Screams echoed intermittently from the prison of the Prefect of the Capital, rising and falling in the already dark and cold torture chamber. The furnace fire burned fiercely, with flames surging upwards in clusters, and the bamboo charcoal residue sparked and hissed.
Several storytellers from the teahouse were dropped onto the torture rack, barely alive, like lambs to the slaughter.
The flowing blood was still warm. Looking along the source of the blood, one could see bodies that had been whipped until their skin was torn and their flesh was ripped open. Their faces were covered in blood and flesh, with hair and dirt stuck to them, making it impossible to tell what their expressions were. If it weren't for the violent screams that came from the whipping, it would be almost impossible to tell whether they were dead or alive.
The torturer removed his shirt, appearing naked. The whip in his hand was stained with blood. After interrogating her intermittently for half a day, he was already impatient. He twisted her neck, her bones cracking, and then raised his hand to lash out again, blood splattering onto her face instantly...
"Confess honestly and you'll live. If you refuse to talk even after being beaten to death, don't blame me for being ruthless..." the torturer shouted angrily, wiping his face haphazardly with his hand. Blood mixed with sweat made his face even redder.
A younger man coughed a few times, spitting out a mouthful of blood. He struggled to lift his head, and pleaded in a weak voice, "We really... have... told... everything we know... We don't know anything else..."
The torturer spat and cursed viciously, "Think about your wives and children at home. If you want to go home quickly, think it over carefully... Don't force me to torture you..." As he spoke, he walked to the stove, picked up a piece of iron that was red-hot in the charcoal fire, waved it in front of his eyes, and stared at the storyteller.
The storyteller was terrified. His eyes widened as he struggled desperately, pleading loudly, "My lord, what I said... was all the truth... Please spare my life..."
Just as the iron block slowly approached, the Prefect of the Capital suddenly entered, and the torturers immediately put down their instruments of torture and knelt down to pay their respects.
"How's the interrogation going?" The Prefect of the Capital coldly swept his gaze across the torture chamber without any expression.
The executioner hesitated before replying, "Your Honor, these scholars all said that someone paid them money to fabricate these stories. They make a living by storytelling, and seeing how fantastical the stories were, they all agreed. But they don't know the person who paid them..."
The Prefect of the Capital snapped impatiently, "That's not what I want to hear! Do they even remember what the person who gave them the silver looked like?"
The torturer shuddered and cautiously replied, "Reporting to you, sir, we've been interrogating them for half a day, and we've used all the different instruments of torture, but all they know is that the people who gave them the silver were women, and they all wore bamboo hats and thick veils that completely covered their faces, so we can't see their features at all..."
Upon hearing this, the Prefect of the Capital was so angry that he kicked over the stove beside him. The red-hot coals in the stove fell and scattered all over the floor. After rolling around a few times, the whole room became hot and dry, and the red-hot coals stained with blood were smoking.
"This information is completely worthless. How am I supposed to report it to the Emperor? Besides, the Emperor has already guessed that these storytellers were acting under someone's orders, and he insists on finding out who the mastermind is before he can give me an answer..."
The torturers were so frightened that they dared not utter a sound and buried their heads as they were scolded.
"Continue the interrogation...until you get some valuable information..." With that, the Prefect of the Capital turned and left.
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