Head of Iron, So Confident!

Fang Mo stared at Yuantong, who was lunging at him. There wasn't a trace of fear in his eyes; instead, a fervor like meeting a loved one surged within him.

He was just worrying about not finding an excuse to loosen up these three family members, and the opponent had truly sent a pillow when he was sleepy.

In this heavenly prison, this little patch of territory, the jailers were heaven and law.

Daring to lay a hand on a jailer meant that even if this skin were peeled off, no one would dare to utter a word of protest.

Yuantong's withered, eagle-claw-like fingers reached his face, a foul wind assaulting his senses, his fingernails gleaming with a nauseating dark light.

"Good timing!"

Fang Mo roared, moving forward instead of retreating.

He didn't use any flashy martial arts, merely pushing his physical body to its absolute limit.

The muscles in his thighs instantly tensed, like a fully drawn bowstring. The bluestone bricks beneath his feet couldn't bear the load, cracking and shattering into dust with a snap.

Using this recoil force, the Water-Fire Cudgel in Fang Mo's hand transformed into a red and black afterimage.

This cudgel was no ordinary item; it was a tool of torture he had casually materialized in the Prison Suppressing Realm, carrying a natural power of suppression.

"Shut your trap for me!"

Fang Mo flicked his wrist, the tip of the cudgel darting out like a venomous snake, cunning and poisonous, and as fast as lightning.

"Bang!"

A teeth-grinding thud exploded in the cell.

Yuantong's sneering face contorted instantly.

The Water-Fire Cudgel struck his foul mouth with pinpoint accuracy, sending several broken teeth mixed with blood flying out like a miserable, light rain.

This strike, powerful and heavy, directly broke Yuantong's offensive momentum and scattered the menacing aura he had just gathered.

But it wasn't over yet.

Fang Mo didn't pause at all after landing the blow.

He used the momentum from swinging the cudgel, his waist and stance united, his right leg like a whip, carrying an unstoppable surge of vital energy. He delivered a powerful front kick straight to Yuantong's chest.

"Go up for me!"

"Boom!"

"Crack!"

The sound of shattering chest bones was clearly audible.

Yuantong's withered body, like a kite with a broken string, flew straight backward, crashing heavily against the hard bluestone wall at the back of the cell.

The immense impact shook the entire cell, causing dust and debris to rain down. Yuantong, like a mural, hung on the wall for a moment before slumping down limply, his chest caved in, his fate unknown.

"Senior brother!"

The monk on the left, whose Dharma name was Yuanji, roared. His dark red monk's robe billowed, and black energy coursed beneath his withered skin, causing him to swell as if inflated.

"Amitabha."

The old monk in the middle slowly stood up.

As he moved, a thick scent of blood emanated from him, as if he were not standing behind Buddhas, but a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

"Benefactor, your methods are ruthless," the old monk's voice rasped, like two pieces of raw iron grinding together. "Aren't you afraid of retribution?"

Fang Mo let out a cold laugh, patting the Water-Fire Cudgel in his palm.

"Retribution?"

"In this heavenly prison, I am retribution."

He showed no panic. His left hand grasped the void, and he yanked out the soul that had long been thirsting for release.

His gaze swept over the remaining two, his eyes burning with a fervor that made one's scalp tingle.

"Enough with the nonsense. Family should be together, neat and tidy."

"Come on, it's your turn."

"Arrogant!"

Yuanji attacked first. Unlike Yuantong's direct approach, his figure flickered, creating several afterimages within the cramped cell. His palms turned as red as hot iron, radiating scorching heat as they struck towards Fang Mo's ribs from both sides.

This was clearly some kind of fire poison palm technique from the Western Desert. If struck, one would die or be severely injured.

At the same time, the old monk also moved.

He didn't attack directly but formed hand seals, chanting incantations.

As he chanted, a faint blood-red light screen appeared in the previously dim cell. A heavy pressure descended out of nowhere, as if the air had turned into mercury, slowing Fang Mo's movements.

Mental suppression!

Fang Mo frowned slightly, his vital energy surging within him, forcefully dispelling the discomfort.

"Two against one? Have you no shame?"

"Since you're not playing by the rules, don't blame me for not following the ways of the martial world!"

Fang Mo's thoughts stirred, and he clenched his right hand in the air.

"Old Liu, come out and greet our guests!!!"

"Bless these esteemed masters!"

Whoosh--!

A gust of chilling wind swirled out of nowhere, causing the temperature in the prison cell to plummet. Even the scorching palm strike of the fire poison was suppressed a few points by this icy breeze.

A semi-transparent phantom slithered out from the shadows behind Fang Mo.

Liu Tiegu, clad in a burial shroud, his face deathly pale and his tongue lolling out, held a spectral soul-hooking rope in his hand. He cackled as he lunged towards the old monk.

"Heh heh heh, bald donkey! I've already seen your future!!!"

Although Liu Tiegu was merely a piece of trash in the Bone Forging Realm during his life, after death, nourished by the Record of Punishing Crimes and fueled by his immense resentment, his ghost form had gained several uncanny and unpredictable abilities.

His soul-hooking rope ignored physical defenses and struck directly at the soul, forcing the old monk to interrupt his chanting and divide his attention to deal with it.

"Wicked creature! How dare you act so savagely before this Buddha!"

The old monk roared, his body erupting in a surge of blood-red light. In fact, a three-headed, six-armed blood-colored phantom materialized behind him, engaging Liu Tiegu in combat.