Chapter 338: Chapter 207: Liu Temple
Zhou Xuan gave the order to restrain the breakfast shop’s owner.
He could have directly used Dream Generation, but his recent encounters with the spatial rift at Ming’s Silver Shop had left him ntally drained. He still hadn’t recovered and lacked the energy to act.
Fortunately, among those accompanying him—the night watchman, Qing Feng, and Li Chengfeng—each was a master of spirit manipulation.
Upon receiving the order, Qing Feng threw out the City God Ink Line. The breakfast shop’s owner instinctively grabbed the kitchen knife on the table.
Just this one move reassured Zhou Xuan that the man was a “civilian.”
Skilled manipulators of spirit fire had their own thods; none of them reached for kitchen knives.
“Fall!”
The Ink Line extended several ters, slithering like a thin worm, piercing in and out of the owner’s body dozens of tis.
The Ink Line had preliminarily bound the owner’s body, weaving through his inner fra and wrapping around his entire skeletal structure.
Qing Feng’s right hand gripping the line’s end gave a fierce tug. The Ink Line tightened, and within the owner’s body sounded a sharp “crack-crack” of breaking bones.
The breakfast shop’s owner collapsed, curling into himself on the ground, wailing miserably.
To say Qing Feng’s action startled the shop’s patrons would be an understatent; everyone fled in terror, effectively clearing the scene.
Zhou Xuan instructed the night watchn to secure the shop’s wooden panels at the doors. He pulled a chair, sat before the owner, and asked, “Na?”
“I… I…”
“Qing Feng, turn up the intensity.” Zhou Xuan saw the owner’s hesitation and waved his finger.
Qing Feng twitched the Ink Line, causing a new thread to erge from the owner’s back.
This thread split into nine, transforming into whip-like cords that lashed across the owner’s back, leaving streaks of raw, bloody marks.
Beyond physical pain, Zhou Xuan noticed sothing else: a second “owner” began to crawl out from the original body.
The two “owners” partially overlapped, making Zhou Xuan montarily doubt his own vision. Was he seeing double?
But in the next instant, he realized the so-called “double vision” was nothing more than the owner’s Divine Soul materializing.
“The Ink Line is truly brutal—it even extracts souls,” Zhou Xuan remarked.
Li Chengfeng explained, “The City God Ink Line strikes the flesh and the soul alike. Evil Ghosts and Lao Jiang are terrified of it.”
Zhou Xuan nodded and addressed the agony-stricken owner: “Speak. What’s your na?”
“Yu Zhongguang.”
“Fatty Yu, is that you?”
“No… uh…” Yu Zhongguang glanced nervously at Qing Feng’s nacing face and dared not deny further. “It’s .”
“Why are you called Fatty Yu? You’re hardly fat.”
“I used to be quite fat.”
“No one on this street seems to know Fatty Yu exists.”
“When I moved here, I was already thin. Only a few private friends still call that. The nickna didn’t spread.”
Zhou Xuan weighed Yu Zhongguang’s tone and fluency, sensing that his answers were calm and stable, unlikely to be lies.
With his identity mostly verified, it was ti to dive into the main topic. Zhou Xuan directly asked, “Do you know the young owner of Ming’s Silver Shop?”
“Why are you asking about him?”
Yu Zhongguang was clearly stunned by Zhou Xuan’s question.
In that fleeting mont, Zhou Xuan felt certain Yu Zhongguang was carrying other secrets.
Earlier, Yu Zhongguang’s resistance seed spurred by his mistaken belief that his “other secrets” were being exposed. He hadn’t anticipated Zhou Xuan’s inquiry to revolve around Ming’s Silver Shop.
And so, he exhibited a peculiar bewildernt.
Zhou Xuan didn’t press Yu Zhongguang imdiately to reveal his hidden matters. His primary objective was to figure out which church Yu Zhongguang and Ming Shu, the silver shop’s young owner, had attended for worship.
Mingjiang Prefecture had countless churches—large, small, open secrets, or private conversions. Scanning each one would stretch the City God’s manpower to its limits.
“Talk when I ask. Stop stalling. What’s the young owner’s na?”
“His na is Ming Shu.”
“On September 3rd, in the afternoon, you and Ming Shu visited a church for worship. What’s the church’s na and exact location?”
“Huh?!”
Yu Zhongguang froze again, this ti so thoroughly bewildered he seed completely paralyzed.
Yu Zhongguang had initially assud Zhou Xuan’s inquiry about Ming Shu would pertain to today’s “massacre case.”
Since he believed he had no involvent, he intended to answer seriously. But to his shock, Zhou Xuan delved directly into the “church’s na” and possessed intimate knowledge of Ming Shu’s movents—down to the date and ti, ticulously.
“What’s the church called?”
Zhou Xuan asked again.
“I… I can’t say… saying it… will kill .”
“Still not enough intensity.” Zhou Xuan gestured with his pinkie, signaling Qing Feng to escalate the torture.
This ti, however, Yu Zhongguang’s lips were firmly sealed. No matter how Qing Feng exerted force, he refused to disclose the church’s na.
It was almost as though this na carried an unspeakable curse.
At that mont,
Zhou Xuan’s Wash Away Injustice Talisman vibrated—an “执念” was requesting to cleanse injustice?
His eyes swept around before landing on a silhouette outside the back window of the breakfast shop.
“You keep interrogating him; I’m taking a break for a cigarette. This is exhausting.”
Heading to the back door, Zhou Xuan opened it and clearly observed the “执念.”
The执念 was clad in tattered garnts, its face blotched with patterns of discolored patches.
From his extensive experience, Zhou Xuan knew that the more blotches on a执念, the more fragnted and nurous the thoughts comprising its form.
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