Everyone Has a Stranger Side

Xiang Qian's line of questioning was a naked humiliation to Temugin, earning him a look of extreme malice in return. Temugin, who had made such a grand entrance, was now nothing more than a fish on a chopping block, able to express his anger and unwillingness only through his eyes.

Xiang Qian understood the meaning behind that gaze perfectly. He retracted the gemstone ring, drew his pistol, and pressed the muzzle against Temugin's left knee.

"Refusing to talk?" Xiang Qian asked calmly. He didn't make any fierce or threatening expressions; he was as composed as if he were greeting a neighbor. Temugin rolled his eyes in contempt.

"Bang!"

Xiang Qian pulled the trigger with that same unwavering calm. The bullet tore through the inside of Temugin's left knee and exited the outside, leaving two bleeding holes. The intense pain forced a low roar from Temugin, his eyes bulging wide, unable to roll them back again for the moment.

Xiang Qian sighed, as if feeling regret for the other man's plight, then casually pressed the muzzle against his right knee.

"I forgot to tell you earlier—since this is my first time doing this kind of work, oversights are inevitable. I've done quite a bit of in-depth research on human anatomy, and that last shot hit your knee cartilage," Xiang Qian's tone was exactly like a doctor delivering a diagnosis. "I can confirm that the angle of that bullet shattered the entire articular cartilage. This is irreversible damage. From now on, every time you put weight on your left leg, your kneecap will feel like it's being pricked by needles. You won't be unable to walk, but you'll have to use a cane for the rest of your life."

"But the good news is, you still have a chance to save your other leg." Xiang Qian coaxed him, the Type 06 Pistol in his hand serving as the perfect punctuation. "Using one cane is much better than using two, right?"

"Still refusing to talk?" Xiang Qian locked eyes with Temugin, clearly and accurately receiving the message the other man was projecting.

"Bang!" Another gunshot rang out. This time, Temugin showed some backbone; at least he didn't let out another wail of pain.

Xiang Qian nodded, unbothered, his lips curling into a mocking smile. "You're acting like a tough guy. Let's run another test then. I want to see how much you're ultimately willing to sacrifice for your father, shall we?" As he spoke, Xiang Qian moved the muzzle upward and pressed it against Temugin's neck.

"Let me tell you what's going to happen next, Mr. Tough Guy." The recently fired muzzle, still radiating intense heat, seared a ring of blisters onto Temugin's neck. "A bullet fired from this angle will avoid all the major blood vessels in your neck, graze your cervical vertebrae, and pass right through."

Xiang Qian's tone was that of a surgeon giving a pre-op talk. "The injury won't be fatal, but a small segment of your cervical vertebra will be blown away. A best-case scenario is that your neck will be permanently tilted to one side, and occasionally, due to muscle numbness, you'll be drooling all over the floor. Of course, the bad result is that if the bullet accidentally deviates from the intended trajectory and damages too much of the cervical spine, you'll end up with high paraplegia. But there is one piece of good news: no matter how light or severe the injury is, it won't affect your thinking or memory. Which means we can continue to interrogate you."

"Now it's your turn to consider: how far are you willing to go for your father?" Xiang Qian's smile deepened. "Imagine the next thirty, forty, or even fifty years of your long life. You'll never be able to walk normally again. All those combat skills you painstakingly practiced will be useless. Whether you're eating, drinking, or sleeping, you'll always have a crooked neck, and you'll have to be like a snot-nosed kid in kindergarten, wearing a little handkerchief on your chest, ready to wipe away your drool at any moment—you'll spend the rest of your life as a waste of space. Or, you can choose the other ending: tell me what I want to know, and I can quietly raise the muzzle a little. The bullet will go straight through your brain and give you a quick end."

Xiang Qian's words were like a curse, burning away Temugin's reason bit by bit. His eyes were bloodshot, and the muscles in his face trembled uncontrollably; his rational mind was on the verge of collapse. Yet, Xiang Qian remained unmoved. Though he wore a smile, his eyes held a cold-bloodedness that radiated from the depths of his soul. Half of his actions were for interrogation, and the other half were deliberate torture.

No one dared to stop Xiang Qian. The communication channel remained silent for a long time. Vector, who was witnessing the process firsthand, was nearly scared out of her wits. She had experienced Xiang Qian's sharp-tongued nature personally, and with a woman's intuition, she could vaguely sense the detachment and indifference he hid deep within, even if he didn't show it. But the cruelty and cold-bloodedness he displayed now still terrified her; she even subconsciously stepped back twice, not daring to look him in the eye.

Just as everyone was waiting for Xiang Qian to fire the final shot, Saber strode forward.

"That's enough!" Saber raised his combat saber and struck the side of Temugin's head with the hilt, knocking him unconscious.

"Saber!" Interrupted, Xiang Qian snapped upright, making no effort to hide his anger as he glared at Saber.

Saber didn't flinch, meeting Xiang Qian's gaze head-on. "We've already captured him. Professional interrogators will handle him later, but not now... and it shouldn't be you!"

Saber watched Xiang Qian calmly after speaking, refusing to yield an inch. Xiang Qian said nothing, but his rage seemed to dissipate bit by bit.

Xiang Qian knew that his behavior in pressuring Temugin had crossed the line in the eyes of others. To them, he appeared completely driven by fury, and before he could destroy Temugin's sanity, his own had been on the verge of unraveling. Saber's words were like a bucket of cold water, forcing him to regain his composure. Regardless of whether he had misunderstood the situation, Saber's intent was genuinely to help him.

Xiang Qian turned away in silence, putting distance between himself and Temugin. He didn't offer any defense; even though he had driven Saber to the brink of madness with his sharp tongue countless times before, he would never use that same venom to respond to someone's sincerity and good intentions.

Vector watched Xiang Qian back down and almost began to worship Saber. This was the first time she had ever seen someone verbally overpower this man who was covered in thorns.

Perhaps because the look of astonishment on Vector's face was too obvious, Xiang Qian glanced at her, signaled that he didn't want to talk to her, and tossed a Type 06 Pistol in her direction.

Vector was startled and scrambled to catch the gun. The gun had just been fired and was scorching hot, you jerk! A gun that hasn't been cleared can go off, you bastard! Vector subconsciously went to eject the magazine, but when she pulled it out to check, the chamber was empty—the two shots fired at Temugin's knees had exactly emptied the magazine.

Vector stared blankly at Xiang Qian's retreating back: was this just a coincidence, or had he done it on purpose?