Chapter 312: Let Feng Mu Eat First

Walking out of the underground parking lot, passing through the corridors, through the Light Security Bureau, heading toward the Death Row Security Bureau.

The closer they got to the Death Row Security Bureau, the thicker the bloody smell in the air became; Gong Qi's hearing and vision were sharp, and he could even hear the splashing sound of the floor being washed.

That was the sound of a soaked mop dragging with effort, dragging the damp, filthy blood and minced meat into the water prison pool, then shaking it up and down, washing the mop in the pool where corpses were soaking.

The drain outlet at the bottom of the water prison pool emitted a low suction sound, while the pipes on the wall continuously injected clean water into the pool, attempting to dilute the viscosity of the water inside.

However, this effort seemed counterproductive; the color of the pool water not only did not lighten, but became even deeper and more vivid, like a terrifying painting immersed in darkness.

Splash—

Rumble—

Gong Qi's ears twitched slightly; he heard the corpses that had finally been fished out dragged to the edge of the pool, seemingly placed onto the handcarts used for loading goods.

The handcarts were piled full of corpses; the heavy weight caused the rusted wheels to make a teeth-grating screech as they rubbed against the ground.

When Feng Mu and his group returned to the Death Row Security Bureau, what they saw were exhausted prison guards, dragging handcarts filled with corpses, laboriously pulling them toward the incineration room.

Minced meat stuck to the handcart wheels, turning with a "creak creak," leaving trails of blood on the ground.

The corpses pressed at the very bottom of the handcart included arms mischievously dangling outside, scraping along the ground all the way, looking just as if they were still alive, clawing out crooked scratch marks on the ground.

The scene before their eyes looked shocking, yet the prison guards coming and going treated it as if invisible, each expression numb, movements mechanical.

They were truly too tired today!

They hadn't personally transported corpses for a very long time, let alone transported so many corpses at once. This kind of dirty and exhausting work was usually directly assigned to prisoners to complete.

It wasn't that no one had considered transferring prisoners from other security bureaus to share this heavy labor, but on this special day, no one dared to make such a suggestion to the Prison Warden.

So, today, all of this fell back into their hands, and the ones even more tired than them were those handcarts that had long been "laid off."

They had rusted after years of retirement in the warehouse; no one expected they would collectively return to duty today, and at full load right away — many couldn't take it and fell apart on the spot, wheels and boards shattered all over the ground.

Not far away, a handcart blew a tire and fell apart midway; the pile of corpses stacked as high as a person tilted and smashed into the wall, causing a traffic jam; several handcarts behind couldn't avoid it in time, and a horrific chain-reaction collision happened in an instant, corpses strewn everywhere.

Feng Mu witnessed this scene, a look of compassion appearing on his face as he said: "It seems the most dangerous suppression operation has ended; then you all go help out."

The people behind him nodded in unison, moving the scattered corpses in pairs.

They moved actively, cooperated seamlessly, with extremely high efficiency, as if they had inexhaustible energy, forming a stark contrast with the prison guards around them who were taking the opportunity to slack off.

Feng Mu, taking Gong Qi and Liu Yi, headed toward the Warden's Office; on the way they passed the incineration room, and that narrow corridor was packed full with queued corpses.

At the very front there was almost no place to set foot; one could only vaguely see a huge gourd swaying at the entrance of the incineration room, as if commanding two or three prison guards in an orderly fashion to lift the corpses into the incinerators one by one in sequence.

Inside the incineration room, four incinerators were like tireless giant beasts in continuous operation; the furnace mouths were the monsters' greedy maws, constantly opening and closing, swallowing the fed food whole.

Perhaps the incinerators themselves never expected they would one day eat until bloated; "burping" from their throats, the heat waves from cremation rippled the air inside the room into visible waves.

Several prison guards helping move corpses were drenched in sweat, clothes soaked through, steamed white-then-red by the high temperature, faintly emitting a strange meat fragrance, feeling as if they could be served on the dining table at any moment.

Their gazes began to gradually scatter; their bodies, seemingly due to extreme dehydration, produced extremely strong hallucinations.

In a trance, they saw wisps of grain-like particles, like white sand grains, silently drilling out from Wang Cong's trouser legs, from Wang Cong's sleeves, from that old gourd behind Wang Cong.

Then those particles slowly diffused in the air, like ghosts in a nightmare, gradually condensing into bizarre tentacles, winding toward their necks.

"Sleep, sleep, you're too tired; me alone in the incineration room is enough; my work efficiency is higher when I'm alone."

At the final edge of exhaustion, suffocation, and fainting, the few people seemed to be in a dream's mist, faintly hearing Wang Cong's gentle murmurs.

"But I can't start the meal alone; I've already secretly eaten quite a bit today; the main course must let Feng Mu enjoy it first, hmm... but how do I save it for him?"

Wang Cong suddenly yanked open the leftmost incinerator door, waved his arm, and those white sand-grain tentacles pierced through the roaring flames of cremation, surging toward the iron wall behind, slowly pushing it open, revealing the winding pitch-black "intestine" inside.

Wang Cong's eyes suddenly brightened; he had an idea: "Just hide it in here."

The sound of sand grains let out a sobbing whistle; the entire incineration room was gradually shrouded in a smog color.

The cameras in the corridor outside couldn't see inside the incineration room; they could only see the figure carrying the gourd like a hardworking bee, constantly going in and out; the long line of corpse carts outside was visibly decreasing, being digested by the incineration room... bit by bit.

Feng Mu pushed open the door and entered the Warden's Office.

Shi Wuming still stood in the corner steady as Mount Tai, not worrying about the prison's prospects in the slightest.

He indifferently glanced at Feng Mu, then without changing expression withdrew his gaze; the instant he lowered his head, a trace of cold killing intent flashed in the depths of his pupils.

Shi Wuming calculated the date to act in his heart:

"Qian Huan's current situation is quite bad; so this assignment will probably end soon; sigh, couldn't earn more money off him; forget it, the part I couldn't earn off Qian Huan, I'll find a way to collect from Feng Mu, and incidentally avenge my old friend."

Feng Mu sensed something and glanced at the blood bar above Shi Wuming's head, then looked at Prison Warden Qian Huan behind the explosion-proof glass.

The latter's face was extremely gloomy, staring at the computer screen with eyes seemingly spitting fire; on the computer screen was precisely that news report by 【Old Tree on the Grave】 — tens of thousands of words, illustrated, logically rigorous, well-founded, making one unable to help but be convinced.

"Slander, all slander; damn it, where did this bastard 【Old Tree on the Grave】 pop out from!"

A hysterical roar reverberated inside the office...

(End of Chapter)