the man impersonating the Tall Brother—Wang Jue—from head to toe. Pointing accusingly, he shouted, “Fake! He’s fake! The real Tall Brother has been with me the entire time; we never separated.”

Wang Jue inwardly cursed his luck. He couldn't afford to be exposed here; that would mean walking straight into the lion’s den with no return. He immediately mimicked the Tall Brother’s inflection. “You are the fake ones. The Tall Brother and I split up to find Li Bingyu; I found her first and brought her back.”

The Short Brother immediately bristled, turning on the fake Tall Brother and launching into a furious tirade. “What kind of demon tricks are you pulling, you bastard? I say you’re fake, so you’re fake! This isn't your place to speak!”