Republican Era Spy Shadow: Bloodstained Sanctions

Chapter 123 Operation Breaking the Cocoon - Carrying the Stolen Goods

"Incredible!" Wang An couldn't help but clap his hands. "Once this photo is sent to the Special Higher Police, even if Zhao Bingjun had a hundred mouths, he wouldn't be able to explain himself!"

"Not just Zhao Bingjun." Yan Shuo turned off the screen and glanced at the three people. "From now on, we can consider using this method on those Japanese spies and traitors who are inconvenient to deal with. Let them fight like dogs. The Special Higher Police hate communists the most. We don't need to lift a finger; they will take care of them themselves."

Liu Yan's eyes lit up, and she immediately chimed in, "Captain, I think we can escalate this further. For example, we could forge secret telegrams between them and Chongqing, or receipts for smuggling weapons. As long as the photos are made to look real, the Special Higher Police could turn the entire intelligence department of the puppet government upside down!"

Looking at the photos on the table, Su Yan suddenly asked, "Captain, should I put these photos up?"

Yan Shuo looked at her and nodded: "Zhao Bingjun lives alone. I had an undercover agent make a copy of his key. Three days later, the undercover agent will send an anonymous report to the Special Higher Police, saying that Zhao Bingjun is a communist sympathizer and has evidence of a meeting. At that time, Zhao Bingjun will be summoned for questioning by the Special Higher Police, and no one will be home. You and Wang An will work together. He will be responsible for unlocking the door and keeping watch, while you will be responsible for hiding the photo in a secret compartment in his study drawer. Remember, you must be quick and leave no trace."

Su Yan straightened her back and gave a military salute: "Mission accomplished!"

Three days later, in the early morning, a light drizzle was falling.

As soon as Zhao Bingjun stepped out of his house, he was stopped by two men in black trench coats who said that the head of the Special Higher Police had invited him.

Before the smugness on his face had faded, he was shoved into a black car, completely unaware that his home had been targeted.

At the corner of the alley, Wang An, wearing a baseball cap and holding a wire, quickly pried open the lock on the Zhao family's door.

"Hurry! The Special Higher Police will be searching the house within two hours at most!"

Su Yan slipped inside, and the smell of cigars wafted from the entrance hall.

She went straight to the study on the second floor and immediately saw the mahogany desk by the window.

She opened the drawer, revealing several documents inside, and quickly found a place that resembled a dark corner.

She took the forged photo out of her pocket, carefully placed it back in, then restored the photo and wiped away the fingerprints.

The whole process took no more than two minutes.

"Let's go!" Wang An's voice came.

The two left the Zhao family's house and turned into the alley. Soon after, they saw several black cars speeding towards them. The Special Higher Police officers, armed to the teeth, rushed into the Western-style house.

The interrogation room was filled with a strong smell of blood, burnt flesh, and the cold, metallic scent of rust from the torture instruments.

Zhao Bingjun was tightly bound to a specially made torture chair, and his expensive suit was roughly torn open, splitting from the collar all the way to his waist and abdomen, revealing old and new bruises underneath.

The old wounds were lessons learned from previous acts of "loyalty," while the new wounds were marks left from the first round of torture.

His wrists and ankles were bloodied and mangled by the thick hemp rope, which was deeply embedded in his flesh. Every movement felt like his bones were being ground to dust. Cold sweat slid down his forehead and onto his knees, leaving a small wet patch.

Special Higher Police Chief Yuichi Sato stood before him, his impeccably tailored military uniform standing out starkly against the filthy, blood-soaked torture chamber.

He was clutching the photo he'd found in Zhao Bingjun's office, its edges slightly crumpled from being squeezed. A sinister grin, like a cat catching a mouse, hung on his lips, and his eyes were as cold as an icy knife, slowly scraping across Zhao Bingjun's pained and contorted face.

"Zhao-san," Sato's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable air of authority, standing out clearly in the deathly silent interrogation room, "Tell me, what's the deal with this photo?"

He raised his hand and brought the photo close to Zhao Bingjun's eyes. The photo showed Zhao Bingjun and a stranger in a secluded alley. The two were whispering to each other in a secretive manner. It was evidence of his "communist collusion".

Zhao Bingjun's voice was already hoarse beyond recognition, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth down his chin, landing on the armrest of the torture chair.

He twisted his body violently, the rope chafing his wounds and causing excruciating pain, yet he still struggled to protest: "Innocence! Section Chief Sato! This is a frame-up! Someone deliberately framed me!"

His eyes were filled with terror and a glimmer of hope as he stared intently at Sato. "I am utterly loyal to the Japanese Empire, serving the Imperial Army faithfully. How could I possibly be a communist sympathizer? Please see the truth!"

"Loyal and devoted?" Sato seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the world. He suddenly raised his hand and slammed the photo hard into Zhao Bingjun's face.

The stiff photographic paper scraped across his chapped lip, leaving a fresh trace of blood.

"We received an anonymous tip pointing directly to your possession of Japanese Communist Party intelligence. Our search led us to this photo, as well as the encrypted notes in your study drawer. The evidence is irrefutable. How dare you still try to deny it here?"

Before he finished speaking, Sato waved to the side.

Two interrogators in black uniforms immediately stepped forward. One of them picked up a leather whip from a nearby shelf. The whip was wrapped with thin iron wire and had sharp iron spikes at the end, which gleamed coldly under the light.

"Snapped!"

The whip fell with a whistling sound, lashing hard across Zhao Bingjun's bare chest.

The wire instantly pierced the flesh, blood splattered out, and the sound of flesh tearing open was particularly jarring in the silent torture chamber.

Zhao Bingjun shuddered violently, letting out a shrill scream. His body arched uncontrollably, and he bit his lip so hard that deep bloodstains appeared, the taste of blood filling his mouth.

"Speak! Are you a communist sympathizer?!" Sato stood aside, looking at him coldly, as if watching a boring performance.

"I didn't... I've been framed..." Zhao Bingjun gasped for breath, his voice filled with pain, yet he still tried to hold on.

He knew in his heart that if he confessed, he would only face death, but if he did not confess, the torture before him would only become more and more brutal.

"Stubborn to the end?" Sato sneered, then winked at the interrogators.

Another person immediately brought over a branding iron that was red-hot. The tip of the iron was a glaring orange-red color and was still slightly smoking. The scorching heat could be felt from several meters away.

Zhao Bingjun watched helplessly as the branding iron approached, his pupils suddenly contracting, his face filled with extreme fear, and he struggled even more violently: "No! Section Chief Sato! I'll confess! I'll confess everything!"

Sato remained unmoved, saying calmly, "Trying to confess now? Too late. Let him taste the consequences of deceiving the Imperial Army."

"Sizzle—!"

The red-hot branding iron was pressed hard onto Zhao Bingjun's shoulder, instantly charring his skin and flesh. The strong smell of burnt flesh immediately filled the air, overpowering the original smell of blood.

Zhao Bingjun let out a heart-wrenching scream, so sharp it almost shattered his voice. His body convulsed violently; if he hadn't been firmly bound to the torture chair, he would have collapsed to the ground long ago.

His consciousness began to blur, and his vision went black intermittently. He felt as if a ball of fire was burning in his shoulder, and the pain almost made him faint.

The interrogators slowly removed the branding iron, leaving behind a hideous, charred mark.

Sato stepped forward and lightly nudged Zhao Bingjun's knee with the tip of his leather shoe, his tone icy: "Now, can you tell the truth?"