The gray-gold Light Orb shrank to the size of a fist.
Fang Mo's right hand was still thrust inside it. The sensation against his palm had changed from its initial coldness to a faint warmth, like holding a dying ember.
Colorless Karma Fire continued burning inside the Light Orb. Most of the Spiritual Terrace Burial Cosmos Split Spirit's Divine Soul had already been burned away, but the density of the laws at its core kept rising.
It was an instinctive response to being driven into a corner, compressing all its remaining power into the smallest possible volume to form an extremely dense Law Core.
Fang Mo tried increasing the output of Colorless Karma Fire.
Nian Nu'er's voice came from his Sea of Consciousness, so weak it seemed to drift from somewhere far away.
"My lord, my essence can't hold out."
Fang Mo's fingers trembled slightly.
"How much longer?"
"Ten breaths. Ten at most."
Fang Mo stared at the stubborn gray-gold core in his palm, his brows knitting.
If he could not burn through this thing within ten breaths, it might rebound.
He needed another method.
Fang Mo's left hand moved then.
His five fingers spread. Dark-gold Prison Suppressor Patterns spread from his fingertips to his palm, converging there into an exceedingly complex law circuit.
The phantom of an open book rose from his palm.
The Record of Punishing Crimes.
Its pages fluttered noisily in the gray-gold mist, the dark-gold characters upon them leaping wildly under the direction of Fang Mo's will.
"Fang Mo, what are you doing?"
A trace of puzzlement entered Nian Nu'er's voice.
"Passing judgment."
Fang Mo's tone was level.
"Prison Suppressor's most fundamental function isn't fighting. It's conviction."
On the first page of the Record of Punishing Crimes, a line of dark-gold characters was writing itself.
Fang