“No way!” Hearing Wang Jue’s voice, Xiaoyu and Wenshu exchanged a look, unsure what new twist had occurred below. The hostage was supposed to be waiting for them in the White Marble Hall, yet now he was at the bottom of the well, demanding the two above pull him up. If the hostage had escaped, given the deep water pool and the tunnels, Wang Jue certainly couldn't have outrun the living dead. Thus, the only possibility for him to be down there was that he had been released. What event could have possibly caused the Puppet King to abandon this hostage?

Wenshu furrowed her brow, not out of general concern, but because Wang Jue knew her secrets. Rescuing him would mean her mask would surely be stripped away. She paced around the wellhead, watching Xiaoyu haul Wang Jue up with the rope, all the while contemplating her next move.

When Wang Jue was about two-thirds of the way up, the rope had already rubbed Xiaoyu’s hands raw, leaving them bloody. He gasped, calling Wenshu over for assistance. A flash of inspiration struck Wenshu; she whipped out the dagger at her waist and, in one ten-thousandth of a second, before Xiaoyu could react, sliced through the rope with a sharp thwack.

Wang Jue’s scream ripped through the air: “Ah…”

A few seconds later, a dull thud echoed from the bottom of the well, followed by absolute silence.

“You!” Seeing Wenshu sever the line, Xiaoyu’s rage ignited. He reached out to slap her, but the hand froze mid-air. Memories of his parents arguing in their childhood—squabbling over money, household chores, who would wash the dishes—flashed through his mind. Yet, his father had never once struck his mother. Regardless of whatever wrong a woman committed, a man should never resort to violence; women, in comparison, were inherently the weaker sex.

“I…” Wenshu lowered her head, feigning a deeply wounded expression, and murmured, “Don’t you think it’s strange that Wang Jue appeared here? He couldn't possibly have escaped the pool by himself.”

“Sigh,” Xiaoyu sighed, his voice heavy. “Why couldn't you wait until we understood the truth before acting? What if that was the real Wang Jue? You might have just killed my good friend.”

Hearing Xiaoyu’s words, tears welled up in Wenshu’s eyes. She mumbled, “I was just scared. The spirits can transform into anyone. While Li Xiaoshu is your friend, he certainly can’t speak for his father and brothers. Furthermore, his father has always been cruel. What if it wasn't the real Wang Jue, but someone they sent to kill you?”

Seeing her innocent expression and acknowledging the logic in her words, Xiaoyu gently draped an arm over Wenshu’s shoulder. “Forget it. Let’s go down and see what happened first.” Though his tone was light, the worry he felt for Wang Jue intensified.

Relieved that Xiaoyu wasn't blaming her severely, Wenshu felt a surge of triumph, though she maintained a façade of utter devastation. They found another long rope in the courtyard and tied it securely to a tree trunk near the well, then descended one after the other.

Xiaoyu was the first to reach the bottom. Using the rope, he landed softly beside Wang Jue and checked for breath; there was none. A full body inspection suggested that during the fall, his neck had struck the well wall, snapping his cervical vertebrae. Wang Jue’s large eyes remained wide open; Xiaoyu tried several times to close the eyelids, but failed. A wave of profound sorrow washed over him involuntarily.

Wenshu had claimed Wang Jue’s identity was hard to discern, a statement Xiaoyu had only half-believed. However, staring at the corpse that was the spitting image of Wang Jue, he found it nearly impossible to dismiss the scene as an illusion. Silent tears began to stream down his face.