Qi-Blood Mid-Stage, Achieved!

Fang Mo's hands were trembling.

Not from fear.

From excitement. He knew it—the Heavenly Prison had not been a wasted trip!

The sensation made every pore on his Whole Body explode open, every nerve cheering in wild delight.

In his Previous Life, he had been nothing but a machinery guy. Turning, milling, planing, grinding, riveting, welding, clamping—what couldn't he dabble in? Now it had come in handy.

"Hey, brother."

Fang Mo turned his head, his face wearing the peculiar humility of a fresh new hire.

"If I happen to lose control and kill someone with this thing, that won't be too big a problem, right?"

The air inside the cell suddenly fell silent.

Old Huang's originally honest-looking old face froze. His eyes bulged round as if he were meeting this younger nephew for the first time.

Scarface, the Jailer, sucked in a sharp breath. He had spent so many years in Block C prison of the Heavenly Prison, and if the lives on his hands did not number a hundred, they numbered at least eighty. He had always considered himself ruthless and vicious.

But he had seen ruthless men before—never one this ferocious.

It had not even been a quarter of an hour since this bastard came in!

What was with that expression on the kid's face that screamed, I'm so excited, I want to get to work?

"Cough... Well..."

Old Huang gave a dry cough and quietly backed away two steps.

"Little Mo, as long as we can get the whereabouts of the Red Goods out of him, everything else can be discussed. Our Heavenly Prison may hold criminals, but after all..."

Before Old Huang could finish, Scarface cut him off.

"Yes, yes, yes! Old Huang, I just remembered—the lock by Cell Seventy-Two seems to be broken. Didn't you bring the keys? Come on, come on, let's go take a look."

As Scarface spoke, he grabbed Old Huang by the arm and dragged him outside, moving so urgently that it was as though a Man-eating Monster lurked inside the cell.

Old Huang eagerly went along with it, not even turning his head.

"Oh, look at my memory! Little Mo, you keep busy here for now. Your Uncle Liu and I will be back in a moment. If anything comes up, just shout!"

The two of them shot out of the cell as if their asses were on fire, taking three steps in two, and even thoughtfully pulled the heavy Iron Gate shut behind them.

Clang.

The Iron Gate closed with a dull, heavy sound.

From the corridor came the faint sound of their hushed conversation.

"Old Huang, is this really Old Fang's son? Old Fang's little tricks aren't even half as twisted as this kid!"

"I'm wondering the same thing... At first glance, this kid looked so obedient. How did he become like a man entering a brothel the moment he stepped into this cell... Those eyes of his gave me goosebumps..."

Their voices gradually faded away until they disappeared.

The cell fell completely quiet, leaving only the crackling of the torches burning on the walls and Fang Mo's somewhat heavy breathing.

Fang Mo turned around and looked at Iron Bone Liu, who was locked to the Cross Stake.

Iron Bone Liu had seen everything that had just happened.

He was an old hand at the game. He had spent half his life in this line of work—what kind of people had he not seen?

Some Jailers did it for money, some to vent their anger, and some simply to complete their assignments.

But the kid before him was different.

The way this kid looked at him was like an old whoremonger spotting a brothel girl—it made the back of Iron Bone Liu's body run cold!

Iron Bone Liu was afraid.

This kid was a madman!

If he did not talk, this kid really would take him apart alive!

"Don't... don't get rough..."

Iron Bone Liu swallowed a mouthful of bloody saliva. His voice was hoarse, and that air of facing death without flinching instantly crumbled.

"I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!"

"That batch of Red Goods is in that abandoned place in South City..."

Fang Mo was rubbing the bloodstains off the File against his clothes. Upon hearing that, his expression abruptly changed.

Not good!

This bastard was about to spill it!

If he told them, how was Fang Mo supposed to farm experience?

The rules of the Record of Punishing Crimes required sins to be settled. Once this man confessed, even if Fang Mo beat him afterward, it would only count as abusing a prisoner. Wouldn't the reward be slashed drastically?

"Shut up!"

Fang Mo growled, his movements swift as lightning.

He casually snatched a rust-covered Meteor Hammer from the nearby rack of Torture Instruments.

The thing was not large, only about the size of a fist, but it was covered in spikes and made one's teeth ache just looking at it.

Just as Iron Bone Liu opened his mouth to reveal the exact location.

"Mmph—!!!"

Fang Mo swung his arm in a full arc and forcibly shoved that Meteor Hammer straight into Iron Bone Liu's mouth!

It fit so perfectly, not a crack left between.

Iron Bone Liu's cheeks were instantly stretched as round as two steamed buns rising with dough. The sharp iron spikes pierced the inner walls of his Oral Cavity, and Fresh Blood streamed from the corners of his mouth as though it cost nothing.

His eyes widened. "Mmm, mmm" sounds came from his throat as he tried to spit the thing out, but the attached iron chain had him jammed tight. He could not move at all.

"Whew..."

Fang Mo let out a long breath and Patted his chest in lingering fear.

"You scared the hell out of me... You almost said it."

He wiped away the nonexistent Cold Sweat from his forehead, and that smile that made one feel as though they had fallen into an ice pit returned to his face.

"Tell me, why were you in such a hurry?"

"We've only just begun, and you already want to end it? You're showing far too little respect for my profession."

Holding the File, Fang Mo stepped closer, one step at a time.

He stopped before Iron Bone Liu, reached out a finger, and gently tidied the disheveled hair on his forehead, soaked through with Cold Sweat.