"Clang—!!!"
A deafening boom rang out, as deep and heavy as the toll of an ancient bell!
Foreman Wang's ghostly claw, powerful enough to tear through metal and stone, grasped at the seemingly flimsy layer of protective energy—and failed to stir even the slightest ripple!
A boundless, overwhelming force of recoil surged back along his arm!
"Crack!"
A sharp snap of breaking bones!
Foreman Wang's entire arm, from his fingers to his shoulder, shattered inch by inch!
He let out a wail of agony and flew backward like a kite with its strings cut, slamming into the stone wall behind him with such force that the hard rock was webbed with cracks!
"Pfft!"
A mouthful of black blood mixed with fragments of his organs sprayed from his mouth.
He stared in disbelief at his limp, utterly ruined arm.
Then he looked at the boy, who was completely unharmed—not even the hem of his clothes had moved. At last, the crimson in his eyes gave way to boundless terror and despair.
"No... This can't be... You... What kind of monster are you...?"
"Monster?" Lu Chen walked slowly toward Foreman Wang, who lay collapsed on the ground. His voice was calm. "I'm just a corpse handler... whom you personally 'nurtured.'"
He stopped before Foreman Wang and looked down at him, his eyes as cold as if he were gazing at a corpse waiting to be processed.
"Your greatest mistake wasn't your greed or your cruelty. It was... treating me like a ladder to climb your way up."
The instant the words left his mouth, Lu Chen moved.
He didn't draw his saber.
He simply raised his right hand, held his fingers together like a sword, and casually slashed toward the space between Foreman Wang's brows.
There was no flash of blade, no sound of wind.
The Demon Suppressing Saber Technique, mastered to perfection, had returned to the source.
Its unique trait—[Sha Breaking]!
Foreman Wang hadn't even seen Lu Chen move. He only felt a chill at the center of his brow.
The next moment, the Ghost Face Mask covering half his face, along with the demonic aura protecting his body, split down the middle without a sound, like snow scorched by the Blazing Sun.
That force of destruction, specially meant to target the source of demons' and devils' killing intent, swept through him like a bamboo-splitting torrent, instantly destroying every trace of life and Demonic Power in his body.
The crimson madness in Foreman Wang's eyes swiftly faded, replaced by boundless regret.
His lips moved a few times, but in the end, all that came out was a barely audible sigh.
His body slumped to the ground like a pile of mud with every bone sucked out of it, and he fell completely silent.
With a sharp crack, the half-mask split down the middle and fell to the ground, becoming two pieces of lifeless scrap iron.
[The host has slain a demon-possessed person corrupted by demonic energy. Gained 5 years of Demon Devil Lifespan.] [The host has absorbed the remaining Demonic Power in the Ghost Face Mask and comprehended a new trait—Mimicry (Beginner): You can subtly imitate and conceal your own aura, making it more similar to that of a demon or environment you have been in prolonged contact with.]
Lu Chen gazed silently at Foreman Wang's corpse, whose eyes remained open in death. His expression was as still as an ancient well.
He stepped forward and rummaged for a while through the mountain of gold and silver. In the end, he found a wooden box tucked inside an inconspicuous secret compartment, wrapped in layers of oilcloth.
He opened the box. Inside lay several account books and a complete Ghost Face Mask, identical to the half-mask Foreman Wang had worn.
Lu Chen picked up the account books and casually flipped through a few pages. His expression gradually turned cold.
The pages were densely packed with records of all the crimes Foreman Wang had committed over the years: skimming supplies, trafficking in Demon Materials, and trading with certain shadowy forces.
Without exception, every transaction pointed to the same mysterious symbol—a hideous ghost face.
"The Ghost Face Mask Organization..."
Lu Chen tucked the account books and the complete mask into his robes, not sparing another glance at the corpse or the treasure.
He turned and walked back to the entrance of the passage. Looking up at Deputy Commander Liu and the others waiting above, he spoke in a calm voice devoid of emotion:
"The rat is dead."
"Seal the tunnel."
Foreman Wang's death caused a minor stir among the lower ranks of the Demon Suppression Division, but it quickly died down.
A greedy, foolish supervisor had colluded with demon worshippers and tried to murder a colleague. He had ultimately died in the passage, killing himself out of guilt.
That was the official account Captain Li had personally established, and no one dared question it.
As for Lu Chen, he naturally took over everything Foreman Wang had left behind.
Deputy Commander, as well as supervisor of the Corpse Handling Room.
When the appointment notice arrived at the Corpse Handling Room, Zhang Mazi and the other old hands looked as if their fathers had died.
They gathered in a shadowy corner of the room, whispering among themselves, their eyes full of resentment and indignation.
"What gives him the right? He's still wet behind the ears, yet he gets promoted overnight and ends up riding over us old-timers?" A sharp-faced old corpse handler lowered his voice, seething with indignation.
"Hmph. He must've gotten that dogshit luck by sucking up to the Captain!"
Zhang Mazi covered his still-swollen face, his eyes gleaming like a venomous snake. "He thinks becoming an official means he can hold on to this position? Dream on! The waters in the Corpse Handling Room run deep!"
"Brother Zhang, what do you have in mind?"
"What do I have in mind?" Zhang Mazi gave a cold laugh. "Isn't he capable? Isn't he the Fortunate General? Then let him work! We won't lift a finger. We'll pile every hardest, filthiest, most dangerous job right in front of him! Let's see how long that bit of luck keeps him afloat! Once something goes wrong, heh..."
The men exchanged glances, each seeing the same malicious understanding in the others' eyes.
When Lu Chen returned to the Corpse Handling Room, he was met with an eerie silence steeped in distance and hostility.
His cramped stone bed had been cleared away and replaced with a brand-new desk. It would serve as his temporary office.
A small mountain of task dossiers was already piled on top.
Lu Chen paid no mind to the eyes spying on him from the shadows. He simply sat down calmly and picked up the dossier on top.
"Western outskirts mass grave: three Sha Corpses, suspected of undergoing a second mutation. Their Corpse Poison is fierce. Immediate disposal required."
"Beishan mine: a nest of Human-Faced Demon Spiders discovered. Their remains contain potent poison and have a powerful hallucinogenic effect."
"A floating corpse, gnawed on by a water ghost, was pulled from the eastern city moat. Its resentment is overwhelming..."
Every one of them was a tough case, enough to make even the most experienced old corpse handlers' scalps prickle.
The corner of Lu Chen's mouth lifted in a barely perceptible smile.
He didn't get angry, nor did he investigate who was plotting behind his back.
He simply picked up his red brush, signed his name at the end of every dossier, and wrote two words beside it:
"I'll handle it."