Iron Bone Liu roared furiously inside, but all he could do was silently bend at the waist and call out, "Greetings, sir."
In this Prison Suppressor, grinding away was also a way to survive.
Fang Mo paid no attention to Iron Bone Liu's thoughts. His gaze passed over the two men and settled on the several new cells.
Gu Yichuan also saw Fang Mo.
His soul-form slammed frantically against the bars of his cell, his face twisted with venom.
"Fang Mo!!!"
"You despicable villain!"
"You'll die a horrible death!"
"I won't let you go, even as a ghost!"
With his hands behind his back, Fang Mo strolled up to the cell, as if watching a rabid dog bark itself hoarse.
"Lord Gu, what a temper."
"You're already a ghost."
"What? Being a ghost hasn't given you any new tricks? You still have to curse with your mouth?"
Fang Mo shook his head, his face full of disappointment.
"Since you're so stubborn, let's settle your accounts first."
Fang Mo raised a hand.
"Bzzzz—"
The pitch-black Record of Punishing Crimes appeared out of thin air, floating before him. Its pages turned with a rustle.
At last, it stopped on a fresh page.
Blood-red ink spread across the paper, and one shocking line after another slowly appeared.
``` [Sin Prisoner: Gu Yichuan]
[Life: Clever from a young age, born into poverty but steadfast in ambition. He trained bitterly in the saber and vowed to sweep away all injustice beneath the heavens.]
[Joined the Punishment Department at twenty. At first, he was upright and incorruptible, solving one strange case after another.]
[At twenty-five, he angered powerful men while investigating a case and was framed and thrown in prison. His left finger was severed, and he suffered every humiliation. His faith collapsed.]
[After his release, his temperament changed drastically. He used the power in his hands as a blade and engaged in corruption.]
[He accepted black money and covered up the crimes of wealthy families; he fabricated charges and framed his former colleagues.]
[To seize a cultivation method, he wiped out all thirty-two members of the Li Family and fabricated a scene of Demonic Path monsters at work.]
[To climb the ranks, he became a powerful man's attack dog, deceiving his superiors and oppressing the people...]
"Did the dragon-slaying hero become a dragon himself?"
Fang Mo gave a scornful laugh.
"Too bad that doesn't excuse your crimes."
When the account of his life ended, a seven-character judgment poem slowly formed at the bottom of the page. Every word reeked of blood:
The White Tiger Hall sits high, where tigers and wolves hold court; Beneath the silver-fish robe, a black heart lies concealed. You once vowed to sweep injustice from the world, Yet turned your butcher's blade against the loyal and true. Gold bought the wails of Vengeful Spirits; bones lay buried in a dry well, And bitter regret tore your guts apart. If the heavens turn a blind eye, Let the Prison Suppressor punish crime and cleanse the eight wastes!
[Crimes: greed, murder, dereliction of duty, framing others...]
[Penalty:...]
Fang Mo extended his right hand. He used his qi and blood as ink, his brush strokes darting like dragons and snakes as he swept the brush across the page.
[Penalty: 1,000 strokes of the cane]
After writing it, Fang Mo turned to Wang Ergou, who was waiting eagerly.
"9527."
"Your subordinate is here!"
"I'll give you this job."
Wang Ergou's eyes instantly lit up like two thousand-watt floodlights.
He excitedly licked his dry lips, clasped his hands, and dropped heavily to one knee.
"Your subordinate is honored to serve you!"
"I'll make sure Lord Gu receives service that feels just like home!"
"Go ahead."
Fang Mo waved casually, as if shooing away a fly—or opening the curtain on a feast.
Wang Ergou had been itching to get started.
The Jailer Uniform on him stirred without a breeze, and he spun the Water-Fire Cudgel in his hand in a neat flourish.
He strode toward Gu Yichuan's cell with an air that said he didn't care who he offended.
"Heh heh heh..."
The sinister laughter made Gu Yichuan's soul-form tremble instinctively.
The cell door opened.
An invisible force yanked Gu Yichuan out and pressed him onto the familiar long bench.
"No! What are you trying to do? I'm an Imperial Official! I'm with the Punishment Department—"
"Smack!"
A heavy, powerful blow answered him.
The cudgel landed squarely on his backside, cutting off every last one of his shouts.
"Argh—!!!"
His shrill scream instantly echoed through the entire Prison Suppressor.
The three newly arrived monks got goosebumps. They huddled in the corners of their cells, shut their eyes, and recited scripture, trying to use Buddhist teachings to withstand the assault on both their eyes and ears.
But Wang Ergou only got more excited with every blow.
He'd been hunted by the righteous while alive, and now he could thrash a lackey of the imperial court after death. The sheer contrast thrilled him to the core.
"Come on, scream! Louder!"
"Weren't you cursing up a storm a moment ago?"
"A thousand strokes! Not one less! The lord said everyone gets an equal share!"
"Smack! Smack! Smack!"
Shrill screams echoed through the Prison Suppressor, like the sweetest music.
Fang Mo sat cross-legged on a raised black rock, resting his chin in one hand while lightly tapping the cover of the ink-black Record of Punishing Crimes with the other.
His fingertip struck the cover with a dull thud, landing precisely in the pauses between Gu Yichuan's screams. The rhythm was eerie, yet strangely harmonious.
He didn't look at the unfortunate soul being punished. Instead, his gaze fell on the three newly arrived bald monks.
The three monks from the Western Desert were huddled in the corner of their cramped cells.
The elderly monk Fang Mo had subjected to an in-depth conversation with his cudgel wore a face as pale as gold paper. Though he was in soul-form, he still held himself in a humiliating pose, clutching his rear.
The other two were no better. One still hadn't recovered from the daze of being struck in the head, while the other stared in horror at Wang Ergou swinging his cudgel.
"Something's not right."
Fang Mo murmured to himself.
These three monks had some skills, especially their Fire Toxin palm and Golden Bell Shield. They would have been notable figures in the martial world. But saying they could refine a Demonic Path pill like the "Blood Spirit Pill"—one that required the heart's blood of ninety-nine virgin boys and girls—was giving them far too much credit.
Before you continue