An hour later, the security office of the Chang'an Automobile Factory felt more like a courtroom than a workplace.
Mi Qianhu and his twenty four men stood bound in a straight line, wrists tied behind their backs, faces stiff with forced composure. They tried to hold themselves upright, but the rope around their arms and the ring of militia surrounding them made their situation painfully clear. They were no longer hunters. They were prey.
The militia formed a tight perimeter, muskets ready, watching for the slightest movement.
Chief Director Gao Yiyi had arrived in person, which was rare enough to send a ripple through the workers who had gathered outside. Beside him stood Deputy Directors Qi Cheng and Bin Sheng. Even Zhu Yujian had come, his bamboo hat pulled low as he observed quietly from the side, unwilling to miss what might become an important turning point.
The mood in the room was heavy, and everyone felt it.
Gao Yiyi spoke first, his voice calm but carrying weight.
"Bin Sheng, you believe they were sent by the Manchus to steal the manufacturing methods of our ironworks?"
Bin Sheng cupped his fists respectfully before answering.
"Yes. Based on accent, behavior, and the intelligence we intercepted, this man likely belongs to the former Jin forces, now calling themselves the Qing Dynasty."
He coughed slightly as he corrected himself, as though the new name tasted unpleasant.
Gao Yiyi's eyes shifted toward Mi Qianhu.
Mi Qianhu let out a short laugh full of disdain.
"Rebels calling others traitors. How amusing."
Gao Yiyi did not rise to the bait. He turned back to Bin Sheng.
"Are you certain he is Wuzhen Chaoha?"
Bin Sheng hesitated.
"I cannot confirm with absolute certainty. It is an informed deduction."
Gao Yiyi fell silent for a moment.
In truth, he was not a trained interrogator. Not long ago, he had been nothing more than a village blacksmith who understood iron better than men. Only in the past decade, under the guidance and enlightenment of Dao Xuan Tianzun, had his knowledge broadened beyond the forge. Even now, when it came to political maneuvering and psychological pressure, he relied heavily on the two men beside him.
Qi Cheng had once fought as a rebel.
Bin Sheng had once served the Jin.
Strange times forged stranger alliances.
Qi Cheng stepped forward, his expression thoughtful rather than angry.
"Let us proceed carefully. Rushing will gain us nothing."
He unfolded a stack of confiscated papers and held them up.
"These were found on one of your men."
The papers were covered in dense writing. Observations about Xi'an's daily life, infrastructure, production lines, trade routes, agricultural organization, transport logistics, and even notes on social morale.
The depth of it was unsettling.
Qi Cheng's eyes locked onto Mi Qianhu.
"Why steal these? Planning to rebuild our system in your own territory?"
At that moment, Zhu Yujian felt a cold sweat run down his back. Those were his notes. He had thought them harmless, simple observations of a functioning society. Yet seeing them displayed like captured intelligence made him question his own assumptions. Perhaps transparency itself was strength. Perhaps openness was not weakness at all.
Mi Qianhu lifted his chin.
"You may kill me. You will not extract a word."
His men echoed him almost in unison.
"We would rather die."
Bin Sheng's jaw tightened. This was exactly what he had feared. If the captives refused to speak, they would gain nothing from this operation. Worse, they might never uncover the greater network behind them.
Perhaps they had acted too early.
Qi Cheng exhaled slowly.
"Then we will have to apply pressure."
Mi Qianhu laughed.
"You think pain frightens us? We are not cowards who switch loyalties when convenient."
Bin Sheng leaned closer to Gao Yiyi and lowered his voice.
"They are hardened. Ordinary torture may not work."
Qi Cheng agreed silently. He had seen men endure shattered bones without yielding a single secret.
For a brief moment, uncertainty hung in the air.
Then Gao Yiyi smiled faintly.
"There is another method."
Both deputies turned toward him.
"In Gao Family Village, we possess a celestial treasure bestowed by Dao Xuan Tianzun."
Their eyes sharpened.
"When assassins once killed four of our men during an attempt on Bai Yuan's life, Dao Xuan Tianzun granted us a means of extracting truth. That treasure is called Cooling Oil."
Even the name caused unease.
Qi Cheng frowned slightly.
"And where would we obtain such a thing now?"
"I will return to the village and request it," Gao Yiyi began.
He never finished the sentence.
Shouts erupted outside the office.
"Something has appeared!"
"A huge green vat!"
"My eyes are burning!"
"Move back!"
The commotion rolled inward like a wave.
Gao Yiyi's expression shifted from surprise to delight.
"There is no need to travel. Dao Xuan Tianzun has already answered."
Outside, an empty water vat near the entrance now brimmed with a viscous green liquid. Fumes rose from it in shimmering distortions, sharp enough to drive the crowd several meters back. Workers covered their faces, eyes watering violently.
Above it all, unseen, Li Daoxuan observed with quiet amusement. The uproar over captured spies had drawn half the factory's population, and he had noticed quickly enough to understand the situation. He had not heard every detail, but he had heard enough. When the word torture was mentioned, he had casually allowed a few drops of Cooling Oil to fall into the vat below. That was all it took.
Gao Yiyi turned toward the prisoners.
"The gift has arrived. Begin."
Mi Qianhu straightened despite the ropes binding him.
"My will is unbreakable. My loyalty is unshakable. Do not think that a mere substance can—"
He did not finish.
He was lifted and thrown into the vat.
The effect was instantaneous.
The burning was not limited to skin. It invaded eyes, nose, throat, lungs, and every sensitive surface at once. It felt as though invisible needles pierced him from all directions, as though his very breath had turned into fire.
His composure shattered.
"You rebels," he screamed, voice breaking. "How dare you use such methods. My ancestors have served faithfully for generations. I will not yield. I will not—"
The words dissolved into raw, animal cries.
For a few seconds that felt endless, he endured.
Then pride crumbled.
"I confess," he shouted hoarsely. "I confess. Pull me out."
Silence filled the courtyard.
Two workers rushed forward, squinting through tears, dragging him out before drenching him repeatedly with clean water. They lowered him into a basin to neutralize the sting.
Mi Qianhu lay there trembling, chest heaving, every breath shaky.
"That is inhuman," he whispered. "Too brutal."
The remaining twenty four men stared at the vat.
None of them spoke about loyalty again.