Chapter 268: I Won't Tell You Anything!

Killing a demon that had possessed a sorcerer was sometimes not a good idea, because it might instead allow the demon to be reborn on the other side of the world, effectively equivalent to escaping confinement.

Nowadays, many ancient demons were reviving one after another, casting clones or portions of their power into the mortal world from the other side of the world.

And once one was contained, it effectively occupied the corresponding "capacity," preventing it from pouring too much power into the mortal world due to the world's suppression.

At this moment, the blue-haired sorcerer stood expressionless in front of an alloy door, peering through the specially-made explosion-proof observation window on the door at the scene inside.

To hold the [Explosive Combustion Demon], this containment room had clearly undergone specialized modifications, with the wall surfaces covered in a layer of grayish-white fire-resistant coating.

The Explosive Combustion Demon's main body wasn't much different in appearance from the arsonist it had possessed—both were humanoid forms burning with flames all over, except it looked somewhat taller, a full two meters and forty centimeters.

At the moment, its flames flickered unevenly as several thick chains gleaming with faint light bound it to a specially-made metal torture chair.

Its voice came through the intercom: "Hnnnngggghhhhhh!!"

Electric current carrying special curse power surged through the chair and into its body, causing this humanoid monster made of flames to writhe and twist constantly on the chair.

Even while being tormented like this, the crimson flames on its body remained suppressed by the ubiquitous suppression force in the room, looking listless and weak, able only to struggle futilely on the chair.

Yan Jing's finger pressed the button beside him, cranking the voltage up again.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"

He pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting faint light, and spoke into the microphone:

"When a demon descends through soul possession, it obtains the original host's memories. After the clone dies, those memories are fed back into the main body completely intact."

Yan Jing's voice carried icily into the cell through the intercom beside the observation window. "By now, you must already know the location of the organization's hideout behind all this."

Yan Jing looked at the flame demon, which had somewhat stopped struggling, and continued to question: "Tell me, who is the mastermind behind this, where is the base, how many members are there, and what level of strength do they have?"

"Go to hell!"

The Explosive Combustion Demon raised its burning face and opened its mouth wide to curse furiously. "I won't tell you anything!"

Yan Jing said not a word, pressing the button on the wall again.

The voltage was cranked to maximum.

"GAAAHHHH—go to hell! Go to hell!"

Blue electric light and crimson flames intertwined in the cramped cell. The demon endured the torment of the electric current while ceaselessly cursing.

After tormenting it for a good long while, Yan Jing finally removed his hand from the button.

The Explosive Combustion Demon gasped heavily for breath, its flames dimming slightly, yet it still stubbornly laughed: "Keep going! You'll never pry a single word out of my mouth!"

Yan Jing looked at it calmly and said, "I know."

The Explosive Combustion Demon was clearly stunned for a moment, the flames in its eye sockets flickering twice. "Then why did you still bother asking me?"

Yan Jing reached up and pushed the round-frame glasses on his nose bridge. "We naturally have our ways of extracting intelligence, we just need some time. Before that, I happened to have nothing to do, so I figured I'd fulfill the agreement I made with your clone up there, and come down here to torment you for a bit."

It burst into furious cursing: "I'll tear you into—"

"Oh, right."

Yan Jing suddenly said out of nowhere: "Why are you so afraid of that girl?"

In that instant, the Explosive Combustion Demon suddenly fell silent, an indescribable terror surging within its eyes.

But that terror also carried a deep bewilderment, as if it itself didn't know why it was so afraid.

After more than ten seconds of silence, it used manic laughter to cover up its earlier disgraceful display: "HAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

"All of you, go die! Go die!"

Yan Jing was briefly taken aback.

He listened outside the cell for a while, confirmed that no useful intelligence had been revealed, and finally strode off down the dim corridor.

…………

A moment later.

Click.

Yan Jing pushed open a heavy iron door.

Behind the door was a dim laboratory, the air thick with the pungent smell of formalin solution, mixed with the foul stench of scorched flesh and many indescribable sensations.

Cold white shadowless lamps illuminated only the central metal operating table, while in the surrounding shadows, rows of glass cabinets displaying bizarre specimens were faintly visible, looking especially eerie in the weak reflections.

A disheveled man in a white lab coat stood before the table, holding several silver needles inscribed with cinnabar talisman markings, with many used syringes, tweezers, scalpels, and other tools laid out beside him.

Second-grade sorcerer, code name: Forensic Examiner.

Yan Jing asked, "How's the situation?"

Hearing the iron door open, the man turned his head, his voice carrying a faint echo through the empty room:

"The preparatory work is done. You just wait here."

Yan Jing stepped closer, his gaze falling on the iron basin at the center of the operating table.

There, placed neatly, was the head belonging to the "Arsonist."

Unexpectedly, the head's charred black skin had already returned to a pale white, as if it had reverted to human form.

The originally refined-looking forensic examiner turned back around.

At this moment, his movements suddenly took on a strange, almost mystical quality.

He muttered incantations under his breath, reciting obscure, unintelligible syllables, while the silver needles in his hand precisely pierced several acupoints on the head.

Yan Jing stood in the shadows, quietly watching all of this.

He didn't fully understand the specific principles involved, but he had a general idea of what the man was doing.

In short.

By activating his spell, the forensic examiner could communicate with corpses.

Using the residual curse power in the head, he could briefly create a false consciousness, thereby driving the brain to produce instinctive physiological reactions to specific questions, much like necromancy.

The forensic examiner's low, deep voice was like a soul-summoning chant as he slowly asked: "Where was the last place you obtained those drugs?"

The moment the words fell.

The head's eyelids flipped open without any warning.

The murky eyeballs that should have been burned clean away, yet now had reappeared in their sockets, began trembling rapidly, rolling left and right chaotically within the eye sockets, emitting faint "squelch squelch" sounds.

The forensic examiner didn't pause, the deep blue curse power glow in his eyes continuing to shine as he pressed on with that eerie tone: "Was there anything special?"

"Think carefully... don't leave out anything you consider crucial..."

The eyeballs in the head's sockets trembled with increasing frequency, causing the surrounding flesh to twitch slightly along with them.

Seeing this, the forensic examiner picked up the head with both hands and carried it to the side.

There stood a pale torso that looked like a mannequin, except its arms were especially refined, as if they were living things.

The forensic examiner placed the head into the socket at the top of the torso, then shoved a black pencil into the palm of its hand, laying a sheet of clean white drawing paper on the table in front.

Click, clack.

The arm joints made a few sounds.

Then, the wrist began to twist on its own, guiding the pencil to fly swiftly across the paper.