The night wind suddenly rose.
It blew out the dying lamp in the courtyard.
Fang Mo lay on the bed, his breathing long and steady, as if he had truly fallen asleep. But deep in his Soul Depth, the pitch-black Prison Suppressor turned silently.
"Everyone, stand up."
Fang Mo's voice echoed across the empty plaza of the Prison Suppressor.
Yuanjue, Iron Bone Liu, and the newly hired New Ghost, Luo Changfeng, stood in a neat row on the plaza.
Pitch-Black Chains coiled around them. Their eyes blazed with fervor and awe as they gazed at the man on the throne.
"We have guests tonight."
Fang Mo rested his chin on one hand, his gaze piercing the walls of the Prison Suppressor to look into the courtyard in the Real World.
"Don't let our guests leave disappointed."
"Understood, my lord!"
The ghosts roared in unison, their Yin Energy chilling the air.
[Netherworld Ghost Eye] hadn't been fully shut off. Even with his eyes closed, Fang Mo could clearly sense everything around him.
The third night watch sounded.
Dong—! Dong—! Dong—!
"The air is dry, beware of fire—"
The watchman's voice drifted away down the alley.
In the courtyard, Qian Dagui's snores shook the heavens. The fat man was carefree, sleeping like a dead pig.
In the next room, Iron Bull's breath was faint and intermittent, like a cold, stubborn rock.
As for the monk named Jie Se, he sat cross-legged in the very center of the courtyard, utterly motionless. He had even stopped breathing. If Fang Mo hadn't seen the Buddha Light burning inside him like a flame, he would have almost thought a clay statue sat there.
The wind died.
The tree shadows, which had been swaying, abruptly froze in place.
They were here.
Fang Mo didn't get up,