Chapter 003 The Homeroom Teacher

Meat Grinder?

The situation spiraled into something far more terrifying than I had ever anticipated.

The table in the center of the kitchen was no ordinary workbench. Beneath it, a transmission rod was installed, linked to the fan overhead—so that as the fan spun, the table itself was gradually pushed forward. With every passing moment, the head teacher, bound to the table, was inexorably delivered toward the fan blades. What had seemed like a mundane exhaust system was, in truth, a genuine human meat grinder.

The iron wind spun by the fan lashed against my face, whipping the teacher’s hair into wild disarray. As a mechanical design instructor, he instantly grasped the workings of this trap: the fan would rotate, the table would advance, and Du Jiang’s intention was to chop him into mincemeat.

“Oh my god, he’s lost his mind! Du Jiang has truly gone insane… Zheng Yan… find a way to save me! Saw through these chains! Hurry, hurry, there’s no time!”

I was petrified by the scene before me, but my mind remained clear. I remembered there was a bow saw in the auto shop—perhaps I could use it to cut the iron chains binding Mr. Cao.

I dashed to the auto shop at the fastest speed, found the rusted bow saw, and hurried back. By the time I returned, the workbench had already crept forward; only half a meter separated the head teacher’s feet from the blades. Despite his frantic struggles, the five iron chains held him utterly immobile, leaving him to sob and beg for my help.

Ignoring his pleas, I set to work with the saw. But after only a couple of strokes, I realized something was wrong—the chains were wrought iron.

There’s a difference between cast iron and wrought iron. Wrought iron, having been heat-treated, is vastly harder and denser. A common saw could never cut through it; only an oxyacetylene torch could do the job—but where was I to find one now?

“Mr. Cao, these chains are wrought iron…”

“What?” he cried, sweat pouring from his brow. “Zheng Yan, is there any other way? Please, think of something!”

The sharp clang of the spinning blades echoed through the air, reminding me of something crucial.

At first, we’d focused on the iron chains binding Mr. Cao, instinctively searching for a weak point there. But in fact, the means to stop this machine was simple. No matter how horrific the meat grinder, it could not function without one thing: power.

The fan and transmission rod required electricity. If I could just find the power supply and cut it, the killing machine would stop, ending the head teacher’s torment.

I threw the saw aside and grabbed my flashlight, searching for the power source. But after a frantic inspection, despair washed over me. Though I was at the top of the design class, I’d underestimated Du Jiang’s meticulousness—this design was utterly deranged.

The power lines were encased in solid, fireproof, waterproof steel conduits, all hidden in the walls. There was simply no way to cut them in time.

“Zheng Yan, Zheng Yan! It’s almost here! It’s almost on me! Zheng Yan!”

*

The head teacher’s urgent cries shook me as the fan blades crept closer. At this rate, he’d be in mortal peril in two minutes.

I was even more panicked than he was. This was my first encounter with a true killing device, and everything here had been set up in advance by Du Jiang. Every solution I could conceive, Du Jiang had already anticipated and thwarted. Still, I tried to calm the head teacher, urging him not to panic.

But as death drew near, Mr. Cao’s composure crumbled. “Du Jiang! Enough! You’ve had your fun! Stop this now! Someone will die if you don’t!”

But the machine ground on, the blades whirring, the table creeping forward, the edge now brushing his feet. At that desperate moment, he screamed:

“I was wrong! I was wrong!”

“I admit it, Du Jiang! I was greedy and selfish! The compensation back then was fifty thousand, and I stole twenty thousand from you! I covered up Yang Zhihong and the others’ crimes—that was my fault! Please forgive me! I’ll pay you back, every cent with interest! I’ll give you fifty thousand—no, a hundred thousand! Just stop this thing!”

Clack!

The gears abruptly stopped; the transmission rod fell silent. As Mr. Cao uttered those words, the killing machine ceased, the soles of his shoes nearly touching the spinning blades.

Was it over? Was this the outcome Du Jiang wanted?

Just as I thought the ordeal had ended, the red signal light on the smoke detector flashed twice. Then, a hoarse male voice rang out:

“Cao Baoyang, even at death’s door you show no remorse. You took blood money and concealed the most brutal of crimes. What about the four lives lost that year? Forty thousand for four lives—that’s your price, and your sin. A man like you deserves not to be a teacher; the eighteenth level of hell awaits you. Cao Baoyang, wish you luck.”

With a snap, the fan whirred to life again. There was a sharp metallic sound—the blade came down mercilessly…

I had not expected this sudden reversal. Mr. Cao’s body stiffened, his legs instinctively recoiling.

“My feet! My feet! Help! Zheng Yan, save me!”

His face twisted with agony, his fingers dug into my sleeve, and he screamed like a man being slaughtered.

I was stunned, my vision drenched in red. Forcing myself to stay calm, I reminded myself: this machine was designed by a human being. As long as it was man-made, there must be a solution. The machine is dead; people are alive. The living should not be defeated by the inanimate.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. In a daze, I caught sight of something: the bow saw I’d brought from the auto shop. On its handle, a palm-sized, rusty gear was attached.

*

A gear!

As a mechanical design student, I could tell at a glance that the gear had a diameter of twenty-five millimeters—exactly the same as the transmission rod under the table.

If the gear matched the transmission rod, I could jam it and stop the table’s advance—thus disabling the killing machine. So this was the solution!

I ripped off the small gear and, as fast as I could, wedged it into the bearing. The fit was perfect, the gear locking the rod in place. The table stopped moving.

But when I turned around, I saw Mr. Cao convulsing on the table, lying in a pool of blood.

“Zheng Yan…”

There was still a flicker of will to live in his eyes, but his voice was as faint as a whispering ant. He seemed to have something to say.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cao. I was too late…”

“Zheng Yan… I may not make it… Please, help me pass a message to my wife and child—especially my child. Tell them… don’t be greedy. Don’t act against your conscience. Live cleanly, be upright. Never reach for what isn’t yours, for retribution will come… will come…”

“And one more thing… about your father… I wronged him. If not for me, perhaps your father wouldn’t have died… I’m sorry…”

My father?

I seized his hand, a realization dawning. Mr. Cao must have known the secret about my father. “What happened to my dad? Mr. Cao, what happened to him?”

He opened his mouth, but no sound came. With regret clouding his eyes, he finally closed them forever.

*

I stood in the blood-soaked kitchen for a long while before finally rising to my feet. Only now did I truly grasp the meaning of the ancient ten tortures. The monstrous machine had devoured Mr. Cao’s lower body and exposed the secrets he’d carried to his grave. This was Du Jiang’s punishment for him: he died for his greed.

Greed was Cao Baoyang’s nature, but in the end, the four lives lost were the real price that sent him to his doom. So what next? What fate awaited the classmates who remained?