Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1081 The Most Painful Acupoints

Chapter 1081 The Most Painful Acupoints
On a desolate plateau on the border between Ilig and Persia, lies a hidden camp.

The continuous hours of forced marching, crossing dangerous border areas, left everyone in the team exhausted, but their tense nerves could not be relaxed.

The relief of successfully escaping the air raid was quickly replaced by new anxiety—they were carrying a dozen hot potatoes behind them.

As soon as the team arrived at the pre-scouted Persian secret camp nestled in a barren mountain valley, before they even had a chance to drink some hot water, Song Heping issued new orders.

"Ibrahim, take your men and separate the prisoners to guard them closely. No one is to approach them without my order."

"Samir, set up sentries, double posts, and send out scouts on the perimeter to be on alert for any tracking."

"Medic, take care of the wounded and check everyone's physical condition, especially frostbite."

"Everyone else, rest where you are and replenish your energy, but you must not leave your equipment behind."

The commands are concise and clear.

The militiamen carried out their orders in silence, and the camp quickly transitioned from marching formation to a defensive alert state.

Song Heping did not rest.

He walked to a small, dark, isolated cave deep inside the camp, which had been temporarily converted into an interrogation room.

The air was thick with dust, the smell of blood, and a chilling fear.

The CIA team leader, disguised as an old man, had his hands tied behind his back, his eyes blindfolded, and his mouth gagged. He was huddled in a corner, wearing only a thin, dirty prison uniform, shivering in the cold night on the plateau.

Ibrahim followed behind Song Heping, carrying the lead box and a small toolbox.

"Secure him."

Song Heping's voice echoed in the cave, sounding particularly cold.

Two strong militiamen stepped forward, dragged the prisoner up, and tied him to a thick stalagmite in the middle to ensure he could not move.

Song Heping gestured for Ibrahim to put down his things, and then told him to go out and guard the cave entrance.

Only he and the prisoners remained in the cave.

He did not rush to begin violent interrogation.

Instead, he first slowly walked around the prisoners.

rustling --

The sound of footsteps was clearly audible on the rocky ground, putting immense psychological pressure on the other party.

At the last moment, he suddenly ripped off the other person's blindfold and gag.

Although it was just a dim battery-powered lamp in the cave, the sudden light made the prisoner squint. He coughed violently, greedily inhaling the cold air, and looked around in terror before finally fixing his gaze on the expressionless Eastern man in front of him.

"Name. Number. Department."

Song Heping asked in English, his voice steady and without a trace of emotion, like a neighborhood committee auntie registering information on migrant workers.

The prisoner, panting heavily, his eyes darting around, tried to appear tough: "I...I don't know what you're talking about! We are lost shepherds! This is illegal detention! Someone will come looking for you!"

Song Heping seemed not to hear him at all, and continued to repeat in that suffocating tone: "Name. Number. Department."

“I told you! I am a shepherd! Abdul Karim!”

The prisoner raised his voice, his tone steady and confident. To an ordinary person, there was not a trace of lying in his voice.

of course.

The situation would be different if the person in front of you were a secret agent.

The agents were all trained in counter-interrogation techniques.

One of these is to learn to memorize your false identity before taking action, fully immerse yourself in it, and hypnotize yourself in your mind to believe that you are the person in the false identity.

Song Heping said nothing.

He walked to the toolbox, opened it, and found not the torture instruments he had imagined, but some stranger-looking things—several syringes and vials of medicine of different sizes, a portable audio player, several electrode patches, and even a set of fine acupuncture needles and a small heating pot emitting faint heat.

These are the instruments of torture sent by Ibrahim.

Members of the special forces in the Persian Revolutionary Guard also received professional training.

Ibrahim was a technical officer in the "Desert Fox" squad and had also received interrogation training.

"The tools are quite complete..."

As Song Heping muttered to himself, he reached for a syringe and drew a small amount of clear liquid from the vial.

Then he walked up to the prisoner and rolled up his sleeves.

"What are you doing?! What is this?!"

The prisoner's expression finally changed, and he began to struggle desperately, but the restraints held him firmly to the stalagmite.

"An adjuvant drug."

Song Heping said calmly, precisely inserting the needle into his vein and slowly pushing it in, "It won't kill you, but it will amplify your nerve sensitivity, making your hearing, touch, pain... five times, or even ten times, more acute than usual. This way, our subsequent 'communication' will be more efficient."

“For God’s sake…” the prisoner shook his head, his eyes pleading, “Don’t torture me like this, I’m really just a shepherd…”

"Um……"

Song Heping reached out and patted his shoulder, like an adult comforting a child.

"It's okay, I told you I wouldn't die, I'm just feeling a little unwell. If you're really not a CIA agent, medication won't do you any good, don't worry."

He even smiled at the end.

However, to the prisoner, this smile was more terrifying than the devil's grin.

He had looked at Song Heping's information before he came.

Any normal CIA agent would feel a strange sense of fear after reading Song Heping's background information.

Because too many agents died at his hands, and not just from the CIA, but also from Mossad, MI6, and even intelligence agents from other countries.

The medicine took effect quickly.

The prisoners began to feel a strange excitement and hypervigilance. The sound of dripping water in the cave, the sound of the wind in the distance, and even the sound of their own heartbeat became as clear and loud as drumbeats. The touch of the cold air on their skin became unusually sharp, as if fine needles were pricking them.

Song Heping picked up the audio player and pressed the play button.

A low, almost inaudible infrasound wave, capable of causing extreme irritation and unease, began to play on a loop, mixed with sharp white noise that fluctuated wildly and erratically.

The prisoners' faces changed drastically upon hearing this sound.

The seemingly chaotic sounds actually contain a lot of information.

This auditory attack directly targets the brain, and combined with the effects of the drug, it produces some severe physiological reactions. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the prisoner quickly felt a splitting headache, nausea, and an inability to concentrate, and his emotions began to spiral out of control.

"Stop! Stop now! What do you want?!"

He roared, veins bulging on his forehead, and began to gasp for air, as if trying to keep his head clear by getting more oxygen.

Song Heping reached out and shut off the sound. The cave instantly returned to deathly silence, with only the prisoners' heavy breathing remaining.

This extreme contrast between movement and stillness further ravaged his nerves.

"Name. Number. Department."

Song Heping asked the same question for the third time, without changing his tone, speed, or even pitch. This mechanical repetition was like torture.

“I…I really am…a shepherd of Iligo…”

The prisoners' mental defenses have begun to crack, but professional training is barely holding them up.

Song Heping did not ask any further questions.

He picked up the heating canister, which contained scalding hot, steaming water.

He scooped up a little with a small spoon and walked up to the prisoner.

"The temperature is very high, but under normal circumstances, splashing a little water will only cause a blister."

Song Heping was stating a scientific fact.

"But now, with your senses magnified tenfold, it will feel like a red-hot iron."

As he spoke, he flicked his wrist slightly, and a drop of scalding water landed precisely on the inside of the prisoner's bare wrist.

"what--!!!"

A piercing, distorted scream instantly filled the cave.

The prisoner's body convulsed and twisted wildly as if he had been electrocuted. His scalded skin instantly turned red and swollen, and the intense, abnormal burning pain almost made him faint.

This precise strike, targeting the heightened senses, is far more effective than a regular beating.

"Stop! Please! Stop!"

Tears and snot instantly covered the prisoners' faces; their last shred of dignity and training crumbled in the face of extreme pain.

"It's just a drop of slightly warm liquid. If I used something else, it would definitely taste even worse."

Song Heping put down his spoon, pulled out a fighting knife, waved it in front of him, and then put it down.

Then, he walked up to the prisoner again and asked for the fourth time in the exact same voice: "Name. Number. Department."

"I...I...I..."

The prisoner's lips began to tremble, and his eyes darted away.

Clearly, his brain was debating whether to confess.

Song Heping didn't give him a chance, reaching out to pick up the fighting knife and starting to slash it down his upper arm.

The sharp tip of the knife cut a wound in the skin.

Song Heping applied just the right amount of pressure, cutting only about 5 millimeters deep—not deep, but enough to cause pain.

"ah--!!!!!"

The drug's effects were indeed potent.

The prisoner screamed wildly again, his eyes bulging out half an inch.

“John…John Keller…code GT-7384…CIA…Iligo Special Operations Center…ground branch…”

The prisoner cried out in despair, providing information in broken sentences.

Song Heping took out a tablet computer and pulled up a detailed map of northwestern Iriego: "Very good, John. Now, tell us, what is your team's mission? Besides guiding airstrikes, what else is there? Where are your rendezvous points? How do you contact them? Most importantly, mark all the CIA intelligence networks in northwestern Iriego that you know of, including outposts, safe houses, liaisons, and informants."

He showed the tablet screen to John Keller.

"No...I can't...my family...they will..."

John looked at the map, and a great fear flashed in his eyes.

Song Heping didn't speak, but simply picked up the set of acupuncture needles, pulled out a thin, long one, which gleamed coldly under the lamp.

He carefully and slowly inserted a needle into John's Shixuan acupoint—a fingertip acupoint.

The Shixuan acupoints are located at the tips of the ten fingers and are typical sensitive acupoints.

This area has an extremely high density of nerve endings, with over 200 pain receptors per square centimeter, making the pain most pronounced during acupuncture.

Instantly, an extremely intense and unbearable tingling, numbness, and swelling sensation swept over half of John's body, causing him to scream again. This pain acted directly on his nerves and was irresistible.

“You can choose to remain loyal and then engage in far more ‘efficient’ communication.”

Song Heping's voice was calm yet intimidating.

"Or choose to cooperate. I just need the information. After that, you can use it as a bargaining chip to survive, and you might even have the opportunity to see your family. The choice is yours, but my patience is limited."

He slowly twisted the needle, intensifying the eerie pain.

About twenty seconds later, Song Heping smelled a foul odor.

Looking down, John saw that his crotch was already wet...

Overwhelmed by excruciating pain, this guy lost control of his bladder...

The combined physical and psychological pressures finally overwhelmed John Keller.

He wept uncontrollably, his spirit completely broken.

"I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything! Please, just pull it out!!"

he screamed.

Song Heping pulled out the needle.

John lay limp in the restraints like a lump of mud, only able to gasp and sob violently.

"I said...I said..."

The CIA agent burst into tears in front of Song Heping, like a fragile little girl.