Chapter Sixteen: The Art of Winning Hearts

National Security Bureau, fifth basement level, Special Interrogation Room.

The air here seemed almost solid—cold, stagnant, laced with the mingled scents of metal and disinfectant. The walls were lined with special sound-absorbing materials, capable of devouring every sound, and with them, a person’s will. From the ceiling, a powerful cold light shone down, casting a sickly pallor over the small metal table below.

The mercenary leader known by the codename “Butcher,” Maxim, was strapped tightly to the cold metal chair by specially designed restraints. He was a burly white man, over six foot two, his exposed arms covered with hideous scars and tattoos. His gaze, fierce and contemptuous, was that of a Siberian brown bear trapped in a cage—brutal, cruel, and full of scorn for everything around him.

He had survived twenty years on the battlefield, from the mountains of Afghanistan to the deserts of Somalia. Death, to him, was as ordinary as breathing.

The door to the interrogation room opened.

Xiao Ran entered alone.

She wore no uniform, only simple black civilian clothes. In her hand was a folder; her face was devoid of any expression.

She pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Maxim, placing the folder on the table. Less than a meter separated them.

In that silence, a collision of iron wills quietly began.

“Maxim Ivanovich,” Xiao Ran intoned, her Russian flawless and without accent, as she slowly pronounced his full name. “Former Russian ‘Signal Flag’ Special Forces, rank of Captain. Five years ago, you were discharged for carrying out an ‘unofficial mission’ in Chechnya. Afterwards, you joined ‘Blackwater’ as an A-level operations consultant. Am I correct?”

Maxim’s pupils contracted almost imperceptibly, but the contemptuous sneer on his face did not waver.

He said nothing.

“In Beirut, you have a wife, Katerina. And a daughter, Anna, seven years old, just started first grade.” Xiao Ran continued in the same dispassionate tone, as if reciting a weather report.

The corner of Maxim’s mouth twitched slightly.

Still, he remained silent.

For the next two hours, Xiao Ran exhausted every conventional interrogation technique: logical pressure, exploiting information gaps, fatigue tactics. She even listed, with precision, the names of several comrades who had died beside Maxim in the Signal Flag unit, hoping to stir his emotions.

But it was all in vain.

The man before her was like a block of polar granite—unyielding, cold, impervious. His psychological defenses had been forged in countless seas of blood and corpses.

Xiao Ran understood: with him, the usual methods were useless.

…

Outside the interrogation room, separated by thick one-way glass, Old K and several agents frowned deeply.

“No use… This guy’s willpower is too strong.”

“He’s like a stone—can’t crack him at all.”

Expressionless, Xiao Ran walked out of the interrogation room. For the first time, she felt the situation was truly thorny as she gazed at the man inside, as solid as a rock.

She retreated to a deserted corner and picked up the secure single-line communicator, connecting to Lin Feng in the advanced ward of the medical department in another building.

“I’ve hit a snag,” she said, her voice tinged with reluctance. “That ‘Butcher’ is a top-tier professional, trained in the harshest counter-interrogation. Nothing standard works on him.”

From the other end, Lin Feng’s voice came through, still somewhat weak but full of schadenfreude.

“Well, well? Even Chief Xiao has someone she can’t handle? Want me to help remotely—maybe use AI face-swap to fake a video of you in a hula skirt and play it for him? Guarantee his spirit will break.”

“Shut up.” Xiao Ran ignored his teasing, her tone icy. “I need his weak spot. His family, his past—everything! I want the deepest, most hidden thing that can truly hurt him. You have… ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” Lin Feng exclaimed dramatically. “Chief Xiao—hello? Hello?”

Xiao Ran had already hung up.

Gazing into the interrogation room at Maxim, her eyes sharpened once more.

She knew Lin Feng—that madman—would find a way.

…

Ten minutes later.

Just as Xiao Ran was about to re-enter the interrogation room, her phone vibrated.

It was an email from Lin Feng, encrypted at the highest “Top Secret” level.

She opened it.

Even for her, whose heart had long been trained to remain calm as still water, a chill crept up her spine as she read its contents.

This Lin Feng…

He wasn’t a hacker.

He was, quite simply, a demon.

…

The interrogation room door opened again.

Xiao Ran sat once more opposite Maxim.

This time, she carried a tablet.

“We’re going to play a new game.” Her voice was deadly calm.

She pushed the tablet toward Maxim.

On the screen was a photograph.

A little blonde girl, dressed in a beautiful princess gown, was joyfully swinging in a sunlit park. Her smile was pure as an angel’s.

Anna.

His daughter.

For the first time, a crack appeared in Maxim’s granite-like expression. His eyes softened in an instant.

“You think threatening my family will work?” he finally spoke, his voice hoarse, thick with derision. “Naïve. The day I started this, I knew it would come to this. I’ve arranged everything. Even if I die, they’ll want for nothing.”

“Is that so?” Xiao Ran’s lips curved into a cold, almost cruel smile. “You mean the trust fund Anderson set up for you? The one worth ten million dollars?”

Maxim’s face changed instantly.

How could she know about that?

“It’s a perfect arrangement,” Xiao Ran murmured, swiping the tablet to display a densely worded trust agreement. “If you’re captured and confirmed dead, your wife and daughter receive the money immediately. Enough to buy a villa with a garden in the best part of Zurich.”

“But…”

Her tone shifted; her finger tapped the tiny Latin addendum at the bottom of the contract.

“There’s a hidden clause here,” she said softly.

“It states that if you are ‘captured and survive,’ the trust is voided.”

Maxim’s breathing grew ragged.

“And,” Xiao Ran’s gaze was like twin surgical blades, cutting straight to his soul, “the clause also specifies that in this case, your daughter Anna’s status as beneficiary is replaced by a mysterious ‘liquidator’ appointed by Anderson.”

“You’re a smart man, Maxim.” Xiao Ran leaned back, watching as the color drained from his face. “You know what a ‘liquidator’ from Ouroboros will do when he finds your defenseless wife and daughter, don’t you?”

“He won’t kill them. That would be merciful.”

“He’ll take everything. Your house, your savings, your wife… and your angelic little girl.”

Boom—

Her words struck Maxim’s heart like a curse from on high, shattering his soul.

His iron will was utterly destroyed in that instant.

He wasn’t defeated by Xiao Ran.

He was defeated by Anderson—the devilish man to whom he’d sworn loyalty.

Anderson had never intended for him to survive.

“No… No…!!” Maxim’s voice ripped out of him, beast-like and despairing, as he struggled madly against his restraints, wrists bleeding.

Xiao Ran said nothing more.

She simply zoomed in on the photo of his daughter on the swing, enlarging it until those pure, sapphire-like eyes filled the screen.

She set the tablet before him.

She let his daughter’s eyes judge him.

“Aaah—!!!”

Staring into those eyes, Maxim’s steel defenses finally, inch by inch, crumbled.

He was like a beast, utterly broken, emitting a howl of pain and despair.

At last, all struggle and outcry ebbed into a deathly silence.

Slowly, painfully, he lifted his once proud, bloodshot head.

He looked at Xiao Ran.

In a voice so hoarse it was barely audible, he uttered his surrender.

“...Zurich... United Credit Bank...”

“...The account key is...”

He confessed.

Xiao Ran looked at the man before her, utterly broken, and in her eyes there was not a trace of victory.

Only a cold and endless desolation.