At 10:15 in the morning, Song Cheng once again arrived at the containment zone holding high-risk prisoners.

The pure white, undecorated corridor stretched out in view, with bright lights evenly spread from the ceiling. At intervals along the corridor, dark red lights embedded in the walls, ceiling, and floor could be seen. Armed guards, fully equipped, vigilantly stood guard at the T-junctions at both ends of the corridor, and numerous sensors, monitors, and sentinel weapons were hidden within the ceiling's security modules.

Every few meters along the corridor, there were heavy gates. Some of these gates had green lights above them, while others displayed glaring red lights.

This is one of the highest-level "prisons" of the Special Service Bureau, specially designed to hold the most dangerous and most likely to escape "humanoid prisoners." To qualify to enter here, one either has already caused significant destruction in the Boundary Land, awaiting trial, or possesses a huge potential threat, warranting joint efforts by seven or eight forces to apprehend if released.

Angel Sect members certainly fit well to be confined in here.

Song Cheng came to a gate at the end of the corridor. He glanced at the light on the gate and the information displayed on the adjacent wall screen, then nodded to the containment zone guard beside him, "How is that guy's condition?"

"Calm, no activity record, no self-harm or escape attempts," the armed guard, fully armored with his face hidden behind a heavy visor, said in a muffled voice, "except for the necessary eating and excreting, the prisoner has been sitting in that chair, seemingly meditating for a long time."

"Any reactions from the mind monitoring and barrier devices?"

"All security systems are functioning normally, confirming that the prisoner cannot communicate with any hidden existence or relay messages to accomplices," the armed guard continued, "We've monitored him making a few gestures resembling silent prayers, but sensed no appearance of supernatural power. It should just be simple prayer behavior."

"Hmm," Song Cheng nodded lightly and then asked, "What about the other one?"

"Held separately in section B. The situation there is the same as here: the prisoner is quiet, silent, with no out-of-line behaviors but also refuses to cooperate. Regular interrogations and hypnosis haven't pried open their mouths. To be honest, these 'cultists' have exceptionally resilient mind barriers."

"It's normal. After all, they believe in that thing. Sometimes it's not that their mind barriers are strong but that these lunatics simply don't have a normal mind at all. But we still need to interrogate," Song Cheng said, taking a breath. "Open this door. I want to 'chat' with the guy inside."

"Understood," the armed guard nodded, stepping forward to operate the gate's locking mechanism. "You have one hour of communication time. During this period, all security systems will be highly sensitive. Please take care of your safety and control emotional fluctuations."

Moments later, the heavy gate emitted a gradually lowering hum and the hiss of mechanical pressure being released. Accompanied by a gentle system prompt, the silver-white alloy gate slowly retreated to both sides, revealing the "room" used to hold prisoners inside.

A semi-transparent blue "light curtain" divided the cell into two parts. The "outer side" near the gate was empty, while on the other side of the curtain, there were the minimum essentials: a bed and a chair. Everything in the room—walls, ceiling, and floor—was covered by a resilient, slightly elastic material. On the ceiling, several extremely sturdy hemispherical devices could be seen, occasionally emitting red light or buzzing sounds, carrying a sense of cold and warning.

A tall, thin bald man in a white prison uniform, with his neck and hands restrained by some advanced binding devices, was quietly sitting in the gray-white chair, expressionlessly staring at the bare wall opposite him.

With the heavy gate closing behind him, Song Cheng walked to the light curtain, pressed his hand against its surface, and after a few breaths, the light curtain disappeared. He then walked straight towards the prisoner sitting in the chair—one of the two captured Angel Sect members.

The bald prisoner finally withdrew his gaze from the bare wall, looked up at Song Cheng, his eyes devoid of emotion, as calm as if transcending all worldly emotions and desires.

"You have come again," the Angel Sect member said blandly, "the poor person trapped in the cage."

"In your eyes, I am trapped in some kind of cage, right? You see the real world as a cage—and your Lord is trapped in another cage," Song Cheng said without a hint of being offended by the other's words, expressionless, "Now look at yourself. Aren't you also trapped in a cage."

"I am indeed temporarily trapped here, but I enjoy a freedom and tranquility far beyond your understanding," the cultist smiled faintly, "and my Lord, His 'confinement' is a more exalted 'suffering.' He will eventually break free from his bonds as promised, descending into this pitiful world, where the pious will be blessed, and dull-witted people like you will experience corresponding suffering."

Song Cheng remained unfazed, a hint of curiosity in his eyes: "I am a bit curious now. You and your companion, which 'angel' do you follow? As far as I know, there are many Dark Angels, and the Angel Sect is, in fact, divided into many factions. Some believe in several angels simultaneously, while others firmly follow one... which one do you believe in?"

"You begin to show curiosity about my Lord, seeking to learn my Lord's secrets through interrogation. Then you will gradually show interest in our faith, seeking more teachings from me. Eventually, you will appear to be moved, even starting to actively listen to those 'voices'—a few days later, or maybe more cautiously, a dozen days later, you will act like a 'trainee' secretly influenced by my Lord, like a kindred spirit."

The Angel Sect member spoke calmly, as if describing a series of events that, while not yet occurred, had already become past facts in his "observation," all the while staring into Song Cheng's eyes.

Then, he leaned forward slightly: "I will relax my guard on the seventh or eighth day, and during this process, reveal too many secrets about my Lord and my kin. And you will share these secrets with your superiors—save your effort, the scent of sanity blockers is already seeping from your pores."

Song Cheng's expression still didn't change, seemingly unfazed by the cultist's "exposure" in front of him. He just fell silent for a few seconds, and then a smile appeared on his face: "Pretty good, looks like you've got quite a bit of experience—though your companion's experience seems rather average."

"Oh, so it's the second route. You separated us in captivity to make us doubt each other's loyalty and devoutness," the Angel Sect member shook his head, "Your tactics are simpler than I thought."

Song Cheng stared intently at the so-called "Angel Sect" member in front of him, who appeared to have no joy nor sorrow, as if he had shed all mortal weaknesses. At this moment, that bald head looked particularly glaring and unpleasant.

A moment later, he gently exhaled and sat down directly on the nearby cot.

"No problem, we still have plenty of time. I'm indeed not an expert in interrogation, but there will be more professional people to handle this. For now... let's just talk, just chat."

...

An hour later, the cell gate opened, and Song Cheng walked out from inside.

Fully armed guards approached from the side: "Did you get anything out of him?"

"Same damn thing as last time, stubborn as hell. I even doubt that if one day the world actually ends and the universe is about to explode, the only thing left standing would be these Angel Sect bastards with their mouths flapping away," Song Cheng cursed in a rather undignified manner as he fished a cigarette out of his pocket and put it in his mouth, "Besides, this one seems to have some special ability, able to predict the 'event trajectory' of any word or action I make. No wonder the previous interrogation experts couldn't deal with him."

"...A 'Prophet'?"

"Hard to say, never heard of any 'Prophet' joining the Angel Sect. And if he was really a Prophet, how could we capture him so easily? I think this guy is more likely influenced by the 'Angel' behind him, acquiring some kind of Spiritual Vision powers... Just my luck."

The armed guard listened quietly, and as Song Cheng was about to light the lighter, he reached out to stop him: "...Sir, no smoking here."

Song Cheng paused for a moment, then awkwardly put away the lighter and cigarette.

Just then, the phone in his pocket suddenly rang.

He took out his phone and the anger on his face instantly faded. He quickly answered the call, squeezing out a smile: "Hey, Bureau Chief? No no, just got a bit of free time now. Go ahead... Ah?"

Song Cheng's expression suddenly turned a bit peculiar. He listened for a few moments and hesitantly replied: "Tell him... Is that appropriate? Having him involved... After all, he's not a member of our Special Service Bureau, right... Alright, since it's your judgment, I'll give him a call."

After hanging up, Song Cheng looked at the screen in a daze, his mood seemed a bit complicated.

The armed guard beside him was curiously watching through his protective face mask.

Song Cheng waved his hand, signaling the guard to standby. He then walked aside with his phone, hesitated for a moment, and dialed a number.

After a brief wait, a voice came through the receiver: "Hello? Captain Song?"

"Ahem, Yu Sheng," Song Cheng cleared his throat twice, "I need to tell you something—do you remember the two Angel Sect members you previously provided information on? The Special Service Bureau caught them. The Bureau Chief asked me to see if you have any intere..."

Before he finished his sentence, an eager voice interrupted from the other end: "Yes!"

Song Cheng was taken aback: "Uh... okay, I'll bring people to pick you up..."

"Send someone to the 54-and-a-half floor to pick me up, I'm already here."

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