Chapter 185: Reasoning…
The elevator doors slid open, and Song Cheng immediately saw Yu Sheng leading his two companions into view—Irene sat perched on Yu Sheng’s shoulder, while Foxy stood by his side. Yet, instead of focusing on the familiar faces, Song Cheng’s gaze fell on the object Yu Sheng was carrying.
It was a fearsome-looking club—a steel rod wrapped in spirals of metal with rings welded on, bristling with rusty blades, nails, and jagged metal shards. Despite Song Cheng’s many years of frontline experience, which had exposed him to countless bizarre and deadly weapons, his first reaction to this monstrosity was a twitch at the corner of his eye. Even just looking at it felt painful—he couldn’t help but think that any photo of it would definitely need to be censored.
Yu Sheng strode out of the elevator, his face alight with excitement as he hefted the fearsome weapon—known as the “Tetanus Staff”—over his shoulder, as if he’d just found the perfect tool for the job. His voice was brimming with enthusiasm: “Where are those two Angel Cultists?”
Song Cheng was caught off guard. Honestly, when the Director first recruited Yu Sheng to the Special Affairs Bureau, he had a feeling this guy would one day stroll around headquarters like it was his own place. Still, he didn’t expect Yu Sheng to bring such a horrific contraption along. His gaze remained fixed on the club. “…Care to explain what that thing is? Didn’t the guards stop you?”
Yu Sheng looked momentarily puzzled. “Guards? What guards?”
Song Cheng smacked his own forehead. “Right… I forgot. You didn’t exactly take the main entrance…”
Grinning, Yu Sheng swung the Tetanus Staff lightly in his hand, showing it off. Since his last return, he had upgraded it—doubling the number of spikes and reinforcing it with steel rods. He proudly stretched it out toward Song Cheng. “This is my ‘Reasoning Staff’—a handy little tool for later.”
The vicious club dangled in front of him, and Song Cheng couldn’t help but notice that two metal plates were welded near the head of the staff, each etched with crooked characters. One read “Reasoning,” and the other read “Critique.”
“I’m planning to have a nice little chat with those Angel Cultists,” Yu Sheng said with a serious expression. “Can you arrange that?”
He then swung the staff over his shoulder. “Lead the way.”
Before he could take a step, a sudden yelp sounded from his shoulder. Yu Sheng turned to find that Irene had fallen to the floor.
Frowning, Yu Sheng asked, “Irene, what are you doing down there?”
“You knocked me off, you blockhead!” Irene shot back, rushing over to deliver a sharp elbow strike to Yu Sheng’s knee. “Can’t tell your shoulders apart?!”
“…!”
Song Cheng wiped cold sweat from his brow as he watched the chaotic, yet strangely harmonious scene. Even though he had grown used to witnessing all sorts of bizarre happenings in the Special Affairs Bureau Headquarters Building, this was a brand of madness he hadn’t encountered before. Once Irene finally calmed down, he hesitantly glanced at the staff again. “I think I get what you’re planning… but I have to remind you—Special Affairs Bureau has rules. We’re an official agency. Even when interrogating Heretic Cultists, we follow standard procedures and regulations.”
Yu Sheng thought for a moment. “What if the surveillance is down?”
“…That’s not an excuse. Plus, it’s practically impossible for any part of this building to have a ‘surveillance blackout’—”
Before Song Cheng could finish, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then answered cautiously, “Ah, Director.”
A calm voice came through the receiver. “The monitoring system for Human Containment Area A-16 is down.”
“…Director?”
“Need me to repeat that?”
Cold sweat broke out on Song Cheng’s neck. He reflexively glanced around the empty hallway, yet he could feel the Director’s gaze pressing down on him from all sides—as if she were only half a meter away. “N-No! Understood!”
“Good. Take him there.”
Putting away his phone, Song Cheng looked at the eccentric trio from the Hotel with a complicated expression. “…Follow me. I’ll take you to the containment area.”
Though Yu Sheng hadn’t overheard the conversation, he easily guessed what had transpired. Clearly, nothing that happened within the building escaped the watchful eyes of Madam Director. With newfound confidence, he smiled and followed along, Irene perched on one shoulder, the “Reasoning Staff” resting on the other.
As they navigated the maze-like halls of the Special Affairs Bureau Headquarters Building, Song Cheng led them through security gates and eerie corridors. Yu Sheng felt as though they had ventured beyond the building’s main structure, moving deeper into a labyrinthine, otherworldly space. After weaving through countless checkpoints and dimly lit hallways, they finally pushed through a large, red-lit door. A vast, circular chamber unfolded before them—a hub that seemed like the nexus of countless passages.
Corridor entrances lined up neatly before him, armored guards standing vigilant with weapon systems aimed at each passage. Warning signs, laden with a sense of grave foreboding, heightened the oppressive atmosphere.
Song Cheng remained silent, proceeding with identity verification and registration before guiding Yu Sheng and his companions into one of the corridors.
Throughout the journey, Song Cheng occasionally glanced back, his gaze landing on Yu Sheng, who strolled leisurely as if taking a casual walk.
Yu Sheng, naturally aware of the scrutiny, finally broke the silence.
“You know,” he began, his tone light, “I was actually planning to come find you. Right when you called to tell me you’d captured those two Angel Cultists, I’d already changed clothes and filed the Door report—I was planning to talk to you about those cultists.”
Song Cheng’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean? You…”
“I was investigating something yesterday—remember why Little Red Riding Hood and I went to the White Exhibition Hall at the Museum in the first place? Yeah, the one where the sacrificial ritual took place. Those two Angel Cultists were the culprits behind that mess, and now they’re in your custody… The Strange Objects Association contact who commissioned Little Red Riding Hood back then—he recently died.”
“I heard about that, but the investigation was assigned to another department,” Song Cheng replied with a furrowed brow. “From what you’re saying, did you uncover something new?”
Yu Sheng nodded thoughtfully. “Those two Angel Cultists might have been targeting ‘Fairy Tale,’ not Little Red Riding Hood personally, nor was it a random victim selection. The Strange Objects Association contact had numerous ties to Fairy Tale. Whether his death was murder or an accident remains unclear, but from what I’ve dug up, he became a target and was manipulated by the cultists precisely because of his connections to Fairy Tale. These Heretic Cultists didn’t come up with this overnight.”
Foxy, usually reserved around strangers, muttered indignantly, “I heard from Benefactor about the victim’s fate… Those Heretic Cultists are truly detestable.”
Yu Sheng nodded in agreement. “It’s a complicated situation. I’ll give you a full breakdown later.”
Song Cheng processed the information, his thoughts running deep, as they arrived at the heavy security gate at the corridor’s end. Yet before ordering the Door to open, he glanced once more at the ‘Logic Battle Club’ in Yu Sheng’s hand.
“Are you sure you want to use that thing?”
Yu Sheng’s expression was unwavering. “I know what I’m doing. Besides, I brought Foxy along—she knows plenty of healing and bone-mending spells. I promise I won’t make things too difficult.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Song Cheng sighed, shaking his head. “It’s just… Pain alone doesn’t work on those Heretic Cultists. You can subject them to the most unimaginable torments a human mind can conceive, and they’ll endure it, even elevate it to some ‘sublime sacrifice.’ The Special Affairs Bureau has plenty of interrogation methods more effective than brute force—hypnosis, illusions, truth serums, even neural interference devices. None of it works. Whatever you ask, they just won’t give you the answers you want.”
He didn’t say it outright, but the implication was clear—
If simple violence worked, they would have used it long ago. No one would really care about a Heretic Cultist’s human rights.
Yu Sheng just smiled faintly.
“Did I ever say I was going to ask them anything?”
Song Cheng froze, perplexed. “…What? Then why bring that thing along?”
“Just for fun.”
The heavy gate slowly opened. Carrying the spiked club, Yu Sheng led Irene and Foxy inside, the door closing firmly behind them.
The armed guard stationed nearby seemed uneasy about the trio’s entry into the high-security cell, finally voicing his concern. “Commander, isn’t this against protocol?”
“I’ll take responsibility,” Song Cheng replied, his expression complex as he looked at the tightly sealed door. Taking a deep breath, he gestured to the guard. “Take me to the monitoring room.”
“Understood. It’s just next door.”
The faint blue light screen flickered and vanished. Yu Sheng stared at the advanced device, momentarily intrigued by the technology level of the Special Affairs Bureau. His gaze then shifted to the bald man sitting not far away.
The man calmly raised his head, his serene eyes devoid of emotion as if having seen through the fabric of all reality.
His tone was tranquil, almost detached from worldly concerns.
“Looks like today will be eventful. A new trick, huh? When will you finally realize that the Lord’s faithful never answer…”
Before he could finish, Yu Sheng strode forward and smashed the spiked club down.
What’s the point of answering?
He never planned to ask anything.