Survivor, what on earth happened?
An unsafe surface environment, dim lighting, a half-human, half-beast figure covered in wounds and bloodstains, and that eerie, distinctly malicious smile he flashed all these bizarre elements converging together were enough to chill anyone to the bone.
Yet Ston merely raised his brows with a calm expression, gazing steadily at Zhuang Xingyu and locking eyes with him without a single flicker of hesitation.
Zhuang Xingyu lay prone on the floor, projecting a weak yet sinister aura. From his angle, wanting to see Ston’s face meant he had no choice but to crane his neck upward and look at the other person from below.
Thus, within his field of vision, what met his eyes were a pair of long, straight legs encased in deep blue judicial trousers, a slender, taut waist, and an upright pair of shoulders and neck.
Under normal circumstances, most people could not withstand being scrutinized from this bottom-up angle without compromising their appearance. Yet Ston was evidently no ordinary person; with his pale, cold skin and deep-set eyes and brows, even from Zhuang Xingyu’s perspective, he possessed a face that was a feast for the eyes.
However, the current Zhuang Xingyu clearly lacked the state of mind to appreciate aesthetic beauty. Supporting himself against the ground, he strained with all his might to push his body upward into a sitting position, whereupon the iron chains binding his limbs immediately emitted a rattling clatter of metal scraping harshly against the rough floor.
Behind Ston, the heavily armed tactical team members instinctively raised their weapons. Several impatient ones had already aligned their gun barrels directly toward Zhuang Xingyu as he pushed himself up.
“A bunch of hypocritical bastards, truly,” Zhuang Xingyu stared at Ston, offering a wicked smile as he spoke. “If you wanted to kill me, you could have just done it. To actually trot out a grand justice and put on some kind of trial it’s utterly laughable.”
Ston narrowed his eyes, unbothered by Zhuang Xingyu’s provocation, and instead replied with chilling composure: “Before the trial, nobody wants to kill you.”
Zhuang Xingyu let out a cold snort, clearly brimming with hostility and resistance toward Ston. Turning slightly to the side, Ston gestured behind him toward Xiao Chen and the compact video camera resting on the table.
“All of our conversations today are being video-recorded and will serve as legally binding evidence in court later on. Therefore, when you give an account of the sequence of events shortly, I advise you to think carefully before you speak.”
Upon realizing that evidence collection was commencing immediately, Xiao Chen grew nervous, hastily arranging his notebook computer in preparation to record.
“Zhuang Xingyu, former captain of the Federal Special Task Force, dispatched 16 days ago to execute a classified mission outside the Wall of Nüwa. Yet ultimately, the mission failed, all other members of your squad perished, and you are the sole survivor who returned alive,” Ston stated the known case facts in a steady, chilling cadence. “I have already dispatched personnel to search the spacecraft you used for your return journey, but its flight data recorder is missing, unable to provide any intelligence. Therefore…”
Ston paused briefly, then squatted down, extending a slender finger clad in a black leather glove through the gaps of the iron bars to pinch Zhuang Xingyu’s chin. Exerting force with his hand, he forced Zhuang Xingyu to tilt his head higher, exposing those heterochromatic eyes to the illumination of the overhead light.
“Tell us, survivor, what on earth happened?”
Enduring pain in his jaw, Zhuang Xingyu could not help furrowing his brows slightly. Struggling with his hands in an attempt to resist, he only succeeded in rattling the heavy iron chains into a deafening clamor.
“I hope you can cooperate properly.” Ston’s grip did not lighten; instead, he continuously escalated the pressure to control the thrashing Zhuang Xingyu.
While speaking, he used his free hand to extract the compact remote control that the squad leader had shoved into his possession before entering from the pocket of his uniform breast, pinching it between his fingers to display it for Zhuang Xingyu.
“Article 1, Section 14 of the Federal Penal Code: A judge must not employ violent methods such as corporal punishment or intimidation during the interrogation of a suspect’s confession. Therefore, you wouldn’t want my hand to slip and press a button it shouldn’t, would you?”
Zhuang Xingyu’s gaze drifted toward the small remote control. Upon recognizing what the device was, he suddenly erupted into a sinister, dark chuckle.
“Hahaha, Grand Justice Ston, you really are so naive. Did you think I would actually be afraid of a little zap?”
“You certainly aren’t afraid,” Ston said coldly, “but perhaps pain will make you cooperative enough to speak.”
“You haven’t the faintest idea what true pain is!” Zhuang Xingyu abruptly severed his laughter, instead narrowing his eyes and growling with dangerous menace. “The flight data recorder was completely intact when I made my return flight. If your people couldn’t find it, that only points to one possible explanation: someone within your own internal ranks stole it!”
A jolt of alarm rippled through Ston’s heart, though he let no trace of it show upon his exterior as he pressed further: “What about your comrades then? How did each of them die? Why are you the only one who made it back alive? What on earth did you encounter beyond the perimeter wall?”
While posing the questions, Ston kept his eyes locked relentlessly onto Zhuang Xingyu’s, ensuring he caught the precise moment when the word “comrades” left his lips, causing a fleeting flash of desolate, piercing agony to cross Zhuang Xingyu’s pupils.
Such involuntary reactions were the most authentic indicators; it appeared that within Zhuang Xingyu’s heart, his fallen comrades remained his ultimate soft spot.
Consequently, denying Zhuang Xingyu any breathing room to regulate his emotional state, Ston pressed onward: “Those comrades of yours have all given their lives, yet nobody knows how they died—only you. Only by letting you voice the truth will their sacrifices not be in vain, will the Federation have grounds to posthumously bestow upon them the honor of martyrdom, and will their surviving dependents retain any hope of drawing breath in this world.”
Ston was not engaging in hyperbole. In an era such as this, unarmed ordinary citizens who lost the most reliable breadwinner in their household genuinely found mere survival a monumental struggle for basic sustenance.
Sure enough, Ston’s remarks successfully struck a chord within Zhuang Xingyu’s most sensitive and vulnerable emotional core. Closing his eyes, he emitted a desolate, heavy sigh before speaking in a hoarse rasp: “Fine, I will speak… My comrades, my brothers… they were all… all killed by me…”
The moment those words dropped, uproar erupted instantly.
Everyone, the armed squad members, Xiao Chen, and even Ston stared with wide, astonished eyes.
Nobody knew how to respond; Zhuang Xingyu’s confession arrived with such sheer velocity and abruptness that even a meticulously prepared Ston was entirely unprepared.
Ultimately, Ston was the first to snap back to his senses. Releasing his grip from Zhuang Xingyu’s chin, he rose to his feet, looking down condescendingly upon Zhuang Xingyu’s lowered head with a solemn expression as he demanded: “Detail the exact sequence of events.”
The subsequent interrogation process, however, did not proceed smoothly. Once Zhuang Xingyu admitted to slaying his comrades, regardless of what further inquiries Ston directed at him, he lowered his head and stubbornly refused to utter another syllable, sinking into an entirely withdrawn, soul-dead state.
Ston attempted dozens of questions approached from various angles, yet failed to extract any substantive testimony from Zhuang Xingyu.
Having no alternative, Ston had no choice but to conclude today’s interrogation session, instructing that the self-confessed suspect be transferred to the detention facility affiliated with the judiciary in accordance with regulations, awaiting trial on a designated date.
“I didn’t expect things to go this smoothly,” Xiao Chen muttered in a low voice to Ston while packing away his computer and camera. “I genuinely assumed this fellow would put up a stubborn resistance and refuse to plead guilty, never imagining he’d confess so readily.”
Ston, however, remained silent, his gaze fixed with profound depth upon Zhuang Xingyu’s direction. He watched as the man slumped limply on the ground with a defeated, lowered head, radiating the unmistakable aura of someone who had utterly surrendered any will to live.
“What is it, Justice?” Seeing Ston offer no response for an extended stretch, Xiao Chen could not resist probing.
Ston kept to himself the growing intuition that despite Zhuang Xingyu’s swift confession and shoulder-loading of all criminal liability, his subsequent behavior suggested underlying complexities perhaps hinting that reality was far from what appeared on the surface.
Yet, since Zhuang Xingyu had explicitly incriminated himself in front of numerous witnesses, Ston lacked concrete, contradictory evidence, rendering any speculative assertions premature.
Thus, mentally calculating that his immediate priority upon returning would be initiating an investigation into the missing flight data recorder, he responded aloud: “Let’s head back to the courtyard first.”
The transfer of a mutated pollutant like Zhuang Xingyu was treated with utmost gravity by both prison and judicial authorities, each deploying heavily armed tactical teams to manage convoy security along the route.
Ston remained behind within the prison grounds to finalize the transit logistics before waiting for the arrival of the judiciary’s vanguard team, readying himself to accompany the procession back to headquarters.
To prevent Zhuang Xingyu from exploiting the transition window while existing restraints were unlocked and swapped out for mobile, lightweight handcuffs and leg irons to mount an escape attempt, the prison squad leader personally engaged the high-voltage electrical switch to administer a fresh round of electrocution to Zhuang Xingyu prior to opening the cage door.
Tens of thousands of volts of high-voltage current surged instantly through the iron chains into every fiber of Zhuang Xingyu’s physique, the agonizing trauma twisting his body into contorted postures as he collapsed onto the flooring while a low, inhuman growl tore from his throat.
That chilling audio frequency pierced the eardrums of every single individual present, involuntarily raising a dense harvest of goosebumps across their skin.
Accompanying the terrifying sound was the distinctive stench of flesh and blood being scorched by high heat and voltage, mingling with the heavy reek of iron permeating the cell to induce instant nausea.
Xiao Chen, who had maintained a stoic front thus far, finally reached his breaking point. Shoving his computer bag into Ston’s arms, he clamped a hand over his mouth and bolted frantically toward the exit, nearly vomiting all over himself before even clearing the threshold.
Ston wordlessly accepted the computer bag, knitting his brows as he cast a fleeting glance toward the iron cage. Over a dozen armed operatives had already advanced into the enclosure at their leader’s gesture, leveling their rifles at Zhuang Xingyu before stepping forward with cautious vigilance.
Meanwhile, Zhuang Xingyu remained curled upon the floor in a hunched heap, still twitching involuntarily due to the residual electrical shocks. Multiple wounds across his body had ruptured anew from the violent muscular contractions, spilling bright crimson blood that stained the ground and pooled into distinct puddles of red.
Ston’s frown deepened further. Averting his face, he strode rapidly out of the cell block.
Dozens of personnel escorted Zhuang Xingyu aboard a heavily modified heavy-duty van, where his movement was considerably restricted by manacles and leg irons as thick as an adult’s arm.
Ston had already settled comfortably into the commercial vehicle leading the van. Reclining against his seat, he turned his head to monitor Zhuang Xingyu boarding the vehicle via the rearview mirror. Once the commanding officer signaled that all preparations were complete, the motorcade smoothly pulled into motion.
En route, Ston slipped on his headphones to review the interrogation recordings captured by Xiao Chen, lowering his gaze in deep contemplation before retrieving his tablet once more to re-examine the incident report concerning the disappearance of the flight data recorder.
For reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, this specific anomaly weighed heavily on his intuition. He harbored a persistent conviction that hidden machinations lurked beneath the bizarre disappearance of the recorder; unraveling that mystery might well crack the entire case wide open.
Just as he located the file and readied himself to analyze the details once more, a deafening crash erupted from the rear convoy the sound of heavy metallic hardware detaching and scraping continuously against the asphalt road surface. In the next fraction of a second, their lead vehicle was struck from behind by a violent rear-end collision, sending the chassis lurching so violently that Ston’s safety-belted torso pitched sharply forward before rebounding hard against the upholstery.
“What’s happening? Protect the Justice!”
“The suspect has broken free! He—he smashed through the restraints and destroyed one of our transport vehicles!”
“Where is he right now?!”
The cabin intercom crackled with frantic overlapping voices and the sharp metallic clack of rounds being chambered, though nobody could provide an immediate status update, leaving only a chaotic burst of static humming across the line.
Tossing his tablet aside, Ston reached to unbuckle his safety harness while sliding his hand down toward his tactical holster at his side, speaking in a voice of icy, measured calm: “All units take heed he is on the roof of our vehicle.”