Chapter 59: Shi Chengjin Pays a Visit

Even though Chang Yu was cursing up a storm in his heart, the words that came out of his mouth were exceptionally agreeable.

“Haha, Brother Shi, you could see right through me?” Chang Yu managed to squeeze out a smile that, no matter how you looked at it, seemed forced. It was truly difficult for him.

“It’s just—when we brothers don’t see each other for a day, it feels like three autumns have passed! I haven’t seen you in a while, and there’s been this emptiness in my heart.”

“But now, seeing you again, my back doesn’t ache, my legs don’t hurt, and I feel energized when I talk!”

Chang Yu had no desire to grovel, but what choice did he have? The man in front of him could take out a Calamity with just a few punches.

He really couldn’t afford to offend him.

Shi Chengjin, hearing this, was even more delighted. “Even if you do see me, you don’t have to get so emotional. Look at you, you’re about to cry.”

“We’re like family. There’s no need to be so formal. If you ever miss me, just give me a call—I’ll always be there.”

“Um... Brother Shi,” Chang Yu said, wiping away tears he couldn’t control, “could we open the window for a bit?”

He didn’t really want to interrupt Shi Chengjin—after all, the man was in such a good mood—but he couldn’t take it anymore...

“What’s the matter?” Shi Chengjin frowned. “You think I smell bad?”

“Of course not!” Chang Yu forced a laugh. “Don’t get the wrong idea, it’s just that the disinfectant in here is making it hard to breathe.”

Shi Chengjin didn’t suspect anything and turned to open the window.

“Whew—”

Chang Yu gulped down the fresh air pouring in from outside like a parched fish rediscovering water, a starving traveler finding food again, or a lost soul in the desert stumbling upon an oasis.

“To think I barely escaped death at the hands of a Calamity, only to almost suffocate in the hospital!” he muttered under his breath.

“What are you mumbling about?” Shi Chengjin asked.

“It’s nothing, nothing.” Chang Yu hurriedly replied. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“What happened after you killed that Calamity the other day? I remember as soon as you threw me onto the tricycle, I passed out from blood loss. After that, I don’t remember a thing—when I woke up, I was already in the hospital.”

Shi Chengjin absentmindedly picked his nose, entirely unconcerned. “We called the logistics team to handle the aftermath. That’s standard procedure. Our people deal with the Calamities, and their people clean up after us. We can’t just leave the place a mess, can we?”

“Aftermath?” Chang Yu’s interest was piqued. “How do they handle the aftermath?”

“Nothing special,” Shi Chengjin replied. “They clean up the blood and bullet holes at the scene, and check if any witnesses are nearby.”

“You all made quite a commotion that day—someone was bound to notice. If no one cleaned up, it’d cause trouble sooner or later.”

Chang Yu nodded, agreeing with Shi Chengjin’s logic. They really had made quite a racket that day. Katya’s small pistol was quiet enough, but Feng Sanpao’s air cannon blast was loud enough for half the neighborhood to hear.

It was hard to believe none of the neighbors looked over to see what was going on.

“Don’t worry. The logistics team arrives at the alley as soon as possible, brings enough people to seal off and clean the scene, then goes door to door with the residents, fabricating a plausible story for what happened.”

“Like a gas line explosion or road construction—anything to cover up the truth and keep everyone calm.”

“If someone happened to glimpse the fight with the Calamity, the logistics team would have a little chat with them.”

“Talk about life, their dreams, and have them sign a stack of confidentiality agreements—they’ll never dare spill a word,” Shi Chengjin added with a chuckle.

“Sounds impressive,” Chang Yu remarked, genuinely impressed. “The logistics team’s job isn’t easy.”

He meant what he said. Without the logistics team, it wouldn’t be so easy to complete their Calamity-clearing missions.

“There’s one thing I really want to know,” he said. “What happened to the Calamity’s corpse?”

“I remember we left it behind. Was it really okay to just leave it there? Even if the logistics team rushed over, it would take some time, right? What if a local resident stumbled on it? Wouldn’t that cause panic?”

“Huh? You mean you didn’t know?” A look of surprise crossed Shi Chengjin’s gorilla-like face. “Looks like Katya never told you—Calamity corpses disappear within five seconds. The process is a bit like evaporation.”

“Their bodies dissolve into wisps of black smoke and vanish into the air, leaving not a trace behind. So what you’re worried about basically never happens.”

“The corpse just naturally vanishes? How is that possible?” Chang Yu was truly shocked by this revelation.

He’d grappled with a Calamity himself. Its body was as tough as reinforced concrete, solid and tangible—how could it just evaporate like a gas?

“Plenty of people have tried to figure out why Calamity corpses disappear,” Shi Chengjin said with a shrug, his tone ambiguous. “But no one’s succeeded. Nobody knows why; it’s an unsolved mystery.”

Calamities, Katya had mentioned, were born from all kinds of negative human emotions—resentment, anxiety, tension, anger, sadness, suffering, and so on.

Life is never smooth sailing; there’s always some hardship to wear you down. As long as you’re alive, you can’t avoid being battered by the world.

That’s just the inevitable reality for everyone.

So, under such circumstances, negative emotions accumulate naturally.

And so, the birth of Calamities is inevitable. As long as humans generate negative emotions, Calamities will never disappear.

“I’m not like those who overthink everything—I’m not one to dig down to the roots of every problem,” Shi Chengjin told Chang Yu. “I don’t care how Calamities are born, or how their corpses vanish. All I know is, whenever I encounter one, I destroy it—every last one.”

“I’m not boasting, but below C-class, there aren’t many Calamities that can take me on. Fighting them is like disciplining unruly sons.”

As he spoke, an aura of dominance radiated from Shi Chengjin—sharp and unrestrained, like a blade drawn from its sheath.

Chang Yu, hearing this, couldn’t help but feel a surge of respect.

Although he never liked this ugly brute because of his terrible foot odor, he had to admit—Shi Chengjin was as strong as he was arrogant.

Take their last encounter, for example.

The three of them—Chang Yu, Katya, and Feng Sanpao—together couldn’t defeat Big Orange, the Calamity. Yet in Shi Chengjin’s hands, it didn’t last three rounds.

Even though Shi Chengjin claimed he was just C-class, the gap between himself and others of the same rank was astronomical.

It might be hard to admit, but the truth was, the man Chang Yu had always looked down on not only defeated the Calamity but also saved his life.

“Thank you for what you did last time,” Chang Yu said solemnly, pursing his lips. “You saved my life.”

“Lucky I got there in time, or you’d all be dead,” Shi Chengjin said bluntly, not the least bit modest as he accepted the thanks. “Our relationship with Calamities is fundamentally antagonistic—when we fight them, only one side survives. Either we win and live, or we lose and die. There are no exceptions.”

“If you’d gotten there a bit sooner, we wouldn’t have been in such a mess,” Chang Yu grumbled, unable to let it go. “When things were at their worst, you still rode an electric tricycle to us. Didn’t you think that was slow? I sure did!”

“You think I wasn’t in a hurry?” Shi Chengjin’s temper flared as he recounted the story. “When you called me, I was outside and my logistics man wasn’t with me. I called him, but there was no way he’d get there in time.”

“I had no choice but to call a cab. I tried to hail five different ones, but before I could even get in, all the drivers started rolling their eyes—some foamed at the mouth, some had convulsions, some just passed out. Not a single one could drive.”

Chang Yu couldn’t help but laugh at that.

He thought to himself, you really can’t blame the drivers. With feet that foul, anyone would suffer—foaming at the mouth or convulsing is perfectly natural.

“In the end, all five cars blocked the main road. I realized I’d never reach you like that. Just then, a guy rode by on an electric tricycle. I had a bright idea—I’d just commandeer his vehicle.”

“But before I could say a word, the guy threw up everywhere—almost all over me!”

“It took him ages to recover, and when he did, he started cursing me out. I was so mad!”

“What did he call you?” Chang Yu asked, curious.

“He said my feet stank like crap, as if I’d fallen into a cesspit.” Shi Chengjin shuddered, clearly still upset.

“So I gave him a beating, took his tricycle, and rushed over to you guys.”

“Damn, that’s intense!” Chang Yu smacked his lips.

Shi Chengjin, righteous and indignant, declared, “After that, I figured this society is just full of snobs. So what if my feet stink? I didn’t bother him, so why curse me? Is having smelly feet a crime?”

“Did I eat his rice, wear his clothes, cut off his electricity, or block his water?”

“No need to get worked up,” Chang Yu quickly tried to smooth things over. “It’s not worth arguing over something so trivial.”

Just then, the ward door was suddenly flung open and Feng Sanpao burst in, all bluster and excitement.

“What’s going on?” Chang Yu was startled by the commotion, thinking for a moment that some enemy had come to settle a score.

“I’ve got fantastic news! I came running back to tell you right away!”

He was clearly out of breath from running, panting heavily as soon as he entered the room. After just a few breaths, he gagged on the overwhelming stench of feet, retched for a while, and bent over, dry heaving for a good long time—making even Chang Yu feel uncomfortable watching.

To boldly gulp air in front of Shi Chengjin—brother, you’re truly something.