The Actor's Self-Cultivation

Fang Mo looked at the bloodstained waist token before him, his heart stirring slightly.

Punishment Department.

Gu Yichuan.

Why did that name sound familiar?

After a moment's recollection, Fang Mo found the corresponding information in the Record of Punishing Crimes within his mind.

Back when Iron Bone Liu was tried, the arrest record had stated clearly: [Apprehended and brought to justice by Gu Yichuan, Seventh Squad, Wannian County Hundred Households Office, White Tiger Hall, Punishment Department.]

Good heavens.

Was this the creditor coming to collect?

"So it's Lord Gu."

Fang Mo's expression grew even more respectful, even tinged with the excitement of meeting an idol.

"Your lordship's reputation thunders in This Humble One's ears. The tale of you single-handedly capturing Iron Bone Liu back in the day—my late father often spoke of it, calling you a model for our generation."

This flattery was neither too heavy nor too light, perfectly measured.

The gaze behind Gu Yichuan's mask softened slightly. Still cold, but no longer so piercing.

"Less talk."

"Lead the way."

Gu Yichuan waved his hand, and the five black-clad men behind him immediately spread out, subtly forming an encirclement with Fang Mo at the center.

This formation was deliberate.

Offense or defense, it could prevent Fang Mo from escaping and also react instantly to any sudden situation.

Professional.

Fang Mo mentally tagged this group.

These were no ordinary constables—this was a war machine that had seen real blood and killed.

"This way, my lord."

Fang Mo showed no hesitation, nor any sign of resistance.

He understood clearly that against absolute power like this, any clever tricks were suicide.

Cooperation was the only way to survive.

Fang Mo led Gu Yichuan and his men out of Block C prison.

Along the way, every jailer they encountered shrank back, looking at Fang Mo with pity, as if watching a death row prisoner heading to the execution ground.

After all, fewer than one in ten taken away by the Punishment Department ever returned whole.

Out the gates of the Heavenly Prison.

The sky outside was still pitch black—the darkest hour before dawn.

The air carried the distinctive chill of deep autumn.

"Where?"

Gu Yichuan asked curtly.

"South City."

Fang Mo kept his head down, his voice trembling slightly, whether from the night wind or fear.

"Behind the City God Temple, there's a dry well."

"Liu Mazi confessed that the thing is buried at the bottom."

Gu Yichuan nodded, asking no further questions.

"Move."

The seven of them sped through the empty streets.

The Punishment Department men were extremely fast in their movement arts—not going all out, but still far beyond what an ordinary person could keep up with.

Yet to their surprise, Fang Mo stayed half a body length behind Gu Yichuan, unhurried, his breathing steady.

Gu Yichuan glanced at Fang Mo.

"Qi and Blood Realm?"

He saw through Fang Mo's foundation.

"Reporting to my lord, This Humble One just stepped into it recently, barely able to run a bit."

Fang Mo scratched his head sheepishly, even forcing a couple of heavy breaths.

"Not bad."

Gu Yichuan offered a rare compliment.

"To reach the Qi and Blood Realm at your age, among the lowly ranks of jailers, you count as talent."

"If you perform well this time, and the Red Goods are actually found..."

"I might consider letting you work as an outer member of the Punishment Department."

Was this a recruitment offer?

Fang Mo sneered inwardly, but his face showed flattered surprise.

"Thank you for the promotion, sir! Subordinate will do his utmost!"

Work as an outer member of the Punishment Department?

That meant being cannon fodder.

Did they really think he was that stupid?

He was sitting on the massive goldmine that was the Heavenly Prison. If it weren't for the mandatory requirement to report to the Punishment Department in the first ten days, only an idiot would go risk their life with a bunch of killers like them.

Still, Fang Mo wouldn't say that out loud.

Half an incense stick later.

South City.

A dilapidated City God Temple came into view.

The temple had been abandoned for who knows how many years. The main gate was long gone, leaving only two weathered stone pillars standing forlornly.

Inside, weeds grew rampant, and the deity statues had collapsed, exuding a chilling Ghost Qi.

"It's behind here."

Fang Mo pointed toward the rear of the main hall.

The group circled around the hall and indeed saw a dry well covered by half a millstone.

Moss covered the well's mouth, and around it were some still-damp mud footprints—clearly someone had been there recently, either a beggar or a stray dog.

Gu Yichuan waved his hand.

Two men in black stepped forward, drew their long blades, and cautiously checked the surroundings of West Zhou.

After confirming there was no ambush, they worked together to move the millstone aside.

A rotten, moldy stench surged out from the well.

"Go down."

Gu Yichuan looked at Fang Mo and pointed at the pitch-black well opening.

Fang Mo's face instantly turned pale.

He instinctively stepped back and shook his head frantically.

"S-Sir..."

"This... this well probably isn't clean..."

"That Liu Mazi is a vicious sort; he might have set up some traps or mechanisms down there..."

"I'm just a messenger. If I go down there, what if..."

Fang Mo played the part of a coward perfectly.

Even his legs were trembling slightly.

Gu Yichuan frowned.

Of course, he knew there might be danger below.

Sending Fang Mo down was precisely to have him test the waters.

"What's the matter?"

Gu Yichuan's hand rested on his sword hilt, his tone turning icy.