Gou Zai Punishment Division

Deep inside the air-raid shelter.

Behind the cast iron gate, the pungent, sweet smell was so strong it had solidified into a gelatinous substance.

The faceless woman huddled in the mud. The translucent tumors that had grown from her body trembled slightly with her short, labored breaths.

Despite having just devoured those wild gods, she now buried her uneven, fleshy face deep into the mud.

On the concrete block in front of her lay the ejected brass capsule and scattered official documents.

However, the direction in which she knelt was slightly off from the official document, facing instead an empty, muddy puddle.

A faint trace of chill lingered there.

This body, which had been a low-level female worker in life, instinctively obeyed an extreme fear of a certain "superior".

She slowly got up. The giant, webbed hands lifted the remains of the wild god with gentle, practiced movements, as if she had returned to the assembly line of a textile factory.

The severed limbs were precisely hung upside down on the riot spikes inside the cast iron gate, in accordance with the ancient punishment of "stripping one's divine status."

Black blood dripped down the door frame.

An elaborately designed, ancient-style execution ground, exuding a sense of awe and power, takes shape in the darkness.

After doing all this, she tucked her tail between her legs and retreated back into the deepest part of the mud, waiting quietly.

The stench of blood from deep underground was completely sealed off by the heavy iron gate.

A few hours later, this lingering chill, accompanied by heavy footsteps, spread all the way into the archives room of the Nanming branch.

The air in the underground corridor was dry. Several faulty light bulbs flickered erratically.

Chen Mo sat at his chipped desk and slowly poured himself a tub of boiling water.

White steam rose, obscuring the lenses.

"Bang!"

The iron gate was violently forced open.

The section chief stumbled in, his usually slicked-back hair now disheveled, his face drained of color, and even his normally impeccably tied black tie was askew.

"Something's happened..."

The section chief's voice was hoarse as he slammed a report stamped with a red "Top Secret" seal onto Chen Mo's face.

Several black and white photos slid off the table.

The photo shows the execution ground hanging upside down behind the air-raid shelter gate.

"This morning, when logistics went to collect accounts, we opened the door a crack and were almost scared out of our wits." The section chief grabbed his hair, pointing at the arrangement of the wild god corpses in the photo, his eyes filled with deep dread. "This isn't monsters biting each other! Look at the placement and method of hanging these corpses... this is the most ancient form of 'stripping of divine status'—dismemberment! Those great demons were nailed alive to iron spikes, and they didn't even dare to resist!"

The section chief swallowed hard, his obese Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty. "The only thing that can make these monsters submit to torture is... the legendary department responsible for internal purges. A document was left at the scene, signed 'Punishment Division'."

Chen Mo lowered his gaze slightly, landing on the photograph.

His gaze paused for half a second.

In the corner of the photo, the faceless woman kneels on the ground in an extremely humble posture.

The section chief thought the monster was afraid of the document bearing the name "Punishment Division".

But Chen Mo was willing to take that position.

The direction in which the faceless woman knelt was a few inches off from the official document.

There was nothing there originally, except for a cheap leather shoe footprint he left in the mud last night.

Chen Mo subtly shifted his gaze.

He picked up a rag from the side and used it to wipe the cold sweat and water stains that the section chief had dripped onto the table.

Pressing my fingertips against the cloth, I felt a sticky sensation, and it even felt slightly hot.

Chen Mo didn't even lift his eyelids, but spoke in a steady, almost wooden tone:

"Section Chief, I've seen this kind of punishment in old files before."

The section chief grabbed his wrist, his knuckles turning white from the force: "Tell me! What exactly is that place?"

"The Great Purge".

Chen Mo uttered those three words in a low voice.

The moment he finished speaking, his mind went blank.

An image was forcibly inserted into his memory. In the dim candlelight, he was dressed in a cold, dark official robe, holding a brush dripping with cinnabar, and wiping away the names that had long been blurred on the bamboo slips, stroke by stroke.

That memory was so vivid that I could even feel the ache in my fingertips from holding the pen.

Chen Mo's fingernails dug sharply into his palm, using the sharp pain to forcibly cut off this extra scene.

"I heard that this department never follows the usual procedures. They don't look at positions, they only look at the list."

Chen Mo looked up at the section chief, his eyes unfathomable.

"As long as you're on the list, no matter where you hide, you'll eventually be hung upside down on that iron gate."

The section chief's hands began to tremble violently.

Countless embezzlement scandals flashed through his mind, along with the "waste" he had personally disposed of... If there were a list, his name would definitely be on the first page.

Looking at the archivist in front of him, who had hunched his shoulders but seemed to be holding some kind of secret direction, the section chief forced a smile that looked worse than a dead man's.

He grabbed the crumpled fifty-yuan reimbursement slip from the table, took out a pen, and scribbled his name on it.

Then, he took out several brand-new bills from his inner pocket and forced them into Chen Mo's hand.

"Xiao Chen, you're one of us. If anything happens in the archives... especially those 'lists,' you must tell me immediately."

Chen Mo took the money and nodded obediently.

The section chief wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and staggered out of the archives room.

The iron gate closed, and the chaotic sounds in the corridor gradually faded away.

The archives room fell silent again, with only the monotonous hum of the old exhaust fan in the corner.

Chen Mo sat quietly in the chair, looking at the hundred yuan in his hand.

The section chief's signature was so strong that it bleeds through the paper, leaving a blurry ink stain on the back.

He picked up the tin tea mug.

The water in that jar had long since cooled down, but when I drank it, my throat felt a burning sensation, as if it were being scorched.

He picked up the photo again, his gaze falling on the monster crawling in the corner.

In this city, whether they are high-ranking officials or ferocious demons, they all seem to fear some indescribable, enormous shadow.

The table lamp flickered twice erratically.

Chen Mo calmly pulled the light cord to turn off the lamp.

Outside the Nanming branch building, the rain and fog were chilly.

A butterfly perched on the rusty windowsill, silently flapping its wings.