Chapter 200 Interrogation (2)
AI Model: gemini-2.5-flash
The leader, writhing in pain, still spat curses through gritted teeth.
"The Abyss... will devour your soul..."
Bear Two pressed down harder, and the leader's bones made a grating, teeth-aching sound.
Seeing that he still showed no signs of breaking, Roger waved Bear Two off.
"It seems mere physical pain isn't enough. You think enduring it will make it all go away? I have plenty of ways to make you talk."
He immediately ordered someone to bring a wooden board and had the leader securely tied to it.
One end of the board was elevated, leaving him head-down, feet-up, and a wet towel was placed over his face.
He then had Bear Two bring a bucket of water. "Pour water on his face."
Bear Two lifted the bucket and slowly, steadily poured water onto the towel.
The leader thrashed wildly, his bound limbs tensing as he tried to break free, but it was futile.
After a few seconds, Roger raised a hand. "Stop."
The leader coughed violently.
Just as he was about to catch his breath, he heard a command. "Pour."
This was repeated, and just as the fourth pour was about to begin, a foul stench emanated from the leader's lower body.
The man had lost control of his bladder and bowels.
Roger, disgusted, pulled out a handkerchief to cover his mouth and nose, then lifted the wet towel from the leader's face.
"How do you feel? Can you talk now?"
"You, you demon..." the leader gasped weakly, his eyes unfocused, his voice hoarse from choking on water and fear.
The stench and humiliation made him tremble, the dual physical and psychological assault completely shattering his will.
"If you don't think that was enough, we can do it a few more times. Don't worry, you won't die that easily."
He gestured for Bear Two to pick up the bucket, as if to continue.
The leader flinched violently in terror and cried out, "No! Don't! I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!"
"Tsk, wouldn't it have been better to cooperate from the start? Why make things difficult for yourself? Bear Two, take him to get cleaned up."
"Yes, boss."
Bear Two responded, picking up the man and the board together, carrying him out like a log.
When Bear Two brought the man back, the leader was soaked, his hair plastered to his scalp, shivering wrapped in a rough blanket.
Bear Two casually placed him on a chair next to the table.
"As I just said, I have a few questions for you, and I hope you'll answer truthfully."
Saying this, Roger pointed to the birdcage on the table.
"Just a reminder, this is a 'Lie-Eating Warbler.' I imagine you've heard of its name and characteristics, haven't you?"
Upon hearing this, the leader's body stiffened, and he looked at the birdcage in horror, clearly knowing about the bird.
"Alright, let's begin." Roger took out paper and a pen, his tone as natural as a casual conversation. "What's your name?"
The leader's lips trembled, his gaze shifting between the Lie-Eating Warbler and Roger, before he finally resignedly lowered his head and weakly uttered his name.
"Artreus Grantma."
The Lie-Eating Warbler watched him silently, making no sound.
"Very good, Mr. Artreus, what is your position in the Abyss Sect?"
He originally wanted to ask more important questions directly, but he worried that being too hasty might provoke resistance, especially after the torture he had just endured. He needed to first establish a seemingly "cooperative" atmosphere to make the other party lower his guard.
"Abyss Deacon."
As he spoke this title, he subconsciously straightened his back slightly, as if this identity brought him some honor, but then he was immediately crushed by his current predicament, curling back up.
Roger noticed this detail and almost laughed out loud. He suppressed his amusement and softened his tone. "You see, Mr. Artreus, many things are only difficult at the beginning. Once you take the first step, things will go much smoother."
"As an 'Abyss Deacon,' what specific duties are you primarily responsible for in your daily work?"
Artreus's eyes flickered, but glancing at the Lie-Eating Warbler in the birdcage, he hesitated, then said in a low voice, "Mainly responsible for managing the 'Abyss Attendants' and 'Abyss Walkers' within a certain area, conveying orders from the upper echelons, leading them to complete tasks, and regularly distributing 'Sacred Medicine.'"
His voice grew softer and softer, especially when he mentioned "Sacred Medicine," almost inaudible.
The so-called "Sacred Medicine" must be those black pills, right?
Does that stuff even deserve to be called "Sacred Medicine"?
He grumbled inwardly for a moment, then continued to ask, "I already know something about that 'Sacred Medicine.' Do you also need to take it every month?"
A complex expression flashed across Artreus's face.
There was relief, a sense of superiority, but more than that, an unspeakable bitterness and self-deprecation.
"Believers above the rank of Deacon, whose loyalty has been tested, do not need to continue taking 'Sacred Medicine' for control."
He had never dreamed that he, an "Abyss Deacon" who had undergone numerous "loyalty tests" and escaped the control of the "Sacred Medicine," would one day be like a stray dog, trembling and divulging the sect's secrets before an obscure, remote lord.
The humiliation brought by this realization stung even more than the torture he had just endured.
He subconsciously clutched the blanket wrapped around him, the muscles in his face twitching uncontrollably.
Seeing this, Roger called a servant and asked him to bring a cup of dragon breath flame.
Soon, a cup of dragon breath flame was placed before Artreus, its strong alcoholic scent permeating the air.
"Drink some. It'll warm you up and steady your nerves."
Artreus hesitated, but still tremblingly picked up the glass and took a large gulp.
The fiery liquid instantly burned his throat and stomach, making him cough violently.
He hadn't expected the drink to be so strong, and it made his eyes water.
But a warmth also spread throughout his limbs, dispelling some of the cold and fear, and his tense nerves seemed to relax a little.
Seeing him recover slightly, Roger continued to ask, "So, that 'little thing' in your heart, was it removed?"
Artreus's eyes suddenly widened, his face instantly drained of color, paler than when he was being tortured, and he blurted out, "You, how do you know?!"
He then realized his gaffe, quickly shut his mouth, but his eyes were still filled with unbelievable horror.
The parasitic presence in the heart was an internal secret of the sect; even many veteran Walkers might not be clear about its specific form and existence. How could this lord know such precise details?
This was far beyond his comprehension, as if all his secrets were transparent in the other party's eyes.
Roger smiled, his tone relaxed. "I know a lot more things. For example, your 'Sacred Medicine' that trades life force for power, its characteristic of immediate death upon stopping the dosage, not to mention the little gadget hidden in the heart. What I want to know is what I don't know."