Another scream, more desperate and terrible than before, reverberated through the corridor. Someone was certainly being tortured inside here.
"Young Master!" Xuebi reached out, grabbing Wuyi's arm, but Wuyi shook him off and continued toward the source of the cries.
He arrived at a wide, torch-lit room with cell doors lining three walls. In the center, two men stood on opposite sides of a table, where a third man was chained. One of the guards held an iron poker, its tip glowing red-hot.
Wuyi stepped closer, capturing the attention of the guard without the iron poker. The man jumped, startled. "What in the— Who? I mean..."
Wuyi had expected the torturers to be menacing figures, but their ordinariness struck him. The shorter guard looked almost friendly, if a bit simple. The other had a brutish demeanor but seemed like someone who could enjoy a good laugh.
"Who are you?" the brutish guard demanded.
