Era of Magic and Martial Arts-Chapter 255 - 239: Friend, I Heard You Want to See Me?

Chapter 255: Chapter 239: Friend, I Heard You Want to See Me?

Today is a day worth remembering for Wang Cong.

He will never forget everything that happened today.

Everything that happened today was too full of ups and downs, every single event filled with twists and irony, revealing to him the true cold and cruel nature of the world.

He initially thought that by selling his conscience, selling everything, and blackening his heart, he could better embrace the world and gain brightness in return.

But he hadn’t anticipated that when he exposed a black heart to the world, the world would repay him with a deeper, bottomless darkness.

His fresh black heart was recklessly desecrated by someone even darker and then discarded.

And,

what left Wang Cong even more baffled was that as he completely descended into the abyss of darkness, ready to rot and fester in despair, a hand reached down from above the abyss and pulled him up.

Like a ray of light tearing through layers of darkness, it pierced into his pupils, yet this light was no longer tender and warm like before, but rather like a red-hot brand, fiercely stabbing into his chest, making his black heart bleed profusely.

Pain!

The heart-wrenching agony made Wang Cong howl hysterically all the way on the corpse transport vehicle, the sound echoing inside the cold metal compartment, accompanied by the bumpy shaking all the way.

Finally, when Wang Jian cautiously handed an urn into Wang Cong’s trembling hands as if dealing with a madman, his body was already convulsing uncontrollably from the pain.

Yet, amidst this knife-twisting heartache, Wang Cong strangely felt a twisted pleasure.

Pain but addicted!

"Feng Mu, I want to see Feng Mu, will Feng Mu come?"

Holding the urn, Wang Cong cried and laughed like a madman, his eyes red like burning coals, yet flickering with a strange light.

He stared straight at Wang Jian, his trembling voice filled with intense fear, yet mingled with a tinge of morbid desire.

Feng Mu to Wang Cong now was no longer just a simple light but a deadly lure, like a candle flame in the dark to a moth. He feared that the brightness would reveal his decaying shadows, but he craved to approach, to use that warmth to dispel the cold of the night, even if that flame would burn him to death.

But it didn’t matter, because he equally longed for the scorching pain of being burned!

Wang Jian took a step back, somewhat fearfully, and replied: "I don’t know, Feng Mu didn’t say, why don’t you give Feng Mu a call and ask?"

Wang Cong swallowed hard, wanting to call but too afraid to, staring intently at Wang Jian, who felt his scalp tingle from the look and ended up making the call for Wang Cong.

The call was answered but was soon hung up.

Wang Jian spread his hands to Wang Cong and said: "Feng Mu said he has something to do, so he won’t come, asking you to just go home directly."

Wang Cong stopped crying and laughing, his facial expression suddenly freezing like a crashed computer, holding the urn absentmindedly as he left the crematorium, walking into the darkness without streetlights.

"Is that your friend?" Mr. Wang, slightly hunched in a wrinkled work uniform, appeared from some corner with a hoarse voice.

Wang Jian turned his head, surprised by his father’s sudden appearance:

"Dad, haven’t you already finished work? Oh, this person is not a friend, I don’t know him, he’s a friend of Feng Mu, I was just helping out today."

Mr. Wang nodded slightly, his voice solemn: "Hmm, that’s good, try to stay away from this person in the future."

Wang Jian was slightly stunned, remembering that his father rarely interfered with whom he associated.

He suspiciously asked: "Is there something wrong with him?"

Mr. Wang coughed heavily a few times, his voice even raspier: "This person’s emotional fluctuations are too great, the body may not withstand, it’s about to mutate."

Wang Jian couldn’t help but burst into laughter:

"Dad, stop joking. No experts online have said emotions can cause mutation. Besides, aren’t mutations supposed to suddenly lose control? How can someone sense it in advance? Wouldn’t that mean you’re better than those experts?"

Mr. Wang didn’t argue with his son’s skepticism, just sighed:

"Your dad doesn’t really go online, doesn’t know what those experts say. But your dad has burned Calamity Corpses in the crematorium all his life, and even if I don’t see it, I can smell the scent of Calamity Corpses wafting from his bones from far away."

Wang Jian felt what his father said was without scientific basis, plus, he had burned hundreds of Calamity Corpses in the crematorium too, how come he couldn’t smell the Calamity Corpses scent on Wang Cong just now?

Is it because he hasn’t burned enough, or does his father’s nose work better?

Wang Jian glanced at his continuously coughing father, thought about it, and rather heartfeltly followed the advice, and kindly sent a reminder text to his friend Feng Mu.

...

Wang Cong walked like a corpse on the dark road at night, holding two urns in his arms, one containing his father, the other his mother.

Indeed, one person is a family, looking a bit eerie.

He wandered aimlessly on the streets, muddleheadedly walking home.

Sitting at the dining table, looking at the empty house, Wang Cong’s heart felt as though a piece had been forever gouged out.

"Maybe I should have been burned with my parents today!" thought Wang Cong.

He pulled the phone from his pocket, casually tossing it on the coffee table; the phone was long dead, yet he had no intention of charging it.

Wang Cong just sat there, eyes empty, expressionless, as immobile as an uncremated dried corpse.

The hands of the old clock slowly turned, and unknowingly Wang Cong fell asleep.

After who knows how long, Wang Cong suddenly awoke, jerking his head to the side to look, and sitting quietly on the sofa where his father used to always sit, was a person.

The room was unlit, so it was very dark, unable to see the person’s face, only vaguely seeing a silhouette against the darkness.

Wang Cong’s eyes widened, breathing quickened, he suddenly seemed alive, instinctively asking: "Feng Mu, is that you?"

Rather than asking if that person was Feng Mu, it was more he hoped the person sitting there was Feng Mu.

The clock’s hands ticked softly, producing a faint "tick-tock" sound, but in Wang Cong’s perception, it felt like an epoch of waiting, that deep and faint voice finally responded to his call:

"Awake? Don’t want to sleep a bit more?"

The body in the darkness leaned forward slightly, the blurry face gradually revealing its features, a familiar and calm smile hanging on its face, who could it be but Feng Mu?

Wang Cong’s heart violently twitched, the pain making it almost impossible to breathe, yet his eyes filled with a strong yearning, his voice trembling:

"You still came!"

Feng Mu’s mouth curled into a bright and sincere smile, he said: "I heard, you really wanted to see me, so, I came, my friend!"

...