Chapter 443 : Severe Interrogation
443: Severe Interrogation
After defeating her enemies with a single move, Yun Qingyue quickly transformed back into human form.
The Swan Goose had only existed for a few years, and besides those in the Buddha Sect who knew of her existence, few others did, let alone were acquainted with her. However, while few recognized the Swan Goose, Yun Qingyue, the former head disciple of Mount Mingxia, had a wide circle of acquaintances—at least Tan Ming knew her quite well.
Even with Tan Ming's steadfast Buddhist heart, suddenly seeing the Swan Goose transform into a familiar person caused undeniable shock. His eyes widened slightly, almost believing he had seen wrong, or that the Swan Goose's human form just happened to resemble Yun Qingyue—ridiculous, though it had been some years since he'd seen Yun Qingyue, he still remembered when her background was revealed. Sect Leader Zhu was rumored to have monstrous bloodline, which had nothing to do with phoenixes.
Yet despite the countless thoughts racing through his mind, upon seeing the other figure closely following Yun Qingyue, he knew he hadn't misidentified her. He remained astonished not only about her identity but also her cultivation level.
They had all been roughly equal back then, yet now she could defeat enemies with a single move, while he could hardly preserve his life against those same opponents.
Tan Ming couldn't help feeling stirred, but to say he was jealous or resentful would be an overstatement. First, their interaction had been limited, and second, as the Buddha Sect's senior disciple, he had his own dignity. Closing his slightly agape mouth, Tan Ming bowed: "Thank you both for your rescue, fellow Daoists."
Yun Qingyue nodded slightly, and Jiang Mo greeted him, but then both turned their attention elsewhere.
This time, perhaps due to the phoenix's spectacular entrance, the black-clad attackers who had ambushed Tan Ming's group had no chance to escape, and before they could even self-destruct, Yun Qingyue had sealed their spiritual energy and frozen them in place... This was excellent news. Though they had encountered several groups of assassins and rescued several Buddha Sect disciples along their journey, the opponents had behaved like suicide squads, often self-destructing before they could be interrogated.
Whether these assassins lived or died wasn't of much concern to the two women, but they couldn't ignore the "demon race" mentioned by Huiqian. These people attacking Buddha Sect disciples seemed to be from the same group as those Huiqian had encountered—perhaps they knew something!
Jiang Mo immediately rubbed her hands together, circled the ice sculptures twice, and randomly selected one, saying: "Ah Yue, let me question this one."
Yun Qingyue scanned the surroundings, counting at least a dozen frozen black-clad figures, noting that the one Jiang Mo had chosen wasn't even the leader. Thus, she didn't mind, and with a slight nod, the ice sculpture Jiang Mo had selected seemed to transition from deep winter to scorching summer. The ice layer rapidly melted, revealing a person within whose face had turned blue from the cold.
Of course, with a cultivator's robust physique, this level of cold wouldn't be fatal. Droplets of water slid down the assassin's blue face, and his eyeballs rolled, looking toward Yun Qingyue with terror.
Good, he could still feel fear, so he likely wasn't a death squad member trained from childhood.
Jiang Mo was quite satisfied with this but disliked his gaze fixated on her senior sister. She waved her hand in front of the assassin's face and said: "Don't look over there, look here." As she spoke, her imposing aura suddenly erupted—the pressure of a Fusion stage master forced the man to his knees with a "thud."
This was somewhat unexpected; even Jiang Mo was momentarily stunned. Then she belatedly remembered that when her senior sister had frozen everyone earlier to prevent self-destruction, she had sealed their spiritual energy. Without spiritual energy support, and given that this assassin's cultivation was already several levels below Jiang Mo's, he naturally had no resistance to her pressure—it was lucky he wasn't crushed on the spot.
Realizing this, Jiang Mo quickly withdrew her aura. This release and withdrawal happened in just a single breath.
But for the targeted individual, that breath felt endlessly long. The assassin who had dropped to his knees was now on all fours, his entire body dripping with water. It was unclear whether these were droplets from the melted ice or cold sweat produced in that instant.
Jiang Mo observed his slightly trembling body and felt a flash of discomfort, but quickly suppressed it. She stepped forward and poked his shoulder with her fingertip: "Hey, I..." have something to ask you.
Before she could finish, the man went "thud" again, this time prostrating himself completely.
Seeing this, Jiang Mo held her forehead. She had done nothing, yet the scene looked as if she had already brutally beaten him. But with unexpected developments happening repeatedly, she had now accepted the situation gracefully. Seeing him prostrate, she simply placed her foot on his back, speaking imperiously like a mountain bandit: "Alright, stop playing dead. I have questions for you."
The person under her foot moved his arm slightly, seemingly trying to prop himself up, but he couldn't even move his arm, let alone support his body. So he stopped struggling, lying flat under Jiang Mo's foot, but he didn't respond to her question either.
Jiang Mo had expected this, and a flash of ferocity appeared in her golden pupils.
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Jiang Mo interrogated the man thoroughly, her methods not bloody but certainly not pleasant. However, strangely, no matter how she questioned or pressured him with her imposing aura, the unfortunate chosen one remained silent.
For a moment, Jiang Mo even suspected she had unluckily selected a mute.
But there were no mutes among cultivators. Even if one's tongue was torn out or throat poisoned into muteness, the cultivation world had plenty of miraculous medicines that could restore one to normal. So the man simply wasn't yielding to her methods, preferring death to confession.
Jiang Mo, after all, was a transmigrator from modern times, not native to the cultivation world. Learning to kill in self-defense was already impressive enough; expecting her to administer severe torture was somewhat unreasonable. So after exhausting her limited methods, Jiang Mo was at a loss with the man before her, and she could only turn her beseeching gaze toward her senior sister.
Yun Qingyue wasn't surprised by the situation. The fact that the little tiger appeared fierce but was actually just milk-fierce was something she had known for eighty years. She stepped forward, patting the little tiger's back reassuringly, but when she turned to face the interrogated black-clad man, her entire demeanor became ice-cold.
The black-clad man pretending to be unconscious involuntarily shuddered, sensing something ominous.
Indeed, his premonition wasn't wrong, for when the senior sister took charge, she was ruthlessly efficient with few words—her first action wasn't to question or pressure him, but to directly destroy one of his meridians. The black-clad man endured it, not even grunting, so Yun Qingyue silently destroyed a second one.
Only after most of the man's meridians had been destroyed did Yun Qingyue finally ask her first question: "Who are you?"
The black-clad man now lay limply on the ground, his entire body involuntarily convulsing. Hearing Yun Qingyue's question, he shuddered violently. After a pause, he finally spoke for the first time, his voice terribly hoarse: "Jia Qi, my name is Jia Qi."
Yun Qingyue's expression remained cold and severe, not relaxing in the slightest despite his response. She continued: "I'm asking about your identity."
The black-clad man shuddered again, then replied: "Independent cultivator."
"Independent cultivator" was truly an all-purpose answer, but no one present believed him, not even the Buddha Sect's innocent junior brother—those without sects, without forces, without backing were called independent cultivators. Independent cultivators wouldn't attack Buddha Sect disciples without reason, and from another perspective, independent cultivators without backing wouldn't dare move against disciples of major sects.
Yun Qingyue didn't believe him and couldn't be bothered listening to his evasions. She raised her hand and destroyed another of his meridians. Then, speaking coldly, each word seemed to drop ice shards: "That was your last meridian. What's left? Oh, your bones, your Nascent Soul, your spiritual root..."
Despite her beautiful appearance, even with her ice-cold expression, she was still captivating. However, as her red lips parted with each flatly delivered word, her emotionless tone sent chills through the listener's heart.
What matters most to cultivators? It's not even their lives, but their cultivation, their path!
Destroyed meridians caused serious injuries, and if not properly healed, would leave hidden dangers in the body, adding many obstacles to one's future path. But then again, the cultivation world had countless treasures, and there were many miraculous medicines for rebuilding meridians. Recovery, though troublesome, wasn't particularly difficult. After all, many sustained meridian damage in fights.
Damaged bones were more difficult to repair than meridians, but there were still methods. The Nascent Soul was different—it was where the cultivation of those at or above the Nascent Soul realm converged. If the Nascent Soul was destroyed, it essentially meant one's cultivation was destroyed. With good luck, one might drop to the Golden Core realm; with bad luck, one might fall to Foundation Establishment or Qi Refinement, or even have to restart cultivation entirely.
As for spiritual roots, they needn't be mentioned—they were the foundation of a cultivator's practice. Cultivators could cultivate because of their spiritual roots; without them, one was thoroughly mortal.
And once spiritual roots were destroyed, unless one was a heaven-favored protagonist of destiny, there was almost no possibility of recovery!
The black-clad man could sense the calm in Yun Qingyue's words and knew she wasn't merely threatening. Thus, he finally felt afraid. He could die, but he couldn't become a mortal, an ant that anyone could slaughter!
So, with a trembling voice, he began to speak: "Stop, I'll talk..."