Dual Transmigration: American Prison, Surviving to a Fantasy Development Stage

Yuan Chun asked with some doubt, "Master, are they all buried in the cemetery?"

Jiang Hu shook his head, his expression complicated: "No, bury them on the Tian family's own ancestral cemetery."

"The Tian family martial arts school is so rich, why do we need to collect their corpses?" one disciple muttered.

Jiang Hu glared at the disciple and explained, "The charity hall is responsible for funerals in the city, which is one of the reasons why the Black Tiger Martial Arts School is able to survive."

Moreover…

He changed the subject, a rare hint of joy flashing in his eyes: "The city lord promises that the Tian family martial arts school's residence, land deeds, and the medicinal herb and animal hide trading market controlled by the Tian family martial arts school will all belong to the Black Tiger Martial Arts School."

As payment for his efforts in suppressing the bandits and handling the aftermath.

Upon hearing this, the disciples' spirits immediately lifted.

The Tian Family Martial Arts School's residence is located on the most bustling East Street in Yongguan County. It covers a vast area and is a large mansion with four courtyards, east and west wings, and gardens.

With its carved beams and painted rafters, it was many times more luxurious and grand than the Black Tiger Martial Arts School, which was located in a relatively remote area.

If they can acquire it, the Black Tiger Martial Arts School's reputation and strength will greatly increase.

They also have face to save.

Moreover, the medicinal herb and animal hide trading markets controlled by the Tian family martial arts school are incredibly lucrative.

Black Tiger Martial Arts School has been struggling to make ends meet by collecting corpses of criminals for free for many years.

Everyone was instantly overwhelmed by the enormous profits.

Everyone's face lit up with joy.

Lin Feng, however, remained expressionless, showing no optimism towards them whatsoever. He thought it was uncertain whether they would even return alive from Fuhu Mountain.

This city lord is quite shrewd at making empty promises.

Jiang Hu clapped his hands. "Alright, enough chit-chat."

"Yuan Chun, this is the token given by the city lord. You must immediately gather all the disciples of the martial arts school, take the necessary tools, and go to the Tian family martial arts school to collect the body and clean up the scene. This is the top priority right now."

"Yes, Master." Yuan Chun accepted the token, feeling very happy, since the Tian Family Martial Arts School would now belong to the Black Tiger Martial Arts School.

Watching his disciples' excited backs, Jiang Hu couldn't help but sigh.

Now that things have come to this, it's beyond his control.

Soon, the entire Black Tiger Martial Arts School came out, and dozens of disciples, led by Yuan Chun, headed towards the Tian Family Martial Arts School.

Pedestrians on the street glanced at them and whispered about the tragic massacre of the Tian family.

His eyes were filled with awe, curiosity, and worry about the impending bandit suppression.

When they arrived at the imposing gate of the Tian Family Martial Arts School, two expressionless city guards were already standing guard at the entrance.

Seeing the token in Yuan Chun's hand, the two guards slowly pushed open the heavy gate.

The first thing that catches the eye is the forty-five corpses neatly arranged in the wide bluestone square in the front yard.

The orderly arrangement creates a silent yet powerful visual impact, making one's heart tighten.

The disciples of the Black Tiger Martial Arts School, including the few who had previously boasted that they were not afraid of death, all subconsciously held their breath and swallowed hard when they saw this scene.

The slight murmurs that had been lingering on the road have now completely vanished, leaving only suppressed breathing and footsteps.

Yuan Chun walked forward with a solemn expression, and when he saw the wounds on the corpse, he couldn't help but gasp.

Forty-five corpses, regardless of age or gender, all had the same fatal wound.

On the left side of the neck, about an inch below the Adam's apple, there is an extremely fine but deep sword scar that reveals the bone.

The wound edges were neat and narrow, like a willow leaf.

It is clear that the carotid artery and trachea were pierced instantly by the extremely fast and sharp sword tip, resulting in rapid blood loss and suffocation.

Yuan Chun squatted beside a corpse, measuring the fatal wound on the body with his fingers.

They took measurements on a different corpse, and instantly felt a chill run up their spine to the top of their head, their scalp tingling.

These forty-five wounds, in terms of both length and even the location of the incision, were almost perfectly aligned, as if they had been measured with the finest ruler and then precisely inserted.

After a long while, he slowly opened his mouth, his voice hoarse.

"It's terrifying, all the wounds are exactly the same."

This person's mastery of force and understanding of human anatomy has reached an unparalleled level.

That's inhuman.

The Black Tiger Martial Arts School disciples present were all frozen in place, their eyes wide as they stared intently at the wounds on the corpse, their hearts filled with turmoil.

This is completely beyond their understanding of force.

They practice diligently every day, pursuing nothing more than greater strength, more powerful moves, and stronger bones and muscles.

But the scene before them told them that what was truly terrifying was not absolute power, but the terrifying control over that power.

The depth, angle, and force of the wounds were all precisely controlled, like the most accurate instruments, turning the killing into an almost cold-blooded art.

What level of attainment does this require?

Internal Strength Realm?

Or is it the acquired realm, or something higher?

Thinking of this, a chill ran through me, mixed with an indescribable sense of awe and lingering fear.

Lin Feng's gaze also fell on the tiny wound, but his brows furrowed slightly.

The wound looks rather strange.

He remembered that the leader was a master swordsman.

But the wound before us, though extremely sharp and neat, had thinner and more elusive edges.

He calmly surveyed the entire scene, his gaze finally settling on the relatively well-dressed, burly middle-aged male corpse, which was none other than Tian Biao, the master of the Tian Family Martial Arts School.

Lin Feng coughed lightly, breaking the tense atmosphere, and reminded Yuan Chun, "Senior Brother Yuan Chun, it's getting late."

Shouldn't we at least bury these remains first?

Yuan Chun suddenly came to his senses and quickly nodded: "Yes, Junior Brother Lin is right."

"Don't just stand there, get to work! First, move these bodies onto the truck."

Lin Feng said no more, put on leather gloves, and joined the ranks of those moving the bodies.

With a large number of corpses to be transported outside the city, the martial arts school had already prepared eight oxcarts.

Each oxcart carried at least four corpses, covered with straw mats, which were then weighed down with stones.

Soon all eight oxcarts were piled up to the brim.

Due to the limited time, the charity could not gather enough coffins, so they could only cover them as tightly as possible with straw mats.

The group silently drove the oxcart slowly out of the city gate.

After leaving the city, the atmosphere was heavy and oppressive, and the sound of the turning axle broke the silence.

The Tian family ancestral graves are located on a small hill about two kilometers outside the city, in a relatively secluded location.

Upon arriving at the cemetery, we began digging the grave according to the instructions.

Most disciples work in groups of two or three, digging together.

Lin Feng was the only one on his side.

Perhaps because of his status as a person with connections, he was not well-liked, and no one took the initiative to partner with him.

Of course, Lin Feng was happy to do so. He picked up a shovel with a blank expression, chose a spot on the edge, and started digging silently by himself.

He was actually more pleased with the lack of help.

His men worked quickly and soon dug a deep pit.

Then, he turned and walked towards the oxcart, and finally personally pulled down the body of Tian Biao, the curator, and put it into the pit he had dug.

Then, soil was filled into the pit.

The soil and stones fell on the straw mat with a dull rustling sound.

As the soil gradually covered most of the corpse, Lin Feng deliberately left one arm exposed.

He turned slightly to the side, blocking the view of others not far away, and quickly took off his right glove.

In that instant, his right hand lightly brushed against the edge of the exposed straw mat.

The next second, the part of the straw mat that had been slightly raised and covering Tian Biao's arm seemed to have its support suddenly removed and collapsed silently.

The soil surface in the pit also visibly dropped a little.

Lin Feng remained expressionless, as if nothing had happened.

After putting his gloves back on, he swung the shovel much faster, quickly filling the pit with the remaining soil, tamping it down, and piling up a mound.

The whole process was smooth and skillful.

As for the other corpses, Lin Feng wasn't in a hurry and planned to come back again that night.

It's easy to be exposed when everyone is watching.