Chapter 264: Torture Officer

The front of the barn was unguarded, but an oil lamp hung in the doorway.

A few thin walls hold up a dome that looks shaky, but it's actually a little stronger than it looks.

This barn does not belong to any one person. Only on special days, the ground here will be filled with grain paid by the residents of the town, waiting for the tax official from the city to take it away in a horse-drawn carriage.

Today is not that special. There are only four people lying here.

The four Salvation Army soldiers were chained in stall-like compartments, leaning against a pile of straw and humming.

In view of what these people did to the old hunter Schmidt, the Gewo people were not very kind to them. The only kindness was to spread some straw on the ground to prevent them from freezing to death quickly.

But such a little straw is obviously of little use.

The Salvation Army member closest to Clayton was mumbling in the cubicle. The lieutenant went around to look at this man and found that his face was red. He was obviously suffering from high fever. Even if no one killed him, he would not live for three days. The other three people are not in good condition either.

The uninvited guests had no way of hiding their footsteps, but they remained motionless, as if waiting for death.

Walking up to one of them, Clayton motioned to Donna and Clara to stop, while he rolled up his sleeves and squatted down, turning the man's eyelids with his hands to reveal the whites of his eyes.

"Scum! Are you still alive?"

His ears caught the rough greeting, and the prisoner's pupils slowly moved to the center of his eyeballs.

Snapped!

"I'll catch one! I'll catch one!"

He awoke with a start as if from the dead, and reached out suddenly to seize Clayton's clothes.

"Let us go, or else." He pulled down hard, trying to lower the other person's neck to a position where he could pinch it. However, the other person's body remained motionless, and he was hung on the other person's body by his own hands.

"Quiet!"

Clayton slapped him, shook his hand away, stood up and kicked him again, causing the prisoner to curl up.

This ferocious sight made Donna shrink her neck, and the oil lamp in her hand swayed, illuminating the shadows on the wall.

Then she saw Clayton turning around and looking at her kindly, pointing at the poor man on the ground and saying: "My dear, I know you really want to learn some skills from me, and I will use him to teach you the first lesson soon." ——How to create pain in the most effective way.”

The Salvation Army's right hand was held by the werewolf in his own hand, and the hands of an average-sized adult man looked small compared to his.

With just a little force, a piece of nail was pulled out by him.

The prisoner's body tensed up, but he gritted his teeth and didn't let go.

So Clayton pinched his little finger and twisted it gently.

This was more effective than drinking a dose of panacea. The originally sluggish man suddenly became energetic and twisted on the ground like a landed fish. The roar in his mouth also woke up the other two Salvation Army members who were sleeping. They looked at Clayton's back with fear or resentment, and the sounds of their companions being tortured inevitably filled their ears.

And all this was seen by Donna and Clara.

Donna couldn't help but feel once again that she wasn't on the good guys' team.

But this must be an illusion. She still remembered the way Mr. Schmidt was transported back, and her pity immediately faded.

She looked back at Clara, who was smiling.

The smile of the twelve or thirteen-year-old blonde girl looks extremely innocent, but the meaning behind it is extraordinary.

Demons are creatures that feed on emotions. Even if Clara knows nothing, she will still instinctively cheer for the smell of fear and death. This joy has nothing to do with the good or evil of the tortured person.

It's the devil after all. Donna thought to herself, then turned back and continued listening to the lecture.

It's not good to not pay attention in the first class.

Next, her beloved Uncle Clayton showed her more techniques to create maximum pain at the minimum cost. Punishments such as nail pulling, finger twisting, skin peeling, and tongue pricking can make people feel extraordinary pain, but The actual damage caused was very small.

But this was also what Clayton told her.

A class in a regular school lasts about thirty minutes, but Mr. Creighton’s teaching aid couldn’t last more than ten minutes.

"You know what? My cousin just died in your hands, so I have to ask you to suffer a little bit." Clayton made up a cousin lightly and let him die in the hands of the Salvation Army.

"He deserves it uhhhhhh-"

After a mediocre cry, the prisoner collapsed completely, no longer shouting or struggling, but his chest was rising and falling desperately, and he was breathing heavily.

Even if Donna knew that he was a guilty person, she couldn't help but feel a little moved when she saw this miserable appearance.

Clayton looked back and saw the look on her face, and reassured: "Don't worry, he won't die. He just shouted too often and was out of breath. He will be fine in a while. He is still far from death. . As long as you rest and practice for a month, these injuries will heal on their own.”

The girl nodded and said no more.

Clayton tore the unfortunate guy's clothes to pieces, revealing a piece of hairy chest.

Nothing.

He cursed and kicked the prisoner over.

A pattern appeared on the prisoner's back.

This is a new tattoo.

A python erupting flames from its nostrils coiled on the skin, and the traces of stitches were still slightly swollen. It was obvious that the skin had been tattooed recently.

Creighton knew the image.

This is the Fire-Forging Snake, the companion of Lyrwon, the god of forging, one of the thirteen main gods of the Dinnon people. It is said that the flames ejected from its nostrils can melt all metals. With its ability, the god of forging can transform any mineral that cannot be processed by other craftsmen.

Julius said that the tattoo on Detective Ace is a seahorse, while the tattoo on this man is a Fire-Forging Snake.

Both strange animal tattoos are closely related to the thirteen main gods of the Dinnon people. Even if Clayton knows nothing about witchcraft, he now understands that this is definitely a prerequisite for a certain ritual.

He thought for a moment, stood up and walked to another captive who looked intact and squatted down, turned to Donna and said, "Look at these cowards, there are no injuries on their bodies. They must have been so scared when they saw those civilians that their legs went weak and they were caught without any resistance."

This harsh remark from Clayton made Donna feel a little uncomfortable, but she quickly realized that this sentence was also part of the teaching.

Clayton stepped on the straw pile, grabbed the man's hair and faced him, with a hateful smile on his face.

"After all, he is a third-rate guy, right?"

His sarcasm made the captive suddenly angry, struggling to stand up straight and look him in the eye.

"If we were not unlucky, do you think we would stand there and let you catch us?! My brother and I are sick. If it happens again, even if we lose, at least ten of you will die!"

Clayton laughed: "But you don't have that chance!"

"Fuck your mother, and these two little bitches!" The captive stood up and cursed, and then Clayton pinched his cheek, pulled his jaw to dislocate, and the whole person was pressed to the ground.

As usual, he forcibly tore off the man's clothes, and sure enough, there was a tattoo on his back.

This time it was a parrot with a huge crown, tilting its head to look forward, with its hook-like mouth slightly open, as if it was talking.

This is the patron saint of travelers among the Thirteen Gods of Denon, the companion of the light-armored Malin Frey, and the eloquent bird Hamlet, who is also said to be his son, and has the ability to communicate with all living things.

Three of the Thirteen Gods' followers have appeared. Clayton can more or less guess that the Saviors probably have similar tattoos, but he still can't figure out why Chude Osmar didn't directly portray the image of the God, but chose these followers with weaker abilities.

He pressed the captive's cheek again and put his chin back.

"You guys are hiding in the swamp and have nothing to do, so you give each other tattoos? It's really romantic, how did you come up with it?"

The man with the restored chin was in no mood to answer Clayton, and opened his mouth to curse again. Clayton had to move his two front teeth to a new place, and then turned to the last captive.

"So who did the tattoos for you? The workmanship is pretty good. I want to get one for myself."

Finally, the captive glanced at his two tortured companions, and after a little consideration, he answered: "Chude Osmar."

He didn't think he needed to keep this secret.

Clayton smiled. His first question was answered, and the next thing was much easier.

They asked and answered as if they were chatting casually. Soon, he understood the previous deployment of the Savior Army and what Chude Osmar had told them to do - stay in Revo, or at least near Revo.

He became more and more certain that the soul of the land was related to Chude Osmar, or it had nothing to do with nature at all. It must be that the doomsday seeker deliberately used some kind of ritual to activate the power that existed here a long time ago, making it impossible for them to leave Revo.

He turned his head and the girl was looking at him in awe.

"Donna, contact Julius and ask him if Mayor Jeffrey is with them?"

The girl opened the barn door and released the birds again.

After a while, the reply arrived.

She held the note close to her face: "He said the mayor did come, but he's gone now."

"Then let him come."

A few minutes later, Julius arrived.

Clayton stood at the door to greet him: "I've checked, everyone has tattoos, go and study what they are for."

Donna handed the oil lamp to the wizard, and she and her uncle stood outside the barn.

She could see that her uncle had something to say to her now.

After the barn door was closed, they stood in the cold wind and looked at the moon. Fortunately, the dark clouds had dispersed and the snow had stopped, otherwise it would be a torture for the mortal girl.

"Clara saw that they were not lying." Donna was the first to tell the result of her work.

Clayton did not comment on this conclusion, but just raised his chin at her: "I know, now tell me, what did you learn from my method just now?"

Donna recalled what the other party had said to her before.

"The wounds on the hands and feet will be more painful, and the pulled nails and pierced tongue will grow back in a month."

"What else?"

"Will you pass out if you scream too hard?"

"What else?" Clayton asked again.

"Pressing a person's cheek may cause the jaw to dislocate."

"What else?"

Donna had racked her brains, but this time she really came up with nothing.

"I can't think of it." She answered honestly.

Clayton folded his arms towards the moon and exhaled a breath of white air: "Also, don't let the interrogated person know how important their intelligence is, and don't let them think that they can master your rules and have the possibility of gaining the upper hand in words. You must find a way to extinguish the flame of this fantasy."

Donna suddenly realized: "So you beat people before asking questions just now, just to make them think you are here for revenge, not to obtain information."

"Yes, a little trick." Clayton admitted: "If necessary, you can beat them first, or their companions, to let them know that you are here to ask them to suffer, and they are not qualified to negotiate with you. Asking them at this time will get better results."

Clayton looked at the girl's thoughtful face, and suddenly asked again: "When you saw me torturing them, did you feel unbearable or pity?"

Donna's heart jumped, but she still admitted her weakness.

"Yes, but I will correct it."

Clayton shook his head: "No, you don't have to correct it, it's good."

Donna looked at him in astonishment: "Why?"

"Only when you feel uncomfortable inflicting violence on other lives will you constantly think about whether what you do is right, whether you have wronged a good person, and whether there is another better way to solve the problem. Such thoughts will spur you on and make you more cautious and determined."

Clayton's voice paused for a while and then sounded again. Donna vaguely heard a sigh.

"Keep your sympathy well. If you are as numb as me now, you are finished."