EXTREME CONTENT WARNING. This chapter contains graphic, detailed, and prolonged depictions of torture (both psychological and physical) enacted as revenge. It includes scenes of water injection interrogation and a suffocation execution. The protagonist's actions are ruthless and morally dark. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Please heed the tags.
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"Do you know what it feels like to wish you were dead?" Yang Yang deliberately drew out his words, his voice low and menacing. Seeing Brother Da Ri pale and drenched in cold sweat, his breathing ragged, Yang Yang's lips curved upward in a thin, satisfied smile.
He took out a large, sterile syringe from a kit, slowly drew clear water from the half empty mineral water bottle in his other hand, and injected it straight into the muscle of Brother Da Ri's uninjured thigh.
"Still don't know? Hm?" Yang Yang asked conversationally, drawing another syringe.
Sweat streamed down Brother Da Ri's face like a waterfall, mixing with the blood on his chin. By the time the third syringe of water was forced into his leg, the tissue swelling painfully, he was howling in agony, tears, snot, and drool flowing together as he finally broke down and confessed everything he knew about the shadowy backer, the gang's structure, and their planned next moves.
Jing Shu watched from a few steps away and shivered inwardly. She knew this notorious tactic well from rumors in her previous life. Before the apocalypse, some unscrupulous livestock dealers would inject saline or plain water into cattle before sale to increase their weight and fetch a better price, utterly ignoring the tortured animals' agonized, bewildered cries.
This brutal method was later secretly adopted by certain… persuasive interrogators. It was simple, left no lasting marks if done carefully, was excruciatingly painful as the water forced its way between muscle fibers and nerves, and left no concrete evidence behind.
Yang Yang's polished leather boot tapped lightly on Brother Da Ri's neck, not applying pressure, just keeping a slow, threatening rhythm. After a pause, he said, "So, it's pretty much what we thought. A puppet show with someone else pulling the strings. Where's the gun that person gave you? The one you were waving around."
Knowing there was no point hiding it anymore, and seeing the cold professionalism in Yang Yang's eyes, Jing Shu sighed softly and stepped forward. "I have it. I took it after he dropped it."
Yang Yang lifted his head and studied her seriously for the first time, his gaze analytical. Other than her striking, if currently smudged, beauty, she didn't seem physically extraordinary, not particularly tall or muscular. Yet she had managed to lure dozens of armed men to their deaths with homemade traps and what appeared to be rudimentary weapons? His curiosity was piqued.
"And the rest of the 'Bi Ri' group?" Yang Yang asked again, glancing around. There were only a dozen or so fresh corpses here. They weren't hiding in the villa? His men were on alert.
Jing Shu led him and a few officers to the ring of covered pits near the outer wall. Using a shovel, she flipped open one of the disguised trapdoors. Even the battle hardened armed police gasped sharply when their flashlight beams revealed the gruesome scene inside, bodies tangled with nails, the ground dark and wet. Their gazes toward Jing Shu immediately changed, tinged with new respect and a hint of wariness.
"There were more than forty others guarding the entrances to other buildings. They probably ran when they heard your sirens."
Gou Yitian, seeing that Jing Shu's wholesale slaughter was undeniable and the police were focused on the gang leader, began screaming frantically, desperate to redirect attention. "Officers! You saw it, right? She killed all these people! She's a murderer! Arrest her! Hurry and arrest her!
Please, even if you're arresting me, take this lunatic away first! Just get me away from her!" He couldn't bear another second in her presence. Someone, anyone, save him from this demon!
Yang Yang turned and gave him a look of utter disdain, then sneered. "We're armed police, not the regular municipal police. We're responsible for counter terrorism and major violent crimes involving organized threats to public order. This messy domestic defense situation isn't our direct concern. If you want her arrested for homicide, call the regular police line yourself. If they have the manpower to respond."
Despair, complete and utter, filled Gou Yitian's eyes. "Then take me away too! Arrest me! I'd rather rot in prison for a hundred years! She's going to torture me to death. She said she would! She'll kill me!"
Yang Yang ignored his hysterics and turned back to Jing Shu, his tone now businesslike. "We're taking this leader with us for further interrogation. The gun you took is your trophy from a clear defensive engagement; we won't confiscate it or interfere. As for the rest of the scattered Bi Ri members, we're not interested in a street sweep. If there's nothing else, we're leaving. We've overstayed our welcome already."
"Wait," Su Lanzhi interjected quickly, having composed herself. "You came all this way to help, you should at least take some fresh vegetables home with you. Please share them among yourselves. We're really, truly grateful you came." She hurried back into the house. With help from Jing An and Grandpa Jing, she brought out a wooden crate of vibrant green garlic sprouts, another crate of plump bean sprouts, and a large glass jar of homemade pickled mustard greens.
Yang Yang looked a little surprised at the offering, a rarity in these times, and glanced hesitantly at Minister Niu Mou, seeking protocol.
Minister Niu clapped Yang Yang on the shoulder and laughed heartily, the sound strained but genuine. "Director Su is in charge of the special crop cultivation project for the municipal government. This is from their experimental yield. Go ahead and take them. I'll consider it a personal favor from me, repaid separately."
"Alright then. We left our posts without full authorization today and will likely get chewed out for it. We didn't do much to help you this time, you clearly had things under control, but next time you're in a tight spot, just call this number directly." Yang Yang handed Jing Shu a plain card with a handwritten number. It was a gesture of goodwill, acknowledging her capability, forging a new connection, and adding another potential card to their family's deck.
They came quickly, efficiently, and left just as quickly, loading the semi conscious Brother Da Ri into an unmarked van.
Su Lanzhi sincerely thanked Minister Niu again at the gate and promised to visit his office in a few days to properly discuss the agricultural project. After exchanging knowing smiles and nods, the patrol team left as discreetly as they had arrived, their lights fading into the distance. They had really come out this time purely as a significant personal favor to Minister Niu.
Looks like we owe our superior a proper thank you, Yang Yang thought as the van pulled away. Best to hold onto this valuable connection tightly. The vegetables were a tangible bonus.
"Still," Su Lanzhi said softly as they watched the taillights disappear, her arm around Jing Shu's shoulders, "when it comes down to it, we can only rely on ourselves. If we'd waited for them to save us, we'd already be dead. Even if they'd arrived in the nick of time, the price we'd pay for that rescue wouldn't just be a couple crates of vegetables as a courier fee." She sighed, the weight of the night pressing on her.
She made a silent vow in her heart. She couldn't keep letting her daughter stand at the very front lines, bearing the brunt of every threat. At her age, Jing Shu should be worrying about school or friends, not burdened with the responsibility of protecting her entire family alone through bloodshed.
As soon as Minister Niu's car was out of sight, Wang Qiqi arrived with Young Master With a Baby in tow, and a grim faced Wang Dazhao. They'd been lurking in the shadows of a nearby building for a while, weapons in hand, and only came over once they were sure the police and the immediate threat were gone. After ensuring the family was safe and exchanging a few grim words about the night's other casualties, they left quickly again, their faces heavy.
The remaining Bi Ri members had scattered like roaches when they heard the sirens, but not before some had used the chaos to invade other homes, killing entire families in their search for supplies or out of sheer spite. Wang Qiqi's group had to check the casualties, see who was left.
…
After seeing everyone off, Jing Shu's family was left in the eerie quiet of their ravaged courtyard. They began the grim task of cleaning the battlefield. Restoring the villa and its grounds to anything resembling their former state would be difficult, if not impossible. The once neat vegetable patch was trampled into mud, the ground was stained with dark patches of blood and unidentifiable bits of flesh, littered with spent nails, glass shards, white lime powder, and other debris.
Su Lanzhi forced herself to get used to the smell and the sight, grabbing a bucket and a stiff brush to start scrubbing gore from the stone passageway. Third Aunt was on her hands and knees, using a scouring pad and a knife to chip at dried blood between tiles. Grandpa Jing and Jing An, their faces set, worked on dismantling and repairing the triggered traps, assessing damage. Thankfully, the house itself and the sturdy chicken coop were structurally unharmed.
"I was originally planning to smother you to death in one go, nice and tidy," Jing Shu said as she crouched beside the still bound Gou Yitian, sticking a damp piece of paper onto his face. "But I changed my mind. Watching you squirm… it'll be more satisfying to take my time."
Gou Yitian struggled desperately against his bonds, shaking his head from side to side. He felt the paper cling, the first layer restricting his breath slightly. A rising panic, a primal fear of suffocation, took hold. His blood vessels in his temples felt like they were going to burst.
Jing Shu added another sheet, then another, methodically. "I read somewhere that in ancient times, the top eunuchs undergoing punishment could endure up to twelve wet sheets before dying. How many can you handle? Let's try six first."
Veins began bulging on Gou Yitian's forehead and neck, his face turning a deep red. After a moment of his frantic, muffled noises, Jing Shu leaned forward and removed the eight sheets she'd already applied in a quick motion. Gou Yitian sucked in a huge, shuddering gasp of air. "Not bad. Let's try nine."
Gou Yitian gasped and sobbed, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. "Please… give me… a quick death… I beg you… please…" The words were slurred around the gag, but the plea was clear.
Jing Shu acted as if she hadn't heard, placing the soaked sheets back on his face one by one, layering them with calm precision. She whispered softly, almost to herself, "I'm terrified of dying. That's why I hate people who try to kill me the most. You don't understand that, do you? You thought it was a game. Death is terrifying. Do you know just how terrifying it is? The darkness, the nothingness…"
Gou Yitian thrashed violently against his ropes, the veins on his neck and temples standing out like cords, threatening to burst. Gradually, as the ninth, tenth, and eleventh sheets were applied, his struggles weakened, becoming feeble twitches, until he stopped moving entirely, his chest finally still.
"Eleven sheets. Not bad at all." Jing Shu stood, disposed of his body with the same efficiency as the others, and then went to help her family finish tidying the villa, her movements steady, her expression unreadable.
That night, after the cleanup was as done as it could be, the exhausted family gathered in the living room, the scent of disinfectant barely masking the underlying smell of blood. They held a somber meeting. The world outside their walls had irrevocably changed. The illusion of peace was gone. If not for Jing Shu's foresight, her decisiveness, and her ruthless actions today, they might all be dead, or worse.
From tomorrow, it was decided, everyone except Grandma Jing would start daily practice with the crossbows, loading, aiming, firing, to prevent being helpless in a future tragedy. They would also begin carrying knives on their persons at all times, a small but tangible form of security.
Most importantly, the traps around the villa needed immediate upgrading. They'd been effective, but they could be better. They had to be deadlier, more brutal, more efficient, and even harder to detect.
The surveillance camera system was kept running continuously, and once all the immediate trap repairs were done, the family finally allowed themselves to collapse into restless sleep, the events of the night replaying behind closed eyelids.
The next day, despite their fatigue, Jing An, Jing Shu, and Grandpa Jing gathered at the workbench with paper and pencils, beginning to design the next generation of deadly traps.
"This net trap is too gentle, too forgiving," Jing Shu said thoughtfully, rubbing her chin as she looked at the sketch of the weighted nets. "I want to use reinforced steel plates instead of rope. We can weld dense, sharpened steel spikes onto them, and drop them from a greater height with a faster release. If the impact doesn't crush them, the spikes will impale them. Plus," she added pragmatically, "this way, we won't have to waste time and resources collecting and replacing hundreds of crossbow bolts all the time. It's more sustainable."