Divine Capital's evening sky was painted blood-red by the setting sun.
By the time Fang Mo returned to his little courtyard in Wannian County, the sky had already grown completely dark.
He pushed open the rickety wooden gate. Leaves from the old locust tree in the courtyard had already fallen all over the ground, giving the place a desolate air. But his heart was burning with excitement.
Fang Mo shut the shabby gate, bolted it, then carefully checked his surroundings. Only after making sure no one had followed him did he hurry inside.
He lit the Oil Lamp.
The dim yellow glow drove away the darkness.
"Let's see what this evolved talent is really made of."
He sank his awareness into his body.
Looking inward, he saw that the bones, which had once been pure silver-white, had undergone a world-shaking transformation.
Countless golden threads, fine as silk, wound and wove through the Silver Bones like living things.
They weren't attached to the surface. They had seeped into the very depths of the bone, merging perfectly with the original skeleton.
This was the result of combining the Iron Bone talent Gu Yichuan had contributed with the talents accumulated before it: Golden Bones!
Fang Mo tried to circulate his qi and blood.
BOOM!
The qi and blood in his body surged like a mighty river, washing over his dark-golden bones.
With every surge, a layer of fine runes shimmered across the bones, accompanied by a rumble like a great bell tolling.
They felt so indestructible that Fang Mo almost imagined that even if a mountain came crashing down on him, he could shove it right back up!
"So these are Golden Bones?"
Fang Mo opened his eyes, a flash of golden light flickering in them before vanishing.
He held out his right hand and focused.
His rosy skin instantly tightened, a metallic sheen faintly surfacing beneath it.
But that wasn't enough.
Fang Mo jumped off the bed and casually picked up the kitchen knife on the table, the one he used to cut meat.
It wasn't some divine weapon, but its blade was sharp and gleaming. Claiming it could slice through metal and jade would be an exaggeration, but chopping through bone was a breeze.
He took a deep breath and, without the slightest hesitation, brought it down on his left forearm.
He put half his strength into the swing.
CLANG!
A clear, crisp ring rang out.
The blade slammed into his skin, but it was like striking a block of steel. The tremendous recoil numbed Fang Mo's hand, and the knife flew straight out of his grip. It spun several times in the air before THUNK!—it stuck in the roof beam.
Fang Mo lowered his eyes to his forearm.
There wasn't a wound—or even a pale mark. He'd barely felt anything, as if a mosquito had bitten him.
"Holy shit!"
"That hard?"
Fang Mo was stunned himself.
He'd used half his strength! Against an ordinary Qi and Blood Realm Martial Artist, that blow would have snapped their arm in two. Even his old Silver Bones would probably have been cut.
But now...
"Let's try with all my strength!"
Fang Mo was ruthless, and he didn't hesitate to go all out on himself.
He focused his strength into his palm and turned his right hand into a blade. A golden glow glimmered along his fingertips as they sliced through the air with a shrill whistle, striking his thigh hard.
THUD!
This time, the sound was much duller.
Fang Mo felt a sharp pain in his thigh. It was the natural response of his muscles taking a blow. But he could clearly sense that the force, powerful enough to split stone monuments, was scattered by an even more domineering force the moment it touched his thighbone.
The bone remained perfectly still.
It even seemed to sneer, "That's it?"
"Good, good, good!"
Fang Mo rubbed his thigh, reveling in the pain.
"With this body, unless I run into some old monster in the Organ Refining Realm or a cheat wielding some divine weapon, I can go anywhere in Divine Capital!"
That was confidence.
Hardness determined dignity.
Once his excitement faded, Fang Mo calmed down.
The increase in strength was certainly worth celebrating, but the troubles at hand were still unresolved.
Those three dead monks.
Who they were, the forces behind them, and that so-called Blood Spirit Pill...
Fang Mo took the book Strange Tales of the Western Desert from his robes and flipped through a few more pages by the last light coming through the window. The passages about the Blood Buddha lineage made him more and more uneasy.
Their methods were bizarre and unpredictable. They excelled at beguiling people and controlling their followers.
If those three monks really were just lackeys, then their masters must have sensed their deaths immediately.
"Looks like I'd better interrogate those three baldies as soon as possible."
A harsh glint flashed through Fang Mo's eyes.
He had never been the type to sit around and wait for trouble to find him.
Since trouble had already come knocking, he would strike first and nip its source in the bud.
With that, Fang Mo didn't hesitate any longer.
He sat cross-legged again and regulated his breathing, gradually calming his mind.
"Prison Suppressor, open!"
With a thought, the shabby little room vanished.
That dark red world, thick with blood and oppressive air, descended once more.
Beneath the Blood Colored Sky.
Fang Mo's figure took shape again.
This time, he didn't sit in the lofty Grand Tutor Chair.
Instead, he appeared directly in front of the three monks' prison cell.
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