An Xinning shuddered at Chen Xiao's words; his voice was calm, but it cut through her like ice. Still, relief rose in her chest—strange as it felt. The man she'd argued with moments ago, the one who'd refused to move, now stood on the same side as her. In that instant he felt like the only thing between Dachang and utter collapse.
All Things Water surged again. The water coalesced into a tidal hand that hoisted the iron-sheet hut and slammed it down over the furnace. At the same time the great water-hands gathered each stunned Sakura Country awakener, pulling them in, removing their shoes so each would burn more painfully. The [Nine-Foot Seal] tightened like a vise: no talent, no escape.
From inside the smothered house came frantic bargaining.
"Mad Ghost—cooperate with us! Sakura Country will give you anything!""Mad Ghost Butcher, talk sense! I'm from the Shimada clan—look me up!""Don't do this to us, you filthy Huaxia dog!"
The iron sheet heated viciously. The floor burned hot enough to blister flesh, steam rising as blood and water met searing metal. Under Chen Xiao's rule-suppression, these S-rank elites felt no different from terrified civilians. When skills are stripped away, everything becomes primitive and raw.
"Ah—it's getting hot!""Yamagaki-kun, this is your fault—don't blame me!""We'll all die!" they screamed. Fear unmoored civility; claws and teeth replaced politeness. Men trammeled one another to get at the hottest spot that might save them; the iron sizzled with panic and blood.
An Xinning watched through the warped window, the scene beyond stained scarlet. She exhaled slowly. "What you did… it's satisfying. They deserved it," she said at last. The abhorrent experiments had provoked more than military outrage—this was moral fury, and Chen Xiao's brand of retribution felt, for the moment, like justice.
Chen Xiao grunted. "They brought it on themselves. And Dachang—no. Sakura trash don't qualify."
He peered into the iron box. One of the captives pressed a blood-smeared face against the metal; it was Yamagaki Kirihara. He was half burned, one arm missing, and his eyes still shone with a terrible arrogance even as he reeled in agony.
"I'm Sakura's National Fortune Envoy!" he rasped. "I outrank you—how dare you—"
Chen Xiao kicked him; Yamagaki screamed and slumped, whimpering. An Xinning stepped forward, booted heel against his ribs. "Name who from Sakura Country is participating in the National Fortune Game," she demanded.
Yamagaki's voice twisted into a grotesque laugh, defiance clinging to him like a cloak even as flesh blackened. "You think Sakura Country folds? Hahaha—noble blood—disembowel me before I tell you—hahaha!"
Chen Xiao didn't flinch. He dropped his boot onto Yamagaki's thigh and twisted, then sank to his knees and began his interrogation the old-fashioned way: relentless, surgical, inexorable. He pressed [Dragon Bone] into play, each strike ripping at sinew, forcing the man to the precipice.
"Kill me, Mad Ghost! Kill me!" Yamagaki begged, but his plea was hollow. He had become a husk of bluster and pain; pride was gone.
Blood sprayed; Yamagaki's resistance bled out with every breath. He coughed, choking on the smoke of his own failure, and then, ragged and broken, he spoke.
"Alright—alright. I'll talk. But when I speak—kill me. Kill me at once." His voice was nothing but a splinter.
Chen Xiao paused and listened. The demand was cruel, but the information was priceless. For Dachang's sake, for An Xinning's city, this was the moment to extract truth from a ruined man.
Yamagaki gasped out names—small, frantic things that suggested larger patterns: agents, safe houses, routes. He spoke of two other Sakura operatives, of shipment schedules, and of a grim network of "opportunity snatchers" that preyed on chaos and the blinded greed of auction-hungry bases. He spoke of how they'd come to Dachang not merely to rob supplies but to seize something far more valuable: chances—those monstrous, world-tilting evolution chances that every hungry power wants.
When he finished, his voice thinned into a whisper. "We—Sakura—wanted the game… the opportunity. We were promised routes and protection… but Dachang… Dachang had its own plan."
Chen Xiao listened to the confession without expression. The theater—stained, reeking, the glass fogged with steam—felt somehow contained, like the eye of a hurricane. Outside, reinforcements might come, governments might cry foul, but here, in this moment, a network had been exposed: who had conspired, who had sold and bought influence, and which foreign hands had reached into Huaxia's bleeding wound to snatch fortune.
An Xinning's jaw tightened. Her work as a military leader was now mixed with a personal vow: the network would be purged. She met Chen Xiao's gaze—there was no gratitude, not in words. Only a shared, terrible understanding: the apocalypse had birthed new predators, and stopping them would cost blood.
Yamagaki coughed, stared at the sky through the thin metal, and begged one last time. "If I tell—please—kill me. I can't face my people."
Chen Xiao's face was unreadable. He pushed the man aside and rose, the sounds from the iron house like a slow drumbeat of retribution. Outside, An Xinning drew herself tall and spoke under her breath: "We will deal with the others. We will stop them."
Chen Xiao nodded. The theater's lamps hummed above them; in the distance, Dachang burned with the small, sharp fires of anarchic greed. For the moment, the National Fortune Envoy's secrets had been gutted, and the ripples would reach far beyond the theater's iron door.