Ariel recalled Deino.
He bent down, grabbed the man by his back collar, and dragged him deep into the alley.
The man's soles dragged two long gray marks on the ground.
Wallace followed behind, swallowing hard as he watched Ariel's extremely practiced movements.
The hustle and bustle of the distant market was left behind, leaving only the rustling sound of soles rubbing against the ground in their ears.
After crossing two intricate, secluded alleys, Ariel stopped in front of an abandoned bungalow.
He raised his leg and kicked open the half-closed wooden door.
The light was extremely dim.
Sunlight barely squeezed through the gaps in the wooden boards, forming several grayish-white pillars of light that illuminated the dense floating dust swirling in the air.
Damaged fishing nets and blackened wooden boxes were piled in the corner.
Large patches of wall plaster had fallen off, revealing the gray bricks underneath.
Several tattered spider webs hung from the overhead beam, swaying slightly in the draft.
Ariel threw the man onto the open space in the center of the room.
He pulled a thick, oil-stained hemp rope from the corner.
Pressing a knee onto the man's back, he folded the man's hands behind him.
The hemp rope was wrapped three times around the wrists and tied in a dead knot.
Then, he extended the remaining rope downward, looped it around the man's ankles, and tightened it forcefully.
The man's body was forced to bend backward into the shape of a bow.
This method of binding restricted power to the maximum extent; the more one struggled, the deeper it bit.
Ariel tore a piece of rag covered in unknown stains from a nearby dilapidated workbench.
He balled it up and forcibly stuffed it into the man's mouth until it filled the entire oral cavity.
Finally, he used a thin nylon cord to loop around the back of the man's head, firmly securing the rag in place.
Wallace stood at the door, his clean clothes completely out of place in this environment.
He watched as Ariel finished everything and patted the dust off his hands.
"This technique of yours..."
Wallace weighed his words,
"Did you have some side business in the past that wasn't exactly easy to talk about in public?"
Ariel didn't even look up, casually making things up:
"My elders used to run a pig farm in the countryside. This is how they tied up disobedient breeding boars. Practice makes perfect."
Wallace nodded, a look of realization appearing on his face.
"I see. No wonder the knots are all positioned at the joint leverage points. Very professional."
He accepted this explanation completely.
The man remained lying on the ground, unconscious.
Wallace stepped forward and nudged the man's shoulder with the tip of his foot.
No reaction.
He squatted down, grabbed the man's collar, and shook him forcefully a couple of times.
"Wake up."
The man's eyelids twitched, and he opened his eyes.
As soon as his vision focused and he saw the two people in front of him, his body instinctively began to struggle.
The coarse hemp rope rubbed against his skin, making a rough sound.
Wallace let go, his tone level:
"Don't waste your energy. The more you move, the tighter the rope gets. Now, let's talk. Why did you run just now?"
The man's eyes widened, and his mouth moved frantically, letting out muffled 'wuwu' sounds.
The rag blocked all his words.
Ariel leaned against a wooden box on the side, arms crossed over his chest.
This Superior trained by a League family was impeccable within the rules of battle, but once outside those rules, his methods for dealing with this kind of street thug were far too refined.
"You call this an interrogation?"
Ariel spoke up,
"With such a kind attitude, he'll only see you as a pushover. To deal with this kind of person, you have to show some intimidation."
Wallace stood up and straightened his hem.
He took a breath, lowered his brows, placed his hands on his hips, and stared down at the man on the ground.
"Speak! What exactly are your intentions!"
His pitch went up an octave.
With that handsome face paired with this deliberately put-on fierce expression, no matter how one looked at it, it lacked deterrence.
His posture was too upright, his pronunciation too standard; he completely lacked the thuggish aura of a street hoodlum.
The man rolled his eyes and continued to squirm on the ground, the 'wuwu' sounds from his mouth carrying a hint of impatience.
Ariel sighed.
Expecting this young master to intimidate a prisoner was a complete waste of time.
"Step aside."
Ariel stepped forward.
Wallace stepped to the side as told.
Ariel didn't waste any words.
He raised his right foot, and the sole of his shoe, equipped with metal anti-slip studs, stepped onto the muscle group on the inside of the man's thigh.
He pressed his body weight down and ground his sole into it.
The man's body tensed up.
The veins on his neck bulged, his eyeballs protruded, and bloodshot streaks filled the whites of his eyes.
The intense pain made him open his mouth wide to scream, but the sound was completely blocked in his throat by the rag, turning into muffled roars.
Sweat seeped from his forehead, slid down his cheeks, and dripped onto the dusty ground.
Ariel didn't stop.
He picked up half a broken broom handle from beside his foot and held it in his hand.
The tip of the wooden stick pressed against the gap between the man's ribs.
His wrist exerted force, jabbing downward.
It didn't require much strength; as long as the position was right, the pain would be magnified manifold.
The first jab. The man's legs kicked frantically.
The second jab. Physiological tears seeped from the corners of the man's eyes.
The third jab. The man's body began to convulse uncontrollably.
Three minutes later.
Ariel withdrew his foot and threw away the wooden stick.
The man slumped on the ground, his clothes completely soaked with sweat, his chest heaving as he gasped with his mouth wide open.
Ariel bent down, grabbed the nylon cord securing the rag, and ripped it off in one motion.
"Pah! Cough, cough, cough!"
The man spat out the residual cloth fibers along with saliva, greedily breathing in the air.
"Just ask already!"
The man's voice was hoarse and tearful, his face covered in a mix of tears and sweat.
"You didn't ask anything, you just started hitting me! I never said I wouldn't talk!"
He felt wronged to the extreme.
From beginning to end, this person hadn't asked a single word.
Ariel stood up and patted his hands.
He turned to look at Wallace beside him and spread his hands.
"See?"
Ariel pointed at the weeping man on the ground,
"Isn't it settled? There's no need to waste words on an interrogation. As long as the prep work is done properly, he'll be eager to spill everything himself."
Wallace watched this scene, his expression shifting from astonishment to contemplation.
He nodded seriously.
"First apply enough pressure to break the opponent's psychological defenses, and then give them the opportunity to speak."
While repeating this, Wallace pulled out a delicate small notebook and a fountain pen from his inner pocket and began recording quickly.
"I've learned something; this knowledge point is very practical."
Ariel's eyelid twitched as he watched Wallace earnestly taking notes.
This young master's train of thought was truly unique.
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