In the center of the room, a man curled up, trembling violently.
His expression was twisted with terror, his lips tightly pressed together as if he were doing his best to suppress anguished groans.
It couldn't be blamed on him.
After all, his body was covered in wounds of all sizes, old and new injuries interwoven together, almost covering his entire body.
Wang Li's left index finger and ring finger were wrapped in rough gauze, with dark-red blood faintly showing through underneath.
A large patch of burn marks covered his leg, lines branded into the darkened skin.
This man had clearly endured countless tortures here.
His body was covered in whip marks, knife wounds, brands, and all kinds of other injuries.
His clothes were tattered and stained with blood and sweat, giving off an indescribably foul stench.
Beside him, a table was piled with all sorts of odds and ends: shattered liquor bottles, empty cigarette packs, a battered guitar, and a scattered deck of playing cards.
This was probably one of the few forms of entertainment available to him in the room. The camp authorities likely gave him something to do because they wanted to pry information out of him and didn't want him to go insane.
The air in the room was thick with a heavy, oppressive atmosphere. Luo Yan was deeply surprised. He hadn't expected Wang Li to hold out under such conditions without selling out the Strategic Affairs Department.
He walked into the room and said in a low voice, "Don't be afraid. I'm here to rescue you. I'm from the Strategic Affairs Department..."
Before Luo Yan could reveal his identity, the man who had been trembling just a moment earlier lunged at him.
"What? You're from the Strategic Affairs Department?"
"How many of you came?"
"An