Solitude's Crucible (5)
“Are you the one in charge?”
I stared down at Hu Xiuying, the leader of Hulong Bang, who had thrown that question at me, then backhanded her across the face.
Her head snapped to the side with a sharp smack. Her mouth split open, blood spraying out, but the carpet was already so red it didn’t show. That was only from ordinary eyesight, of course. Hu Xiuying spat blood-mixed saliva to the side and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. She was on her knees, held by my men, but her hands and feet weren’t bound.
Her ruined face trembled as she spoke. “Starting off so rough. At least tell me who sent you to grab me. Was it Elder Ying? Elder Du? Elder Song? You didn’t kill me outright, so whoever it is must see some use in taming this Hu Xiuying.”
The names of Si Dang cadres spilled from the lips of the deluded Hulong Bang leader. That was one reason I’d kept her breathing—only those dwelling in the underbelly knew such secrets.
Of course, those secrets were mostly recorded in the ledgers. Interrogations relying solely on verbal confessions had limits without clues. Verify facts through transaction records of money and goods, then demand statements only for gaps. Sometimes, no statements were needed at all.
Click.
I ran my hand over the desk cluttered with liquor bottles, opening a hidden compartment. Alarm and confusion flashed across Hu Xiuying’s tense face—How did he know? How did he open it?
The compartment had an electronic lock. Invisible from outside, it only opened with an IC chip. Devices utterly mismatched to the desk’s worn appearance. That incongruity was likely the key to its concealment.
I flipped through the ledgers page by page, photographing key sections and sending them to Becklux. Even as a mere branch of the Guangdong Triad, the sums flowing in and out were massive. In the wealthy house of the Chinese Communist Party, even the curs sniffing at the doorstep carried gold bones.
Growing anxious, Hu Xiuying probed my mood. “Hey, officer sir with real skills. No need to act so high and mighty—we might end up serving the same boss. Show me a little mercy now, and I’ll repay it tenfold, no, a hundredfold later—”
“Which hand do you write with?”
“What?”
“Right or left. Which do you mainly use? Familiar question, isn’t it?”
Her face drained to a sickly gray at my dry query. “R-right hand……”
“Then we’ll take from the left. Section Chief. Pull a finger.”
Not “cut”—“pull.” While my other subordinates pinned her down, Kyung-tae gripped her left thumb and began yanking it out with raw strength alone.
The grinding tear of joints ripping drowned even in the gangster boss’s agonized screams. I savored the slow rupture.
Hu Xiuying was an Awakened ability user, but her reinforcement efficiency was poor, leaving her actual strength negligible. Still, her open circuit gave her a mana field proportional to its size, letting her bluff in front of underlings. Strip the bravado from neighborhood thugs—what’s left?
Anyway, her body couldn’t withstand the power I’d designed into Kyung-tae’s reinforcement incantation. Amid her sweat-soaked howls, I gave him another order.
“Cauterize it.”
A sizzling screech echoed through the stuffy office. Instilling fear and stripping composure—interrogation basics. Hu Xiuying, who’d done this endlessly herself, knew it well, but knowledge didn’t grant immunity. That was the nature of fear and pain.
I couldn’t smell the burning flesh. Didn’t want to remove my gas mask in a nicotine-and-tar-choked room. My eyes picked out the stains everywhere. The AC filter was clogged with yellow gunk, uncleaned for years.
“You only speak when I ask. Understood?”
“Y-yes, sir……”
“Good.”
The quick learner dropped her earlier bluster. Such shallow bravado.
I returned to the ledgers. The five books in the shallow compartment chronicled Hulong Bang and the cadres who backed it—their black history.
“Started handling new merchandise five years ago?”
She lifted her drooling head. “Five years ago…… You mean the Uyghurs, sir?”
“Yes.”
Uyghur was transliterated as Wei Wu Er. The ledgers showed Hulong Bang had sporadically traded Uyghur slaves via other groups or dealers before, but in small numbers. Five years ago, the scale changed. Suppliers and schedules stabilized.
“Karamay here—is that the place?”
“Y-yes…… Goods came from the reeducation camp there.”
Impressive for a mere gang branch. Not a supply line anyone could breach.
Flipping further, I confirmed a portion of incoming Uyghur slaves went regularly to one recipient: Mai Ziqi. I’d heard the name from Suyeon—a former Guangdong official, purged recently, key backer of Hulong Bang.
“What did Mai Ziqi need with so many?”
Nearly a thousand young men and women, mostly youths. Even with eclectic tastes, voracious lust, and unusual power, one man couldn’t handle that volume. Party cadres’ harems topped out around a hundred in reality. Imagination often mocked by harsh facts.
Hu Xiuying swallowed. “He ran a secret social club.”
“Not an orgy club?”
“……Don’t know the details, but probably similar.”
Makes sense. Cadres sharing risks could manage it. High officials’ mixed-gender debauchery club? Buddies swapping concubines to tighten bonds. True guanxi blurred mine and yours.
Satisfied, I pressed on. “Where’s the club?”
She spilled freely, volunteering extras since I’d shown Uyghur interest. “Sir, we’ve got some premium stock held back since tribute routes closed. Better to offer untouched ones to big shots, right? The club ones are filthy by now…… Ah, you could take one first—”
I closed in and kicked her gut. She’d looked up expectantly; now she doubled over, choking.
I methodically inflicted pain, extracting info. My Uyghur focus stemmed from vague hope—they could bridge to Islamic forces. Uyghurs long shunned by other Muslims for politics, but times had changed.
If it works, risks drop sharply.
Suyeon once suggested allying with Islamist extremists; I’d considered it seriously but shelved due to risky stepping stones.
Another thought: repurpose Uyghur slaves as fighters. Numbers mattered in troops; blending desert recruits with them secured minimal combat strength. An army of the discarded.
Finishing the last page, I nodded at Hu Xiuying’s fate. “Drag her away. They’ll forge the confession nicely.”
Hand her alive to Gao Xusen’s men—they’d wring max utility before killing. Her true value to Hulong Bang’s leader. I just needed the ledgers.
“Wait, wait—!”
No specifics mentioned, yet she sensed doom, thrashing desperately. Kyung-tae gagged and cuffed the gangster boss, hauling her down.
Descending, I found the basement corner room already stocked with seized treasures from transport trucks that blocked views. Staging the rest was simple.
Once in evidence lockers, original owners—knowing the loot—would suffer silently, afraid to claim it. Proving ownership meant proving bribes and corruption. Political vultures wouldn’t stay quiet.
Leaving Hulong Bang’s gray fortress, I cleared surrounding sites. Survival instincts of the lowly—gang remnants scattered upon realizing HQ was gutted. Dragging them from homes was possible but pointless.
Woof! Woof!
Grrrrr—!
The last stop: dogfighting pit. Savage barks stirred déjà vu. Thugs and spectators fled; victorious dogs reveled in blood-soaked cages. Chain-link fences pooled human gore.
“……Well, now.”
Unhappy lives bred living deaths. Miserable souls chased instant, intense thrills. Crowds birthed runaway madness. Dogfights were tame stimuli below threshold.
Arming kids against dog packs? Perverse joy for broken lives.
Gasp, gasp—
One boy still heartbeat amid shredding flesh. Pretty face for disposables. Spectators savored beauty’s death over ugliness’s—ugly undeserved scant pity. Child-selling parents abounded; premium stock daily.
Places thriving in hard times.
“S-save……me—”
Tiny plea from failing lungs. Only I’d hear. Reaching boy’s ragged arm snatched by a dog, shaking wildly. Fresh blood sprayed old-stained dirt.
I drew my pistol, shot the boy’s head, then the startled dogs one by one. Now the round fence held only flowing blood and silent death.
“Just curious, hyungnim.”
“What?”
Kyung-tae eyed the dead kids. “If one got hurt that bad, could your magic heal ’em?”
“Hmm.”
I pondered, nodding slowly. “If the mana field isn’t too strong to neutralize, probably.”
The boy was hopeless—guts mostly gone. I’d spared seconds of agony.
True Golden Age legacy reinforcement incantation regenerated severe defects. Massive computation and circuit load—not easy for me now, but doable if needed.
“Wishing I’d saved and taken him in?”
He looked sheepish. “Nah…… Who lives, who joins—your call, hyungnim. I was just curious. Not everyone’s as lucky as this Kim Kyung-tae.”
Half from indoctrination I’d instilled. In a man-eat-man world, one couldn’t shoulder all misery. I lacked intent, ability, duty—and so must you. Otherwise, exhaustion meant being eaten. For us all, organization needed surplus capacity. You know from experience……
I headed to the kennels. Locked gate swung open; caged dogs barked louder; light pierced dark interior. Amid dog cages stood human ones.