On the eve of the fall of Liaodong, he led his troops in a remonstrance against the young marshal.

"Lingchi" (death by a thousand cuts).

"Take him to the gates of Fengtian City, so that all the men, young and old, in Northeast China can have a good look!"

"This is what happens when you act as a dog for the Japanese devils, this is what happens when you become a traitor."

Zang Shiyi's pupils trembled violently, like two glass beads about to shatter.

"No...no..."

His voice was no longer human, "Commander... Commander, you can't do this... I told you, I told you everything..."

"You said...you said you wouldn't hold past mistakes against me..."

Zhang Xueming didn't look at him.

Tang Yulin rubbed his hands together and stepped forward, grabbing Zang Shiyi by the back of his collar.

"Let's go, Chairman Zang."

Tang Yulin's voice was cheerful, "Don't worry, I practiced this skill countless times when I was shaving beards with Commander Zhang on the grasslands."

"Three thousand six hundred cuts, not a single cut less, not a single cut more."

"If you're interested, I'll count them for you as I skin you."

Zang Shiyi's screams were dragged from the woodshed all the way to the courtyard, and then from the courtyard to the street.

After Zang Shiyi was dragged out of the room, Zhang Xueming looked at Ishihara.

His expression was completely different from Zang Shiyi's.

There was no fear, no breakdown, no incoherent pleas for mercy.

He just sat quietly, his eyes half-closed, as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with him.

His composure was not feigned.

Ishihara Kanji entered the Army Junior School at the age of sixteen and underwent a full ten years of systematic militaristic indoctrination. He had been fighting in the Kwantung Army for more than twenty years. What kind of scene hadn't he seen?

To him, this level of pain and torture was nothing more than a trial in the training of Bushido.

He even secretly compared the methods of Zhang Xueming's men to those of the Special Higher Police's interrogation experts, finding them not to be much more sophisticated.

Zhan Lang stood in front of him, holding the list he had pried out of Zang Shiyi's mouth, and read it aloud from beginning to end.

After reading it aloud, he folded the list and put it back in his pocket, asking casually:

"Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

Ishihara Kanji slightly raised his eyelids and glanced at Zhan Lang.

Then he closed his eyes again, a mocking smile on his lips.

Wolf Warrior wasn't angry.

He dimmed the oil lamp a little, then turned his head and glanced at the bamboo basket in the corner.

There were more than a dozen snakes in the bamboo basket, occasionally making a rustling sound as their scales rubbed together.

He walked to the bamboo basket, bent down, and picked it up.

He shook the basket, making the rustling sound more intense. A dozen snakes of varying thicknesses rolled and coiled together at the bottom of the basket, their slimy, bluish-gray sheen gleaming in the dim light of the kerosene lamp.

Then his gaze inadvertently swept across the corner of the wall.

There stood a pottery jar about half a person's height.

The earthenware jar was an old item used in the Zang family kitchen for pickling sauerkraut. The mouth of the jar was neither too big nor too small, just big enough for a person to stand in. The inner wall was covered with years of salt stains and vegetable scraps, giving off a sour and rotten smell.

Zhanlang walked up to the pottery jar, reached out and tapped the side of the jar; the thick clay produced a dull thud.

He turned his head, glanced at Ishihara Kanji who was resting with his eyes closed, and made a gesture to the assassin at the door.

Three assassins strode in.

Ishihara Kanji opened his eyes and saw the assassins cleaning out the remnants of old pickled vegetables from the earthenware jars. The mocking smile on his lips visibly froze for a moment.

His gaze darted quickly between the earthenware jar and the bamboo basket several times, his Adam's apple bobbing, but his face remained calm.

"Strip him naked!"

"Baka! What are you trying to do?"

Ishihara finally panicked and frantically wrapped his clothes tighter around himself.

But the assassins weren't going to be polite to him; they roughly ripped open his clothes.

He was soon stripped naked and stood in the cold, damp air of the woodshed.

In November in Northeast China, even with a brazier burning in the woodshed, it was still so cold that people shivered.

Ishihara Kanji's skin quickly broke out in a dense layer of goosebumps, and the wound on his knee hurt even more in the cold air, with dark red blood flowing down his calf.

But he gritted his teeth and remained silent.

"Shove him in!"

"Baka! You can't treat me like this! I'm an Imperial Army staff officer! You must treat prisoners of war well! Baka!"

The assassins carried him and stuffed him directly into the earthenware jar.

Ishihara Kanji stood inside the pottery jar, the rim of which was positioned just above his collarbone, with his shoulders and above exposed.

The interior of the pottery jar was more spacious than he had imagined, but it was still just enough for him to stand up, not even enough to turn around.

He stood inside the jar, his chin resting on the rim, looking somewhat comical.

"What do you want? Let me out! The Empire will ransom me!"

"Baka yarou!"

Wolf Warrior ignored him.

He picked up the bamboo basket, walked to the pottery jar, and aligned the opening of the bamboo basket with the mouth of the jar.

Then, he flicked his wrist. More than a dozen snakes of varying sizes were poured into the earthenware jar.

They landed on Ishihara Kanji's head, shoulders, and chest, the cool scales brushing against his skin.

The snakes writhed wildly in the narrow space of the earthenware pot, each one desperately searching for any warm place to crawl into.

Ishihara Kanji's bare skin was soon covered with the tactile sensation of snakes crawling across it, from the insteps to the calves, from the lower back to the spine, and from the collarbone to the armpits.

One snake was wrapped around his waist, and another was crawling between his legs.

The snakes crawled at different rhythms; some fast, some slow.

The sensation of a dozen snakes crawling all over him at the same time created a tangled, slick feeling that sent chills down his spine.

Ishihara Kanji froze completely.

His back was pressed tightly against the inner wall of the pottery jar, the coolness of the jar seeping into his spine, while the icy touch of the snakes inside the jar covered every inch of his skin from the front.

He was caught between two chilling sensations, with nowhere to escape.

He tried to struggle, but the pottery jar was too narrow, and he couldn't even turn around. He could only stand upright, feeling the snakes crawling all over his body.

His breathing became rapid, his chest heaved violently, and cold sweat poured down his forehead, dripping down his nose into the earthenware jar.

"You...you can't do this..."

His voice began to tremble, and his composed arrogance was crumbling at a visible speed.

"I am a colonel in the Japanese Kwantung Army... According to international conventions... I am entitled to prisoner-of-war treatment..."

Zhanlang was too lazy to waste words on him, so he picked up a wooden board and covered the mouth of the pottery jar.

The earthenware jar was instantly plunged into complete darkness.

Darkness amplifies all tactile sensations.

Ishihara Kanji couldn't see where the snake was, but he could sense it.

A snake was coiled around his lower abdomen, and another snake was crawling up his inner thigh, its tail just brushing against his lower back.

Every tactile sensation was amplified to its limit by his brain because he couldn't see them, so every inch of his skin was frantically sending out alarms.

He didn't know if any of the snakes Zhan Lang threw in were venomous, or if they would bite.

All he knew was that those cold, slippery bodies were wriggling all over him in the darkness, and he had no idea where they would crawl to next.

A snake slithered into his armpit and coiled up in that warm hollow.

Ishihara Kanji's defenses have completely collapsed.

"I said it!!"

His screams, muffled and distorted beneath the wooden planks, came from inside the earthenware jar: "I'll tell you everything! Open the lid! Please, open the lid!!"

Wolf Warrior did not open the lid.

He glanced at Zhang Xueming. Zhang Xueming nodded slightly, and Zhan Lang then lifted the wooden board a crack.

Ishihara Kanji's face emerged from the mouth of the jar; his once refined and elegant face was now completely distorted.

His eyes were wide open as if they were about to pop out of their sockets, his pupils were extremely dilated, his lips were white as purple, and cold sweat soaked through his hair, which stuck to his forehead in clumps.

He was breathing heavily, each breath tinged with sobs.

A Japanese colonel who once spearheaded the September 18 Incident, which led to the fall of the entire three northeastern provinces within three months, could not even utter a complete sentence at this moment.

"The 2nd Division... the 2nd Division has already marched north from Lushun... Lieutenant General Jiro Tamon, the division commander, is personally leading the troops..."

"The main force of 13,000 men... will arrive in Haicheng tonight..."

"The 19th and 20th Divisions... have already coordinated with the 2nd Division... to launch a general offensive tonight... advancing from both the east and west..."

"The 2nd Division marched north from Haicheng along the railway line, heading straight for Fengtian... The 19th and 20th Divisions advanced westward from the direction of Fengcheng..."

"Three divisions... a total strength of nearly 70,000... attacking from both the east and west... leaving you unable to defend both sides..."

"Chief of Staff Itagaki... Major General Seishiro Itagaki... He has personally arrived at the 20th Division to oversee the battle..."

"The time...the time is tonight...the 2nd Division is expected to arrive in Fengtian by midnight..."

"I...I know...I've told you everything...Please..."

"Take the snake away...open the lid...I've told you everything..."

Wolf Warrior didn't take the snake out; he simply moved the wooden board halfway, exposing a small portion of the jar's opening.

The light shone into the pottery jar, onto Ishihara's distorted, pale face, and onto the dozen or so snakes that were still slowly crawling over him.

Zhang Xueming stood in front of the pottery jar, looking down at the trembling Japanese colonel inside, his eyes devoid of any pity.

After listening to Ishihara's fragmented testimony, he remained silent for a few seconds, then turned around and walked towards the door of the woodshed.

"Leave it for three days! Then take it out after three days! I need it."

Zhanlang nodded in understanding and put the wooden board back over the mouth of the pottery jar.

The earthenware jar was plunged into complete darkness once more. Ishihara Kanji's screams came from under the wooden planks, muffled as if they were coming from underground, buzzing and echoing in the woodshed.

Zhanlang tied the wooden plank tightly with hemp rope, leaving only a fist-sized ventilation hole, and then ordered two assassins to take turns guarding the door of the woodshed.

After giving his instructions, he strode out and followed Zhang Xueming to the military camp.

The great battle begins tonight!