A Weasel Pays New Year's Greetings to a Chicken, and This Chicken Also Has to Work as a Weasel

As Fang Mo walked out of the Demon Suppression Division's main gate, the sun had just climbed over the city walls.

He glanced back at the two Bixie stone statues still baring their teeth, patted the hundred-tael silver note in his bosom, and a subtle curve formed on his lips.

This fire had been lit.

Although Li Mingyue was as cold as ice, the knife in her hand was hot.

Giving her the news of the Red Sleeve Pavilion was like throwing a piece of raw meat into a calm lake.

Whether the crocodiles underwater would bite was secondary; the key was that the water was stirred up, and those things that had been hidden in the silt would be startled and thrash about.

Only in chaos could one fish.

"I just don't know if this Miss Li can withstand this backlash," Fang Mo muttered, but his feet didn't stop.

However, he wouldn't bet all his chips on an outsider, especially a Thousand Households officer from the Demon Suppression Division who could potentially cut him down at any moment.

"Strength comes from within."

Fang Mo touched his chin and quickened his pace.

With his current strength, he was just a slightly larger grasshopper in the Divine Capital. If he encountered a truly ruthless person at the Organ Refining stage or above, his Golden Bones might not withstand even a few blows.

It was almost time for the morning roll call. Being late would mean a fine at best, but at worst, being caught by someone with ill intentions would be a case of losing the big picture for the small.

He passed through several streets and alleys, and the grim and oppressive heavenly prison of the Divine Capital was already in sight.

Today, the heavenly prison was unnervingly quiet.

At this hour, the break room would normally be filled with the sounds of jailers bragging and chatting, either discussing which widow was attractive or complaining about losing money the previous night. But today, as soon as he reached the entrance of the corridor, Fang Mo felt something was wrong.

But now, it was dead silent.

Fang Mo paused, his gaze sweeping over the two guards at the entrance, standing ramrod straight with tense expressions. He had a hunch.

A big shot had arrived.

He straightened his clothes, put on a cautious demeanor, and lowered his head, walking quickly through the corridor.

Upon entering, he was met with quite a scene.

The usually chaotic break room had been cleared to make a large open space.

A long bench sat in the middle, upon which a man in a silver flying fish robe was seated imposingly.

Lei Heng.

The Hundred Households officer of the White Tiger Hall in the Punishment Department, that ruthless character who would scrape the ground three feet deep if he could.

To his left sat the prison supervisor Li Yan, his face plastered with a fake smile; to his right sat Wang Youan, the portly warden who usually just picked his toes and counted money.

As for the jailers who usually bellowed orders, they were now huddled in the corner like quails, afraid to even breathe.

Old Huang, huddled in the innermost corner, saw Fang Mo enter. The wrinkles on his old face seemed to contort as he frantically blinked his eyes, signaling Fang Mo to quickly think of a solution.

There was no escaping this.

"Kid, come here!"

Wang Youan stood up, his palm-like hand gripping Fang Mo's shoulder with astonishing force, almost making Fang Mo's newly formed Golden Bones creak.

He grinned, his fleshy face creasing into a mess of folds. "Kid, your good days are coming! Hurry up and pay your respects to Lord Lei!"

Fang Mo lowered his eyelids, strode forward, clasped his fists, and bowed, performing the gesture perfectly.

"Your subordinate, Fang Mo, jailer of Block C, Room Shen prison, pays his respects to Lord Lei!"

Lei Heng toyed with an exquisite jade thumb ring, his gaze like two drills, scraping across Fang Mo.

After a long moment, he casually waved his hand.

"Rise."

Lei Heng stood up and walked around Fang Mo.

His heavy official boots stepped on the stone slabs, each step sounding like it was crushing someone's heart.

"What fine bones."

Lei Heng stopped behind Fang Mo, his voice carrying a hint of a smirk. "Full of vigor, solid bones. If Gu Yichuan's useless subordinates had half your physique, they wouldn't have died so miserably. Lucky you, kid."

Fang Mo kept his head down, staring at his toes, his mind as clear as a mirror.

He was still under suspicion.

Gu Yichuan's death was suspicious, and Lei Heng, a seasoned investigator, wouldn't be easily fooled. He had no proof but was unwilling to let it go; he intended to keep Fang Mo under his watchful eye and slowly wear him down.

Before Fang Mo could speak, Li Yan beside him chimed in with a smile.

"Nephew Fang, you've struck it rich this time." Li Yan stroked his beard, his expression as kind as could be. "Originally, Warden Wang begged and pleaded just to get you a position as a regular Captain in the Punishment Department. But now, our Lord Lei values talent and is bestowing this immense fortune upon you."

Li Yan paused, his voice rising slightly. "Gu Yichuan died in the line of duty a few days ago, and the White Tiger Hall has a vacancy for a Small Flag. Lord Lei has decided to promote you to fill it!"

Fang Mo's teeth ached as he heard this.

Small Flag?

From an insignificant jailer to a Small Flag officer in the Punishment Department was a meteoric rise in the eyes of others.

But in Fang Mo's view, this was clearly a death sentence.

Gu Yichuan died by his hand, and the deed was done cleanly, leaving no loose ends.

But a sly old fox like Lei Heng didn't need evidence to suspect someone. Promoting him to be under his nose had only two purposes: