185: Chapter 185 Interrogation

Dungeon, Level -3.

This place was originally a cell for detaining high-level extraterrestrials; the walls were embedded with Spirit-Suppressing Stones, and every iron bar was engraved with runes to suppress divine arts. The air was filled with a damp, decaying smell, along with a faint, lingering scent of blood.

Water droplets condensing on the walls slid slowly along the patterns of the Spirit-Suppressing Stones, making crisp ticking sounds.

Aiken was locked to a specially made alloy torture rack. The wound where his arm had been severed had already scabbed over, but the pain of having his divine arts crippled felt like ten thousand ants gnawing at his heart, keeping him on the verge of collapse every single moment.

However, his spine remained straight, and in his deep-set eye sockets burned the paranoia and fanaticism belonging to a Temple Knight.

When footsteps sounded from the stairwell, he jerked his head up, a flash of terror in his eyes, which immediately turned into venomous hatred.

Han Xiao walked in the lead, carrying that metal rod that never left his side; the tip of the rod tapped against the ground, making crisp "clack-clack" sounds. Yan Yue followed by his side, with two recording officers and an elderly Spirit Mechanic wearing glasses behind them.

"Name." Han Xiao stopped and looked at the disheveled Aiken with calm eyes.

Aiken spat out a mouthful of blood and sneered, "You filthy Daxia pigs, do you even deserve to know the name of a noble Temple Knight..."

Bang!

Han Xiao's metal rod jabbed directly into Aiken's abdomen. The force was perfectly controlled, causing him to arch his back in pain without actually injuring his vital organs.

"Name." Han Xiao repeated, his tone devoid of any fluctuation.

Aiken coughed violently, veins bulging on his forehead, but he still grinned ferociously, "Kill me... if you have the guts, kill me... A Temple Knight will not surrender..."

"A Temple Knight?"

Yan Yue spoke up suddenly. He stepped forward, looking down at Aiken with undisguised contempt.

"You? A Temple Knight who lost an arm, had his divine arts crippled, and was dragged back like a dead dog?"

He reached out and violently grabbed Aiken's chin, forcing him to lift his head:

"Aiken, Tier 6 mid-stage, ranked twelfth in the Holy Temple Knights, skilled in Blood Rage divine arts, killed seventeen Daxia garrison soldiers on the Northern Front battlefield, including three peak Tier 5 scout captains."

Yan Yue read it word by word, and with every sentence he read, Aiken's face grew paler.

"Do you think you have a tough spine?"

Yan Yue let go and took out a handkerchief to wipe his fingers.

"Let me tell you, your companion, Munro, was already a cripple when he escaped back.

Augustus couldn't save him; he is now a fool who only knows how to drool, and you—"

He leaned down and whispered into Aiken's ear, "If you don't speak, I will make you live more miserably than Munro. I will hang you on the city wall, let the entire garrison watch you slowly rot, and watch those Daxia pigs you once looked down upon spit on your corpse."

Aiken's pupils contracted violently, and his body trembled uncontrollably.

Death was not scary; what was scary was having one's dignity trampled into pieces.

"Where is Lin Mo? Where is Lin Mo? Let him come over, I want to see Lin Mo!!" Aiken's voice was as hoarse as a broken bellows.

Han Xiao and Yan Yue exchanged a glance.

"See Lin Mo? As a prisoner, what qualifications do you have to demand to see our Daxia's number one genius!" Han Xiao put away the metal rod.

"Speak. Tell us everything you know about Augustus's goal in launching this war. If you speak well, I will give you a quick death."

"Pah, if you have the guts, kill me. Don't think I'll surrender!" Aiken spat fiercely.

"This is the last time; my patience is limited!"

Yan Yue's voice sounded like sandpaper rubbing against rust.

"What exactly is the purpose of Augustus launching this war? What is he looking for in the Northern Wasteland, and what are the contents of the agreement between you and the Mimic?"

Aiken lifted his head, the corners of his mouth curling into a blood-stained arc, revealing his stark white teeth.

"You godless lambs... do you even deserve to touch the mysteries of the gods? Kill me... burn me to ash... I still will not bow my head... to you abandoned races..."

Before he could finish speaking, his pupils suddenly contracted, and a strange black light suddenly lit up on his chest!

"Not good! A divine art restriction!" Han Xiao's expression changed drastically, and he whipped the metal rod back, trying to knock Aiken unconscious, but it was already too late.

The black light spread instantly, crawling toward Aiken's heart like a living creature.

Just at this critical moment, a golden-red lightning bolt descended from the sky, precisely striking the black light!

Boom!

The lightning and black mist intertwined, emitting a piercing screech.

Aiken screamed, a burst of blood mist exploding from his chest, but that life-consuming black line was forcefully severed by the lightning, turning into blue smoke and dissipating.

At the dungeon entrance, Lin Mo slowly retracted his hand, his gaze sweeping over the wound on Aiken's chest, and he said indifferently:

"He won't die; he just fainted. Heal his wounds, don't let him die. When he wakes up... I will interrogate him myself!"

Yan Yue looked at Lin Mo's blood-seeping left hand, his brows locked tightly. "Your hand..."

"A small injury, it's already almost healed!" Lin Mo turned and left, his silhouette stretched long by the torchlight.

"By the way, make sure to keep a close eye on him. The things inside his brain are worth more than his life."

The next morning, the dungeon.

Aiken woke up from the intense pain and discovered that he had been moved to a more secure cell, his limbs shackled to the wall by Spirit Rune chains.

He subconsciously tried to trigger his divine arts to self-destruct, only to find that the foundation of his divine arts within his body was like a frozen lake, utterly dead and silent.

Just as a sense of despair rose, the iron door made a heavy opening sound.

Lin Mo walked in, still wearing that brand-new black combat suit, his posture upright and his gait steady.

What shocked Aiken greatly was that Lin Mo's left hand, the hand that should have been gradually rotting and ruined by the divine art erosion, was now hanging by his side, completely intact.

There wasn't even a scar on his palm, only a layer of skin as tender as a newborn baby's, proving that it had once been injured.

Aiken's pupils contracted to the size of pinpricks, as if he had seen the most terrifying ghoul, and he roared hysterically:

"You... your palm... Impossible! This is impossible..."