34 The Living Burned Corpse

When I saw the tombstone beside me inscribed with the words "Chen Mu's Grave," I felt as if a fragment of my soul had been wrenched away at that very moment. My legs trembled uncontrollably, and a chill ran through my limbs; I was overcome by an indescribable unease.

A sudden gust of cold wind brushed against my back, amplifying my fear. After all, this was a public cemetery. Even though I was an atheist and did not believe in ghosts or spirits, being in such an environment unsettled me deeply—especially since I had just seen my own grave.

But I forced myself to calm down. In my heart, I told myself not to panic, to stay composed: this was not my grave; it was the grave of that assassin, Chen Mu.

Just as this thought arose, I recalled what Fang Qinghe had mentioned earlier—that Chen Mu had been beheaded. Could he really be dead? And had they even made a grave for him?

It seemed unlikely. As a high-profile criminal secretly executed, how could they possibly arrange a burial plot for him in a public cemetery?

At that moment, I noticed Bai Ye suddenly move. He turned his head slightly toward me.

My heart skipped a beat. I realized the truth immediately. Damn it. Bai Ye must know the truth—that Chen Mu, his namesake, had been secretly executed by the police. Since Bai Ye escaped prison and never saw that assassin again, he probably believed Chen Mu truly died, so he had created this tombstone to pay tribute to him.

Of course, by calling me here, Bai Ye intended to use me to honor his master.

Using a living person who looked exactly like the deceased to pay tribute to him—that was strange indeed, yet it filled me with dread.

I took a deep breath, ready to fight at any moment. If Bai Ye intended to harm me, I would battle fiercely and try to find a chance to escape.

But Bai Ye quietly watched me without moving, surprisingly patient.

Eventually, I could bear it no longer and braced myself to ask, “Bai Ye, why did you bring me here? Why create a grave for me?”

He still said nothing and soon walked onto the grave behind the tombstone.

The grave was impressive—not just a simple tombstone, but a small structure behind it, surrounded by marble. To my shock, Bai Ye lifted a marble slab on the grave, revealing a hollow beneath.

I guessed it was supposed to hold ashes. Bai Ye beckoned me over, and though I was afraid, curiosity pulled me closer. I bent down to peer inside.

To my surprise, it was empty—pitch black and seemingly quite deep.

Just as I was about to withdraw my head, an unimaginable sight nearly made me lose control of my bowels.

Suddenly, a pair of hands shot out from the darkness!

Not bony hands like before, but real human hands. They grabbed my neck and forcibly began pulling me down into the grave.

I instinctively called out to Bai Ye for help, but instead, he kicked me hard in the rear. I was dragged and kicked, falling downwards into the earth.

At that moment, terror overwhelmed me. I felt like this couldn’t be happening. But thinking of the Dawn base and the underground cold storage at the nursery—both subterranean—I realized I had been pushed into a trap.

Dazed, I felt my body sliding downward like a slippery eel through a pipe.

Then my head struck something—or perhaps someone struck the back of my skull with a heavy object—and I lost consciousness.

I have no idea how much time passed—seconds, hours, or even days. When I awoke, I was lying on the ground, bound tightly with ropes, immobilized like a cocoon. They clearly feared I might escape and took no chances with me.

I looked around and soon saw two figures nearby. One was Bai Ye, wearing a clown mask, and the other wore a grim reaper mask. I recalled seeing him before, introduced by Bai Ye through a screen—Shura of the Avengers, a prominent figure.

I immediately understood: Bai Ye and Shura had captured me together. This must be beneath the cemetery. They hadn’t simply barged in but set a trap, likely because they feared me. After all, I was no ordinary person; I was formidable.

The situation was clear: my cover had been blown a long time ago. It wasn’t that they ignored me before; they were just waiting for the right moment to take revenge. That moment had come.

As thoughts of death flooded my mind, I remembered Xia Tian telling me at the nursery that I had only three days left to live.

It seemed Xia Tian wasn’t bluffing; that little girl knew far more than she let on.

Soon Bai Ye approached, speaking as he walked: “You trust Bai Ye so easily? Called you out, and you came?”

Hearing that voice, my heart clenched sharply. Damn, that was not Bai Ye’s voice—it was Chen Mu’s!

Then I noticed Bai Ye’s eyes didn’t quite match; they were my own. Startled, I realized he had removed his mask, tossing it aside casually.

He was truly Chen Mu—the assassin, not Bai Ye.

He suddenly stomped on my abdomen and sneered, “You’re so eager to play my role? Really think you are me? Is it fun?”

Terrified, I dared not respond, fearing his wrath.

At that moment, Shura also stepped forward and removed his mask, revealing his face for the first time.

Expected yet unexpected—it was Chen Tianming.

My mind raced and I immediately understood: everything fit Jin Ze’s deductions. Chen Tianming was indeed a senior member of the Avengers.

Exposing his face to me, he grinned wildly and shouted, “I am your father, your father! Ha ha…”

His laughter sent chills down my spine; he seemed on the brink of madness.

I understood why he was so agitated. The Avengers had suffered heavy losses in just three days, and he blamed me, thinking the police were responsible.

Sure enough, he kicked me again and grabbed my hair, dragging me aside.

As he pulled me along, he said, “Today I’ll make you understand: I, Chen Tianming, am a true cremator. You’ll feel what it’s like to be roasted alive.”

He dragged me toward a large machine nearby. I recognized it immediately—the latest cremation oven, not an old-fashioned fire, but a high-temperature baking device.

Seeing the machine made my scalp tingle with dread. I could die—but not like this. Not being slowly roasted alive.

But Chen Tianming was truly unhinged. He pressed a button; the oven door opened. Then he turned and said to Chen Mu, “Chen Mu, come help. You always wanted to kill him yourself, didn’t you?”

Chen Mu approached and grabbed my legs.

As we neared the circular entrance of the oven, though the machine was not yet on and I did not feel heat, fear surged through me. I felt wetness below and began to struggle wildly, thrashing like a giant insect.

But their strength was overwhelming; I could not break free.

Then something utterly unexpected happened.

Chen Mu suddenly released my legs. With the ferocity of a starving tiger, he lunged and shoved Chen Tianming inside the oven.

Chen Tianming, snapping back to reality, tried to climb out, but Chen Mu pressed the start button. The high-temperature oven roared to life.

I heard a humming sound and could see inside through the oven’s transparent, high-pressure window.

Chen Tianming writhed violently, clawing at the exit, desperate to escape.

But the intense heat quickly melted his clothes and flesh. His blood and tissue turned to putrid pulp and peeled away in an instant.

He opened his mouth to speak, but just then, with a pop, his head exploded.

Then, like a chain reaction, his internal organs burst open, and his body was rapidly reduced to a pool of blood and viscera.

Meanwhile, Chen Mu laughed shamelessly beside the oven, as if watching a hilarious and gripping show, chilling me to the bone.

At the same time, a question rose in my mind: why did he kill Chen Tianming?