Leaden clouds hung low. Muffled thunder rolled deep within them, making even the two stone lions outside the Heavenly Prison tremble faintly. Torrential rain lashed the rust-covered iron gate of Block C, Room Shen prison, washing away last night's still-wet blood, but not the stench of rot and murderous chill that had seeped into the gaps between the blue bricks.
The Demon Suppression Division's men stood in formation in the rain, a dark mass like vultures that had caught the scent of blood.
At their head, Zhou Tong sat astride an armored warhorse. Rain slid down the plates of his Fish Scale Black Armor, gathering into rivulets that dripped onto the horse's back.
The newly promoted Deputy Commander had the face of a butcher. The heavy flesh on his face had turned pale from the rain, and what shone in his triangular eyes was not official authority, but greed.
The Crimson Gold Waist Token at his waist looked especially glaring beneath the gloomy sky. It symbolized his power and gave him the confidence to issue a challenge outside the Heavenly Prison.
Behind him, twenty Demon Suppression Guards stood with their hands on their sabers, their breathing long and steady. Clearly, they were all desperadoes who had long since hung their heads from their belts. They made no attempt to hide the killing intent in their eyes, waiting only for Zhou Tong's command to tear down the Heavenly Prison's gates.
With a teeth-grating scrape, the iron gate slowly slid open to either side.
Fang Mo walked out.
He carried no umbrella. His black jailer's uniform was soaked through and clung to his body, outlining his somewhat slight frame. Yet his steps were steady, each footfall on the waterlogged blue flagstones as precise as though measured. Iron Bull silently followed on his