chapter 1 Witnessing oneself being cremated

"Sorry, we have tried our best. Let's prepare for the aftermath."
The doctor's voice outside the hospital room was soft, but Baqir Lawson, lying on the bed, heard it loud and clear.
Perhaps a person's hearing becomes especially sensitive before death, especially the sound of a mother's crying, which is particularly shrill.
For risking his life for a good deed, Baqir was not the first, and he did not regret it. He only felt sorry for his mother.
His father died early, and his mother raised him by herself through many hardships. Now, having been admitted to Hospital of Queanmond City with excellent grades, his and his mother's lives were just beginning to brighten. However, an unexpected incident occurred.
"Damn it."
No good deed goes unpunished. Baqir cursed softly, his eyelids no longer able to stay open, and slowly closed.
"My son!"
A piercing cry of agony suddenly woke Baqir. When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing at the foot of the bed, while his mother was lying on the bed, sobbing bitterly.
"Mom, why are you crying? I am right here, aren't I?"
Baqir was overjoyed, thinking he had miraculously recovered. He reached out to pat his mother, only to find his hand passing through her body.
His mother showed no reaction and continued to cry on the bed.
Baqir's expression changed. He looked up and saw himself still lying on the bed, his complexion dry and turning blue, obviously lifeless.
Am I dead?
Baqir looked down at himself standing at the foot of the bed and found his body somewhat ethereal and slightly transparent.
Baqir was shocked, realizing that after death, there really are souls!
No matter what he said or did, his mother could not sense him.
With the nurse's help, his mother, in agony, dressed Baqir in funeral clothes, and then the staff transported his body to the hearse.
His mother followed, sitting beside his body, tightly clutching his hand, tears streaming from her swollen eyes, "Baqir, you can go in peace. Once I've finished handling things here, I will join you soon."
For her, her son was everything. With his death, her life had no meaning anymore.
Hearing his mother thinking of ending her own life, Baqir immediately panicked. He tried lying on his body, imitating scenes of resurrection from movies, but to no avail. Each time he sat up, only his soul rose.
The car soon arrived at the crematorium. After paying the fee, the staff applied makeup on Baqir, handed his mother a numbered card, and then pushed his body to the cremation hall.
"No!"
As the staff pushed his body into the crematorium, Baqir collapsed in despair.
As his physical body burned, Baqir felt his consciousness weakening, with numerous faint light points scattering from his body, and his soul gradually fading.
At the same time, another world started flashing before his eyes. All he could see was endless darkness, mixed with bright red flames and wailing screams.
Hell!
This was the first thought that flashed through Baqir's mind. A powerful sense of fear instantly engulfed him.
His soul instinctively dashed about in the air, with light points continuously drifting from his soul, the rate increasing.
The vision of hell in his eyes became vivid, and he could hear a mysterious, hoarse voice calling out to him from below.
By then, Baqir's body in the crematorium was almost completely burned, and a piece of jade pendant in the ashes suddenly emitted a dazzling light amidst the fierce flames.
This was a pendant left to him by his grandfather, which he had worn since childhood. When dressing him in funeral clothes, his mother had deliberately not removed it.
The pendant's light grew more intense and then burst with a bang. A wisp of green light shot out from the pendant and attached itself to Baqir's soul.
Then an old voice echoed in his mind, "I am your ancestor, a saint. From today onwards, you are my successor. You have inherited my medical techniques. Heal the world, save others and yourself..."
After the voice faded, a massive amount of information suddenly filled Baqir's mind, medical mysteries, cultivation techniques, and experiences from his ancestors' journeys.
Reading the information in his mind, Baqir felt extremely excited, as if he had opened the door to a new world.
But this excitement was fleeting. What use was inheriting these secrets if he was already a dead man about to descend into hell?
This thought crossed his mind, and suddenly a memory about the Resurrection Technique popped up in his mind.
The memory showed that with the Resurrection Technique, those whose souls had not dispersed after death could reincarnate by attaching to a living body.
However, Baqir's physical body had already turned to ashes in the fire. Fortunately, there was a record of a resurrection method for damaged physical bodies, "With the physical body destroyed, turn into a ghost, seek a living body, and then attach to it."
Baqir gasped. This meant that since his physical body was destroyed, to be revived, he had to turn into a ghost through the Resurrection Technique and find someone else's body to inhabit.
In human consciousness, ghosts are embodiments of evil. Moreover, if he inhabited someone else's body, wouldn't that be tantamount to depriving them of their life?
Hesitating for a moment, Baqir's soul became increasingly faint, almost completely disappearing, with the voice in his ear growing clearer.
Baqir gritted his teeth, seeing the bodies continuously pushed into the crematorium, he suddenly had an idea. If the dead wouldn't work, perhaps the living dead would work?
Minutes later, Baqir arrived at Queanmond City's largest vegetative patient care centre.
Many vegetative patients have no consciousness and will never wake up. They are alive only in body. Baqir thought that choosing such a person to inhabit wouldn't be the same as killing.
At first, Baqir searched from room to room for a suitable body.
But as his consciousness faded and was about to completely vanish, and the call from hell became more urgent.
He could no longer afford to think. Spotting a vegetative male in his twenties, he recited the Resurrection Technique and turned into a wisp of white smoke, desperately entering the body.
"You can't escape!"
At the same time, the calling voice in his ear suddenly turned into a piercing scream, and then Baqir lost all consciousness.
When Baqir woke up again, he felt the glare of bright light and took a moment to adjust. Looking down, he found himself lying in a hospital room.
He had succeeded!
Baqir was so excited he almost shouted. He sat up abruptly, looked at his new body, eagerly tore off the needle from his hand, and then jumped off the bed. However, as soon as his feet touched the ground, he stumbled and fell.
It was possibly due to muscle atrophy from lying down for a long time.
Baqir staggered to his feet, looked at the calendar on the wall, and realized it was the next day. Touching the bed and the wall, feeling the cold temperature from his hand, it felt like a dream. He had died yesterday and now he had come back to life.
After moving around a bit and getting used to his new body, he rushed out of the hospital. There was only one thing on his mind, to see his mother.
At this time, the bun shop was crowded with people, and about a dozen hoodlums were clamouring for Baqir's mother to repay the money.
To perform surgery on Baqir, his mother was forced to borrow over a hundred thousand in high-interest loans. Upon hearing of Baqir's death, the hoodlums hurriedly came to collect the debt.
"Don't worry, I'm going to sell the shop in a few days and repay you as soon as I get the money. Please leave for now."
Baqir's mother pleaded with swollen eyes, hoping to send them away quickly. Her son had just passed away, and she didn't want his departure to be troubled.
"Damn, how much is your lousy shop even worth? Your son is dead. If we leave, and you run away, who are we supposed to get the money from?" the lead hoodlum with dyed yellow hair cursed.
"Don't worry, I definitely won't run away. As soon as I gather enough money, I'll repay you immediately."
"No way, today we must get the money no matter what!" Mr. Hudson was relentless.
"But I really don't have any money right now. You all know, I spent it all on my son's treatment..."
Baqir's mother's heart ached, her hoarse voice carrying a hint of pleading.
"No money is fine. How about this? Transfer your old house to us as debt repayment," Mr. Hudson, with a crafty glint in his eye, revealed his true intention.
Baqir's mother was slightly startled. The house was left by Baqir's grandfather. Despite its age, it was in a good location. With Queanmond City's current housing prices, it could sell for at least two to three million. Their demand was outright robbery.
But now that her son was gone, and the home was lost, what was the point of keeping the house? Clearing the debt would allow her to rest in peace.
Thinking this, Baqir's mother, feeling utterly despondent, nodded her head, just about to agree, when suddenly a loud shout came from outside.
"No way! Our house is worth several millions. This is robbery!"
Then, Baqir, in his new body, rushed in fiercely.
"Damn it, where did this brat come from? This is none of your business!" Mr. Hudson, thinking Baqir was just some nutcase in a patient's uniform, swung a slap at him.
Baqir instinctively dodged and pushed, sending the hoodlum flying a distance of five or six meters. The hoodlum traced an arc in the air before crashing onto a table inside.
"Kill him!"
Mr. Hudson, clutching his chest, screamed in pain, and then ordered his men to attack. The other hoodlums immediately rushed towards Baqir, punching and kicking, but Baqir swiftly fought back.
Cries of agony echoed through bun shop as the hoodlums wailed in pain.
All of them attacked together, yet not even touching Baqir's clothes. Baqir's punches and kicks felt like being hit by a car to them.
With just one punch, they writhed in pain, unable to get up.
Baqir himself was also shocked. It was said that possessed spirits had immense strength, and it seemed to be true. Moreover, the movements of these people seemed very slow in his eyes, making them easy to dodge.
"Call the police! Call the police!"
Mr. Hudson was terrified by the scene before him. He had seen tough fighters, but never someone like Baqir, almost inhuman.
Hearing the call for police, Baqir's mother hurriedly grabbed Baqir's hand, urgently saying, "Young man, they are calling the police, you should go quickly. I'll handle this."
"Mom, what are you saying? How can I leave you here?"
Baqir's eyes teared up with joy, thrilled to be alive and see his mother again.
Hearing his address, his mother was slightly startled, looking at him confusedly.
Realizing the look in his mother's eyes, Baqir suddenly understood. He had come back to life, but in a different body, and his mother did not recognize him.
"Sorry, auntie, seeing you reminded me of my mom, so I couldn't help but blurt that out. Please don't mind."
Baqir, fearing his true identity would frighten his mother, quickly made up a story.
"It's okay, young man, please go quickly. I can't let you get involved in our family's problems." Baqir's mother said, pushing him towards the door.
Baqir didn't respond, instead, he grabbed a chopstick from the table and threw it. The chopstick shot towards Mr. Hudson at high speed, pinning his phone, which he was using to dial 110, to the wall.
Mr. Hudson turned pale with fright. The chopstick on the wall was just a centimetre from his ear. A slight deviation, and it would have been his head pinned to the wall.
"Help! Murder! Help!" Mr. Hudson screamed in fear, his voice filled with indescribable grievance. It was they who owed him money first.
"Stop yelling. I will repay this debt for Aunt Queen!"
Baqir said coldly, deciding to repay the debt since he had come back to life.
"Young man, how can this be? We've just met, how can I let you repay this debt for me?" Baqir's mother looked at him somewhat perplexedly, feeling a sense of familiarity with this young man.
As for Baqir knowing her surname, she wasn't surprised. Many netizens knew about her son's heroic sacrifice, and her name and contact information were also exposed. Many kind-hearted people wanted to attend her son's funeral, but she had declined them all.
"Alright, since you said so, then give us the money," Mr. Hudson didn't care why Baqir was repaying someone else's debt. As long as he got the money, his task would be completed.
"Give me three days," Baqir said.
"..." Mr. Hudson was somewhat speechless, thinking Baqir was bluffing and expecting him to produce the money immediately.
"Why? Don't you believe me?"
Seeing Mr. Hudson's silence, Baqir frowned, his tone growing somewhat colder.
"I believe, I believe, but, big brother, you should at least tell me your name, right?" Seeing Baqir's cold gaze, Mr. Hudson shivered.
Name?
Indeed, he left in hustle this morning, and he didn't even have the chance to catch a glimpse of this person's name.
"Rest assured, I'll keep my promise. In three days, at this exact location, come over and I'll repay you the principal with interest."
Baqir was confident, thanks to his new body.
He thought, since he could live in a foster care center, this young man's family, even if ordinary, they should still be able to muster ten or twenty thousand. He would borrow that first and repay it after earning money.
Having witnessed Baqir's capabilities, Mr. Hudson didn't dare to say much more. Just as he was about to nod in agreement, his gaze suddenly froze, staring outside the shop as if attracted by something.
Baqir also curiously looked outside and saw a red BMW X5 parked at the door. A woman with long, slender, fair legs stepped out of the car, followed by a tall, beautiful woman in a white Bohemian long dress.
The long-dress beauty brushed her black hair and took off her sunglasses, revealing a fair complexion and delicate features that were breathtaking. Mr. Hudson and his men were all stunned.
Baqir was also attracted. The beauty's appearance and temperament were indeed exceptional.
The long-dress beauty glanced at the bun shop and slightly frowned, then quickly walked inside.
"Beauty, want to buy steamed buns? What filling would you like?"
Baqir blurted out without thinking, having helped his mother sell buns in the past. It had become a conditioned reflex.
"What did you call me?" The long-dress beauty gave him a cold glance, her tone displeased.
"Beauty."
Baqir thought his address was fine and was somewhat puzzled. It was his first time seeing someone who didn't like being called beautiful.
The long-dress beauty sized him up and coldly said, "Alright, Laszlo Harris, after being in a coma for two months, you don't even recognize your own wife."