The rain clouds above the Divine Capital hung oppressively low. Lead-gray clouds churned and tangled like a mass of rotten cotton soaked in ink, weighing heavily on the heart. The rain intensified that afternoon. Raindrops striking the bluestone paving no longer made crisp tapping sounds, but dull thuds, churning up murky white foam in the mud.
The iron gate of Block C, Room Shen prison, which rarely saw daylight year-round, revealed something of its true, savage face beneath the washing curtain of rain. Rust bled into the water and trickled down the gate studs, like blood left unwiped around the jaws of this enormous beast.
Fang Mo stood beneath the eaves and pulled his crimson official robe tighter around himself, the robe that symbolized the authority of a Subordinate Sixth Rank Prison Overseer. Beneath it was no stiffly laundered official lining, but a close-fitting, practical black fighting outfit, complete with wrist guards and leg bindings, all made from fine sharkskin that would not sink in water and resisted blades. The Spring Embroidered Saber named Dark Night did not hang at his left hip as an ordinary military officer's would, but lay slanted across his back. The closed Beast Eye on its hilt rested against the back of his neck, its icy touch constantly reminding its wielder that this saber was alive.
"I'm leaving things at home to you."
Fang Mo did not turn around, merely reaching out to pat the figure standing beside him like an iron tower.
Iron Bull said nothing. His great hands, accustomed to swinging a hammer year-round, simply tightened around the handle of his massive hammer. Its head was the size of a water vat, with strands of dark red flesh still clinging to it that would not wash clean. He planted it on the ground.