I'll Handle It

"CLANG—!!!"

A thunderous, earth-shaking boom, like an ancient bronze bell struck with full force!

Foreman Wang's ghostly claw, capable of tearing through metal and stone, slammed into that seemingly fragile layer of protective Qi—yet failed to stir even a single ripple!

A vast, overwhelming force of rebound, beyond his comprehension, surged back along his arm in a violent backlash!

"CRACK!"

A crisp sound of bone shattering!

Foreman Wang's entire arm, from his finger bones to his shoulder blade, shattered into pieces!

He let out a pained howl, his body flying backward like a kite with a snapped string, crashing heavily into the stone wall behind him, spiderweb-like cracks spreading across the hard rock!

"Pfft!"

A mouthful of black blood, mixed with fragments of internal organs, sprayed from his lips.

He stared in disbelief at his limp, utterly ruined arm.

Then he looked at the young man, completely unharmed, not even a fold of his clothes disturbed. The crimson in his eyes was finally replaced by boundless terror and despair.

"No... this can't be... you... what kind of monster are you..."

"Monster?" Lu Chen walked slowly, step by step, toward Foreman Wang, who lay sprawled on the ground, his voice flat. "I'm just a Corpse Handler... that you personally 'cultivated.'"

He stopped before Foreman Wang, looking down at him from above, his gaze like that of a man inspecting a corpse about to be disposed of.

"Your greatest mistake wasn't greed, nor cruelty—it was that you shouldn't have used me as a ladder to climb higher."

The moment the words fell, Lu Chen moved.

He didn't draw his blade.

He simply raised his right hand, fingers together like a sword, and casually traced a line toward Foreman Wang's brow.

No blade light. No wind.

The Demon Suppressing Saber Technique at its perfected realm, returning to simplicity.

Unique trait—[Sha Breaking]!

Foreman Wang didn't even see Lu Chen's motion. He only felt a chill at his brow.

Then, the ghost face mask covering half his face, along with his entire protective demonic aura, silently split down the middle with a fine crack, like snow melting under a scorching sun.

That power, specifically targeting the origin of demonic baleful Qi, swept through unimpeded, instantly destroying all life and demonic force within him.

The crimson madness in Foreman Wang's eyes faded swiftly, replaced by endless regret.

His lips twitched a few times, but in the end, only a faint, barely audible sigh escaped.

His body, like mud drained of all its bones, slumped limply to the ground, utterly lifeless.

The half mask, with a "crack," broke in two, falling to the floor as two pieces of dead, spiritless scrap metal.

[Host has slain a demonic-possessed corrupted. Acquired 5 years of Demon Devil Lifespan.]

[Detected host absorbing residual demonic power from the Ghost Face Mask. New trait unlocked—Mimicry (Beginner): You can faintly imitate and conceal your own aura, making it more akin to a demon or environment you have deeply encountered.]

Lu Chen gazed silently at Foreman Wang's corpse, its eyes still wide in death, his own expression as calm as still water.

He stepped forward, rummaged briefly through the mountain of gold and silver treasures, and finally found a wooden box wrapped in layers of oilcloth hidden in an inconspicuous compartment.

Opening the box, inside lay several account ledgers and a complete ghost face mask, identical to the half mask on Foreman Wang's face.

Lu Chen picked up the ledgers, flipped through a few pages, and his eyes gradually turned icy.

They were densely filled with records of Foreman Wang's crimes over the years: embezzling, trafficking Demon Materials, and trading with certain shadowy forces.

And every transaction pointed to the same mysterious symbol—a ferocious ghost face.

"The Ghost Face Mask Organization..."

Lu Chen tucked the ledgers and the complete mask into his robes, not sparing another glance at the corpse or the treasure.

He turned, walked back to the entrance of the secret passage, and said to Deputy Commander Liu and the others waiting above, in a calm voice devoid of any emotion:

"The rat is dead."

"Seal the tunnel."

Foreman Wang's death stirred a brief, minor ripple among the lower ranks of the Demon Suppression Division, then quickly settled back into stillness.

A greedy, foolish Steward, colluding with demonic agents, attempting to murder a colleague, dying in the secret passage—suicide to escape justice.

This verdict, personally set by Captain Li, no one dared to question.

And Lu Chen, as a matter of course, took over everything Foreman Wang had left behind.

Deputy Commander, concurrently Steward of the Corpse Handling Room.

When the appointment order reached the Corpse Handling Room, the faces of Zhang Mazi and the other old-timers turned uglier than if their own fathers had died.

They gathered in the dark corner of the room, whispering among themselves, their eyes filled with venom and resentment.

"Why him? That wet-behind-the-ears kid—why does he get to leap to the top and lord it over us old hands?" hissed a gaunt, rat-faced old Corpse Handler, his voice low and bitter.

"Hmph, he's just relying on that dogshit luck of his to curry favor with the Captain!"

Zhang Mazi covered his still-swollen face, a viperous glint flickering in his eyes. "He thinks that just because he's an official now, he can hold this position steady? Dream on! The waters in this Corpse Handling Room run deep!"

"Brother Zhang, what's your plan?"

"Plan?" Zhang Mazi let out a cold, sinister laugh. "Isn't he so capable? Isn't he the Fortunate General? Then let him work! We'll do nothing—just pile every single most troublesome, most disgusting, most accident-prone job right in front of him! I want to see how long that luck of his can hold out. Once he slips up, heh heh..."

The few of them exchanged glances, all reading the same unspoken malice in each other's eyes.

When Lu Chen returned to the Corpse Handling Room, he was greeted by a strange silence thick with alienation and hostility.

The cramped stone bed that had been his was already cleared away, replaced by a brand-new desk—his temporary Steward's office.

And atop that desk sat a mountain of task dossiers.

Lu Chen paid no heed to the covert stares lurking in the shadows. He sat down calmly, picked up the topmost dossier, and read.

"West City mass grave: three Sha Corpses, suspected secondary mutation, corpse poison virulent—requires immediate disposal."

"North Mountain mine shaft: a nest of Human-Faced Demon Spiders discovered, remains contain potent toxins with strong hallucinogenic effects."

"East City: a floating corpse dragged out, partially devoured by a water ghost, resentment surging to the heavens..."

Every single one was a bone-hard task that would make even the most seasoned veteran corpse handler's scalp crawl.

A faint, barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of Lu Chen's mouth.

He didn't get angry. He didn't investigate who was pulling the strings behind the scenes.

He simply picked up a vermillion brush, signed his name at the end of each dossier, and added two characters beneath.

"I'll handle it."