Chapter 32

Chapter 32

At his words, the people behind him immediately carried over a box.

As if sensing something, Sheng Zhaoning lifted her head and glanced over. She saw a strange, excited light flickering in Ao Chun’s eyes, anticipation hidden beneath it, his gaze fixed intently on the wooden chest as it slowly opened.

“Pour it out!”

The men behind him stepped forward. Under Ao Chun’s stare, they lifted the box and, with a loud splash, dumped out everything inside.

In the eerie firelight, Sheng Zhaoning’s pupils contracted. At last, she saw what it was.

Countless snakes, insects, rats, and ants spilled onto the ground, writhing in a dense, tangled mass. Their bodies were caked in mud, giving off a foul, fishy stench.

The creatures caught the scent of blood and seemed to go into a frenzy in an instant, surging toward Sheng Zhaoning in a frantic swarm.

The leeches and bloodsuckers were the first to reach her. In moments, they had crawled all over her body, latching onto her wounds as though feasting at some gluttonous banquet.

At the sight, everyone felt their scalps prickle. Goosebumps rose all over them. Some of the more timid ones could no longer bear to look and quietly closed their eyes.

Sheng Zhaoning could no longer make a sound. Wherever the bugs crawled over her, a dense, maddening mix of itch and pain flared up. She let those slimy, revolting creatures swarm over her and suck her blood. A cold, numb stiffness gradually spread through her limbs, and her entire body trembled beyond control.

It hurt.

It hurt so much…

Why was she still alive?

Sheng Zhaoning felt as if she had once again sunk into those dark, cruel years in the Shadow Guard Camp, where people died every single day.

She had killed one after another, and in the same way, one person after another had come to kill her.

Blades had cut into her body. A “friend” she had thought she could trust had stabbed her in the back. Endless days and nights of torture had tempered her. Countless poisons had been poured into her. Yet none of it seemed as unbearable as this moment.

Everything before Sheng Zhaoning’s eyes turned chaotic. She could no longer tell where heaven ended and earth began. At last, she could not hold on any longer, even though the drug kept her brutally awake.

Little by little, she still sank into darkness.

If she could die like this, would that not be a kind of release…?

Her bones lay shattered in her flesh. Her skin was being bitten and devoured. She no longer had the strength to move. She only let her head droop, gradually losing consciousness.

Only after about seven or eight minutes did Ao Chun finally sense that something was wrong.

He looked at the motionless Sheng Zhaoning and tilted his head. His snake-like eyes narrowed. “Hurry up and fish her out!”

The men behind him obeyed at once, rushing forward and forcing down their disgust as they dragged her out of the pile of insects.

By then, Sheng Zhaoning could no longer be described as human.

Her face was deathly pale and ashen. Her limbs hung limply, twisted at unnatural angles. Her entire body was covered in wounds gnawed open by insects. In some places, chunks of flesh had been stripped away, leaving bloody tissue stuck together, making her look like a badly rotted corpse.

Ao Chun strode forward, grimacing in revulsion as he tore a centipede from her neck and flung it to the ground. Then he reached out to check her pulse.

Fortunately, she still had one breath left.

Ao Chun let out a heavy breath of relief.

He had not forgotten His Highness’s orders.

No matter how he tortured her, he had to keep her alive.

It seemed this was Sheng Zhaoning’s limit.

However unwilling Ao Chun was, he had no choice but to stop.

He admitted it. Sheng Zhaoning had won.

“Is she dead?” A deep voice suddenly came from behind him.

Ao Chun turned at the sound. Once he saw the newcomer’s face clearly, he bent at the waist and saluted. “Replying to Your Highness, she is still alive.”

Wei Chengjun stepped into the cell. The thick stench of blood mixed with a foul odor rushed toward him, making him frown. He looked around, his gaze pausing slightly when it fell on the insects covering the floor. Only then did he look at Sheng Zhaoning, who had just one breath left, and ask, “How long have you been interrogating her?”

Ao Chun clenched his fist. “Five days.”

Hearing that answer, Wei Chengjun nodded in satisfaction.

Naturally, he had not overlooked the state Sheng Zhaoning’s body was in-so mangled it was almost unbearable to look at. But the more she had been tortured, the closer she seemed to death, the more satisfied he felt.

In truth, most of the men at the border were straightforward soldiers who led troops into battle. Their most ruthless method was no more than killing someone outright. How could they possibly have so many ways to make a person wish for death?

But Liangzhou happened to have Ao Chun.

The man was one of his great generals, famous for the viciousness of his tactics, and Wei Chengjun admired him greatly.

His methods of interrogation were unmatched. There was a common saying at the border: there was no mouth Ao Chun could not pry open, and no scheme Cai Zhou could not devise.

One was civil, the other military; one was sinister, the other treacherous. They complemented each other perfectly.

“She didn’t say anything?” Wei Chengjun asked.

Ao Chun’s gaze darkened. “No.”

Everyone said the mouths of the Shadow Guard were the only ones Ao Chun could not pry open. Naturally, Ao Chun refused to accept that.

Most people in this world clung to life and feared death. No matter how hard their bones were, once they fell into his hands, there would always come a day when they softened.

And if they would not soften, he would break them apart by force.

Ao Chun had always believed there was no such thing as absolute loyalty under heaven.

So-called unyielding loyalty unto death only existed because they had never experienced anything more terrifying than death.

He had long wanted to break the arrogance of the Shadow Guard. He had simply lacked an opportunity, since every member of the Shadow Guard was among Prince Zhenbei’s most trusted household servants.

Now that he finally had his chance, Ao Chun had used nearly every method at his disposal.

Unfortunately, Sheng Zhaoning had truly forced him to see her in a new light.

Over the course of five days and countless inhuman tortures, he had not managed to hear a single word from Sheng Zhaoning’s mouth.

For the first time, Ao Chun felt defeated.

Wei Chengjun’s gaze fell on Sheng Zhaoning once more.

The metallic stench of blood mingled with a faint odor of rot, drifting through the air.

Sheng Zhaoning sat propped motionless against the ground, letting those disgusting, slick insects cling to every inch of her wounds. Her eyes were tightly shut, and there was not the slightest trace of life in her.

If not for the faint rise and fall barely visible at her chest, anyone who saw such a horrific sight would think she had been dead for quite some time.

“Take her back,” Wei Chengjun said evenly.

…

Liangzhou had been far from peaceful lately.

On one side, enemy forces at the border had been attacking repeatedly, leaving the front lines in utter chaos. On the other, Young General Chi had taken half a camp’s worth of soldiers and turned Liangzhou upside down.

When General Chi heard the news, he was so furious he nearly died of anger. He had his son dragged back, beaten with military rods, and locked in confinement for more than half a month.

The matter had already become the favorite topic of conversation among the common people of Liangzhou.

Chi Yu had always been restrained, proper, rigorous, and self-disciplined-a model of manly virtue and the dream husband of countless sheltered young ladies. No one knew what outrageous mistake he had made this time to provoke General Chi into such a rage, or to have him beaten so badly that he could not get out of bed for days.

There was no movement from Zhenbei Prince’s Mansion. No inquiries, no blame-only silence, as if nothing at all had happened.

But only those in the Northern Garden knew that over the past half month, the mansion had been anything but peaceful.

“Your Highness, another letter has come from the General’s Mansion.”

The moment Zhao Quan entered, he saw Wei Yi seated before the writing desk with a grim expression. He hurried forward and presented the letter in his hands.

Night had fallen, and only one lamp had been lit in the room, leaving it somewhat dim. Half of Wei Yi’s face was hidden in the candlelight, caught between brightness and shadow. Coupled with the undisguised chill in the depths of his eyes, it made one feel an inexplicable sense of awe and fear.

He took the letter. A storm seemed to be brewing inside him, but he had only glanced through half of it before tossing it aside with a cold laugh. “He certainly is worried.”