Squeak, squeak.
The noises that the iron rope that held the hanging man uttered were particularly annoying in the quiet room.
Heiye Ming hinted for his subordinate to open the bottom half of the hanging man's iron mask, giving back his ability to speak. But so much saliva spurted out of the hanging man's mouth that the agents of the Imperium had to pump the mucus away from his mouth.
"Of course I was speaking the truth."
The hanging man's voice was calm, steady, and even dull. It did not sound like he had just been through the most miserable torture, or that he was still hanging in midair without being able to move his little finger. "As the commander of the expedition army of the Imperium, even if you don't believe me, you should at least trust the power of the interrogational and soul-searching magical equipment of the Imperium."
"I want you to repeat Jin Xinyue's plan," Heiye Ming said coldly.
