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Dead. They were all dead.
Two Soul Douluos, three Soul Saints... every last one had become shattered ice and broken jade in pools of blood. Some had even been vaporized.
At the heart of that horrific slaughterhouse, only I remained, along with the Shadow Butterfly Soul Emperor beside me, whose will had likewise been utterly destroyed by the sight before us. He trembled like chaff in a sieve.
We were like two clay statues nailed to the ice, unable to summon even the slightest thought of escape.
That vast, hellish pressure had yet to dissipate. Its lingering aura alone stripped us of any possibility of resistance.
We were captured with ease. Cold, heavy chains coiled around our hands and feet, sealing our soul power.
Then, steeped in endless despair and cold, we were escorted through one heavily guarded barrier after another, each suffused with an iron-and-blood severity, before finally being thrown into the depths of the Chen Clan's sinister dungeon-the ultimate destination that embodied law and judgment.
The interrogation room reeked of pungent disinfectant and the chill of stone.
The dim yellow light of the Soul Guidance Lamp illuminated only a narrow area, leaving enormous shadows on the walls like lurking monsters.
There were no whips, no branding irons. Yet the calm questioning and those piercing eyes that saw through everything were themselves an unbearable torture.
Immense psychological pressure ground every nerve to pieces like a millstone.
Confess... what remained of my reason screamed.
There was no hope of getting lucky, no room to struggle.
I spilled everything I knew without reservation, like beans poured from a sack: the Heartless Tower's bases, the codewords used to make contact, the names of everyone else involved in the operation, our covetous designs on the Chen