Even as Zhao Xiantong spoke, Li Yuan felt a chill, watching the ghost in human form.0

At that moment, Zhao Xiantong behaved exactly like a living person—sharp enough even to spot the small verbal trap Li Yuan had laid. He was just like Ming Shu before him. Yet in truth, both were already ghost-servants, driven by a single goal—to lure their killers, or those they hated most, into the mass grave.0

But as soon as they entered that grave, the human mask would vanish. So, was Zhao Xiantong still human, or was he merely a copy? Or something else altogether? If ghosts like him could hide among the living, who could possibly tell them apart?0

While Zhao Xiantong argued with Li Yuan, General Mammoth stood tensely by his side, his pupils narrowed. His bronze skin seemed to grow even harder, though no one would notice at a casual glance. The atmosphere...0