The Hell King didn't initially know how to use the whip. He designed a course for himself and started learning it. Over the years, he became a martial arts master in whip that rivals the ancient masters of martial arts. At time point, he no longer fetched an offender with his hands. He would make a noose with his whip and drag them over by the their necks. This was far more efficient.

His action of slowly tying the noose with his eye on the escaping target was one of the most terrifying sequences in the dreams of prisoners.

Scientists who watched this drama through a camera lens noticed one more thing. The Hell King who no one dared to look at, was a man whose looks go beyond time. He was a timeless beauty.

His masculinity was extreme and so was his beauty. But everyone looked at him with fear and no one saw nor appreciated his appearance. Even those who spied on him from afar, deferentially looked at his scarred and powerful body, never his face or him at a whole. This is because the Hell King will sense their gaze. The instincts of criminals are very powerful. They didn't dare to take a chance.

However, the prison is full of homosexuals. Even if it is a hand of the Hell King that entered the view of the men, they will still be aroused without knowing. If they ever figure out the source of the passion, they will not only not feel good, they will feel even more violent fear.

The prisoners were not that afraid of the violence. The reason they are truly afraid of the Hell King is the spectacle he makes of it. To scream and display their fear and their pain, their terror, their helpless, their anguish. To open their mouths and show to the world, the white fear of death.

No one in the World Prison is afraid of pain. What they are afraid of, is pain being seen.

The Hell King tears open their facade and shows to the world what vulnerable creatures they are. The so-called great criminals who have accepted evil as their nature. Let them burst into tears and beg for mercy.

But mercy shall not be given.

This is the Hell King's punishment. No such thing as mercy.

The scars on T.K's body have not come from fights. He is much too good to lose in a direct fight. They came from his insistence on the performance of the squealer. He himself can get injured and bleed. The performance shall not be disturbed.

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He has always been the stuff of nightmares in the World Prison. After he left, his extremely and vividly beautiful form that remained in memory brought another kind of nightmare.

To have passion for such a man is what created the combined psychological effect of constant fear in the World Prison.

However…

What is more galling than its actual occurrence, was that it was designed.

The Timekeeper timed their subconscious for twenty years. With the same routines, same actions, same efficiency and same memory, he created this effect!

He put on a show for twenty years. Throughout the twenty years, his expression barely changed. It was either angry, or it was even. It was mostly even. Not a frown, not a scowl, not a sneer, not a growl. Like a performance of rage. Extremely contained, extremely violent.

His body was blue from the cold but he was more powerful the darker it got. The radiation and prolonged exposure to cold made his body the colour of the pregnant cloud. Only his face retained the original skin colour.

A death god with a noose to collect souls would have the exact same appearance.

This was the first time the scientists of the world have seen such a massive scale manipulation of the subconscious, by a single person. The World Prison no less!

Are timekeepers so powerful?

It is known that they 'keep time'. Have they kept time of the actual subconscious?

Are they about to take over the world?!

Months after this incident, Progeny would receive a massive appeal from the World Panel for the same reason. Only Progeny had no idea what they were talking about.

What hell dream? What timekeeper? Are you talking about those bankrupt three who didn't fulfil the quota of adoption, so they adopted their own podmate?

Just listen to their resume and know they are useless. Don't bother us.

But of course, there is no evidence of future events in the present. But for the long and prolonged smile that caught the attention of Anita's fingertips.

"Something nice?"

Her soft female voice was like an immediate cocoon that kept making Aniket sleepy. Has he truly heard no female voice for twenty years?

And the smell…has it always been so divine?

"Hmm?"

Nate adjusted the rearview mirror and looked in the back. He understood something his wife hadn't.

"Looks like someone outperformed their mission as usual."

Anita was somehow full of trepidation hearing this. After biting her fingertips and trying to find inspiration in the landscape for a long time, she gathered her courage and asked,

"Nikki, you weren't drinking, yes?"

The great King of Hell's performance was attributed to spirits. He wanted to protest loudly.

Only he snorted and buried his face in Anita's stomach. When did I ever drink?

Anita also considered this. Nikki never drank much.

"What about cigarettes?"

Hmmph! Those lowly things.

Anita took a deep breath and arrived at the main question, "What about grass?"

To Aniket's silence, she added a few more words, "LSD? Crystal meth? Ecstasy…what else Nate?"

Nate was pulled into this pirate train. He had to respond. "Coke and heroin, I guess? Niti, don't worry. Aniket's main was only entheogens. But he could never find any under your watch. He stuck to grass. He doesn't even drink alcohol much. You know that."

This explanation was not helping at all. Aniket used his tall leg to give Nate's driver's seat a kick.

"Nikki…did you find those things in prison?"

Anita might as well have asked, 'Is that why you went there?'