Chapter 824 - 693: The Truth Is...

Chapter 824: Chapter 693: The Truth Is...

"Creak—"

The tooth-aching screech of the iron door opening was piercingly sharp.

The room was almost completely undecorated; all four walls were raw concrete, and overhead hung a single low-wattage bulb, dim and yellow, flickering on and off.

In the middle of the room, a cold iron chair was bolted to the floor, and on that chair, a woman with disheveled hair was handcuffed in place.

She might once have had a pretty face and a graceful figure, but right now her face was covered in crusted and fresh bloodstains, her lips split and swollen, her eyes bruised dark purple.

The thin clothes on her body had long since been torn to shreds; the exposed skin was covered in whip marks, burns, and bruises, some wounds still oozing faintly—obviously she’d just undergone hours of brutal torture.

The man who walked in was, of course... Du Changle.

He stepped slowly up to the woman, his leather shoes ticking lightly against the cold concrete floor.

He stopped, bent down slightly, and reached out a plump hand with a gold ring on it, using his fingertips to gently hook up the woman’s drooping chin, forcing her to raise her head.

"What a pitiful sight... Look at these injuries."

"Such a nice little face, such tender skin and flesh, and now it’s all ruined. Even if you ever get out of here, what client would dare book you again? This life of yours is basically over."

The woman was forced to tilt her head back; her unfocused gaze was filled with absolute terror. Her entire body trembled uncontrollably, her teeth chattering:

"I... I’ve told you the truth... I’m begging you... let me go... I’ve said everything I know..."

The smile on Du Changle’s face didn’t waver, but his eyes were cold as frost:

"The truth? Heh heh heh... According to your so-called truth, the three of you whores went that day to provide a special ’therapeutic service’ for Qian Huan, Prison Director Qian, who was in a coma?"

"You took turns, ’treated’ him three times in total, and then Qian Huan just fucking woke up like a miracle?"

The woman blinked her swollen eyes with difficulty, blood mixing with tears as it ran down her face, and answered with effort:

"Y-yes... that’s how it was... Prison Director Qian... really did... wake up right after... we finished the service..."

Du Changle stared hard into the woman’s eyes; the terror in her eyes didn’t look faked.

He frowned slightly:

"Fine, then walk me through the exact treatment process. Be specific—don’t leave out any detail whatsoever!"

The woman seemed to see a tiny sliver of hope. With a voice so hoarse it was almost breaking, she started to describe in fits and starts:

"I-it was like this... That day, we followed the instructions and went to that villa... then someone led us into that bedroom... it was a bit dark inside, there was a big fish tank... then I... I took off my clothes... climbed into the tank... he... he was in the water..."

(10,000 and 9,999 characters omitted here.)

Du Changle forced himself to listen to the woman’s description, his temper simmering; by the time she finished, the anger in his chest was even stronger. He ground his teeth and said:

"That’s it? That’s all, that’s the ’treatment’ you’re talking about? Think again, very carefully—was there anything off in the middle of it, anything that felt different from your usual jobs, anything that struck you as out of the ordinary?"

Frightened by his rage, the woman flinched, racking her brains and then gingerly squeezing a few words out of her mouth:

"Y-yes... it was a bit different... I... I remember feeling... especially... kind of... woozy... like I was walking on clouds..."

(ps: That was because she’d taken the pill Li Hanyu gave her afterwards, so she felt woozy and her memories got mixed up.)

Du Changle had thought she was finally about to spit out some key intel, but what he got instead was an answer even more filthy than before. His last bit of patience was completely burned out.

"Heh... so you like feeling woozy, huh?"

Du Changle let out a couple of sinister chuckles. He straightened up and gave a cold order to the subordinate beside him:

"All right, give her the real stuff. Let her have a good long think. Inject the Truth Serum."

Hearing this, the subordinate hurriedly opened a silver combination case next to him. A chill spilled out; inside, several syringes filled with transparent fluid and specially made long needles were neatly lined up.

He deftly took one out, bled out the air, and the needle tip flickered with cold light under the dim bulb.

Seeing the needle, the woman’s pupils shrank sharply. She started struggling frantically, rocking the iron chair so hard it clanged.

Two minutes later, the screams gradually weakened and finally faded into unconscious whimpering.

The woman’s eyes went vacant and hazy; she slumped on the iron chair like someone in a massive hangover, her head lolling to the side, drool leaking from the corner of her mouth. Her eyeballs rolled upward involuntarily, exposing large swathes of white.

Du Changle bent down, moved his ear close to the woman’s face, and murmured:

"Tell me everything that happened in that house that day."

Woman: "..."

(Another 24,787 characters omitted here.)

The Truth Serum was actually quite effective; this time, the woman’s answers were nearly five thousand characters longer than before, and her account of the whole process was far more detailed, with a much stronger sense of visual immediacy.

However, as she went on, Du Changle’s expression grew darker and darker, his face turning almost black-green with fury.

He muttered inwardly:

"What the hell... This woman is telling the truth. Could Qian Huan really have woken up just because he got ’treated’ by them?"

"Impossible... there’s absolutely no scientific basis for that."

To make sure it wasn’t the Truth Serum that was faulty, Du Changle had the exact same dosage injected into the other two women locked up in the other two secret rooms, the ones who’d taken part in the ’treatment’ as well.

After several hours of this, he’d wrung out three full sets of statements.

Apart from minor differences in length due to personal expression and variations in their experiences, the core plot and key events lined up with eerie consistency, forming a bizarre web of mutual corroboration.