These are Relatives, More Relatives Than the Family in the Livestream!

Stepping out of the Demon Suppression Division's main gate, the sky was still bright.

But Fang Mo no longer had the desire to visit Yihong Pavilion.

Beauty was good, but one needed to be alive to enjoy it.

Since those three monks were targeted by Li Mingyue, they were definitely not ordinary people.

And...

Fang Mo patted the ancient book in his arms.

This was the real firsthand information.

He found a secluded tea stall, ordered the cheapest pot of high-grade tea, and with that complimentary plate of salted peanuts, began to flip through the Strange Tales of the Western Desert.

The pages were yellowed, exuding an old ink fragrance.

This book was clearly old, and it didn't record local customs and traditions, but rather bizarre, even bloody and terrifying secret tales.

"The Buddhist Kingdom of the Western Desert, with billions of believers."

"There are ascetic monks who feed themselves to eagles, and use their blood to feed demons, seeking the supreme fruit of enlightenment."

"There are even fallen ones who cultivate Joyful Zen, refine human skin drums, and feed on the vital blood of living beings, known as the Blood Buddha."

"The Blood Buddha lineage is skilled at bewitching people's hearts and confusing their minds. Mortals see them as gods and willingly offer sacrifices..."

Fang Mo read with great interest, occasionally tossing peanuts into his mouth.

"Blood Buddha? Joyful Zen?"

"Sounds pretty exciting."

He closed the book, a flash of excitement in his eyes.

These weren't monks at all?

They were clearly walking experience packs and skill books!

If he could get something like the Golden Bell Shield or Iron Shirt from these monks, combined with his [Iron Bones] talent, wouldn't he be able to stand there and take hits without moving in the future?

This was the true path of survival!

If I stack my defense to the max, no one can kill me, then I'll be invincible!

With that thought, Fang Mo lost interest in drinking tea.

He tossed down two copper coins, got up, and headed towards the heavenly prison.

"Being a jailer is great, being a jailer is definitely the way to go!"

When he returned to the heavenly prison, it was just in time for the shift change.

Wang Youan, that fatso, wasn't there, only Old Huang was guarding the entrance.

Seeing Fang Mo return, Old Huang visibly relaxed.

"You brat, you're never around, only showing your head and tail."

"Hurry inside, you're on duty for Cell Block C, Room 9 tonight."

"Oh, right."

Old Huang lowered his voice and said mysteriously.

"Just brought in a few new faces."

"Heard they were captured from the Western Desert."

"Ever since they came in, they've been chanting scriptures."

"The scriptures they chant make your hair stand on end. Several of our brothers said they heard their deceased mothers calling them, and almost slit their own throats with knives."

"Later, Warden Wang ordered us to stuff cotton in our ears, and it got a bit better."

"Got it!"

Fang Mo patted Old Huang's shoulder, his face full of excitement.

"Don't worry, Uncle Huang."

"I love interacting with friends who have personality the most."

"I'll make sure they feel right at home!"

With that, he carried his Water-Fire Cudgel, humming a tune, and plunged into the deep, dark corridor.

Behind him, Old Huang watched his retreating figure and, for some reason, shivered.

"This kid..."

"Why does he seem more excited than the prisoners inside?"

He didn't stuff cotton in his ears.

Protected by his [Cold-Blooded] talent, this kind of mental interference was like listening to some cheap hypnosis to him.

He walked with his hands behind his back, step by step, towards Cell Block C, Room 7.

Through the iron bars, as thick as a man's arm, he saw the three so-called eminent monks.

Three of them.

All wearing tattered, dark red monk robes, with dark skin and emaciated bodies, like dried corpses.

They sat cross-legged in a triangular formation on the filthy straw, hands clasped, heads bowed, their lips moving rapidly.

The old monk at the head wore a string of prayer beads around his neck.

Fang Mo looked closely, his pupils constricting slightly.

What were those prayer beads?

They were clearly polished human finger bones, gleaming like crystal!

Fang Mo narrowed his eyes.

In his Sea of Consciousness, the Record of Punishing Crimes moved on its own, without any wind.

Rustle—

The pages turned.

A new chapter slowly emerged.

[Prisoner: Three Demonic Blood Monks.]

[Crimes: Violation of precepts, murder, lewdness...]

Fang Mo looked at the shocking list of crimes, and the smile on his lips grew wider.

These weren't prisoners.

They were family! Family dearer than the viewers in the live broadcast room!

He pushed open the cell door and walked in.

The Water-Fire Cudgel in his hand tapped lightly on the ground, making a crisp sound.

"Masters."

"Good evening."

"This humble monk... no, this Warden."

"Has come to bring you warmth."

The three monks' eyes snapped open.

Six eyes, filled with brutality and bloodlust, locked onto Fang Mo.

"You're seeking death!"

One of the monks growled, suddenly lunging forward. The shackles on his body clanked loudly as he strained against them.

Fang Mo didn't even blink.

He simply watched the three prey, as if looking at meat on a chopping block.

"Don't rush."

"The night is long."

"We'll play slowly."

The monk who lunged was named Yuantong—of course, he wasn't a delivery man, but a genuine demonic monk from the Western Desert.

Although his collarbones were sealed, preventing him from gathering his vital energy, his hardened muscles and bones were still intact.

His lunge carried a foul wind, his emaciated hands like eagle's talons reaching for Fang Mo's throat.

"Little jailer!"

"Let your grandpa teach you the rules!"

Yuantong grinned menacingly, as if he could already hear the sound of his victim's throat bone shattering.