Chapter 186

Yu Sheng struck with meticulous care.

He first carefully smashed the cultist's left leg with the spiked club, then carefully smashed his right leg, followed by both of the opponent's arms; aside from avoiding the restraints installed by the Special Services Bureau, he repeatedly hammered every part until it was soft and bouncy.

The Angel cultist was stunned at first, then began to scream and curse, occasionally emitting sounds unlike anything a human could make; amidst the muffled, sharp roars layered with various noises, it seemed as though something else was hidden within that seemingly human shell, something that once struggled to break free but was beaten back by Yu Sheng's repeated assaults.

Afterward, the cultist began to try resisting or struggling to evade, yet his entire body—even inside—was fitted or implanted with suppression devices from the Special Services Bureau; the restraint rings on his joints made large movements impossible, while the neural suppressors within his body made it difficult to concentrate on casting any spells.

Occasionally, the Angel cultist's struggles would become too violent, even vaguely breaking through the control of those restraints and suppression devices; at such times, Erin would act, her pitch-black threads capable of controlling the terrifying "Grandmother Wolf" and the "Hunger" strengthened by the Dark Angel, so controlling a weak, bound human was naturally even easier.

After an unknown duration, Yu Sheng finished; he wiped the fine sweat from his forehead, picked up the Broken-Tetanus Staff, walked to a nearby bed, sat down, nodded at Hu Li, and said, "Heal him."

"Mm!"

Hu Li immediately agreed, stepped forward to the Angel cultist's side, raised her hand to trace several mysterious and complex talismans in the air, then held her hand suspended above the opponent's head—her eyes glowed with a faint golden-red radiance, while the cultist's gruesome injuries began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Erin, watching from the side with wide eyes, couldn't help but exclaim, "Hey, silly fox, that's pretty impressive... I didn't believe you when you mentioned you could heal back home, and I've never seen you use it before."

"I just don't need to use it normally," Hu Li looked up at Yu Sheng, her tone carrying a hint of grievance, "Erin doesn't need healing, and the Benefactor doesn't have time to heal..."

At the same time, the Angel cultist on the ground, who had nearly fainted, finally slowly regained consciousness; this bald man, who had previously maintained an aloof posture with calm eyes as if seeing through life and death, was now covered in blood with tattered clothes, looking utterly miserable, yet he truly did as Song Cheng said, enduring all physical agony, showing not the slightest intention to beg for mercy even now, merely staring fixedly at Yu Sheng, his gaze filled with anger and contempt.

Yu Sheng seemed to pay no attention to the cultist's expression, merely holding the club, walking over again, and looking at the opponent with a calm face.

"Stupid and vulgar," the cultist on the ground grinned, blood foam slowly oozing from the corner of his mouth, his words even carrying mockery, "Do you know how much suffering we have overcome to follow the Truth? Do you know how much our will can endure?"

"I don't know," Yu Sheng shook his head, "I'm just beating you for fun."

The next second, in the cultist's slightly bewildered gaze, Yu Sheng raised that club high once more.

Thus three times, three healings.

The faint glow of healing gradually faded, and the fainted Angel cultist opened his eyes again.

He saw the mysterious "Torturer" sitting on the opposite bed, the terrifying club leaning nearby, the "Torturer's" face bearing the usual expression of calm with a slight smile, quietly watching this way.

Nothing was asked, nor was any answer needed.

The Angel cultist breathed heavily; although his body had healed, some "injury" more terrible than flesh wounds seemed to have pierced through the barrier named "Reason," deeply etched into his soul blessed by the "Envoy"; he stared fixedly at the smiling "Torturer," desperately trying to see through the opponent's intentions.

The spiritual vision power granted by the Envoy allowed him to see through many things, theoretically speaking—he had already used these eyes to see through the tricks of every previous interrogator, the loopholes in every hypnosis, and even all the illusions and false memories created in his dreams by the Special Services Bureau's dogs through neural stimulation and brain injections; relying on this blessed power, he had withstood all interrogations so far.

However, at this very moment, staring at the figure sitting on the bed, he suddenly discovered... that figure had vanished.

He saw only a pitch-black void, pure, empty, boundless and deep, a hollow resembling death.

That torn void of death floated in his vision; in the extreme emptiness, a mocking smile seemed to appear; the void grew larger and larger in his vision, coming closer and closer, until it seemed to occupy the entire world.

Even the whispers transmitted by the "Lord" seemed to be crowded out and blocked by that void.

The Angel cultist breathed even more heavily; an emotion almost forgotten by him seemed to be quietly reviving in his heart; questions arose in his heart and rapidly amplified in his consciousness, repeating over and over:

What does it want? What does this void want to know? What is its purpose?

That void answered, answering the questions he posed in his consciousness—

It wants nothing; it needs no response.

That void floated up, approaching this way.

The quietly reviving emotion jumped violently—Ah, so it was fear.

Fear was not because of flesh-and-blood torment, but because of witnessing that extreme emptiness and desirelessness—the Angel cultist suddenly woke up, seeing the void collapse back into the form of the Torturer. He instinctively shrank his neck back,

and in that less-than-one-second shrink, a sudden warning rose in the cultist's heart: Not good!

But it was already too late.

A strange, chilling sensation suddenly attacked; this chilling sensation was not unfamiliar to him; previously, when he tried to struggle, that strange doll had bound his body with chilling threads—but this time, the chilling sensation did not come from his limbs, but directly pierced his consciousness, even penetrating his soul.

The cultist struggled to lift his head; in a daze, he seemed to see the floor covered in "hair," black fine threads spreading everywhere like wriggling hair strands, drilling into his body, while the other ends of these "hairs" belonged to that short doll, looking like some kind of cursed puppet—she raised both hands, a hint of smile appearing in her scarlet eyes.

She opened her mouth and silently said with her lips: "You are afraid."

The next second, the entire world plunged into darkness.

That bald cultist lay on the ground, suddenly losing consciousness as if abruptly falling into a deep sleep.

Yu Sheng walked over and carefully poked the opponent's thigh with the spiked club; confirming the opponent showed no sign of waking up, he turned to look at Erin, who was carefully controlling the black threads: "So you really just 'dragged him in' like that?"

"Of course, just look at who acted," the small doll's face showed a proud smile, but she quickly frowned, "But honestly, it wasn't easy; I usually don't have to work this hard to forcibly pull people into dreams—this guy's spirit has almost no loopholes, his will is incredibly tough; only just now, I don't know what happened, he suddenly panicked, which gave me the chance."

"After all, we've been beating him for so long, panicking a bit is normal, right?" Yu Sheng looked thoughtfully at the fainted cultist, casually leaning the spiked club against the bed while muttering, "But I'm quite surprised too; this guy can endure so much."

Saying this, he shook his head, looking at Erin: "Forget it, let's not think about that anymore; how is the situation? Has your dream erosion stabilized? Can you pull people in now?"

After looking one by one/p>

"Almost there," Erin carefully controlled the black threads spreading over the cultist while nodding at Yu Sheng, "Lie down on the side, and I'll send you in; but be careful once you're there, don't make too much noise; he doesn't know he's dreaming yet, and if the sense of incongruity is too strong, this guy will wake up."

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

Saying this, Yu Sheng lay down on the small bed in the cell and calmed his breathing.

"I'm ready."

Erin, sitting on the edge of the small bed, raised her other hand and gently touched Yu Sheng's forehead.

Erin's small hand was very soft, carrying a human-like warmth—but the next second, a suddenly transmitted chilling aura arrived.

Black spider silk instantly sank into flesh and blood, dragging Yu Sheng's consciousness down into chaos.

In the hazy, illusory chaos, Yu Sheng glimpsed a series of illusions; after many bizarre scenes, he saw a virtual "net"—pitch-black threads interweaving to outline a spiderweb-like structure, while a blurry shadow with scarlet eyes crouched at the center of that web, carefully weaving dream after dream...

Yu Sheng's consciousness fell toward the center of the web; he saw that shadow with scarlet eyes raise an arm, grab two strands of spider silk—one of which extended from Yu Sheng's perspective—the shadow brought the two strands together, then quickly bound them together, even tying a bow.

"... No need to tie it so meticulously," Yu Sheng said groggily.

"Tying a bow looks nice," the blurry shadow emitted Erin's voice.

The next second, Yu Sheng opened his eyes again.

He found himself walking in a dilapidated warehouse, wearing unfamiliar clothes, with everything around him covered by a layer of blurry gauze.

Footsteps echoed in the warehouse, sounding hollow and somewhat distorted.

Some blurry noises lingered in his ears, as if the sounds came directly from inside his own brain.

After a brief moment of bewilderment, Yu Sheng instantly reacted—

He is now hiding within a certain memory of that Angel cultist.

(End of this chapter)