The So-Called Red Goods

The fall was brief.

Fang Mo's feet slammed heavily into the slippery mud at the bottom of the well.

That stench of rot grew even stronger, almost stinging the eyes.

He didn't move immediately.

Instead, he pressed close to the well wall, held his breath, and waited quietly for a moment.

No sound.

No new click of mechanisms.

Fang Mo let out a slight sigh of relief.

Borrowing the faint light cast down from above, he looked at the spot the third brother had touched before dying.

It was a slightly protruding green brick.

In the gaps around the brick, a few broken steel needles still remained.

Fang Mo reached out.

On the back of his hand, his skin took on a faint metallic sheen.

If anyone could see through him at that moment, they would notice the bones beneath his skin tightening slightly, forming an extremely sturdy defensive structure.

"Click."

Fang Mo pressed down on that green brick.

No poison needles.

No hidden arrows.

Only a faint scraping sound.

The well wall, which had been perfectly seamless, slowly caved inward, revealing a palm-sized hidden compartment.

Inside the compartment lay a pitch-black iron box.

The box wasn't large, only about half a foot square, with no patterns on it—just cast from raw iron, carrying a heavy, solid feel.

So this was that batch of "Red Goods"?

Curiosity stirred in Fang Mo's heart.

But he didn't open it rashly.

Opening the box at the bottom of the well would be suicide.

He reached out and grabbed the iron box; it was ice cold to the touch.

"Got it!"

Fang Mo looked up and shouted toward the well's mouth.

His voice echoed between the well walls, carrying a muffled, hollow tone.

"Pull him up!"

Gu Yichuan above clearly relaxed and immediately gave the order.

The rope went taut, a strong force jerked upward, and Fang Mo, clutching the iron box to his chest, was swiftly hauled out of the well.

"Thud."

As soon as he landed, Fang Mo wisely set the iron box on the ground, stepped aside, and gasped heavily for air, looking like a man who had just escaped death.

"Sir,"

"I did not fail your trust..."

Gu Yichuan didn't even look at him.

His gaze was locked onto that iron box.

All the black-clad men gathered around.

This was the thing that had made Iron Bone Liu prefer death to surrender, that had cost the Punishment Department a good operative.

"Open it."

Gu Yichuan didn't do it himself.

He pointed his blade tip at Fang Mo.

Fang Mo was furious inside.

This bastard really had the phrase "caution is the parent of safety" carved into his skull.

It was already brought up—was he still afraid of a trap?

"Sir, this..."

Fang Mo started to make an excuse.

Gu Yichuan's blade tip shifted downward a few inches, aiming at his thigh.

"Less talk."

"You open it. If nothing happens, this will be your pledge of allegiance."

Fang Mo had no choice but to steel himself and climb back up.

He crouched before the iron box and examined it closely.

The box had no keyhole.

Only a thin, dense seam ran along the edge of the lid.

Clearly, this was also a mechanism box.

It required a specific technique—or brute force—to open.

Fang Mo tried to lift the lid. It didn't budge.

"This is a Mohist Thousand Mechanism Lock."

Drawing on knowledge from his previous life, Fang Mo made up a term on the spot.

"We have to smash it."

"Smash it?" Gu Yichuan raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Forced demolition."

With that, Fang Mo picked up a large stone nearby, used to weigh down a well.

"Sir, you all should step back a bit."

"In case there's poison gas or something inside..."

Gu Yichuan and the others immediately retreated a few steps, covering their noses and mouths.

Fang Mo took a deep breath.

He raised the stone high with both hands.

"Open up!"

"Boom!"

The stone slammed heavily into the iron box.

Sparks flew in all directions.

The cast-iron box was indeed sturdy—this blow only left a white dent.

But Fang Mo felt the lock inside loosen slightly.

"Again!"

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

Fang Mo went at it like a madman, blow after blow.

Finally, on the tenth strike—

A crisp sound: "Crack."

The lid of the iron box was deformed by sheer force, springing open a crack.

No poison smoke.

No hidden weapons.

Only a mesmerizing red light seeped out through the gap.

In the pitch-black night, that red glow seemed eerily strange, like amber formed from coagulated fresh blood.

"This is..."

Gu Yichuan's pupils sharply contracted.

He stepped forward in one stride, kicked the stone aside, and reached for the lid.

But the next second, his movement stopped.

Because he saw, within that red light, three pills the size of dragon eyes lying quietly.

The pills were entirely crimson, with vein-like patterns on their surfaces, emitting a thick, nauseatingly sweet bloody fragrance.

"Blood Spirit Pills!"

Gu Yichuan blurted out in shock.

His voice carried an unmistakable mix of greed and fear.

Blood Spirit Pills.

Forbidden drugs of the Demonic Path.

Refined from the heart's blood of ninety-nine young boys and girls, supplemented by a thousand-year blood ginseng.

Its effect was singular:

Ignore bottlenecks, force a breakthrough!

Even a Mortal with no martial foundation whatsoever, upon swallowing one, could instantly possess the strength of Qi and Blood to split stone tablets.

And for a Martial Artist stuck at the peak of the Qi and Blood Realm, bottlenecked at the Bone Forging Realm for years, this was the key to a higher realm!

Yet because its refining method was too cruel and violated the natural order, should this pill ever appear in the world, its bearer would surely be hunted by the righteous path, and it would also be forbidden by the Great Gan Law.