Recommendation Tickets, please.
Dead. They were all dead.
Two Soul Douluos, three Soul Sages... all of them had turned into shattered ice and broken jade in pools of blood. Some had even been vaporized.
At the center of that horrific Asura Field, only I remained, along with the Shadow Butterfly Soul Emperor beside me, whose will had likewise been utterly destroyed by the sight before us and who was trembling like a sieve.
We were like two clay statues nailed to the ice, unable to even form the slightest thought of escape.
That vast, prison-like pressure had yet to disperse. The mere lingering aura stripped us of any possibility of resistance.
We were captured with ease. Cold, heavy chains wrapped around our hands and feet, sealing away our Soul Power.
After that, in endless despair and cold, we were escorted through layer after layer of heavily guarded barriers thick with an iron-blooded air, and finally thrown deep into the Chen Clan's gloomy dungeon—the final place that symbolized rules and judgment.
The interrogation room was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant and the chill, damp air of stone.
The dim yellow light of the Spirit Tool Lamp could only illuminate a narrow area, leaving huge shadows on the walls like lurking monsters.
There were no whips, no branding irons, but that calm questioning, that sharp gaze that saw through everything, was itself an unbearable torture.
Immense psychological pressure crushed every nerve like a millstone.
Confess... what remained of my reason screamed.
There was no chance of luck, no room to struggle.
I poured out everything I knew without holding anything back, like beans spilling from a tube: Unbenevolent Tower's strongholds, the contact codes, the names of the others involved in the operation, their coveting of the Chen Clan Young