"The problem is, these imposters were barely alive. They couldn't even answer properly when asked their name or their motive." Ji Wuye's crimson eyes narrowed as the Senior Brother's words echoed through the vast subterranean cavern they now traversed.

Innumerable torches flickered in rusted sconces along the roughly hewn stone walls, casting an eerie, dancing illumination over the impressive sight.

Unlike the oppressive man-made dungeons by the Imperial palace with their austere confines of cold stone and steel bars, this underground prison complex had cells meticulously carved directly into the living cave itself.

Each cramped chamber possessed only a narrow rectangular aperture - bare fists of light filtering through from the main cavern where the haggard, haunted faces of prisoners peered outward with hollow, sunken eyes as the trio passed.

The heavy stone doors sealing each cell were scored with deep grooves, one need tremendous strength and precise Qi required to wrench them open and access the confined occupants.

Even the air itself carried a malignant presence, a thick miasma of dampness and the pungent reek of bat guano that clung to their nostrils with every shallow breath.

Li Rong's delicate features contorted involuntarily as she wrinkled her nose, raising a fairy hand in a futile attempt to block out the overwhelming stench.

Yet her eyes remained alert, wide with fascination as she drank in every detail of this subterranean prison's unique architecture - a stark contrast to Ji Wuye's impassive mask.

'Incapable of answering properly or even standing..."'Ji Wuye though inwardly recalling Elder Qiao's words as flashes of their prior conversation resurfaced.

His crimson penetrating gaze raked over each cell in turn, scrutinizing the telltale grooves and chisel marks hewn into the very stone - unmistakable signs of the countless martial artists across eras who had shaped and subdivided this underground labyrinth.

In the previous timeline, Ji Wuye had only grasped that the unorthodox factions had acquired something of immense value from their brazen attack on Kunlun Sect.

But now, after meticulously extracting new insights from the Beggar Sect, the veil had lifted - that assault had merely served as an elaborate diversion, the true target lying in the unassuming village of Tianji.

'However...' Ji Wuye's crimson eyes glistening with light as he continued, 'Even the Beggar Sect seemed uncertain of the motives driving the unorthodox factions' strike.'

"So, Junior Brother, Fellow Martial Sister, which prisoner do you wish to interrogate?" The Inner Disciple's voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade, snapping Li Rong out of her entranced study of the cave's intricate architecture.

"Please pardon my interruption, Senior Brother, but I am actually the one tasked by Elder Qiao to conduct the interrogation," Ji Wuye stated evenly.

The Inner Disciple blinked in surprise, his features contorting into a look of naked skepticism as he turned a doubtful glance towards the Ji Wuye. However, when neither Ji Wuye nor Li Rong supplied any indication it was meant as a jape, the Inner Disciple raised his hands in a deferential cupping gesture towards Ji Wuye.

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"It's rare for me to see something like this, but being chosen by Elder Qiao herself for such a task must mean you possess great talent in this area, Junior Brother."

...

A few tense moments stretched into an uncomfortable silence before the Inner Disciple extended his calloused palm.

A controlled exhalation followed as he expelled a surge of Qi, the invisible wave of force causing one of the monolithic stone doors to groan inward with a shudder. It slid along the grooved floor with surprising ease, granting them entry into the prisoner's cramped cell.

Within the spartan confines, a simple wooden chair stood as the sole furnishing, the prisoner himself slouched in an almost boneless posture. His head lolled back at an unnatural angle, mouth slightly ajar in an unsettling rictus, as if frozen mid-scream.

A dusty shaft of pale illumination filtered in from a narrow fissure in the vaulted stone ceiling above, casting the whole scene in stark contrasts. The prisoner remained garbed in the white martial robe with aqua stripes - unmistakably stolen from a Kunlun Outer Disciple or stripped from original owner he had slain.

The intelligence reports stated this prisoner was supposed to be a fresh-faced youth. And at first glance through the dim lighting, he did indeed project a veneer of jarring adolescence - surely a calculated ploy by the unorthodox factions to infiltrate by replacing one young initiate with another.

However, the harsh reality soon became apparent as Ji Wuye's discerning eyes caught the remnants of adhesive still clinging to the prisoner's slackened features. What had originally appeared a vibrant young face was merely an intricately crafted "human mask" - beneath the illusion lay the visage of a middle-aged man.

'So the hidden factions really involved with this...' he thought inwardly.

The prisoner's expression was now one of vacant detachment, eyes glassy and unfocused, prompting the Inner Disciple to sigh heavily as he took in the broken figure before them.

"It's really frustrating! This bastard can't even feel the torture!" The Inner Disciple's words dripped with venom as he stalked forward, hand whipping out to deliver a stinging slap across the prisoner's hollow cheeks.

The only response was a faint, breathy groan as the man's head lolled limply, those sunken eyes remaining horrifyingly wide and fixed on some distant point - mouth agape in a perpetual, silent rictus.

"They've killed our Brothers and Sisters, and judging by the signs, they likely come from those damned unorthodox factions!" Unbridled fury blazed in the disciple's eyes, which had taken on a feverish, reddened cast. His Qi surged in tandem with his mounting rage, coalescing like an invisible cyclone around his tightly clenched fist.

BANG!

The vicious haymaker struck the prisoner's abdomen with brutal force, the dull meaty thump of impact punctuated by a wheezing gasp that tore from the man's bluish lips.

Yet for the briefest instant, Ji Wuye detected no flicker of agony, no spasm of tormented muscles beneath that tattered robe - merely a slight tensing before the prisoner's head snapped back, mouth still hanging slackly open in that haunting, thousand-yard stare.

"Fellow Martial Brother..."

Li Rong's cold voice cut through the tension like a whisper on the wind. A gentle reminder that gave the Inner ddisciple pause, his second strike hovering in the air - tendons standing out in harsh relief along his forearm as faint bluish Qi swirled and dissipated around those whitening knuckles.

"I'm sorry, Fellow Martial Sister...I lost control." The disciple's tone was thick with remorse as he cupped his hands and dipped his head, shame and sorrow writ naked across his weathered features. "His Dantians has been sealed, his meridians severed..."

As the Inner Disciple revealed the extent of the prisoner's condition, Ji Wuye stepped forward to meticulously scan the cramped cell. There was no ventilation save for a small, window opening and the narrow gap overhead where a dusty shaft of sunlight knifed in to cast the prisoner's gaunt, pallid face in stark illumination.

Ji Wuye's crimson gaze was inexorably drawn to the tattered martial robe clinging to the man's emaciated frame. Gently pushing aside the stained fabric revealed a grotesque patchwork of scars, some still seeping blood while others had been crudely smeared with ointments in a failed attempt at treatment.

"Some of these wounds came from us in the interrogation process, but we aren't that cruel - many were already there when he was brought in," the Inner Disciple stated preemptively, seemingly anticipating Li Rong's unspoken question.

With a curt nod, he turned on his heel. "I will take my leave now. I won't disturb your interrogation any further."

The heavy stone door remained ajar as the Inner Disciple retreated, leaving Ji Wuye and Li Rong alone with the prisoner. Ji Wuye bent down, his crimson eyes intently studying the man's slackened features from mere cun away.

'Shall we begin?' The thought had barely crossed his mind when Ji Wuye extended two fingers, pressing them firmly into the Neiguan point on the prisoner's inner forearm just above the wrist crease.

The reaction was instantaneous - the previously vacant, glassy-eyed stare sharpened as the prisoner's lids fluttered. A subtle tremor ran through his frame, the first glimmer of awareness and possibly pain flickering across his ashen features.

Simultaneously, a diaphanous screen materialized before Ji Wuye's vision —the very reason he had taken on the interrogation:

image [https://i.ibb.co.com/9cwTRC8/Notif-Pressure.webp]