Late at night, Shanghu federal prison.
In the forbidden custody room on the ninety-ninth underground floor, Qi Xian wore a breathing mask, bound in a straitjacket, his body plugged with cables, soaking in a solution.
Relying on the strong vitality of the Immortal Body, even brain-shattering injuries could recover, and his shattered consciousness was slowly repairing itself.
Numerous experiment personnel operated the consoles, as the Federation's most professional interrogators they didn't need to learn any interrogation techniques. They were skilled in obtaining the desired intelligence by manipulating the suspect's brain, although the process was very tedious.
After all, the person they were interrogating this time was the Pope.
"I understand, I'll hurry, I'll give you the result tonight," Peng Xianzhi received his daughter's call, his expression growing very grave.
