Harboring this speculation, I continued forward, and soon the downward passage ended, the ground leveling out ahead.

However, the light in front vanished, leaving only darkness.

If not for my practiced night vision, exploring in such a complete absence of light would have been impossible.

Although I could only discern shapes within a radius of three or four meters, I resolutely pressed on.

The scale of the underground prison was vast; the further I walked, the more immense it felt, the only sound echoing back being my own footsteps—otherwise, it was terrifyingly quiet.

Just as I wondered how much further I had to go, I suddenly spotted a stone statue erected in the middle of the cell not far ahead.

Approaching the statue slowly, I grew more and more familiar with it. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a statue of the Thunder Cloud Monk.

How could there be a statue of the Thunder Cloud Monk in this hell?

I found it somewhat unbelievable, and as I looked, the appearance of the Thunder Cloud Monk statue gradually became clearer.

I noticed this statue differed somewhat from those we had seen before. This Thunder Cloud Monk was clad in the tall hat and long robes worn only by high officials, and his posture was extremely dramatic.

He gripped the neck of a thin, weak man in one hand, while his other hand held a long sword raised high, his foot planted upon a woman showing her upper body.

The depiction reminded me somewhat of the Rakshasas or the Vajra Subduing Demons Arhats in Chinese Buddhist iconography—it possessed a compelling, deterrent presence.

What, then, was this tableau meant to signify? Was the Thunder Cloud Monk a guardian deity of this underworld?

Though I couldn't decipher the statue's precise meaning, the association with the Thunder Cloud Monk suggested that matters here were likely to become complicated.

After examining the statue and finding nothing outwardly unusual, I bypassed the stone figure and continued deeper into the dungeon.

As I walked, I suddenly noticed a multitude of pillars appearing ahead.

These pillars were grey above and pitch-black below, each as thick as two men embracing, standing roughly over three meters high.

The pillars appeared incredibly solid, firmly rooted in the earth.

Yet, they didn't resemble the Plum Blossom Stakes of the Shaolin Temple; instead, they exuded a subtle, eerie aura.

I had a strong premonition that these pillars concealed some sinister secret.

As expected, when I next lifted my foot to advance, I saw a large pile of white bones on the ground.

These were entirely human bones, countless in number. Their death poses were agonizing: every mouth was agape, some lacked a lower jaw, and nearly every tooth was broken or missing.

Gazing upon these uncanny human remains, I proceeded with extreme caution.

Next, I observed that the pillars I had seen earlier were all draped with skeletons bound by iron chains.

These skeletons also had wide-open mouths, their expressions conveying intense agony.

Seeing long-handled pincers scattered on the floor near broken-down charcoal braziers, I understood immediately what this place was.

This must be the Tongue-Pulling Hell described in Buddhist scriptures.

Legend holds that those who habitually lied in life, causing significant harm to others—such as making false accusations or defrauding others of money—are consigned to this level of hell.

Here, spectral bailiffs would force open the victim's mouth with red-hot pincers and then rip the tongue out, making existence worse than death.

In legend, a person's tongue would stretch two or three meters long, but applying such a torture to a living person would surely cause them to bleed out instantly.

What passed for hell here was the application of such torture to living people. After a single stroke ended their lives, their bones were haphazardly piled up—a sight beyond bearing.

Looking at those who died in such torment, I thought, this truly is an earthly hell.

Regardless of the sins committed in life, even the most heinous crimes would, under current law, merit at most the death penalty via lethal injection. To subject a criminal to such barbaric torment demonstrated the extreme cruelty of the rulers of that time.

Glancing toward the deeper recesses of the dungeon, I knew there must be seventeen other layers of hell awaiting, perhaps involving grinding mills to crush people into pieces, or saws to bisect them while alive.

Even walking in to view them would only serve to increase my inner disgust.

Scanning my surroundings, I noticed, not far behind this cluster of pillars, two structures resembling watchtowers.

These buildings occupied a small footprint, rising perhaps twenty meters high, likely serving as sentry posts for the spectral bailiffs in the past.

At the very base of the towers were gate-like openings adorned with demonic heads; all were unlocked.

Feeling it necessary to first survey the terrain of the dungeon, I headed toward the watchtower on the right.

Pushing open the already decayed demonic-head gate, I ascended the interior steps of the tower.

Just as I neared the top-level observation deck, I suddenly saw two spectral bailiffs, armed with long spears, sitting at the exit, covered in dust and thick with cobwebs.

I paid them no mind and simply stepped over them.

Unexpectedly, as my left foot cleared them, my right foot was seized by the hand of one of the bailiffs.

This truly startled me; any ordinary person might have suffered a heart attack from the shock.

However, I was relieved, knowing these specters were likely still active enough to grab me, making the capture somewhat less surprising.

I kicked out forcefully, sending the bailiff tumbling to the floor, where it began to struggle with excruciating slowness.

The bailiff on the other side also stirred, rising from the ground in jerky, rusted-machine movements.

Such combat-ineffective specters were not worth wasting much time on.

So, I lifted my leg, intending to kick both of them down the stairs.

But just as I extended my leg, I noticed something valuable on the closer bailiff.

It carried a bright red lacquered wooden bow strapped to its back, next to a quiver, and beside the quiver, a long bamboo tube.

These red arrows were typically used for firing flaming shafts. The bamboo tube must contain fuel.

By coating the arrows with the oil from the tube and igniting them with a tinderbox, they were transformed into fire arrows.

I was currently lacking any lighting source, so I grabbed the pale-faced bailiff, slammed it onto the ground, and retrieved the quiver and the oil container.

The other bailiff carried a serrated back-sword, which appeared so heavy that it explained why it had struggled so long to rise.

I was in need of a weapon anyway, so as it reached out to lunge at me, I seized it by the collar and threw it down.

Strapping the arrows and oil to my back, and taking up the serrated demon-head sword, I swiftly lopped off both bailiffs’ heads and tossed them from the lookout platform.

Clapping my hands, I remarked, "You have slain countless souls; it is time for your release."

Next, I twisted hard to open the bamboo tube of fire oil and found it filled to the brim.

Smelling it, I realized the oil was still usable, bringing me a surge of joy.

Then, I dipped an arrow in the oil, lit it with my lighter, and instantly the surroundings were illuminated brightly.

I then took up the bow and fitted the arrow.

As I drew the bowstring, I gasped momentarily, because the bow was incredibly stiff.

In reality, the strength of ancient people was formidable; compared to modern individuals, even someone whose job was cooking for an army could easily lift a millstone.

Thus, the bow in my hand wasn't truly a powerful one—it was merely average.

Even so, I exerted the strength of nine bulls and two tigers just to draw this ordinary bow halfway back.

Exhausted and sweating profusely, I aimed vaguely in one direction and loosed the arrow.

To my surprise, this arrow possessed formidable power, whistling out and slicing through the air, lighting up a path in the sky with its flame.

It quickly embedded itself in a wall fifty or sixty meters away.

The flame hadn't extinguished, so I saw what looked like a gigantic shadow flash across the wall.

"There is something there..." I thought, startled.

But as I scrutinized the spot again, the seemingly huge black shadow was gone.

I had held some reservations, but then, a strange whimpering sound drifted up from below the watchtower.

Intrigued, I quickly lit another fire arrow and shot it toward the ground below the tower.

The arrow traced an arc and lodged steadily into the earth.

The flame illuminated a corner of the ground, and I saw two dark shapes instantly vanish beyond the range of the light.

The position where I shot the arrow was fortuitous; one of the bailiffs' heads I had thrown down lay right beside where my arrow landed.

But as I focused my gaze, the facial skin on that severed head had been torn away by something, revealing the black bone beneath.

Furthermore, the eyeballs had been snatched out, leaving only two dark, hollow sockets.

I concluded that something had been there, feasting on the severed heads, and my fire arrow had scared them off.

As I pondered this, suddenly, at the edge of the firelight, an impossibly ugly, long, pointed head poked out.

The shape of this head was terribly familiar; it looked precisely like several whiskers sprouting from the root of a sweet potato.

A closer look revealed it was a hairless giant rat!

Because it lacked fur, its bare posterior exhibited a bizarre, fleshy red color. Its body, over two meters long, appeared bloated and terrifying.

A moment later, a second, smaller head emerged. This one, however, was not a rat but a large, ferocious-looking black dog.

The black dog was covered in many red sores, making it resemble a disease vector suffering from a severe skin condition.

It snarled, showing its teeth, and slowly approached the massive rat.

From my vantage point, the rat was larger than the dog and seemed more capable in a fight.

I had no idea how these creatures survived in this dark world, but judging by their ferocity, I knew neither was easy prey, and both were desperately hungry.

For a mere lump of dead flesh, they would fight each other to the death; if I, a piece of living meat, went down there, I would surely be torn apart before any bones were left.

Since I was elevated, if I didn't want to cut off my own retreat, the best course was to shoot these two creatures dead with the bow and arrow first.