Era of Magic and Martial Arts-Chapter 243 - 227: Filthy and Blackened

The hysterical laughter echoed in the room, like the wailing of crows, filled with twisted joy and pain.

Tian Tao’s movement of picking up the rotten meat suddenly froze. He resentfully watched as Wang Cong crashed past two horrified prison guards and stumbled down the corridor.

"What are you standing there for, call the prison doctor!"

Tian Tao carefully cradled a few pieces of chewed-up meat in his hands, his voice muffled and hissing angrily at the two prison guards.

The two prison guards were momentarily dazed before realizing he wasn’t referring to the forensic pathologist Qin Liang, but the medical staff equipped in the prison.

They almost forgot that the Second Prison also had a prison doctor because there were so few occasions they were needed.

The two of them quickly ran off and returned after a long while, a 200-pound prison doctor following behind them.

There was no choice; the work at the Second Prison was too idle. The prisoners and guards there were so rarely sick from birth to death, it was incredibly worry-free.

Since being transferred to the Second Prison, this prison doctor hardly ever had to make a house call throughout the year. Day after day, apart from eating and sleeping, it was hard not to gain weight.

Tian Tao glared at the prison doctor, cautiously opening his palm and asked, "Can it be restored?"

The prison doctor covered his eyes in disgust and said irritably, "Ugh, how disgusting, get it away from me."

Tian Tao’s face twitched with anger, but he asked again, unwilling to give up, "Can it be sewn?"

The prison doctor shook his head unceremoniously, then took out alcohol gauze and a hemostatic spray, roughly applying it to Tian Tao’s face.

His movements were rough but quick. Within two or three minutes, Tian Tao’s entire face was wrapped like a mummy.

"You’re staying in the prison tonight to sleep, and I’ll be here too. If it gets infected and festers, just call me," the prison doctor said, then turned around and left with heavy steps.

Tian Tao clenched his fist tightly with one hand, squeezing the rotten meat into juice, which he then poured into a cup and downed with resentment.

.....

Wang Cong staggered through the corridor, jogging to the bathroom, where he quickly washed his face and tidied up his appearance a bit.

Afterwards, he hurried to the prison director’s office, but was stopped at the laser passage leading to the office by a guard from the security department.

The guard blocking the way looked at Wang Cong with disdain, saying indifferently, "Prison Director Qian is unavailable to see you today, go back."

Wang Cong’s heart sank heavily, just then he glanced up to see Qian Huan stepping out of the office.

He hurriedly called out, but Qian Huan only turned his head slightly, cast him a sidelong glance, and then withdrew his gaze with the coldness of discarding an old shoe.

The blocking guard sneered, "Wang Cong, I’m not nagging you, but don’t you know the rules? The prison director is busy every day, you, a mere prison guard, need to file a report in advance if you want to meet him."

Wang Cong’s ears were deaf to the guard’s words, as if a surge of angry lava was erupting fiercely within his chest.

Earlier, when he was beaten by Tian Tao, he wasn’t as furious as he was now.

Wang Cong turned away, feeling something choke his throat, his face flushed with anger, veins on his forehead bulging, appearing monstrous and fearsome.

He really could not understand why this was happening.

On the day he pledged allegiance, the prison director was warm and appreciative, but now he abruptly changed, seeming to disdain even a single extra glance?

"Is it just because Feng Mu isn’t dead?!! That I’m dirty, but aren’t you, Director, just as unclean?"

Wang Cong truly couldn’t fathom the depth of these intricate plots. Though he had become somewhat corrupted, he was still a minor figure, unable to grasp the filthiness of greater powers.

It was a darkness a hundred times dirtier than his own corruption!

Wang Cong wanted to rush forward regardless, but the flashing red light above the laser passage extinguished his fury, and the buzzing vibration in his pocket pulled him back to reality from violent fantasies.

Wang Cong dazedly pulled out his phone and blankly opened a message.

——Your bank account has been credited with 413,000, description: house mortgage.

Wang Cong’s eyes were vacant for a moment, then, as if realizing something, he hurriedly called the bank to inquire.

A cold female voice came through the phone: "Hello sir, the house mortgage was processed by Ms. Liu Xiujuan at our bank, the remittance account is under your name."

Wang Cong’s ears buzzed, his mind filled with his mother’s last call with him.

"It’s okay, son, your dad won’t blame you, and I don’t either. It’s because your father and I were incapable, having achieved nothing our whole lives, unable to help you, but we will never hold you back."

"Son, just climb higher without hesitation. As long as you can change your destiny, I’ll be happy. Even if your father dies, he’ll rest in peace."

"That’s it, I’ll go see your dad at the hospital one last time. Work well at the prison, and if money is tight, tell me. I’ll smash pots and sell the house to get the money for you."

"Good, my boy has always been the most filial, I believe in you, I await the day you succeed. Imagine having your father and I buried together, it’s a happy thought."

Wang Cong stood there, desolate like a lost soul, suddenly turning and running neurotically, muttering repeatedly, "Hospital, to the hospital, 24 hours!"

....

On the street diagonally opposite the Fourth Hospital.

A dozen casually dressed prison guards walked slowly into a street-side restaurant.

Suddenly, Deng Wei sharpened his eyes and pointed across the street uncertainly, "Hey, isn’t that Wang Cong at the hospital entrance?"

A few prison guards turned their heads in unison toward that direction, seeing a hurried figure. Though the back was vague, the uniform was distinctly that of a prison guard.

Qin Liang’s pupils contracted slightly, glancing at Feng Mu with a smile, "Aren’t you asking Wang Cong to eat? Feng Mu, I recall you two were close at the Second Prison, right?"

Feng Mu withdrew his gaze directed at the hospital, a tinge of complex sentiment flashing across his face.

"I thought we were close, but maybe he didn’t see it that way. Eh, forget it, let’s eat ourselves."

Qin Liang mentioned it casually and didn’t press further, leading the group with Feng Mu into a private room on the second floor.

Meanwhile, Wang Cong stood inside the hospital morgue, staring at a cabinet containing a corpse he had never seen before, his entire self collapsing.

He widened his eyes, shouting at the female nurse beside him, "Where’s my mom? Where is she, where’s the body?"

The female nurse remained calm in the face of Wang Cong’s murderous gaze, her tone completely unemotional:

"Sir, you’re too late. Your mother’s body was sent to the crematorium three hours ago."

Wang Cong panted heavily, his nails digging deep into his palm’s flesh.

The nurse continued to wear her professional smile, checking the records on her tablet as she coolly asked:

"However, your father is still receiving treatment in our hospital. Would you like to arrange his discharge now?"