Dragon Clan: My Dad is Ange

Seeing Ye Fan coming in, Shoutian, who was waving the whip with a flushed face, hurriedly stopped what he was doing.

Like a child expecting praise from his teacher, he bowed respectfully to Ye Fan and said hello:

"Mr. Ye, you are here."

Ye Fan looked calm, patted Shoutian's shoulder gently, and asked in a gentle tone:

"Thanks a lot."

"How's the interrogation going? Did you get any necessary information?"

Upon hearing this, Shoutian quickly raised his hand to wipe the dense sweat from his forehead.

“It’s not hard, it’s not hard, but…”

There was a hint of helplessness in his eyes. He pointed at He Ming who was tied there and said:

"But this guy is so stubborn! I've been whipping him for a whole hour, and he won't say a word!"

"Honestly, Mr. Ye, I was also whipped with the ghost whip last time when I made a mistake. I will never forget the pain."

"This prisoner you captured is a real tough guy. He held on for an entire hour without saying a word."

At this moment, He Ming, who was tied to a special iron stake, was like a powder keg of anger when he heard these words.

Tough guy, I promise your mother!

My tnd doesn't want to speak? Why don't you take this damn piece of cloth off!

He Ming's eyes were wide open as if they were about to pop out of their sockets, his body was twisting desperately, and he was tearing the white cloth in his mouth fiercely.

Finally, after his unremitting efforts, the cloth strip fell off with a "click".

The man's long-suppressed sobbing and roaring voice instantly reached everyone's ears, and Ye Fan and Shoutian subconsciously looked up.

Just above He Ming's head, the extremely bright incandescent lamp cast a clear outline on his figure. He Ming was tied to an iron stake in a cross shape.

This scene was strangely reminiscent of the crucified Jesus. He looked like the suffering saints in medieval paintings, if saints could curse.

At this moment, He Ming was roaring madly, as if the resentment that had been accumulated for thousands of years had suddenly erupted. In that roar, it seemed as if he was denouncing the injustice of God, and it seemed as if he was venting his anger at the inequality of all living beings!

Finally, the cloth strips fell off, and the deafening roar was like a surging tide, instantly spreading to every corner of the room.

"Why the hell should you ask? You didn't even ask! You just kept on smoking, for an hour straight, and there's a bean between your shoulders?!"

"You're just shouting 'Say it or not, say it or not, say it or not', why the hell are you asking me? How am I supposed to know what to say if you don't ask me?"

He Ming's face turned red and he roared at the top of his lungs.

The roar made the glass buzz.

The strong light above his head gave him an illusory halo, and blood beads slid down his collarbone, drawing shocking red lines on his chest.

He had never felt so wronged in his life.

Even when his parents identified him as a "ghost" and ruthlessly sent him to a detention center, he was able to face it calmly.

But now, he really felt suffocated, and his heart was full of grievances like a flood that broke through the dam.

Ye Fan was stunned by the sudden roar.

He turned his head stiffly as if he was under a spell, and asked Shoutian with a hint of uncertainty in his tone:

"Didn't you ask?"

Shoutian stood there in a daze, his eyes filled with confusion, and he muttered uncertainly:

"what?"

In an instant, the whole room became quiet as if time had stopped, and the air seemed to solidify, as if the sun had dried up all the sounds, leaving only a lonely gray.

Ye Fan smiled bitterly and waved his hand, signaling Shoutian to leave.

The young man walked out of the interrogation room with his head hung, like a small animal that had made a mistake. The heavy iron door closed silently behind him with a slight "click".

The dim light in the interrogation room cast mottled shadows on Ye Fan's face.

He stared at He Ming, who was bound by chains. The whip marks on his body looked like a cruel abstract painting.

Ye Fan rarely felt a trace of guilt - he should have thought that Shoutian was not suitable for interrogation.

This reminded him of the saying circulating in high school:

Sometimes a fool's flash of inspiration is more terrifying than the devil's carefully designed trap.

According to Shoutian's interrogation method, Satan would probably be pushed to the second place on the Demon List the next day.

He Ming was breathing heavily, and sweat mixed with blood was dripping from his chin.

He raised his bloodshot eyes, and his gaze stabbed at Ye Fan like a poisoned dagger.

"Forget it," he said hoarsely. "I can't possibly tell you anything!"

Chapter 99 I won’t tell you anything!!

Ye Fan still maintained that faint smile, and the light in his golden eyes flowed slowly like molten gold.

He slowly spread out his palms, and blue-white electric light danced between his fingers.

At first, there were only tiny arcs of electricity, but in a blink of an eye, they intertwined into a sea of ​​thunder, illuminating the entire room like daylight.

The crackling sound of the electric current was like millions of birds flapping their wings at the same time.

"Are you familiar with this word spirit?"

Ye Fan's voice was very soft, but it carried unquestionable majesty:

"No doubt, this is your Word Spirit, Thunder Pond."

"This is impossible!"

He Ming's pupils contracted violently, and the muscles on his face twisted in shock:

"How could you possibly possess my Word Spirit?"

Ye Fan ignored his question and continued in that terrifyingly calm tone:

"As the holder of a Word Spirit, you should be well aware of its effects. Compared to modern electrocution devices, the Thunder Pool can more precisely stimulate every nerve ending."

"Don't worry, I'm in control."

Ye Fan took a step forward, and thunder spread under his feet:

"It won't turn you to charcoal. It'll just give you... well, roughly the equivalent of being torn apart by five horses a few hundred times. A tough guy like you should be able to hold out for quite a while."

He Ming grinned, revealing a ferocious smile:

"I told you, I won't tell you anything!"

Ye Fan nodded, raised his hand and thunder poured down like a waterfall.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The shrill screams echoed in the enclosed space.

He Ming's body hunched like a shrimp, every muscle cramping. The air was filled with the stench of burning flesh, but his eyes remained stubborn.

"Still... the same thing, I won't... tell you anything!!"

"I've been called... an evil spirit since I was a kid..."

He Ming squeezed out intermittent words from between his teeth, saliva flowing uncontrollably from the corners of his mouth, "But evil spirits... also have... dignity..."

His eyes were bloodshot, but he still stared at Ye Fan: "If I... give in... then I will really be... nothing..."

"..."

Ye Fan was silent for a moment.

Then--

boom!

A heavy punch made He Ming fall into coma instantly.

"I gave you face, didn't I?"

Ye Fan flicked his wrist and grabbed He Ming's hair like a chicken:

"Do you really think you're a tough guy just for playing with me?"

The golden eyes shone brightly, and the Word Spirit: Dream Tapir was activated.

In the dream world, He Ming's psychological defenses were like a paper wall and were easily broken by Ye Fan.

All the information poured out like a flood.

"Kyuta."

Ye Fan turned and walked out the door, his black windbreaker fluttering behind him:

"I'll leave this guy to you. If he dares to move, empty the magazine."

"Yes!"

Shoutian bowed his head respectfully.

Ye Fan's figure suddenly blurred, and Word Spirit: Time Zero activated. His speed was so fast that even the retina couldn't catch it. In the blink of an eye, he was standing on the rooftop a hundred meters away.

The black suitcase popped open, and the ancient bronze sword "Blood Drinker" hummed excitedly. Ye Fan stepped onto the sword and activated the Word Spirit Sword Control.

Ye Fan opened his mobile phone and searched for the address provided by He Ming.

"Amap continues to guide you..."

Electronic female voice drifted in the wind.

The Blooddrinking Sword transformed into a streak of light, carrying its owner across the night sky. His black windbreaker rustled behind him like a fluttering battle flag.

The battle flag fluttered in the wind as the emperor rushed to the battlefield, even though he had no army following him.

At the same time, in the underground laboratory, the statue of Ananda, the Thousand-Faced Snake, suddenly lit up with a scarlet light.

"interesting..."

Far away, Ananda put down the ancient scroll in his hand, and a playful smile appeared on the corner of his mouth: