Having swum across the pool, the two of them returned to the crystal tunnel, and this time it was different from every previous visit. The passage on the left side, where the long crystals grew, had somehow become choked with foul vapor. Those beautiful crystal pillars were either snapped off at the waist or stained with black or red blood, some still dripping, one after another. What had been a paradise just moments before had transformed into a bloody hell in less than two hours.

“What happened?” Wenshu cried out, tears suddenly welling up, and she stumbled forward past Xiaoyu, running to the stone door of the Hanbai Jade Hall, where she suddenly froze.

The snow-white ground was awash in a river of blood. The few living dead guards who had been watching Wang Jue lay scattered about, lifeless. Although there was blood on the floor, their corpses, just like Li Bingyu’s, were desiccated, devoid of any trace of life. The two elders sat motionless on the stone bench to the right, like wooden dolls.

When Xiaoyu walked over, he noticed that two black spikes were embedded in each of their feet. Perhaps because of their advanced age, the symptoms of desiccation were not as pronounced on their bodies as on the other living dead.

Clearly, a fierce battle had taken place, and the victor, without a doubt, had to be Li Xiaohao. Xiaoyu thought this explained why Wang Jue had suddenly appeared below the well; she hadn't left with Li Xiaohao's people but had instead tried to find him, intending to reunite before going back. Thus, the suffocating grief and indignation in Xiaoyu’s heart intensified. He suddenly turned toward Wenshu, fiercely gripping the collar of her garment, and spat, “Do you still suspect that the person lying in the well was a vengeful spirit?”

Wenshu, already overwhelmed with grief, was startled into irrationality by Xiaoyu’s sudden violence. She thrashed wildly, shouting, “Put me down,” her hands flailing and her feet kicking. Her limbs rained down like a sudden storm, striking Xiaoyu’s face, shoulders, chest, and legs. Xiaoyu suddenly recalled Wang Jue’s last words to him: “You only need to remember one thing: when you see the mermaid, slap your own face twice to check if you are dreaming. If you are not, slap her face twice to see what she has truly become.”

Watching the hysterical Wenshu beat him mercilessly, Xiaoyu did not strike back, asking himself dully, was this woman truly the gentle, considerate lover he had longed for day and night? Did she truly love him? If she did, how could she have cut the rope without asking any questions? Didn’t she understand that Wang Jue was not only his companion through shared hardship but also a colleague she had worked alongside for many years? Xiaoyu mulled over these questions repeatedly, and suddenly understood Wang Jue’s words and Wenshu’s reason for severing the rope. But what good was understanding now? Wang Jue was gone; the dead could not return, and defying heaven for eternal life would inevitably bring about heaven’s retribution. Were not all these sights before him the very proof of that punishment?

After standing stunned for a long time, Xiaoyu threw Wenshu to the ground and walked straight to the two elders, intending to pull the spikes from their feet. However, the spikes seemed to have rooted themselves in the ground; they were identical to the spikes beneath the desiccated corpse in the mental hospital basement, only the points of insertion differed slightly.

“I understand now,” Xiaoyu nodded. “They have won this war again, just as they did more than a hundred years ago.”

Wenshu scrambled up from the floor, breathing heavily, and said, “No matter what, I don't want anything to happen to you. Now, because you are my only master.”

“You are free. I need no servant, nor do I need love,” Xiaoyu said coldly, waving her away.

“You need your sister and Old He. They are still with the spirits, in danger of being killed at any moment. Have you forgotten how Old He endured humiliation just to survive? Do you want them to continue living in fear? Rescuing them from the butcher’s hands and settling them safely is the right path,” Wenshu said calmly.

What was standing? It was the timely shifting of one’s attitude according to the master. Had Wenshu known from the start that the two old puppets she swore eternal loyalty to had long since become two dried corpses, she would never have cut the rope, even if it meant her own death, thereby causing Wang Jue’s demise. Now, the only way to atone for her mistake was to exaggerate the conflict between Xiaoyu and Li Xiaohao, giving herself a chance in the new struggle to win back her master’s trust, which was the only way to bring the man back into her embrace.