Ultraman: It turns out this is the easy mode.

Choi ordered that the last remaining assassin be locked up and interrogated thoroughly.

Cui Ming dragged the assassin, whose kneecaps were shattered, into the interrogation room like a dead dog. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind him, the hydraulic lock clicking dully, cutting off all outside noise. The assassin slumped in a specially made metal chair, his hands and feet tightly bound by straps. The cold, glaring light from the overhead lamp made his face appear bluish.

However, no one dared to say much.

In the corridor, several passing employees turned pale the moment they saw the toolbox Cui Ming was carrying. The box wasn't large, but when Cui Ming opened it, various tools were neatly arranged inside, gleaming coldly under the cold lights.

Especially when he saw the various tools Cui Ming had prepared, such as signatures and tweezers.

The items looked like ordinary medical equipment found in a hospital, but their presence in the interrogation room, in Cui Ming's hands stained with gunpowder and blood, gave them a chilling quality. An older employee recognized several items, his legs buckling as he nearly collapsed, only managing to stay upright with the help of others. Pens, tweezers, slender metal probes, small forceps, and other delicate tools whose names he couldn't identify—each item was spotless, yet exuded an aura more terrifying than any weapon.

They all fell silent.

No one dared to approach and ask questions, no one dared to peek through the observation window. Even the few female employees who were usually the most gossipy kept their mouths shut, lowered their heads, and walked away quickly. The entire corridor fell into an eerie silence, with only the low hum of the ventilation system and the rapid heartbeats of everyone present.

Even the killer's screams could be heard through the soundproof door.

It started with a muffled groan, as if something had gagged it, followed by a violent, heart-wrenching scream. The sound was so shrill it seemed inhuman, like a wild beast being skinned alive, or a soul being roasted on fire. The scream pierced through the specially designed soundproof metal door, echoing through the corridor and making the fire hydrants on the walls tremble. Several young employees huddled together in fear, their teeth chattering.

Everyone was even more frightened...

What exactly happened behind that door? What was Cui Ming doing with those seemingly ordinary tools? No one dared to think about it, but everyone's mind automatically conjured up the most gruesome images. Signatures crawling under fingernails, tweezers gripping sensitive skin, metal probes searching for the most densely packed nerves—these were more terrifying than direct violence, because they represented precise, persistent, and inescapable pain.

As expected of a deputy commander who can make even monsters tremble...

An old security guard leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette, his hands trembling so much he could barely hold the lighter. He recalled the footage from the surveillance cameras: Choi Myung holding a steel coil without flinching, treating tons of steel like a toy; Saeko Busujima's gentle smile as she sliced ​​bullets with her sword; the desperate look in the killer's eyes as he was dragged away. The monster that could make Gomora dig a tunnel to escape, the madman who could make Angels and extradimensional beings huddle together in fear—what was happening in his interrogation room was self-evident.

"When will the acting commander become the real commander-in-chief?"

A young employee muttered something under his breath, so soft it was like a mosquito's buzz, but everyone around heard it. They exchanged glances, no one answered, but the same thought crossed their minds. This acting commander had everything under control—military power, morale, combat effectiveness, even the assassins sent by SEELE were at his mercy. The real commander, Rokubun Gigendo, was still in the hospital, his face splattered with dog urine, stung by wasps, and beaten like a monster by security guards. He had multiple fractures and needed eight people to help him even to turn over.

Perhaps... it won't even need to wait any longer.

Perhaps... in everyone's hearts, he has long been the true commander-in-chief.

At the end of the corridor, the screams gradually subsided, turning into intermittent, sobbing whimpers, followed by Cui Ming's calm voice, which came through the door panel as if he were casually asking about tonight's menu.

"...Still not going to talk? Then let's try something else." Everyone shuddered and quickly fled the corridor.

The interrogation room door slowly opened.

A thick, pungent smell of blood surged out like a tidal wave, instantly filling the entire corridor. The smell was so strong it was almost tangible, carrying the sweet, metallic stench of rust and the putrid odor of ruptured entrails, causing everyone present to take a half-step back. Several young employees turned pale instantly, their stomachs churning, and they leaned against the wall, dry heaving, but nothing came out.

People can even see the teeth on the ground.

Three blood-stained molars lay silently on the threshold, their pale white gleaming eerily under the cold, harsh light. Dark red bits of flesh clung to the roots, as if they had been violently pried from the gums. Blood trickled from the crack in the door, leaving a long, dark brown trail on the gray metal floor that extended all the way to the sole of Cui Ming's boot.

Cui Ming came out.

His dark uniform remained impeccably pressed, except for a small, dark red stain on his right cuff, like a few drops of ink splattered on it—virtually invisible unless you looked closely. He expressionlessly flicked his hand, a few drops of water sliding down his fingertips and splashing onto the ground, mingling with the bloodstain. His gaze was as calm as if he had just finished a routine meeting, not a one-sided massacre.

Although Choi Myung already knew that it was the SEELE organization that was causing trouble, didn't he need some small pieces of evidence?

He glanced down at the teeth on the ground, a faint smile playing on his lips. Guesses alone weren't enough, intuition alone wasn't enough; to deal with those old foxes sitting in the stone circle, he needed to have real leverage over them. These teeth, the assassin's confession, and the serial numbers of the specially made weapons found on them were all excellent ingredients, enough to cook up a feast that would leave SEELE with indigestion.

Therefore, Cui Ming planned to have the five people behind him take action.

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping past the trembling crowd in the corridor, landing on the five figures standing in the shadows, observing from afar. Those five national liaisons wielded terrifying power capable of shaking the secular world; financial freezes, military pressure, diplomatic encirclement—any one of these moves could wipe out SEELE's hidden assets and outposts. He hadn't acted before because the time wasn't right; now, with the evidence in hand, it was time to let them taste the bitterness of being crushed by the state apparatus.

However, this cannot completely solve their problems.

Cui Ming narrowed his eyes, his fingertips lightly tapping the wall, making a soft, tinkling sound. These old fogies, though hateful, still possessed a lot of useful information. In-depth interpretations of the Dead Sea Scrolls, core data from the Human Instrumentality Project, and even bioengineering and soul extraction technologies that even NERV's technical department hadn't mastered—these were treasures, and burning them would mean losing them forever.

We still need to squeeze out some toothpaste to see if they have any useful technology.

We have to take it slow, squeezing them out little by little. Today we'll get them to produce some data, tomorrow we'll force them to hand over a lab location, and the day after we'll pry out some details about their cutting-edge technology. Like squeezing toothpaste, we'll squeeze out a little bit at a time, not too much at once, but also not letting them sit idle.

Only after you've squeezed every last drop of contents out of SEELE, and then throw that empty tube into the incinerator, is that what you call making the most of it.

Cui Ming withdrew his gaze, stepped over the teeth and bloodstains on the ground, and walked towards the end of the corridor, leaving only one sentence floating in the air:

"Clean this place up, and keep the teeth safe; they're evidence. Also, notify those five that you can start closing in, but remember, don't kill them; they'll be useful." (End of Chapter)