Chapter 286: Rebellious Son, You Actually Dare

"How is this possible? My hand was actually pushed aside by this rebellious son?!!"

Ever since he was fitted with the God Armament CX-27 Hunter-Type Prosthesis, the tables, chairs, and benches at home had repeatedly fallen victim to its destructive touch; even the iron anti-theft door handle had been crushed and deformed by him — two of them, in fact.

Although the manual for the God Armament CX-27 Hunter-Type Prosthesis explicitly stated that this model did not excel in strength, but rather focused more on dexterity and multi-functionality.

But in Feng Ju's shallow understanding, this comparison was relative to other prosthesis models; for an ordinary person's flesh-and-blood body, a mechanical prosthesis's strength should surely be overwhelming, right?

Feng Ju's mind was a bit muddled; he had watched his own son's bone quality from childhood, so he knew it clearly — it was garbage to the extreme, so a meteoric rise in the Martial Dao was absolutely impossible; that left only one possibility……

Feng Ju widened his eyes, his face full of disbelief, his gaze seeming to want to pierce through Feng Mu's clothes to spy the "steel body" hidden beneath the clothing.

His eyeballs rolled, fixed dead on Feng Mu's five pale yet powerful fingers, and a deduction naturally formed in his heart:

"This rebellious son actually implanted a mechanical prosthesis too, and he even meticulously modified it — even the artificial skin that the Special Commissioner failed to equip me with is fully present?"

On Feng Ju's forehead, blue veins bulged abruptly like wriggling earthworms; beneath the skin, countless tiny blood vessels seemed to throb angrily, and surging rage instantly swept through his entire body.

No, this emotion had already surpassed simple anger; within it were also mixed billions of threads of jealousy he refused to acknowledge, like a hidden venomous snake fiercely gnawing at his heart.

He, Feng Ju, was able to possess a mechanical prosthesis only because he had narrowly escaped death several times, ended up crippled, and finally sold his life to the Special Commissioner, barely exchanging it for this.

Yet, by what right does this rebellious son before him have all this? By what right could he obtain it so easily?

Feng Ju's heart was filled with doubt and unwillingness, as if roasted by raging fire; if the one who gained this power were his daughter, whom he took pride in, Feng Ju would only be grinning from ear to ear.

But it just so happened that the one who got something for nothing was the good-for-nothing son he looked down on most, and Feng Ju's mentality completely lost its balance; he felt not a shred of joy, but was instead devoured by an indescribable pain.

As if the dignity of being a father had been ruthlessly trampled and humiliated by the rebellious son before him.

Feng Ju gritted his teeth, every breath seemingly suppressing the rage in his chest; he poured all his strength into activating the mechanical prosthesis, and the gears and micro-motors hidden in his sleeve emitted a low, continuous humming sound.

Feng Mu felt the constantly increasing force on the mechanical palm, his complexion still gentle; only in the depths of his pupils did two streaks of dark red faint light, like magatama, flash by, vanishing in an instant.

He lowered his head, gazing at the unreasonable anger surfacing in Feng Ju's eyes, and said calmly:

"My dear Father, it seems you didn't even listen to a word I just said to you."

Feng Mu gently turned his head, his gaze shifting to Prison Warden Qian Huan; a trace of faint apology surfaced on his face, and he spoke sincerely:

"Prison Warden Qian, I am very sorry; because of me, you have been delayed from returning to the prison — this is entirely my fault."

Qian Huan smiled slightly; his gaze swept lightly over Feng Ju, revealing understanding and tolerance, and then he kindly advised Feng Mu:

"It's fine; we're not in a rush. You can handle it slowly. Why not find a place for you and your father to sit down and talk it out? Between father and son, a little conflict is fine once it's aired."

Standing to the side, Shi Wuming's face was flat, without any expression fluctuation; his pupils quietly activated the recording function, and no one knew what he was thinking.

Feng Mu likewise increased the force in his hand; a strength value of 24.2 was simply not something Feng Ju could shake relying on a single mechanical prosthesis alone.

It wasn't that the God Armament CX-27 Hunter-Type Prosthesis lacked power; rather, Feng Ju himself was inadequate — he could barely bring out the full might of this prosthesis.

An incomplete modified human has this drawback — neither fish nor fowl, still heavily constrained by the shackles and influence of flesh and blood.

Feng Mu didn't even glance at Feng Ju, merely expressing thanks for the Prison Warden's understanding:

"No need, Prison Warden; I'll handle it right away."

Feng Mu tugged the corner of his mouth, revealing a helpless yet still polite smile, just like those well-bred children apologizing and explaining on behalf of their erring parents to others.

"My dear Father, perhaps you've entered menopause early — irritable and unstable, unable to tolerate your children having different opinions; but it's fine, I believe you'll slowly accept and correct it."

Before his words fell, Feng Mu had already secretly circulated his Qi and Blood; his five fingers slightly spread, fingertips sharp like eagle claws, tightly locking into the gaps of the metal palm.

Then, his finger joints suddenly exerted force; a harsh "creak creak creak" sound reverberated in the air, drilling into Feng Ju's ears.

He was burning with rage, eyes widened, jumping and thunderously roaring:

"Rebellious son! Rebellious son! You actually dare to lay hands on your old man?!!?"

Feng Mu remained unmoved, turning his head back to look down at Feng Ju, explaining in a gentle voice:

"Father, you never listen to what I say; there's no choice — I can only use language you can understand to communicate with you; how can that be my fault?"

Feng Ju's face turned iron-green; he continued to drive his arm, five fingers contracting and curling with all their might, grinding against Feng Mu's finger joints.

The flesh and bone of Feng Mu's finger joints were squeezed until bruised; he could feel fine cracks surfacing on the bone fingers, but those metal fingers were also crushed slightly out of shape.

Feng Mu grinned at Feng Ju, revealing a mouthful of white teeth:

"My dear Father, don't let anger cloud your head; you may not care if my fingers break, but you'd better be prepared to pay for repairing your own fingers."

Feng Ju's expression changed abruptly; the strength in his originally tight grip involuntarily loosened a few degrees.

Feng Mu's smile grew even more brilliant; he patiently and peacefully continued explaining the reasoning Feng Ju could understand:

"My dear Father, let's stop here and let go; the hospital is full of people coming and going — don't make the scene too ugly. My superiors will surely understand, but those subordinates behind you might not refrain from laughing at you."

For the first time in his life, Feng Ju was persuaded by his son's reasoning; he glared viciously at Feng Mu, released the metal palm, and muttered a curse:

"Rebellious son, you unfilial rebellious son — I should have……"

Feng Mu's face still bore a smile; that cultivated bearing and Feng Ju's frantic, ruined appearance formed a sharp contrast — any passerby who saw it would surely not think he was at fault.

Feng Mu released his five fingers, gently smoothing the wrinkles on his shoulder — of course they couldn't truly be smoothed flat again; crease marks won't iron out without a re-wash.

Just like a dead husk — without swapping in a new soul, it will never come alive again.

……..

(End of Chapter)