Chapter 223: Script Wrong? They're All Dead?!

"Feng Mu, I'm here..."

The moment the door opened, a hoarse and anxious cry rushed in impatiently, and then Wang Cong stumbled into his arms.

Wang Cong abruptly raised his head, his body instinctively recoiling, breaking free from that warm embrace.

His composure shattered, the muscles of his face froze instantly, the tears welling in the corners of his eyes could no longer be held back, bursting forth like a breached dam:

"Feng Mu, you-you-you, you're not dead..."

His words lodged in his throat, unable to continue, he simply stared blankly at Feng Mu, his eyes twisted with an expression as if he had seen a ghost.

Feng Mu seemed not to notice Wang Cong's strangeness, still maintaining that gentle smile, his voice calm and powerful: "Yes, I'm not dead, so why are you crying?"

Wang Cong guiltily avoided Feng Mu's gaze, his eyes falling on the surroundings.

The incineration room that met his eyes looked as if it had been scribbled over by a black-red brush, the ceiling, walls, floor, every place splattered with terrifying colors.

Those colors seemed to have been given life, painting a series of still yet warm images, they appeared in various strange and twisted postures, some lying prone, some supine, some leaning, each image telling a silent tale of horror.

The foremost warm image was a corpse lying upside down on the ground, its neck snapped, yet its face was frozen in the terror of life as if alive.

"Chen Ya, the cell boss of Cell 211."

A name surfaced in Wang Cong's mind, his gaze shifting away, looking at those headless or headless mutilated corpses, he subconsciously counted the numbers in his heart.

"One, two, three... eight, nine, nine corpses in total, all dead."

Wang Cong's gaze moved back and forth among the corpses on the ground, his pupils suddenly contracted, his gaze drawn like a magnet, suddenly focusing on the corpse whose right arm and even cheek were charred black.

Immediately after, his gaze involuntarily slid to beside that corpse, where there was an electric baton that had exploded from within, broken into two pieces.

Feng Mu seemed to sense Wang Cong's unease, he stepped forward lightly, bent down and picked up the broken electric baton.

His movements were gentle and composed, then he turned to Wang Cong, with a considerate smile, slowly explaining:

"This electric baton suddenly exploded during use, fortunately this prisoner snatched it away in time, otherwise..."

Feng Mu did not continue to describe the terrible consequences that might have happened, but gently patted Wang Cong's stiff shoulder, his tone carrying a hint of relief and emotion:

"How lucky, it feels as if the spirits are secretly favoring me, don't you think?"

Wang Cong's throat rolled, he swallowed a mouthful of saliva with difficulty, his reaction seemed somewhat slow, he could only vaguely utter an "en".

His mind was in chaos, chaotic because Feng Mu hadn't died, and chaotic because why Feng Mu hadn't died?

The electric baton not blowing off his arm could be attributed to luck.

Why the hallucinogen in the insulated bucket also failed to work, the reason behind this could not always be attributed to luck, could it?

Exactly where did the problem occur? Was his plan not meticulous enough, was the medicine expired, or was Feng Mu's constitution special and not absorbing it, or did he wear "hallucinations" and brutally kill a group of prisoners?

Or perhaps, he simply didn't eat the rice in the insulated bucket, but I clearly saw the insulated bucket was empty, the reason behind this, thinking about it is terrifying.

All sorts of incomprehensible uncertainties made Wang Cong's heart churn like a river overturning the sea, his brain even more boiled into a pot of porridge.

"So, does Feng Mu actually know now that I drugged his rice and swapped the electric baton?"

"Is he truly completely ignorant, or did he see through everything long ago, just acting along with me?"

Wang Cong's mind was in a mess, his gaze once again fell on the bloody scene before him, his heart was simply panicking to death.

The temperature in the incineration room was already high enough to be unbearable, at this moment his clothes were soaked with sweat, sticking clammily to his skin.

"Wipe your sweat."

Feng Mu took out a pack of tissues from his pocket and generously handed them to Wang Cong.

The latter had sweated too much, one pack of tissues was not enough for him to wipe.

Wang Cong subconsciously took the tissues, raised his head and met Feng Mu's clean smiling face without a drop of blood, their eyes met, the latter's eyes were still calm and gentle.

Just like yesterday, just like the day before, just like when we first met.

But Wang Cong's heart had undergone earth-shaking changes, he felt not a trace of warmth, on the contrary, he felt that the gentler that face was, the more sinister he felt it was.

Although the surrounding air was hot enough to almost steam a person, Wang Cong's soles felt waves of cold currents surging upward, as if a cold corpse was using its cold palm to slowly climb up his trouser leg, slide over his thigh, pass over his spine, until touching his crown.

"Thank, thank you!" Wang Cong's body involuntarily shivered, he hurriedly pulled out a tissue, lowered his head and wiped the sweat on his forehead hard.

Strangely, the more Wang Cong wiped, the more sweat flowed on his forehead, no matter how he wiped, he couldn't wipe it dry.

A group of prison guards walked in one after another, looking at the horrific scene inside the incineration room, even though their hands were stained with blood and they were used to seeing severed limbs and corpses, at this moment they all changed color slightly.

For no other reason, Feng Mu's clothes and face were too clean, his expression was too calm and gentle, it was easy to make people mistakenly think that Feng Mu had just walked in from outside with them.

But in fact, this bloody painting before them was clearly drawn by him alone.

The gazes of the prison guards looking at Feng Mu instantly changed, mixed with surprise, doubt, and even a trace of barely perceptible awe.

Feng Mu slightly raised his eyebrows, sensing those changing gazes, then showed everyone his usual gentle smile.

"Please watch your step, don't damage the corpses. After Forensic Doctor Qin examines them, please help carry them into the stove to be burned completely."

Feng Mu looked around at everyone present, slightly bowed, showing good cultivation and politeness,

"Sorry for the trouble."

The prison guards nodded with various expressions, then quietly glanced at each other, those gazes seemed to say—who is the bastard spreading rumors, slandering the new prison guard as a softie who is courteous and yielding?

Well, he is indeed courteous and yielding, but he is definitely not soft at all!

After finishing his half-bow, Feng Mu walked toward the dumbfounded Qin Liang, speaking in a gentle voice:

"Sorry to add to Forensic Doctor Qin's workload, I feel very uneasy in my heart, but please Forensic Doctor Qin must issue a beautiful report for them. After leaving the prison, I will definitely treat Forensic Doctor Qin to a meal to thank you."

Qin Liang opened and closed his mouth, two fragments of images flashed back and forth in his mind: one was Qian Huan's earnest instructions in the Warden's Office just now, the other was the warning when he first met Feng Mu.

"Warden Qian instructed me to make this play as realistic as possible. Yes, I've already figured out how to act, but Feng Mu simply didn't die. The script given by the Warden is completely wrong. How am I supposed to act?"

"Also, what did I warn Feng Mu about? Right, I remember now. I warned him there are no good people in the Second Prison, no one can be trusted. I even promised him that if he died, I would issue a beautiful report for him?"

Qin Liang realized he was going back on his word, and twice at once. He looked at Feng Mu, wanting to cry but having no tears.

"I've looked at corpses all my life in prison, but in the end I can't even read a living person correctly. It seems I really should retire." Qin Liang was extremely anxious inside.

Looking at Feng Mu now, he felt the other was a butcher standing in a bloody slaughterhouse. Except other butchers were covered in blood, while Feng Mu stood cleanly in the corner, making people unconsciously overlook the boning knife hidden in his sleeve.

"Okay, no problem. Performing autopsies is my duty, but there's no need for a meal."

Qin Liang wiped the cold sweat on his bald forehead, bared a mouthful of black teeth to refuse Feng Mu's goodwill, and Feng Mu smiled indifferently.

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