One Hand With a Big Stick, One Hand With a Carrot

Fang Mo toyed with the mass of black mist in his hand, known as Soul Debris, and slowly stood up.

He didn't rush to distribute it, but instead acted like an old fisherman, dangling the bait before everyone.

"Want it?"

His voice wasn't loud, but the commotion below instantly subsided.

All the ghostly beings knelt down in unison, heads bowed, their bodies trembling violently with desire.

Wang Ergou was the most pathetic, his drool nearly reaching the ground. His eyes were fixed on Fang Mo's hand; if Fang Mo wasn't the Prison Warden who controlled his life and death, he would have pounced to snatch it long ago.

"Want! Want! Sir! Your subordinate wants it!" Wang Ergou nodded frantically, his neck almost snapping.

Fang Mo chuckled.

His gaze swept over everyone, finally settling on Wang Ergou.

"Ergou."

"Your subordinate is here!" Wang Ergou jolted, straightening his back rigidly.

"You were the first to follow me, and you're an old timer in this Prison Suppressing Realm."

"Although you're a bit slippery usually, you've been diligent."

Fang Mo flicked his finger.

The mass of black mist drew a beautiful parabola in the air, landing precisely in Wang Ergou's embrace.

"This is for you!"

Wang Ergou was stunned.

He fumbled to catch the mass of black mist, feeling the warmth and fullness from his palm, trembling with excitement.

This was a great tonic!

Without hesitation, he opened his fanged mouth and swallowed the Soul Debris in one gulp.

BOOM!

A visible black mist erupted from his body.

His previously somewhat ethereal soul body instantly became much more solid, and even his jailer uniform became brighter. An aura several times stronger than before emanated from him.

"Thank you, Sir! Thank you for your reward!"

Wang Ergou knelt on the ground with a thud, kowtowing like pounding garlic.

"Your subordinate is willing to go through fire and water for you, Sir, at any cost!"

This time, his voice had less slipperiness and more genuine fervor.

Beside him.

Gu Yichuan's eyes were practically overflowing with jealousy.

Liu Mazi buried his head in his crotch, feeling incredibly sour.

"Did you all see that?"

Fang Mo spoke calmly.

"This is the rule."

"Here, it's not about seniority or background, only merit."

"As long as you work diligently for this Prison Warden, you won't be shortchanged on benefits!"

"Do you understand?"

"Yes!!!"

Their voices roared, shaking the entire Prison Suppressing Realm.

Gu Yichuan suddenly turned, looking at the remaining Punishment Department subordinates who hadn't yet been tortured, his eyes red.

"You bastards! I'm sorry!"

"For my future, I'll borrow your Soul Debris!"

"Kill!!!"

Club shadows rained down.

Screams erupted one after another.

This time, the Water-Fire Cudgel swung with twice the force as before.

Fang Mo nodded with satisfaction.

As expected.

Internal competition is the primary driving force.

In the following time, the remaining Punishment Department lackeys were also dealt with one by one.

Without any surprises.

None of these individuals met the criteria for inclusion in the Record of Punishing Crimes; they all turned into Soul Debris.

A total of five.

Fang Mo didn't distribute them further, instead immediately storing them in the Record of Punishing Crimes' built-in space.

This was like a salary; giving it out once was an incentive, but giving it out every day would lead to inflation.

He needed to save them.

The effect would be best if he brought them out at a crucial moment.

After finishing this, Fang Mo turned his gaze back to Yuanjue on the execution rack.

"Two thousand strokes, that should be enough, right?"

On the execution rack.

Yuanjue's soul had been beaten into a terrible state.

This master, who had reached the verge of Organ Refining in his life, was now like a tattered rag, fluttering messily in the wind.

But strangely, even at this point, the old monk gritted his teeth and didn't utter a single sound.

When the execution ended.

The old monk Yuanjue's soul was almost transparent, and even his originally ferocious ghost face had become blurry.

He was no longer the esteemed monk he once was on the execution rack.

Fang Mo slowly walked forward.

As he approached, the Record of Punishing Crimes vibrated again.

This time, the commotion was greater than any before.

The entire book automatically flipped open, hovering in mid-air. The pages rustled, as if an invisible storm was brewing.

Finally.

A new page settled.

[Convict: Yuanjue (Original Name: Tu Qianqiu)]

Fang Mo's spirits lifted, and he quickly focused his gaze.

He hoped this old bald donkey wouldn't disappoint him.

[Origin: A notorious bandit from the Western Deserts. At twenty, he laid down his butcher's knife, not to become a Buddha, but to escape calamity. He entered the Blood God Temple, following the path of a bandit, his methods even more ruthless than a demon's.]

[At fifty, he refined his first Human Pill, using it to break through his bottleneck and advance to the peak of the Bone Forging Realm. From then on, he became obsessed with the Way of Pills, using humans as materials and regarding living beings as mere weeds.]

[At sixty, he was promoted to Pill Hall Elder of the Blood God Temple. He colluded with internal forces of the Great Gan Dynasty, establishing a blood-soaked road spanning thousands of miles.]

The scene shifted.

Fang Mo saw skies filled with yellow sand, and caravans strewn with corpses.

Finally.

The scene froze on a blood-stained ledger.

Yuanjue's withered finger wrote a line of text on it.

[Vermilion Bird Street, C-Grade Repository, Recipient: Red Sleeve Beckons, Li...]