Chess Piece, Demon Soup

The temperature difference between day and night in Baiyun County is immense.

The interrogation room is secluded and drafty on all sides.

In terms of warmth, it is far inferior to the prison cells.

Wearing only a single layer of clothing, Huang Sanyou shivered uncontrollably in the cold wind.

He desperately wanted to curl into a ball, but his hands and feet were firmly locked by iron chains, leaving him with barely an inch of space to move.

Opposite him sat a man as broad and sturdy as an iron tower, half-reclining in a grand armchair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the tabletop.

No one spoke.

In the deathly silence of the interrogation room, only the "tap, tap, tap" sound remained, sounding exceptionally clear.

From the moment he entered, Yao Xiong had plopped into the chair and remained there, staring straight ahead in silence.

Perhaps unable to bear the cold, or perhaps because the knife wounds Chen Zhuo had inflicted during the day were simply too painful, Huang Sanyou was the first to speak.

"My Huang family are sworn enemies of Qiu Laojiu; how could I possibly be in league with him?"

Huang Sanyou's voice was weak; having been left to hang for so long, he was clearly exhausted.

"I know."

Yao Xiong nodded.

"Then you..."

Huang Sanyou's gaze faltered. In an instant, as if realizing something, a hint of ferocity appeared on his face.

"Yao Xiong, kill me! Even if I die, I won't say a word about the Huang family, nor will I let you use me to splash Qiu Laojiu's filth onto them."

"It doesn't matter."

Yao Xiong shrugged. He glanced at the sky, then turned back to look at Huang Sanyou as if he were looking at an idiot.

"Why do you think I'm the only one interrogating you?"

"As long as I stay in here long enough, what difference does it make whether you open your mouth or not?"

"Whether or not you confess, isn't it up to me to decide what is written down?"

As these words landed, Huang Sanyou felt them pierce his ears, colder and more biting than the wind hitting his body.

"Kill me!"

Huang Sanyou roared these words in a near-hysterical frenzy.

If he didn't die tonight, his wife, children, and grandchildren would be the ones to die.

"Rest assured, you won't die. Your value is much higher than you imagine."

After saying this, Yao Xiong closed his eyes, looking completely composed.

Huang Sanyou's face turned ashen, and his eyes instantly filled with bloodshot veins.

No matter how his body convulsed, the heavy iron chains hung over his head like a guillotine—a guillotine that also hung over the heads of his entire family.

But soon, he gave up the struggle.

Huang Sanyou had already realized that the Sun family was pulling the strings from the shadows.

Against the Long River Gang, against the Registrar Wang Mingyuan, and even...

He was merely a pawn being toyed with by others.

He hated the Sun family, he hated Yao Xiong, but he hated that lowly White-Uniform Runner who had captured him even more.

"What a pity, there's no chance left."

Like a final flicker of light before death, Huang Sanyou exhausted his strength in his struggle. After his frantic outburst, he became even more despondent.

However, just as he was sinking into total despair, a baby-faced runner suddenly opened the door to the interrogation room.

Through the silvery moonlight, Huang Sanyou saw who it was. As if grabbing onto a final straw, he trembled and cried out, "Save me."

As soon as Huang Yuan'er entered, he first cupped his hands toward Yao Xiong before saying to Huang Sanyou, "Great-uncle, please calm yourself."

Yao Xiong nodded slightly without a word and rose to leave, as if he had expected Huang Yuan'er to come.

Huang Yuan'er cast a gloomy glance at Yao Xiong's retreating back, then turned around and suddenly offered a faint smile.

"Great-uncle, you have suffered."

"Good grand-nephew... good grand-nephew..."

Watching Huang Yuan'er slowly approach him, Huang Sanyou gasped for air, a smile of relief appearing on his face.

"Quick, quickly untie me... Ah!!"

Huang Sanyou thought he had seen the dawn, but he had actually stepped into another abyss.

A dagger was thrust fiercely into his heart.

Blood gushed out instantly, staining his entire body in a heartbeat.

Huang Sanyou's body could not stop convulsing.

"W-why..."

"I sent you to kill a mere White-Uniform Runner, and you managed to botch even that. Tell me yourself, are you not a piece of trash?"

Huang Yuan'er stood calmly before Huang Sanyou, not even blinking when blood sprayed onto his face.

"Botching it is one thing, but you should never, ever have let yourself be dragged back to the yamen."

Huang Yuan'er looked up into Huang Sanyou's eyes and grinned hideously: "Do you have any idea how much trouble you've brought upon me and the Long River Gang?"

"You've made me lose standing in the Old Man's eyes, and you've cost us ten percent of our harvest from the Autumn Hunt."

At this, Huang Yuan'er pulled the dagger out and plunged it back in: "To ensure you stay silent forever—ten percent of the harvest! That's a whole ten percent. If that were converted into silver, it would be enough to grind your entire family into meat paste."

"Hhh... hhh..."

Huang Sanyou wanted to say something more, but he lacked the strength. He could only widen his eyes, kick his legs once, and slowly lose his breath.

Huang Yuan'er took a handkerchief from his waist, wiped his blood-soaked hands, and tossed it directly onto Huang Sanyou's face.

"Clean up the traces of the corpse and put the dagger back where it belongs."

"Yes."

"Tomorrow, send two human traffickers to his house. Sell everything that can be sold. Since he caused me such a massive loss, I must recoup some of it."

"Hiss, so hot."

Whatever liquid Yan Ming had poured into the tub, Chen Zhuo felt an intense, searing heat, as if he were being pricked by needles, bringing a catastrophe to every inch of his skin, flesh, and muscle.

It felt as if he were being boiled in a giant cauldron of soup; if the temperature rose any higher, he feared he would turn into a lump of cooked meat.

Chen Zhuo instinctively tried to spring up.

However, a large hand suddenly appeared on his head, forcefully pressing him back into the water.

The sharp, violent pain made Chen Zhuo want to rise again, but Yan Ming's voice rang in his ears.

"Trust me. Endure it, and it will be of immense benefit to you."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Chen Zhuo chose to grit his teeth and remain in the water.

Regardless of anything else, this pool of Blood-Strengthening Soup could not be fake.

"Junior Brother, I truly didn't misjudge you. You have real grit."

Yan Ming watched Chen Zhuo's choice, nodding slightly, his eyes filled with nothing but appreciation.

It wasn't that he was intentionally seeking revenge.

To enter the sect, one must first bathe in "Demon Soup"—that was the sect's rule.

Of the five types of Demon Soup, he had simply chosen to start Chen Zhuo with the most painful one.

"This hurdle, whether passed sooner or later, must be passed regardless. Master, I'm not bullying my little Junior Brother, am I?"

Yan Ming smiled, turned, and walked out the door. He looked up at the stars in the sky and muttered to himself.

I'm cooked. I'm really about to be cooked.

The extreme pain caused Chen Zhuo's consciousness to become somewhat hazy.

His nostrils flared, and he seemed to smell the scent of roasting meat.

Before his consciousness completely sank, a thought struck him.

If cutting his flesh with a knife could replace the striking technique and improve his Iron Cloth Shirt, wouldn't this needle-like agony be even more beneficial?

Chen Zhuo gritted his teeth, using his last shred of clarity to assume a boxing stance, adjusted his breathing, and let the rolling heat waves sear his entire body.

Then, he lost all sensation.

Yet, in an instant, Chen Zhuo opened his eyes again.

Only, his eye sockets were filled with a blood-red hue.

"Roar..."

Chen Zhuo let out a low growl like a manic beast.

He saw Yan Ming outside the door and, with a ferocious expression, wanted to charge out.

But suddenly, the blood-red in his eyes faded rapidly.

He looked around blankly, as if he couldn't remember where he was or what he was doing.

Soon, the blood-red returned, only to fade once more.

The cycle repeated itself.

Through the window lattice, Yan Ming watched Chen Zhuo with a complex gaze, as if he were looking at an old friend.

"Only after passing this trial can you truly become my Junior Brother."