Fang Mo stared at Yuantong as he charged toward him, not a trace of fear in his eyes. Instead, a fervor rose in him, as if he'd just found a long-lost relative.
He'd been fretting over not finding an excuse to loosen up the bones of these three family members. And now, just as he was getting sleepy, someone had brought him a pillow.
Within the Heavenly Prison's little patch of land, the jailers were the heavens and the law.
If anyone dared attack a jailer, they could strip him of his uniform, and still no one would have a word to say about it.
Yuantong's thin, eagle-claw-like fingers were already at Fang Mo's face. The stench of blood filled the air, and a nauseating black sheen gleamed on his nails.
"Come on!"
Fang Mo roared and lunged forward instead of retreating.
He didn't use any flashy martial arts techniques. He simply drove his body to its limits.
His thigh muscles tightened in an instant, like a great bow drawn taut. The blue bricks beneath his feet couldn't bear the strain and cracked apart with a sharp snap.
Riding that recoil, the Water-Fire Cudgel in Fang Mo's hand became a red-and-black blur.
The cudgel was no ordinary weapon. It was a Torture Instrument he had casually manifested in Prison Suppressor, carrying an innate power of suppression.
"Shut your mouth!"
Fang Mo flicked his wrist. The cudgel's tip darted out like a venomous snake, treacherous and swift as thunder.
Bam!
A dull, teeth-grinding thud exploded inside the cell.
Yuantong's snarling face was instantly knocked out of shape.
The Water-Fire Cudgel struck his foul mouth with pinpoint accuracy. Several broken teeth mixed with blood shot out, like a pitiful little rainstorm.
The blow was powerful and heavy, cutting off Yuantong's attack and scattering the Ominous Aura he had just raised.
But that wasn't all.
After landing the strike, Fang Mo didn't pause for even a moment.
He let the cudgel's momentum carry him, joined his waist and legs, and whipped out his right leg. His kick carried the full force of his blood and qi and slammed squarely into Yuantong's chest.
"Up you go!"
Boom!
Crack!
The sound of breaking ribs rang out clearly.
Yuantong's shriveled body flew backward like a kite with its string cut, crashing heavily into the hard blue-stone wall at the back of the cell.
The enormous impact shook the entire cell three times, and dust sifted down from the walls. Yuantong hung there for a moment like a mural, then slid limply to the ground, his chest caved in and his life or death unknown.
"Senior Brother!"
The monk on the left, whose Dharma name was Yuanji, roared. His dark-red robes billowed, and black Qi coursed beneath his shriveled skin. His whole body swelled as if filled with air.
"Amitabha."
The old monk seated in the middle slowly rose to his feet.
As he moved, a thick stench of blood emanated from him. It was as if what stood behind him wasn't a Buddha, but a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
"Benefactor, your methods are truly ruthless." The old monk's voice was hoarse and grating, like two pieces of pig iron scraping together. "Do you not fear retribution?"
Fang Mo sneered and tapped the Water-Fire Cudgel against his palm.
"Retribution?"
"In this Heavenly Prison, I am retribution."
He didn't panic in the slightest. He reached out with his left hand and pulled free the soul that had been ravenous for a long time.
His gaze swept over the two remaining men, fervor in his eyes enough to make one's scalp crawl.
"Enough talk. A family should stay together."
"Come on. You're next."
"How arrogant!"
Yuanji attacked first. Unlike Yuantong, who'd charged straight in, he blurred through the cramped cell, leaving several afterimages. His palms turned red as branding irons, and scorching waves of heat came with them as he attacked both of Fang Mo's flanks.
It was clearly some kind of Fire Toxin palm technique from the Western Desert. If it landed, even if Fang Mo didn't die, he'd lose a layer of skin.
At the same time, the old monk moved too.
He didn't attack directly. Instead, he formed a seal with both hands and chanted under his breath.
As he chanted, a faint blood-red light curtain appeared inside the dim cell. A heavy pressure descended out of nowhere, as if the air had turned to mercury, slowing Fang Mo's movements.
A mental suppression technique!
Fang Mo furrowed his brow. The blood and qi within him surged, forcibly dispelling the discomfort.
"Two against one? Have you no shame?"
"Since you don't play fair, don't blame me for breaking the rules of the jianghu!"
With a thought, Fang Mo clenched his right hand in empty space.
"Old Liu, come on out and greet the guests!!!"
"Give these masters a little blessing!"
Whoosh—!
A gust of Yin wind swept through the cell, and the temperature plunged. Even the scorching Fire Toxin palm force was suppressed by the cold wind.
A translucent figure emerged from the shadows behind Fang Mo.
Liu Tiegu wore a burial shroud. His face was deathly pale, his tongue hung long from his mouth, and he carried a phantom soul-hook in his hand as he cackled and pounced on the old monk.
"Hehehehe, bald donkey! I've already seen your future!!!"
Liu Tiegu had been no more than a Bone Forging Realm scrub when alive, but after death, nourished by the Record of Punishing Crimes and burdened with his own immense Grievance Qi, he had gained several eerie, unpredictable tricks as a ghost.
His soul-hook ignored physical defenses and struck directly at the soul, forcing the old monk to interrupt his chanting and split his attention to deal with him.
"Wretched fiend! How dare you act so fiercely before Buddha!"
The old monk roared. Blood-red light blazed around him, and a bloody apparition with Three Heads Six Arms coalesced behind him as he grappled with Liu Tiegu.
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