Fang Mo toyed with the cloud of black mist called Soul Debris in his hand and slowly rose to his feet.
He did not rush to distribute it. Instead, like an old fisherman, he dangled the bait in front of everyone.
"Want it?"
His voice was not loud, yet the commotion below instantly fell silent.
All the ghostly creatures dropped to their knees in unison, heads bowed, their bodies trembling violently with longing.
Wang Ergou was the worst of them. Drool was nearly running from the corner of his mouth to the ground, and his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Fang Mo's hand. If Fang Mo had not been the prison warden who controlled his life and death, he would probably have lunged forward and snatched it already.
"I want it! I want it, sir! This subordinate wants it!" Wang Ergou nodded frantically, nearly snapping his neck.
Fang Mo smiled.
His gaze swept over everyone before settling on Wang Ergou.
"Ergou."
"This subordinate is here!" Wang Ergou jolted, his back snapping straight.
"You were the first to follow me, and you're one of the old hands here in Prison Suppressor."
"You're a bit slippery at times, but you've been diligent enough."
Fang Mo flicked a finger.
The cloud of black mist traced a graceful arc through the air and landed precisely in Wang Ergou's arms.
"Your reward!"
Wang Ergou was completely stunned.
He hurriedly caught the cloud of black mist and felt its warmth and fullness in his palm. His whole body trembled with excitement.
This was a great tonic!
Without the slightest hesitation, he opened his fanged maw and swallowed the Soul Debris in one gulp.
Boom!
A visible stream of Black Qi burst from his body.
His previously somewhat insubstantial soul instantly became much more solid. Even his Jailer Uniform looked brighter, and an aura several times stronger than before radiated from him.
"Thank you, sir! Thank you for the reward!"
Wang Ergou dropped to his knees with a thud and kowtowed as if pounding garlic.
"This subordinate is willing to brave fire and water for you, sir, without hesitation!"
This time, there was less slickness in his voice and more genuine fervor.
Nearby,
envy practically spilled from Gu Yichuan's eyes.
Liu Mazi had buried his head between his legs, his heart sour with jealousy.
"Did you all see that?"
Fang Mo spoke mildly.
"This is the rule."
"Here, I don't care about seniority or background. I only care about merit."
"As long as you do your utmost to serve this prison warden, there'll be plenty of benefits for you!"
"Do you understand?"
"Yes!!!"
The men's shouts shook the heavens, and the entire Prison Suppressor seemed to hum with their soaring morale.
Gu Yichuan abruptly turned around to face the few remaining old subordinates of the Punishment Department. His eyes were bloodshot.
"You bastards! Sorry about this!"
"For the sake of my future, I'm borrowing your Soul Debris!"
"Kill!!!"
Cudgel shadows rained down.
Screams rose one after another.
This time, the Water-Fire Cudgel came down with twice the force as before.
Fang Mo nodded in satisfaction.
Just as expected.
Internal competition was the foremost productive force.
Over the next while, the remaining few underlings of the Punishment Department were also dealt with one after another.
There were no surprises.
None of them met the Record of Punishing Crimes' criteria for inclusion, and all of them turned into Soul Debris.
Four pieces in total.
Fang Mo did not distribute them. Instead, he put them straight into the Record of Punishing Crimes' built-in space.
This stuff was like a salary. Hand it out once, and it was an incentive; hand it out every day, and it became inflation.
He had to save it.
Only when he brought it out at a crucial moment would it have the right effect.
When he was done, Fang Mo turned his gaze back to Yuanjue on the rack.
"Two thousand strikes. That's about enough, right?"
On the rack,
Yuanjue's soul had been beaten into a terrible state.
This expert, who had been at the Half Step Organ Refining Realm in life, now looked like a tattered rag flapping in the wind.
Strangely, even in this state, the old monk clenched his teeth and refused to utter a single sound.
By the time the punishment ended,
the old monk Yuanjue's soul was almost transparent. Even his once ferocious ghostly face had grown indistinct.
He hung on the rack, no longer possessing the bearing of a revered monk.
Fang Mo walked over slowly.
As he approached, the Record of Punishing Crimes trembled once more.
This time, the movement was greater than ever before.
The entire book opened on its own and floated in midair. Its pages rustled loudly, as though an invisible storm was brewing.
At last,
a brand-new page came to rest.
[Sin Prisoner: Yuanjue (original name: Tu Qianqiu)]
Fang Mo's spirits lifted, and he hurriedly focused on the page.
I hope this old bald donkey doesn't disappoint me.
[Born among the great bandits of the Western Desert. At forty, he laid down his butcher's knife—not to become a Buddha, but to escape trouble. He entered the Blood God Temple and followed the path through banditry, employing methods even more vicious than a demon's.] [At fifty, he refined his first batch of Human Pills, using them to break through his bottleneck and reach the peak of the Bone Forging Realm. From then on, he became obsessed with alchemy, treating people as ingredients and all living beings as straw.] [At sixty, he was promoted to Pill Hall Elder of the Blood God Temple. Colluding with forces within the Great Gan Dynasty, he established a blood road stretching ten thousand li.]
The images shifted.
Fang Mo saw yellow sand stretching across the heavens and merchant caravans strewn with corpses.
At last,
the scene settled on a bloodstained ledger.
Yuanjue's withered fingers wrote a line across it.
[Vermilion Bird Street, C-Grade Repository, recipient: Red Sleeve Beckons, Li...]
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