Chapter Five: False Accusation

The next morning, the rain fell in a ceaseless, whispering drizzle. Amid the piercing wails of sirens, which gradually dropped in pitch and blended into the sound of the rain, the crimson glow of taillights diffused through the mist. Figures loomed and faded in the half-light.

When Mu You awoke, he found himself lying in a spotless recovery room, an IV drip attached to his arm. Beside him sat a breakfast and the morning paper.

On the night of September 9, 3017, a large-scale high-intensity fuel explosion occurred at Lesong Hospital on Crescent Island, within the Central State Experimental Base. Details are still under investigation.

How dull...

Mu You tossed the newspaper aside after a quick read, an involuntary crooked smile creeping onto his lips. Somehow, after all he had been through, he found his heart had grown cold.

“Hee hee, big brother, you’re awake!” came a young, bell-like voice, bright and clear as a yellow oriole emerging from the valley, instantly invigorating the spirit.

“Mm.” Mu You stretched with a long yawn, the joy of being alive evident, nearly overturning the hospital bed in his exuberance.

Startled, Mu You wondered where this sudden strength had come from.

“After surviving such disaster, fortune will surely follow. We devoured so many souls and spirits; your soul is no longer ordinary. And with your body transformed by the Meridian Soul-Reaping Mother Worm, your physical abilities surpass even some special forces operatives,” the youthful voice explained.

Skeptical yet intrigued, Mu You pulled out the needle—and sure enough, no blood oozed from the puncture. With every breath, the wound healed before his eyes, filling him with amazement.

Just as Mu You marveled at these changes, the door to his room creaked open. The curtain lifted, and steady footsteps approached. Through the drapes, he glimpsed four dark figures drawing near.

Who were they? What did they want?

If they were from that so-called Death Row Paradise, his fate was sealed. Yet after last night’s disaster, as the sole survivor, he was bound to become the focus of public attention; even Death Row Paradise wouldn’t dare make a move openly. If they were police, that would be better—he would do everything to expose the truth. Mu You still believed there was justice left in society. If he tried to escape, nothing could be explained.

He decided instantly—reinserted the needle into his hand, lay back, closed his eyes, and feigned sleep, focusing intently on the footsteps.

To his surprise, not just his strength, but his senses had been heightened dramatically. He could make out the uneven breaths and irregular heartbeats of those approaching.

No time for further astonishment—the curtain was swept aside, and his visitors entered.

“Mu You, there’s no need to pretend. We saw you awake on the monitors.”

The voice was cold and official. Mu You sensed trouble, opened his eyes, swept a calm glance over the group, and sat up coolly.

The lead officer produced an arrest warrant and waved it before Mu You, declaring loudly, “You are under arrest for suspected terrorist actions leading to mass casualties. You can explain yourself later.”

A nurse swiftly detached the monitoring equipment from Mu You. Before the officer even finished, two burly auxiliaries seized him and pinned him to the bed without a word.

Mu You was utterly bewildered.

“Wait! I haven’t done anything—I was nearly killed too! They even tried to harvest my organs! You’ve got the wrong person!” Mu You struggled, his protests overlapping in desperation. The only reply was the cold snap of handcuffs.

“Take him to the interrogation room. The suspect is clearly delirious. He can speak there. Move out!” barked the officer. The auxiliaries dragged him off the bed. Mu You resisted fiercely, shouting, “I’m not even of age! On what grounds are you arresting me? You have no evidence! You can’t just skip detention and throw me straight into interrogation—that’s illegal!”

“Evidence?” The middle-aged policeman sneered. “We’ll have it soon enough. Resist again and we’ll charge you with resisting arrest. Move!”

With that, he jabbed Mu You harshly in the stomach. Doubling over, Mu You retched a mouthful of sour bile, pain wracking his body with spasms.

“Some need a taste of hardship to learn obedience.” The officer adjusted his belt, nodded at the nurse, and hauled Mu You out of the hospital.

By then, the rain had grown heavier and bitingly cold, lashing Mu You’s body and clearing his mind.

A crowd had gathered outside the hospital, blocking the way to the police car. Flashbulbs popped incessantly as reporters surged forward, seeing Mu You being led out in handcuffs.

“Officer, can you tell us the cause of the incident?”

“Young patient, why are you under arrest?”

“This suspect is the sole survivor of the ‘Beiran Massacre.’ Is there any connection between that and this explosion? Officer, can you comment—”

Questions rained down upon Mu You, a relentless barrage. His mind spun, and he dared not meet anyone’s gaze, hanging his head. The officers behind him, however, seemed to revel in the attention.

The middle-aged officer puffed out his belly, cleared his throat, and deliberately raised his voice, “This is the culprit behind both terror attacks—Mu You, a second-year student at Beiran Middle School. Orphaned from a young age, he deeply resented his more fortunate classmates and developed severe psychological issues. This was his way of exacting revenge on society. As for the violent organization supplying him with equipment, the investigation is ongoing. We cannot disclose further details at this time.”

The crowd erupted in chaos. Even the reporters could scarcely believe that a sixteen-year-old boy could commit such heinous acts.

Cameras flashed more furiously than ever. The officer grabbed Mu You’s head, forcing him to face the crowd.

At that moment, Mu You’s heart collapsed utterly.

“It’s not true... They’re just pinning these crimes on me for convenience! I’m just a kid—I could never have the resources to do all this! This hospital is hell on earth—they illegally cloned people and trafficked organs! I’m a victim. See for yourselves!”

He tore open his shirt to reveal his chest.

His stomach was firm and well-defined, not a trace of surgical scars.

“How could this be…” Mu You’s pupils dilated in disbelief. His last piece of evidence had vanished inexplicably, leaving him at the mercy of his accusers.

It was still early, with only a handful of bystanders—mostly bereaved relatives of the dead—wailing and begging to see their loved ones one last time. Spotting Mu You, they seemed to find a target for their grief and rage.

“You monster! Give me back my daughter!”

Unable to accept reality, one person punched Mu You to the ground, knocking him into a muddy puddle. Fists followed in a torrent. Mu You shielded his head, letting the blows and curses rain down, his heart growing ever colder.

This society, this world, was utterly rotten.

“Stop hitting my brother! Leave him alone!” The youthful voice, furious, began to shift in tone, but Mu You stopped it at once.

Her powers were too terrible—he couldn’t let this place become a living hell.

“That’s enough! Don’t interfere with police work. The department will give everyone a satisfactory answer!” declared the officer once Mu You had been beaten enough. He pushed through the frenzied crowd, kicked Mu You to check if he was still alive, then dragged him into the police car.

The engine grumbled as the car spun around and disappeared into the curtain of rain, leaving behind a crowd panting with rage.

Some among them seemed wary of Mu You, binding him tightly and tossing him into the trunk. Lying on the cold metal floor, his hospital gown soaked and clinging uncomfortably, Mu You noted how quickly the pain faded—his body’s regenerative abilities, courtesy of the Meridian Soul-Reaping Worm, were extraordinary.

“Brother Mu You, what now?” the young voice whispered.

“We play along. No risk, no reward. They have no evidence—I don’t believe they’ll just shoot me! Damn, these people are vicious—no wonder they’re grieving,” Mu You muttered, then paused. What was he thinking? For a moment, he’d felt a flicker of murderous intent deep within.

What was happening to him?

Midway, the fat officer in the passenger seat took a call, his tone suddenly subservient. He hung up, barked an order, and the car turned toward the courthouse.

“Give it up, kid. We’ve got what we need. Just take the fall for us—stop struggling…” the fat officer said, glancing back with a sinister grin at Mu You, who still feigned sleep.