A Crooked Philosophy of Life

Beneath the Prison Suppressing Pagoda, an eerie wind howled, and blood-red clouds churned.

The Prison Suppressing Pagoda towered into the heavens, its chains clashing in the wind, emitting a grating metallic screech. Fang Mo sat enthroned on a dark obsidian seat, resting his chin on one hand, his gaze sweeping over the two ghosts kneeling below as his fingertips tapped lightly on the armrest.

Below, Wang Ergou and Gu Yichuan were dragging the three newly arrived "family members" towards the torture rack.

"Hold on."

Fang Mo spoke lazily.

The two men froze and quickly turned, their fawning smiles looking as if they were stamped from the same mold.

"Sir, what are your orders?" Wang Ergou bowed ninety degrees, looking as though he wished to press his face against Fang Mo's shoe soles.

Fang Mo waved his hand, signaling them to rise.

"Have these three bald monks confessed anything useful? Like who sent them, where the recipe for that Blood Spirit Pill is, or if they have any accomplices in this Divine Capital?"

The moment these words were spoken, the scene fell silent.

The previously clamorous wails seemed to pause for a moment.

Gu Yichuan and Wang Ergou exchanged a glance, and an awkward, constipated expression appeared on both their faces.

Wang Ergou's shrewd little eyes darted around. He rubbed his hands on the back of his head repeatedly before finally stammering, "Sir, your subordinates have always looked up to your esteemed presence, constantly wishing to learn your unfathomable philosophy of life..."

Fang Mo blinked in surprise.

What was this talk? It sounded completely irrelevant.

I asked you to interrogate prisoners, and you're giving me a report on corporate culture learning experiences?

"Speak plainly," Fang Mo raised an eyebrow. "Get to the point."

Wang Ergou trembled. Before he could fabricate an excuse, Liu Mazi (Iron Bone Liu), who had been kneeling on the ground polishing shoes, suddenly let out a strange laugh.

"Heh heh heh!"

Liu Mazi raised his pale, ghastly face and looked with a wicked grin at the two men who usually bossed him around, his eyes filled with schadenfreude.

"Reporting, Sir! Although these two wished to emulate your essence, their brains weren't up to it. They only learned the superficial aspects, not the core. To establish their authority, they immediately resorted to a 'show of force,' targeting the mouths of those three bald monks. Now, those three fellows have their mouths smashed beyond recognition, their jaws shattered into pieces. They have no chance to speak!"

Fang Mo: "..."

He looked at Gu Yichuan and Wang Ergou, his gaze like he was looking at two supreme geniuses.

"So, your understanding of 'hit them in the face first' was literal?"

"Idiots."

Fang Mo cursed, too lazy to argue with these two whose thought processes were so bizarre.

After all, once they entered this Prison Suppressing Pagoda, their fate was in his hands.

As long as he possessed the Record of Punishing Crimes, there were no secrets in this world he couldn't uncover.

"Alright, stop embarrassing yourselves here."

He extended his right hand. In his palm, the pitch-black Record of Punishing Crimes materialized out of thin air.

"Rumble--"

The pages turned, and a blood-red light shot into the sky.

"Punishment!"

Fang Mo's voice echoed like a divine decree above the Prison Suppressing Pagoda.

"Criminals Yuantong and Yuanji, despite being ascetics, did not cultivate good karma but instead cultivated slaughter. Punishment: One thousand strokes of the cane!"

"Criminal Yuanjue, as the ringleader, his sins are compounded. Punishment: Two thousand strokes of the cane!"

As the last stroke of the brush fell, a thunderclap suddenly erupted above the Prison Suppressing Pagoda.

Blood-red lightning tore through the sky, illuminating the heavens and earth in a stark white light.

Three pitch-black torture staffs, covered in barbs, materialized out of thin air and hovered above the soul bodies of the three monks, emitting a chilling radiance that made souls tremble.

"Alright, get to work."

Fang Mo wasn't particular. He sat cross-legged on the spot, propping his chin with one hand, watching the execution scene with keen interest.

Gu Yichuan and Wang Ergou were quick-witted. Having messed up their previous task, this was a prime opportunity to redeem themselves.

Without waiting for Fang Mo's command, they grabbed their Water-Fire Cudgels and charged into the prison cells of Yuantong and Yuanji.

"Damn baldies! You made me get scolded!"

"Bear with it! It'll be over soon... and won't hurt!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The dull thudding of blows echoed again, accompanied by inaudible whimpers and screams, forming the most beautiful symphony within the Prison Suppressing Pagoda.

Fang Mo narrowed his eyes, quietly awaiting the moment of harvest.

Let's open a couple of blind boxes first to warm up. Hopefully, that old bald monk will give me a real surprise.

In the prison, time held no meaning, only the eternal wails served as an hourglass.

Wang Ergou and Gu Yichuan had learned their lesson this time, their strikes measured with precision. Each blow landed skillfully avoided vital points, only injuring flesh, muscle, and bone, but not the soul's core. Their aim was to maximize the pain and prolong its duration.

One thousand strikes.

Not long, not short.

As the final blow fell, Yuantong and Yuanji's soul bodies had become as faint as smoke, appearing as though they might dissipate at any moment.

The Record of Punishing Crimes before Fang Mo blazed with bloody light.

Lines of golden text swam like tadpoles across the pages, finally settling into two nearly identical life histories.

[Criminal: Yuantong/Yuanji]

[Origin: Western Desert Buddhist Kingdom, Sunset Sandbar.]

[Life: Abandoned in the great desert since childhood, he ate carrion and drank beast blood to survive. Later, he was taken in by monks from the Blood God Temple and became a novice.]