Chapter 35: What do you think would be best to bury here?

7:00 PM.

After work, Wang Jian bid farewell to Feng Mu, looking deeply worried. He kept glancing back every few steps, as if terrified that this parting might be their last.

Feng Mu waved goodbye to Wang Jian and walked back into the incineration room.

Inside the chamber, where the furnace had been shut down after burning the corpse of an ominous entity, the air still held a bizarre, meaty aroma that could stir one's appetite. Feng Mu reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of iron beads, crushed them into powder between his fingers, and poured the dust into his mouth.

Outside, the lights of the Upper City were still gleaming. It was the peak of the evening rush hour. The temperature inside the incineration room was neither hot nor cold—perfect for lingering a while to practice his forging gymnastics.

[Consumption Level ↑↑]

Feng Mu focused his mind, lost in the rhythmic movements of his exercise.

Time slipped away unnoticed. At the entrance of the incineration plant, two colorful heads of hair were ruffled by the cold wind.

"Why hasn't that brat come out yet?" the Red-Haired one muttered. "Don't tell me he slipped out early?"

The Yellow-Haired one’s face darkened. He let out a cold snort. "Wait a bit longer. Maybe he’s just hiding inside, too scared to show his face."

One hour later.

The workers of the incineration plant had all left, leaving only two or three security guards at the gate.

The Yellow-Haired one spat a thick glob of phlegm onto the ground. His patience exhausted, he knitted his brows and led the Red-Haired one toward the plant.

A guard blocked their path, refusing entry.

The Yellow-Haired one made a show of trying to force his way in. The guard calmly set down his thermos, pulled out an electric baton, and let it crackle with sparks.

The Yellow-Haired one, not expecting a mere guard to dare defy the two of them, was instantly enraged.

"Feng Mu hasn't left yet," the guard said in a low voice. "If you want to find him, you'll have to wait outside."

Blocking them was the guard's duty—his livelihood depended on it, so he couldn't step aside—but revealing that Feng Mu was still inside was a piece of practical wisdom to avoid unnecessary conflict.

The Yellow-Haired one glanced at the crackling electric baton, sneered, and stepped back. Gritting his teeth, he hissed, "Keep watch. I don't believe he can stay in there forever."

The Red-Haired one nodded, determined to vent all his pent-up fury on Feng Mu the moment he appeared, to teach him that a man with red hair was not to be trifled with.

Two hours later.

The two punks had finished every cigarette in their pack.

"We're blocking the gate; he’s probably too scared to come out. How about we hide somewhere?"

"Damn, that makes sense."

The two left the entrance and hid in the roadside bushes. Believe it or not, they actually had a bit of brainpower between them.

As they hid in the grass, enduring the mosquitoes, the lights of the Upper City dimmed. From the distance, the familiar creak of bicycle wheels grew closer and closer, drowning out the buzzing of the insects.

"Did those two leave?"

"Seriously? I was only a little late. What happened to 'we'll wait until we see you'?"

"I shouldn't have overestimated the integrity of street thugs."

Feng Mu felt annoyed. Had the two of them managed to escape his grasp tonight?

"Stop right there!"

Two burly men jumped out of the bushes. The red and yellow hair stood out sharply against the night, looking like a plate of scrambled eggs with tomatoes served to a starving man, making his mouth water.

Feng Mu swallowed hard. "You guys didn't leave?"

The Red-Haired one combed his hair with one hand, his swollen eyes flashing with malice. "Realizing you’re scared now? It’s too late."

Feng Mu got off his bicycle. He kept his head down, not daring to meet their eyes, staring only at their shadows on the ground. His voice trembled. "Wait... this isn't a convenient place. Let's go somewhere else."

The two punks froze, thinking they had misheard him.

Feng Mu felt that this patch of grass was still too close to the incineration plant; he needed to find a more secluded spot. He looked up, controlling his facial muscles to display a look of panic, and shivered. "Didn't you say this afternoon that if I told you what I’ve been doing lately, you’d let me go?"

The Yellow-Haired and Red-Haired ones exchanged a look, as if they had realized something. Their eyes lit up simultaneously.

Feng Mu begged with great sincerity, "I'll take you to see my secret. I buried it not far from here."

The unexpected windfall was too sudden. The two punks felt their blood surge, and their breathing quickened.

*Holy shit!*

*The tactics Brother Bin taught us are amazing! This brat really bought it; we’re actually going to squeeze something out of him!*

Feng Mu caught the look on their faces—the expression of men who had just won the lottery. *Hooked,* he thought. He turned around and slowly began pushing his bike forward.

The two hurried to follow, even urging him impatiently, "Don't dawdle! Walk faster and lead the way!"

Since they were in such a rush to die, Feng Mu certainly wouldn't keep them waiting. He quickened his pace, walking faster and faster, heading toward more desolate areas, winding through alleys until they reached an abandoned patch of land.

"Hey kid, how much further?" The Yellow-Haired one was getting impatient. It wasn't that he was suspicious; he was just tired of walking.

"Almost there. Just up ahead," Feng Mu said, his feet never stopping.

After another fifteen minutes, the Red-Haired one reached out and grabbed the handlebars. He seemed to have sensed something wrong. His tone turned vicious. "Where is it, exactly?"

Feng Mu let go of the handlebars. He scanned his surroundings. All he could see were shrubs of varying heights, some reaching his waist, and in the distance, the dark silhouettes of unfinished buildings.

Aside from the wind and the chirping of insects, there was no sign of anyone else. Just the three of them.

Feng Mu turned around. "This is it. I think it’s a good spot. Don't you?"

The Red-Haired one cast a suspicious glance around. "Where is this? What do you mean 'a good spot'? What is this thing you buried, and exactly where did you bury it?"

Feng Mu tilted his head, looked at the last few lights going out in the Upper City, then pointed at the ground beneath their feet. He grinned, showing a full set of white teeth.

"The thing I buried... isn't it the two of you?"

The chilling voice sent a shiver down their spines. The hair on the back of their necks stood on end. Looking at the boy before them, there was no trace of panic left. His sickly, pale face was now etched with malice and cruelty.

Before the Red-Haired one could react, Feng Mu formed a claw with one hand, striking a strange, ominous pose.

The Red-Haired one quickly let go of the handlebars and stumbled backward, but he was no match for the speed of the lethal claws.

*Crane Claw Technique, Third Form: Void-Rending Finger.*

Following the memory of his brain and muscles—forged and tempered over ten years—his finger-hooks tore through the air with a shrill hiss, just as they had when he first started training, sweeping across the surface of a basin to hook the iron beads.

With a light flick and a follow-through pull, he caught the Red-Haired one.

The Red-Haired one’s retreat was halted. He screamed as he lost his balance and fell forward, his shoulder torn open by a blood-hole where a finger had pierced his collarbone like a hook. Blood gushed out, spraying across his face.

Red face, red hair—it was the taste of death!

"A bit weak. Not enough to practice on."

Feng Mu ignored the screams, his finger-hook twisting into the bone, pulling along the joint.

Once, Zhang Tong had tried to do this to Feng Mu, but he had failed at the last moment and died. Now, Feng Mu used the same move on the Red-Haired one.

*Crane Claw Technique, Sixth Form: Bone-Splitting.*

The Red-Haired one could neither dodge nor break free. It was the perfect definition of weak strength and brittle bones; one step back meant falling into a state of crippled near-death.

Bone tore through muscle, muscle tore through blood vessels. His shoulder was ripped open down to his neck—a gruesome, terrifying sight.

*Don't retreat. If you retreat, you'll end up like him. I’d rather die than retreat in the future!*

Feng Mu swore to himself, feeling his combat experience surge. He turned and executed the *Crane Claw Technique, Second Form: Dragonfly Skim*, lunging straight at the Yellow-Haired one, who was fumbling for a knife at his waist, his face drained of color.

The Yellow-Haired one glanced at the horrific state of his companion, his heart hammering against his ribs. He roared, "We were just trying to scare you this afternoon! Kid, you don't have to overreact like this!"

Feng Mu ignored him completely. He took two steps forward, his index and middle fingers glowing with a terrifying, dark purple hue.

The *Dragonfly Skim* sounded harmless—like a dragonfly touching the water—but in reality, it was a sinister move designed specifically to gouge out a person's eyes.

"I know you were trying to scam me, but that doesn't matter," Feng Mu said, his voice cold, his mind set solely on taking a life. "What matters is that you have to kill me, or else I'm going to kill you."