Still Water Mirror

Boom!

In the Sea of Consciousness, it was as if an iceberg had shattered.

A bone-deep chill swept through his entire body in an instant, making him shiver.

But this chill wasn't a harmful, freezing cold. It was a clarity that reached straight to the heart.

The trace of the Cold-Blooded talent that had existed inside him began to undergo a violent transformation as this new power joined it.

It felt as though a pool of murky, stagnant water had suddenly been filled with a clear spring. The impurities settled, and the surface became still.

A flash of insight came to Fang Mo, and the talent's name surfaced in his mind: Still Water Mirror!!!

Fang Mo snapped his eyes open.

The world had changed.

The dim, noisy Prison Suppressor looked clearer than ever before to him.

He could see the path of every speck of dust floating in the air;

Three zhang away,

Gu Yichuan raised the whip in his hand.

The barbed tip sliced through the air, stirring up a speck of dust too small for the naked eye to see.

The dust tumbled, its path as clear as a painting.

Fang Mo could even see the faintest twitch in Gu Yichuan's right masseter muscle just before he exerted himself.

The next second,

Crack!

The whip came down.

The strike's landing point, force, and angle matched the scene Fang Mo had envisioned in his mind, down to the last detail.

"So this is Still Water Mirror?"

Fang Mo raised his hand and looked at his palm lines.

"Selling fear, seeing through people's hearts."

"How is this just an evolution of Cold-Blooded? This is a full-map hack and an x-ray hack rolled into one."

The corner of Fang Mo's mouth lifted. The chilling coldness in his eyes quickly faded, and he returned to his usual careless demeanor.

"Not bad. This was worth it."

His gaze shifted.

He looked toward the two clusters of Yin souls in the corner, which were about to dissipate.

Yuantong and Yuanji.

"Since you contributed such a great talent, we shouldn't waste it."

"Let's put you to use."

At his command, the soul forms of Yuantong and Yuanji, which had been on the verge of dispersing, solidified once more.

Their dark red monk robes vanished, replaced by black Jailer Uniforms.

Their eyes were even more vacant than Gu Yichuan's, clearly dazed by the thousand blows they had just taken.

"Gu Yichuan!" Fang Mo called.

"Your subordinate is here!" Gu Yichuan immediately put down his whip and hurried over.

"These two big fools are yours."

Fang Mo pointed at Yuantong and Yuanji.

"You still haven't finished dealing with your old subordinates. Don't keep them waiting."

"Yes! Thank you for trusting me, sir!" Gu Yichuan was overjoyed.

With these two free laborers, he'd be able to free up his hands for more technical work in the future—like sucking up.

"Wang Ergou, Yuantong, Yuanji."

Fang Mo called out three more names.

"Your subordinates are here!"

Three voices rang out at once.

Fang Mo pointed at the old monk Yuanjue, who was still hanging on the torture rack, twitching from time to time.

"You three, go give this master a proper welcome."

"Remember, two thousand blows. Don't leave out a single one."

"Beat him hard!"

Fang Mo looked up at the blood-red sky, his smile bright and cruel.

"It's still early today. This Prison Chief has plenty of time to play with you!"

At Fang Mo's order, that teeth-grating percussion rang out in the Prison Suppressor once more.

In no time, whip shadows crisscrossed the Prison Suppressor, and screams rose one after another. It was a lively scene, like a construction site in full swing.

Gu Yichuan wasn't idle, either.

He still hadn't finished delivering his thousand blows.

He was especially zealous when it came to a few of his former subordinates.

"Wang Wu, oh, Wang Wu. Weren't you good at sucking up when you were alive? Why have you gone quiet now?"

Crack!

"Zhao Liu! You pocketed the most dirty money back then. You still don't want to cough it up?"

Crack!

Screams rang out one after another.

Fang Mo sat on the throne and watched the farce, but felt little about it.

He didn't even expect these few minor figures in the Qi and Blood Realm to yield anything worthwhile.

As long as they gave him some Qi and Blood points and helped consolidate his Bone Forging Realm cultivation, the effort wouldn't have been wasted.

At last,

Gu Yichuan was finished.

The unlucky fellow named Wang Wu had his soul shatter the moment he took the final blow.

Fang Mo instinctively looked at the Record of Punishing Crimes in his hand, waiting for a reward notification.

However,

nothing happened.

Wang Wu's soul fragments weren't recorded in the pages of the book, nor did they turn into a jailer.

The dissipating Yin Energy didn't vanish. Instead, it gathered together, forming a pitch-black crystalline speck of dust about the size of a thumb that slowly floated toward Fang Mo.

Fang Mo beckoned with his hand.

The Black Mist obediently curled around his fingertip, radiating a pure spiritual energy that rippled with the power of a soul.

"Hmm?"

Fang Mo was a little surprised.

The instant the Black Mist appeared, the scene below shifted subtly.

Wang Ergou, who was working up a sweat; Gu Yichuan, with his ingratiating grin; and even Liu Mazi, hiding in the corner—all stopped what they were doing at the same time.

They raised their heads and stared at the Black Mist on Fang Mo's fingertip.

Their eyes—

They looked like starving wild dogs that had spotted a juicy piece of meat.

They were filled with naked greed and longing, along with a shiver that rose from instinct.