"You're not afraid of dying, but I might not want you dead," Xu Zimei said lightly.
He waved both his hands.
A powerful force enveloped Zhang Jianwei.
"Soul Search."
This was the most basic of techniques.
Even if Zhang Jianwei didn't speak, Xu Zimei could directly read his memories with mighty power.
However, doing so would likely leave the other's memories scrambled, making him delirious.
But that was his choice.
In Zhang Jianwei's memory, the one who ordered them was a dignified and elegant woman.
This woman appeared to be in her thirties and was very well-maintained.
She must be a Noble Consort from the harem or someone of similar rank.
Xu Zimei withdrew his thoughts; he hadn't deliberately restrained himself, and Zhang Jianwei's condition looked terrible.
Drool dripped from his mouth, and his gaze was vacant; obviously, his nerves were severely damaged.
No matter what, Zhang Jianwei had become a cripple.
