Creak...
From somewhere in the distance came the grating sound of an iron door opening and closing.
It was accompanied by the noise of something heavy being dragged.
Tsi Qing opened his eyes and drew a deep breath. He had spent the past five days lying on the torture bed. Other than the monk's occasional visits, he had basically been the only person in the cell at all other times. But Tsi Qing knew such days could not last forever. As his injuries gradually improved, the enemy had reached the time to make their move.
Sure enough, the cell door opened, and three guards dragged in a brazier hung with torture instruments.
Several branding irons in the brazier were already glowing red-hot.
Tsi Qing raised his head, gave the newcomers a cold sneer, and spat at them.
"Heh, this one's got some nerve," one of them said, raising a brow.
"He's never had a taste of our handiwork, after all." Another showed a sinister smile. "Don't worry. You'll soon learn what it means to beg for life but be unable to live, beg for death but be unable to die."
Idiots. How could a Green-faced Ghost possibly fear this kind of physical torture? Tsi Qing could not be bothered to look at them again, but the worry in his heart only grew. Harsh torture was merely a formality. Once they failed to extract any intelligence, they would certainly intensify their methods—he could endure bodily wounds, but he could not withstand the torment of sorcery. If he could not leave this prison or die, confessing everything would only be a matter of time.
"Don't use too much force the first time. The higher-ups said this one had to stay alive."
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. If I say I'll