Drip, drip.
The Martial Law Bureau's interrogation room seemed to have a leak somewhere. The sound of water droplets falling came from an unknown place.
Unable to tell the time, Shen Qian could only roughly estimate it by listening to the dripping.
It had probably been over an hour. He wondered whether Old Wang had found Liu Changqing yet.
Shen Qian's thoughts wandered wildly.
But in Chai Mu's eyes, Shen Qian looked like this—
He sat on the tall stool, drenched in sweat. His deathly pale face had a sickly green tinge, his features were twisted, and his eyes had rolled back as though he had reached some sort of limit.
If Shen Qian absolutely had to describe what it felt like when those Spirit Breaking Needles pierced him, it was probably... slightly cool.
But in order to convince Chai Mu and keep him from using other instruments that looked horrifically inhumane, Shen Qian gave the system an idle command: "Make a pained expression."
Then Shen Qian maintained the system-generated expression and bored himself through more than an hour.
Every ten minutes, Chai Mu would ask Shen Qian, "Will you confess?" By now, even Chai Mu was moved.
"No wonder you reached such cultivation at such a young age despite your humble origins. Your mental fortitude is tougher than that of some Advanced Martial Artists I've met. Unbelievable."
Chai Mu sighed as he looked at the nine silver needles embedded in Shen Qian's joints, his expression complicated.
Nine needles...
No martial artist had ever lasted this long after all nine needles were used at once.
"But the more you are like this, the less I can let it go. Otherwise, I will surely be unable to eat or sleep in peace from now on."
Growing increasingly agitated, Chai Mu waved