Beneath the Prison Suppressing Pagoda, the wind howled, and blood clouds churned.
The Prison Suppressing Pagoda towered into the clouds. Chains wrapped around its body clashed in the wind, scraping together with a grating metallic shriek. Fang Mo sat on the pitch-black throne, one hand propping up his chin as he surveyed the two ghosts kneeling below. His fingertips tapped lightly on the armrest.
Below, Wang Ergou and Gu Yichuan were about to drag the three newly arrived "family members" toward the torture racks.
"Hold it."
Fang Mo spoke lazily.
The two froze, then hurriedly turned around. Their obsequious smiles looked as if they'd been carved from the same mold.
"My lord, what are your orders?" Wang Ergou bent at the waist until he was nearly ninety degrees, looking as if he wished he could press his face to Fang Mo's shoes.
Fang Mo waved a hand, dismissing the formalities.
"Did these three bald donkeys confess anything useful? Like who sent them, where the Blood Spirit Pill formula is, or whether they have any accomplices left in the Divine Capital?"
The moment he spoke, the scene fell silent.
Even the clamorous wails seemed to pause for an instant.
Gu Yichuan and Wang Ergou exchanged a glance. The same constipated embarrassment appeared on both their faces.
Wang Ergou's shrewd little eyes darted about. He rubbed the back of his head over and over before finally speaking in a hesitant, fawning tone. "My lord, your subordinates have always looked up to your bearing and constantly hoped to learn your profound philosophy of dealing with the world..."
Fang Mo was taken aback.
Why did that sound so wildly off the mark?
He'd told them to interrogate prisoners, and they were going on about corporate culture and lessons learned?
"Speak plainly." Fang Mo raised an eyebrow. "Get to the point."
Wang Ergou shuddered. Before he could make up an excuse, Liu Mazi (Iron Bone Liu), who had been kneeling nearby and polishing shoes, suddenly let out a strange laugh.
"Heh heh heh!"
Liu Mazi lifted his ghastly pale face and grinned at the two men who usually bossed him around, his eyes brimming with schadenfreude.
"My lord! These two wanted to learn the essence of your methods, but unfortunately, they weren't bright enough. They only learned the skin and fur, not the marrow."
"To establish their authority, they started right off with the Execution Rod, swinging it straight at the three bald donkeys' mouths. Now those three have had their mouths beaten to mush, their jaws smashed to pieces. They don't have a chance to speak!"
Fang Mo: "..."
He looked at Gu Yichuan and Wang Ergou as if they were the two greatest geniuses the world had ever seen.
"So when you understood 'strike the face first when beating someone,' you took it literally?"
"Imbeciles."
Fang Mo scolded them, but couldn't be bothered to argue with two men whose minds worked in such strange ways.
Now that they were in the Prison Suppressor, he could knead them into any shape he pleased.
As long as the Record of Punishing Crimes still existed, there was no secret in this world he couldn't dig out.
"Enough. Stop embarrassing yourselves."
He extended his right hand. The pitch-black Record of Punishing Crimes appeared out of thin air in his palm.
"Rumble—"
The pages turned, and blood-red light shot into the sky.
"Punish!"
Fang Mo's voice rang across the Prison Suppressor like a decree from heaven.
"Sin Prisoners Yuantong and Yuanji, though ordained, cultivated no good karma. Instead, you cultivated slaughter. Sentence: one thousand strokes of the rod!"
"Sin Prisoner Yuanjue, as the chief culprit, your crimes are compounded. Sentence: two thousand strokes of the rod!"
As the final stroke fell, a clap of thunder suddenly rang above the Prison Suppressor.
Blood-red lightning tore through the sky, bleaching the whole world white.
Three pitch-black, spike-studded rods formed out of thin air and hovered above the three monks' souls, radiating a cold light that made the soul tremble.
"Right. Get to work."
Fang Mo didn't bother with appearances. He sat cross-legged where he was, propped his chin on one hand, and watched the execution with keen interest.
Gu Yichuan and Wang Ergou were quick on the uptake. They'd botched their assignment earlier, so now was the perfect chance to atone with meritorious service.
Without needing Fang Mo to tell them what to do, they grabbed their Water-Fire Cudgels and charged into Yuantong and Yuanji's cages.
"Damn bald donkey! You got me chewed out!"
"Bear with it! It'll be over soon... You won't feel a thing!"
"Thump! Thump! Thump!"
The dull blows rang out once more. Along with the muffled, soundless cries, they formed the sweetest music in the Prison Suppressor.
Fang Mo narrowed his eyes and quietly waited for the moment of harvest.
He'd open two blind boxes to warm up. Hopefully, that old bald donkey would give him a real surprise.
Time had no meaning in the Prison Suppressor. Only eternal wailing served as the hourglass that measured its passage.
Wang Ergou and Gu Yichuan had learned their lesson this time and knew exactly how to control their strength. Each cudgel blow precisely avoided vital spots, injuring only flesh, sinews, and bones without damaging the foundation of the soul. They aimed to maximize the pain and make it last as long as possible.
One thousand strokes.
Not an especially long time, but not a short one, either.
When the final stroke fell, Yuantong and Yuanji's souls had grown as faint as smoke, as though they might disperse at any moment.
The Record of Punishing Crimes before Fang Mo flared with blood-red light.
Lines of golden text swam across the pages like tadpoles, finally settling into two nearly identical life records.
[Sin Prisoners: Yuantong/Yuanji]
[Place of Origin: Western Desert Buddhist Kingdom, Sunset Sandbar.]
[Life Record: Abandoned in the desert as a child, they ate carrion and drank the blood of beasts to survive. They were later found by monks from the Blood God Temple and taken in as novice monks.]
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