Fang Mo hadn't really fallen asleep.
The moment he closed his eyes, his consciousness had already left his body and sunk into the cold, silent Black Prison deep within the Soul Depth.
Sleeping in the real world was just a way to throw others off.
There was no going back to that little courtyard. Yihong Pavilion—more specifically, the courtesan's boudoir—had instead become the safest shelter from the storm in the Divine Capital.
With Lei Heng's methods, it didn't take a genius to know that the whole city must already be in an uproar. Who knew how many people were watching that little courtyard now? He could only lie low at Yihong Pavilion for the time being.
And the lecherous rogue persona he'd deliberately cultivated was enough to lull many people into a false sense of security.
After all, a genius who was obsessed with women was far more reassuring than a monster who had no desires at all.
Beneath the Blood Colored Sky, a black tower pierced the clouds.
The air was thick with a nauseating smell of rust and dried blood—the stench of sins that had settled there over countless years.
Fang Mo's figure coalesced upon the throne beneath the tower.
The moment he opened his eyes, a series of anguished screams burrowed into his ears like a beautiful symphony.
"Ah—! No! Don't hit me there!"
"I'll confess! I'll confess to everything! Just stop hitting me!"
Down in the plaza, a unique labor-reform program was in full swing.
Wang Ergou swung the Water-Fire Cudgel in his hands, sweating profusely, yet beaming with the joy of a bountiful harvest.
Gu Yichuan wore a sinister look as he pressed a red-hot branding iron against the newly captured evil ghosts, leaving one charred mark after another on their bodies.
As for the