"Three days, and he hasn't said a word!"
Inside Jiuling City's Third Hall, the hall master, Mo Shou, flicked a silver-white whip crackling with lightning through the air. Its tip slashed diagonally and struck Han Beng, pinned to a cross.
The whip passed through Han Beng's body and lashed viciously at his weakened soul. Silver light flashed as arcs of electricity coursed over him. Han Beng's eyes flew open, his pupils scattering from the unbearable pain. His mouth fell open involuntarily, but not a sound came out.
"The Grand Commander said before he left that if Han Beng didn't tell us anything..."
After striking him several more times, Mo Shou sighed. The whip vanished from his hand, and he beckoned Chen Gui over from nearby.
"Send him to Feng City..."
Chen Gui, who had now become Mo Shou's disciple, called over the Third Hall's Xia Lan disciples. They took Han Beng down and turned to leave, but Mo Shou reconsidered and stopped them.
"Wait!"
Mo Shou turned and struck Han Beng's dantian with a palm. His once murky, dark crystal core immediately filled with cracks. Dou Qi streamed out, and in the blink of an eye, the core shattered, its wisps of Dou Qi drifting from Han Beng's body.
A flash of despair crossed Han Beng's eyes. But with his major acupoints sealed by Qi-Breaking Nails and his Dou Qi gradually dissipating, he could only let his head hang helplessly.
"Han Beng..."
Mo Shou watched Han Beng's retreating figure and quietly repeated his name. In fact, on the very first day Han Beng had been captured, their informant in the Black Alliance had already sent them all kinds of information about him.
An unremarkable-looking Wind-attribute Dou Wang who excelled at concealing his presence—he was probably Han Beng, the chief steward