Chapter 18: Underlying Currents

Inside the sweltering crematorium, three Calamity Corpses were stacked together, melting in the flames like a small mound of earth. The crackling sounds were the result of body fat sputtering in the high heat.

"One—two—three—four..." The drawn-out, rhythmic counting came from Feng Mu, who was stiffly performing exercises beside the furnace. Facing the melting faces of the Calamity Corpses while practicing his forging gymnastics at half-speed looked somewhat bizarre—perhaps a bit disrespectful to the deceased.

Wang Jian sat by the doorway, chain-smoking and muttering to himself, "Yesterday it was basic boxing, today it’s forging gymnastics. Is there something seriously wrong with Feng Mu’s head?"

"Is he this traumatized because he dropped out and can't take the college entrance exam?"

Wang Jian had considered urging Feng Mu to stop several times; since he wasn't taking the exam anyway, what was the point of all this training? But he didn't dare, fearing that any confrontation might worsen his friend’s mental state.

"Sigh, his form is truly abysmal." After watching for a while, Wang Jian looked away, having gained a clear assessment of Feng Mu’s potential. His limbs were rigid, his movements sluggish; aside from a bit of brute force, there was nothing left but a pitiful sight.

"Should I take Feng Mu to the black market after work tonight? Maybe a change of scenery would clear his head?" Wang Jian was a loyal friend; he couldn't bear to see his classmate performing these creepy exercises in the cremation room over and over again. Of course, Wang Jian would never admit that he was actually afraid that if Feng Mu kept it up, the Calamity Corpses might just crawl out of the furnace to join him in his rhythmic swaying. After all, those who transformed into Calamity Corpses usually possessed decent martial arts cultivation in life—and a deep passion for it—otherwise, they wouldn't have been qualified to tread the dark path, would they?

Unfortunately, the three Calamity Corpses from the morning hadn't yielded any "loot." Going to the black market empty-handed was hardly ideal. Feng Mu wanted to go, but he wasn't in a rush; he politely declined when they ate lunch.

"I only have one black core. I don't know how to sell it, and I don't have the money to buy anything. Going would just be for show. The priority is to save time and level up." Feng Mu knew how to distinguish between the urgent and the trivial.

In the afternoon, four more Calamity Corpses and one normal female corpse were delivered. The four Calamity Corpses yielded one black core, and as it was his turn, Feng Mu now had two in his pocket. It was a solid step forward in his "Long March"—a gratifying achievement.

The female corpse was that of a normal person, but she had died an unnatural death. Half of her neck had been crushed, and her eyes remained wide open in death. Seeing Feng Mu finally stop his exercises, Wang Jian exhaled in relief and joked, "What’s wrong? Didn't expect us to be burning normal bodies, too?"

Feng Mu quietly averted his gaze. Although he had only met her once, he recognized the deceased: she was Wang Wei’s mother. Wang Wei had been crushed to death by Zheng Hang, and now, his mother had been stabbed to death. Within a single week, both had met tragic ends and would soon be reunited in the afterlife.

Feng Mu didn't show any emotion on his face. He followed Wang Jian’s lead and asked, "I thought we only handled Calamity Corpses. Where did this one come from?"

Wang Jian curled his lip. "By regulation, we only take Calamity Corpses, but in reality... well, you know how it is."

Wang Jian disliked handling human corpses because they didn't drop black cores and offered no overtime pay—it was essentially unpaid labor. He moved with a bit of roughness as he hoisted the body and tossed it into the incinerator. Feng Mu helped him, and he heard Wang Jian say offhandedly, "It was brought in by the police station. I heard she was stabbed to death at the hospital last night."

Feng Mu grunted and ignited the burner. The snake-like flames that shot out from the iron vents were not picky; they swallowed the body without hesitation. Feng Mu had burned Calamity Corpses several times, but this was his first time burning a human. The time he burned Zheng Hang didn't count—there were only broken bones left, so there wasn't much to see.

Feng Mu watched for a while and discovered the difference. The bones of Calamity Corpses were harder and their flesh thicker; they crackled when burned and, much like their ferocious appearance, were "unruly," requiring constant attention to ensure they were turned so they would burn completely. Human corpses were different: the bones were softer, the flesh less dense. As you watched the skin peel away, deform, and the body melt into sludge, the entire process was unspeakably quiet.

Feng Mu sighed inwardly, "Calamity Corpses are destined to attract attention from the moment they are born, while most people go from birth to death without ever making a sound in this world—they are mutes."

Wang Jian didn't consider himself a mute, so he told Feng Mu, "Next time we burn a human, just keep the fire on the lowest setting. They burn easily."

Feng Mu looked at him suspiciously, his eyes questioning if he was just trying to save the plant money on fuel. Wang Jian looked at him like he was an idiot. "If the fire is too big, it gets too hot."

"That makes a lot of sense." Feng Mu replied casually, then froze. He hadn't felt the heat at all.

Soon, Feng Mu realized, "Because of the chill in my bones, I am resistant to high temperatures. Is this another latent benefit brought by being an [Iron Eater]?"

The ashes of Calamity Corpses needed to be boxed and recycled for further processing. Human corpses were not so troublesome; Wang Jian simply grabbed a basin, tossed the remains into the air, and within moments, they were scattered by the wind, leaving no trace behind.

Wang Jian lit a cigarette and explained nonchalantly, "Anyone sent to the crematorium to be burned is a 'blank citizen' without surviving kin. No one cares where they end up; otherwise, they would have been sent to a funeral home."

Feng Mu understood this logic as well. If he hadn't activated his system, his own end would likely have been the same—scattered into the air. He nodded in understanding, pushed aside the chaotic thoughts, and returned to his forging gymnastics with undivided focus.

Wang Jian felt speechless. He had wanted a classmate to work with so they could chat and kill time, but instead, he was stuck watching a performance of gymnastics every day.

Really, what was the point?

Feng Mu performed his gymnastics seven times that afternoon, averaging twenty-three minutes per session. Wang Jian smoked seven cigarettes, averaging one every twenty-three minutes.

At seven o'clock, they clocked out, both exhausted—one physically, the other mentally—and said their goodbyes.

Feng Mu rode his bike quickly. As he passed the 47th Middle School, it happened to be the time students were being dismissed. He slowed down intentionally, eyes darting, ears pricked. The gang members with the lists were still there.

"Your name is Zhang Cheng, right?"
"Yes, what do you want?"
"Where were you after school on March 15th?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Just answer the question. Don't give me any crap."

A thug with a bloated, vicious face was comparing the photos on his list to a student he had cornered, questioning him roughly. Feng Mu didn't dare linger, fearing he might attract unwanted attention. He only caught a few fragments of the conversation before pedaling away.

"March 15th was the day my system activated—the same day Wang Wei and Zheng Hang died," Feng Mu thought. "The Green Wolf Gang is investigating by looking into the timeline! A gang actually conducting door-to-door interviews? They look more professional than the police. Is there no law left?"

Feng Mu noticed another detail: the thugs weren't stopping every student or teacher. This meant they weren't casting a wide net; they were conducting targeted screenings. Clearly, the Green Wolf Gang had narrowed down their scope of suspicion.

In Feng Mu’s worst-case scenario, this was the outcome he had feared. He took a deep breath, his mind racing. "Don't panic. They've only narrowed the scope; they haven't locked onto me yet. Besides, I might not even be on their list."

Feng Mu felt he hadn't left any traces at the scene, but this was his first time committing such an act, so his confidence wasn't absolute. Furthermore, he had forged the scene with the police in mind as his hypothetical enemy, and indeed, he had successfully fooled the police. But the problem was, his enemy now was the Green Wolf Gang. Would the methods that worked on the police also work on them?

It wasn't that a street gang was better at investigating than the police, but rather that their methods were harder to predict, making the situation much more perilous. At the very least, for an ordinary person, the methods of a gang were far more terrifying than those of the law, and the effectiveness of counter-surveillance would be greatly diminished.

"If I have to blame anyone, I'll blame myself for watching 3,000 episodes of Detective Conan in my past life instead of 3,000 episodes of gangland dramas. Damn it!"

Feng Mu locked his bike in the stairwell. As he looked up and began to climb the stairs, a flicker of dark, murderous intent flashed in his eyes.