Chapter 628: Confession

Central Police Station, Rue Xue Lihua, French Concession, underground interrogation room.

Under Fang Yuantu's desperate struggles, Captains He Shaohong and Zhang Xian personally held him down, escorting him from the second-floor inspector's office to this place, amid the confused stares of the station's remaining personnel.

Fang Yuantu was certainly no stranger to this place—he was an ambitious man who had previously arrested members of both the KMT and CCP, as well as other wealthy young masters and ruffians. Those arrested were always brought down here first: some for genuine interrogation, others simply for extortion—the police station's standard tactic.

He had inflicted torture on many others, but now, bound hand and foot on this cold, hard chair stained dark red with blood, his mind went blank—he knew he was finished.

Given Wang Yan's character, if he'd brought Fang Yuantu here today, then regardless of whether he was guilty or not, the final outcome would be guilt. There's a saying: "Confession under torture." And another: "Framing someone falsely." Besides, was he truly innocent?

He quickly regained his composure, but with his mouth stuffed, he could only struggle in fury, utterly indifferent as the shackles scraped his skin raw. Veins bulged on his neck, bloodshot eyes glared, and his body leaned forward, staring hatred at Wang Yan, who sat across from him with legs crossed, calmly sipping expensive foreign wine, munching peanuts, and smoking.

All the items had been brought by Qi Si from the office. Wang Yan had cared for Qi Si since he was nine. Though Qi Si appeared idle all day, he could fight—Wang Yan had taught him everything. He didn't train with Wang Yan in the morning because after training, he'd lack the capacity to handle emergencies during the day. So he usually trained alone for two hours after returning home at night. After nearly a thousand years of blending countless styles and condensing Wang Yan's martial essence, this fist technique could rapidly drain the body's reserves and boost combat power.

Moreover, Wang Yan had paid for Qi Si to attend school and learn to read and write, offered advice when he faced difficulties, and deliberately looked out for him—this was why he'd survived to this day. Being fearless is a fine trait, but in today's Shanghai, there are too many fearless men—few live long, fewer live well.

Now, Qi Si, leveraging past events, serves as Wang Yan's personal driver and attendant—he's definitely being groomed. But he's still too young, his judgment still lacking, incapable of handling responsibilities. Letting him witness real interrogation now, broadening his horizons, is also a form of growth.

Wang Yan paid no attention to Fang Yuantu's muffled groans—he didn't need to guess; they were all curses aimed at him. He waved to a junior constable standing by the door and ordered: "Go, fetch Wang Yongkui from the Second Squad."

"Yes, Inspector." The junior constable snapped to attention, saluted, and ran off. Senior Inspector Wang was in full force—though he smiled amiably, the cold aura radiating from him made it clear how dangerous the situation was; no one dared smirk now.

Wang Yongkui arrived quickly. Though he'd already been informed, when he entered the interrogation room and saw Fang Yuantu struggling desperately, he still couldn't bring himself to look at those eyes about to burst from their sockets.

Fang Yuantu's wrists and ankles were raw and bleeding, blood dripping from the ancient, rust-stained iron shackles. His fury received no response from Wang Yan, and with Wang Yongkui's appearance, he realized Wang Yongkui had reported him. He gradually calmed, glaring coldly at Wang Yan and the others.

Wang Yan waved his hand. The burly constable in charge of interrogations immediately understood, stepping forward to yank the cloth from Fang Yuantu's mouth.

Fang Yuantu opened his mouth wide, worked his jaws, and glared murderously at Wang Yan: "Is it this traitorous little worm who told you? Based solely on his one-sided claim, you dare bring me, your own captain, here? Wang Yan, if you want to ruin me, just say it outright—everyone in the station knows what you're after!"

Wang Yan flicked his cigarette butt onto Fang Yuantu's body, burning him into jerking and knocking it to the floor. Wang Yan chuckled, gesturing: "Come on, Yongkui—tell Captain Fang exactly what you told me this morning."

Wang Yongkui nodded, stepped forward, and met Fang Yuantu's murderous gaze head-on: "Last night, Zhou Laosan spotted two suspicious individuals and mentioned it to you. You made a phone call, and within ten minutes, the Japanese came to arrest them. I asked everyone—they all said they didn't call anyone else, and no one saw anyone else make a call. Only you did. How do you explain that?"

Fang Yuantu stared at Wang Yan as if facing death: "Didn't I say? I called my wife, telling her not to wait for me to eat dinner. Couldn't the Japanese showing up be coincidence? There are Japanese everywhere now—who knows how they found them? Even if someone leaked information, why couldn't it be someone else? He says he asked everyone—do you believe him? If someone really leaked to the Japanese, who'd admit to making the call?"

"No, no, no—what you say doesn't match what he says—that's a problem. Leaking to the Japanese to arrest KMT and CCP members? They're dead now, and we don't even know which side they belonged to. What kind of act is this? It's you disliking me, Wang Mou, and trying to kill me. The fanatics of the KMT and CCP won't care about a nobody like you—they'll assume I, Wang Mou, ordered it. They'll come for my head first. Fang Yuantu, I've given you a chance. You know what these men can do. Tell the truth, I save effort, you avoid pain, everyone wins."

Fang Yuantu spat with all his strength onto Wang Yan's shoes: "You dragged me here with such a commotion—my uncle will find out. Wang Yan, you can't cover the sky."

"If you claim the Japanese came to protect you, I've nothing to say—I dare not offend them. But what is Gao Yunchang? If the old man is sensible, he's a senior of the Green Gang. If he's not, he's fish food in the Huangpu River. Speaking of the old man, I just remembered—he was with Zhang Xiaolin, right? Zhang Xiaolin is known among Shanghai's common folk as a traitor. So clearly, you've ties to the Japanese."

"Lao He, go call the warehouse—send men to capture Gao Yunchang and his entire family. Today, strike first. Also, send men to watch Zhang Xiaolin closely—monitor every move he makes. I've been too soft these years; they think I'm a spineless sick cat. Today, let them see what I, Wang Mou, rely on to stand in Shanghai."

Watching He Shaohong dash out, Fang Yuantu struggled furiously: "Wang Yan, you bastard, you'll die a terrible death."

"That's all you've got?" Wang Yan shook his head with a smile. "One last chance—confess or not?"

"You dream, Wang Yan, you—"

The remaining curses from Fang Yuantu were silenced by the interrogating constables. They understood—he was dead. If they didn't show their worth now, when would they?

"You had your chance and blew it—don't blame me." Wang Yan waved. "Qi Si, you start. You others, watch him—he's reckless, don't let him kill him."

Qi Si stepped forward eagerly, picked up the whip, and rolled it in a large water basin: "First, a good lashing with cold water—sorry, Captain Fang."

He grinned, revealing a set of perfectly straight, white teeth that no street urchin could ever have, then his face turned icy. He swung the whip with full force—CRACK! —it tore straight through Fang Yuantu's police coat.

Fang Yuantu clenched his teeth, trying to play the tough guy, refusing to cry out.

Wang Yan exclaimed: "Oh, I forgot—why isn't Captain Fang making a sound? Too gentle? Quickly, strip off his shirt and pants. This is our uniform—can't be desecrated like this."

Though he claimed not to desecrate it, the men removing his clothes moved swiftly—without unshackling his cuffs, they grabbed scissors and cut his shirt and pants right off.

Then Qi Si advanced, swinging the whip relentlessly. Fang Yuantu grimaced, screamed, and howled. Still, he refused to yield, shouting curses at Wang Yan.

Under the interrogating constables' guidance, Qi Si switched to a branding iron. Smoke curled as the smell of charred meat filled the dark, damp basement.

Mitchell stood outside, frowning, waving his hand in front of his nose in disgust, watching Wang Yan, who drank and ate peanuts without changing expression. He'd always known Wang Yan was ruthless—after all, Wang Yan rose to power through exactly these methods; business came later. He started with Aige, slowly devouring the station's upper ranks, then approached the Concession Council, leading to today. Put another way, Wang Yan was the Frenchmen's white glove, handling most of their smuggled goods. And to this day, he'd never slipped up—they trusted him completely…

Wang Yan, reminded by someone, noticed Mitchell at the door. He rose and walked over: "Superintendent."

Mitchell nodded toward the beaten Fang Yuantu: "What's wrong with him?"

"Colluding with the Japanese to arrest KMT and CCP members. You know me—I serve France wholeheartedly. Though my homeland faces annihilation, I can't interfere—but I won't stop others from saving their country. Of course, the real reason is I'm afraid to die—I dare not offend anyone. I just say it nicely."

Under Mitchell's puzzled gaze, Wang Yan, slightly embarrassed, revealed the truth, then immediately turned solemn: "Fang Yuantu is strongly suspected of secret contact with the Japanese—this is absolutely forbidden in the station. Moreover, his actions may be designed to make the KMT and CCP hate me. If I don't investigate, I won't be able to sleep."

"Mind your reputation—he's still a captain, with over twenty men under him."

"Yes, sir, rest assured—I'll ensure ironclad evidence. Under these circumstances, Fang Yuantu is unfit to continue leading the Second Squad. Superintendent, my subordinate He Xinwu is a veteran of the station, has solved several cases, and is currently deputy captain of the First Squad. I believe he's qualified to lead the Second Squad. Rest assured—I'll follow procedure exactly."

What procedure? Of course—paying. The money for business and the money for a new appointment are two different things. Even if you have no money, you must borrow at usurious rates to pay. As one of only fifty-odd captains, this position is extremely profitable. Even with loans, you'll repay it quickly. Once you reach captain's rank, people will give you money—why borrow?

Mitchell nodded approvingly: "I trust whoever you recommend. Do it. Notify him to assume command immediately. The formalities will be handled by Personnel next week."

He understood Wang Yan's intent: whether Fang Yuantu was guilty or not, he must be guilty—once an opportunity arose, it couldn't be missed. Wang Yan differed from other inspectors; a captain was nothing—this small favor he owed him. If Wang Yan made such a scene and failed, he'd simply install someone else as captain from elsewhere, and that would offend Wang Yan. Political maneuvering isn't meant for such trivialities.

Ultimately, they, like the Japanese, ruled the French Concession through Chinese. Without doubt, Wang Yan was the absolute standout among them. So conversely, Chinese opinions must be considered, Chinese feelings must be respected—especially for someone like Wang Yan, who deserved extra deference.

On the other hand, these Frenchmen weren't immune to death—over the past decades, many had died…

Wang Yan laughed as he saw Mitchell off from the basement. He didn't ask who leaked the information—too many eyes in the station; finding the culprit was hard, and he didn't care to try. If it was one of his men, they'd slip up eventually. If not, he had no interest. If he found out, he'd kill them casually. If not, let it go—no need to waste energy.

After seeing Mitchell off and returning to the underground interrogation room, Fang Yuantu was beaten to pulp—his head hung limp, blood-tinged saliva dripping from his lips, barely alive.

Wang Yan sat down calmly to drink: "Still not talking? Didn't realize Captain Fang had such strong bones. But you don't look so energetic now—where's that fiery cursing from earlier? Fine, Qi Si, take a break—you're not up to it. You two—hammer one of his fingers. Let him wake up."

Two interrogating constables picked up hammers and iron spikes, moving in perfect sync. One grabbed Fang Yuantu's head and pinned it down, while the other held his hand firmly. The second then smashed the hammer onto Fang Yuantu's hand—when his fingers spasmed open, he drove the spike straight into the gap beneath the index finger's nail with another blow.

The effect was immediate—Fang Yuantu screamed in agony. His head, strapped tightly by the neck belt, nearly choked him; he rolled his eyes back, barely recovering from the searing pain. His body trembled, eyes bulging with blood: "Wang Yan, you'll suffer retribution—you'll die a terrible death."

"Don't worry—I guarantee you won't live to see that day. On the contrary, Captain Fang, I'll watch your death very clearly. Still cursing me now? Must not hurt enough."

Wang Yan smiled at the junior constables: "Alright, today, use your methods to interrogate him all day. If he still won't talk, let him rest tonight. Though we don't punish families, with diehards, we have no choice. Tonight, we'll interrogate his wife and children, and the silk shop owner. If we get nothing from them, we'll kill his wife and children right before his eyes."

"If he still won't talk, we'll slice him alive—start with one calf. If he still won't talk, we'll carve him with thirty-six thousand cuts—cut him to death. You two know this skill? Is your blade work good?"

The two stared at him like a demon, shaking their heads frantically. One spoke: "Inspector, we don't know how to do that—this skill's probably lost. If anyone still knows, it'd be in Jingcheng."

"True, I'm asking too much." Wang Yan nodded solemnly. "Then bring me your sharpest knife—I'll try two cuts myself and see the effect."

Soon, Wang Yan held a sharp, gleaming little blade. He frowned, clicked his tongue: "What? Why are you two staring at me? Doesn't the blade hurt when it cuts flesh? Hold his leg down."

As the two men pinned his leg tightly, Fang Yuantu screamed curses, struggling desperately—but it was useless. When the cold blade brushed his skin, when he heard Wang Yan murmuring where to cut, when Wang Yan smiled and told him to prepare, when the mosquito-bite pain came—he imagined his leg reduced to white bone, still attached to his body.

He roared: "I'll talk—I'll tell you everything!"

Wang Yan, crouched beside Fang Yuantu's leg with its shallow cut, stood up and sighed deeply, shaking his head sadly: "Captain Fang didn't break when he heard his wife and children would be killed—not even a flicker in his eyes. Now, with just a tiny slice on his leg, he confesses? I find that hard to believe. Maybe I should try two more cuts—you're still not convincing me."

"I really confess, truly, believe me."

Fang Yuantu clearly understood what lingchi meant, and he had no doubt that Wang Yan lacked the courage to make the first cut; since his arrest, although Wang Yan had kept smiling, he was certain that Wang Yan's gaze had never changed.

Seeing Wang Yan act as if he hadn't heard, he pulled up his pants and squatted again, raising the small knife to strike—Fang Yuantu's heart skipped a beat, and his shrill voice echoed through the underground interrogation room: "I'm Japanese! I'm Japanese! Wang Yan, aren't you afraid of offending the Japanese? I'm Japanese! My name is Jingkou Haoer! I grew up in Northeast China, underwent training, and at sixteen was ordered to infiltrate Shanghai under the command of the Japanese Consulate in Shanghai. They must have received word by now—they'll definitely try to save me."

"Lao He, go get Inspector Mitchell. Don't tell anyone else about this place on the way."

"Don't worry, Chief, I know what to do."

He Shaohong nodded, saluted, and hurried off. A full-fledged captain doing errand work—he felt no resentment at all; this was when you saw who was trusted. Didn't you see Zhang Xian, sweating profusely from the side, not daring to utter a single word? He was stunned by Chief Wang's ruthlessness.

Wang Yan waved his hand to shoo them away: "All of you, be sensible—go wait outside. Don't bring trouble on yourselves."

Not rushing to interrogate, Wang Yan lit a cigarette and offered one to Zhang Xian: "Lao Zhang, you take notes later."

"Yes, Chief." Zhang Xian bowed deeply, saying nothing extra.

Ignoring Fang Yuantu's pleas for water and cigarettes, the two sat in silence, smoking. When half the cigarette remained, He Shaohong arrived with Mitchell, hurrying in and closing the heavy door of the interrogation room.

"Wang, Chief He said he confessed?"

"Inspector, sit." Wang Yan flicked the remaining half-cigarette onto Fang Yuantu's body: "Repeat what you just said."

The moment Fang Yuantu declared he was Japanese, he had surrendered. Now he naturally withheld nothing, repeating his story immediately. Zhang Xian scribbled furiously beside him; Mitchell frowned as he listened but said nothing, signaling Wang Yan to continue.

From capturing Fang Yuantu and bringing him to the interrogation room to applying torture, less than half an hour had passed. He didn't believe Wang Yan would extract a false confession so quickly, so he trusted Fang Yuantu's testimony.

Wang Yan ignored the foreigner's inner calculations and asked: "Where's your wife? Who is she?"

"My wife is from Shanghai. She doesn't know my situation."

Wang Yan shook his head in sigh and pressed: "What about Liu Mingjie?"

Fang Yuantu grinned, blood staining his teeth, revealing white, frighteningly sharp ones: "Wang Yan, Mitchell—are you sure you want to hear this?"

Wang Yan impatiently picked up the small knife, studying its edge: "Still not being honest? Should I start with ten cuts to get the feel for it?"

Fang Yuantu shuddered, exhaled deeply, and said: "He's in the same situation as me. I don't know his real name—he's my handler. Since my cover made it dangerous to report directly, and phones were easily monitored, I passed all information to him. He used business trips as an excuse to report to the consulate. This exposure happened because the consulate ordered me to cooperate with the Tokumu Kikan. They believe the prison escape has shamed the Empire before the world—even the Emperor and the Cabinet have heard of it—and they demand the fastest possible capture or elimination of the escapees to restore our honor."

"Does this Liu Mingjie know of other spies hidden in the French Concession?"

"Yes. As far as I know, there are four others."

Mitchell spoke up: "Wang, has this man been detained?"

"Don't worry, Inspector. I already gave orders earlier—he should be in custody by now." Seeing Mitchell say nothing, Wang Yan continued: "Enough with one question at a time. Tell me everything you know."

Fang Yuantu had been broken by Wang Yan's terror, showing none of the so-called bravery of a Great Japanese Empire warrior. He hung his head in resignation, speaking slowly, revealing every single thing he had done since arriving in Shanghai…