After being injected with the drug, Honglian felt every nerve in her body boiling, her senses amplified countless times over. The slightest pain was enough to make her scream.
She suspected that before long, she would be tortured to death by the pain itself. Yet the shock she had hoped for never came. Not only was her mind clear, but she could still think about why.
Was it because none of her injuries were actually fatal?
She looked at her right hand, bound to the armrest of the chair—her knuckles were red and swollen, unable to move; her fingernails had been ripped up, exposing the pale red flesh beneath... The pain was indescribable, heart-rending, but far from enough to kill her.
"How many Wanderers have you come into contact with? What are their names?"
"Do they have an organization?"
"What are their objectives?"
"Tell me what you talked about."
Wang Qianduan paid no heed to her screams, calmly asking the questions the Organization wanted answered. Whether she replied or not, after asking several times, he would move on to another topic, as if her confession did not matter at all.
What was he doing?
Was the interrogation merely an excuse? Was he simply taking pleasure in torture?
Impossible... Honglian immediately rejected that guess. The Organization had risked expanding the Erosion zone to bring their entire team to this world, then gone to great lengths to separate every agent. They would never give Wang Qianduan such an opportunity merely to satisfy his personal desires.
Could it be—
A terrifying thought surfaced in Honglian's mind.
"How did the Wanderer find you?" Wang Qianduan asked again.
Honglian forcefully suppressed the unease in her heart and deliberately constructed a scene that did not exist: a person wearing a black mask had contacted her, and