Chapter 57: Am I Not Kind-Hearted?

In truth, the black-robed kidnappers outside had long since grown impatient. Now, hearing the vice-captain say that the beautiful professor’s body was failing, they rushed into the abandoned warehouse, eager not to be tasked with corpse-handling themselves.

Six black-robed subordinates entered, finding the vice-captain standing with his back to them. If accompanied by the exclusive soundtrack reserved for those who grasp the moon and pluck the stars, he would have been the very image of Master Yang, turning his back on the world for ultimate style.

“Vice-captain, where's the beautiful professor?”

The six newcomers glanced around, but saw no sign of Qin Youyou. Their hearts filled with confusion, especially as the vice-captain gave no response, deepening their unease.

One of the black-robed subordinates quickly moved in front of the vice-captain to inquire. Upon looking up, he saw the vice-captain’s face twisted in terror, his eyes rolling desperately to signal him to look overhead.

Obediently, the subordinate lifted his gaze, only to find nothing suspicious above. He was about to ask what the vice-captain meant, but as he turned, he saw that the five companions who had entered with him were now standing utterly still. Their faces were blank, stiff, and eerily similar to the vice-captain.

“What the hell is wrong with you all?” The only black-robed kidnapper still able to move panicked, sensing an invisible presence in the warehouse that could strike him dead at any moment.

“They’re all about to die!”

Just then, a mocking voice sounded behind him.

He spun around, coming face to face with a pair of strikingly beautiful yet murderous eyes—none other than the professor who should have been suffering torment.

“How are you here? Why are you unharmed? Did you do all this? What happened to them?” The kidnapper’s voice trembled as he asked, wishing he could flee, but his legs felt weighed down, immovable.

Qin Chuan replied coldly in her own voice, “You can ask these questions down below—I'm sure the King of Hell will answer them for you.”

Before the words had faded, Qin Chuan’s right hand shot out, locking firmly around the kidnapper’s throat. With a casual twist, the sound of bone snapping echoed through the room.

The kidnapper’s eyes bulged wide, terror etched upon his face, never fading even in death. He died without ever understanding how a professor with a face like a flower could suddenly become a cold-blooded killer.

The other black-robed kidnappers, temporarily subdued, were equally shocked and terrified. Silver needles were inserted into their acupoints, their shoulders soaked in a special anesthetic, ensuring they wouldn’t regain movement within two hours.

Qin Chuan slowly approached the vice-captain and spoke, “Now, I want you to answer a few questions truthfully. If you dare play games, I’ll make you wish you were dead. Do you understand?”

“Huh huh...”

The vice-captain’s face contorted, straining to make a sound, clearly dismissive of Qin Chuan’s threat, daring her to kill him if she had the nerve.

“You’ve grown a tough backbone, but whether your subordinates can keep their mouths shut is not up to you.”

Qin Chuan turned and addressed one of the subdued kidnappers in a low voice, “Introduce yourselves. Otherwise, you’ll see firsthand the power of corpse-dissolving powder from martial arts novels.”

The kidnappers glanced at the vice-captain, then all closed their eyes, adopting a defiant demeanor as if ready for any fate.

“Facing death bravely, are you? Very well!”

Qin Chuan applauded them, then changed her tone. “I’ll spare one of your lives—the one who gives me the most useful information. From left to right, you first.”

She pointed to the most distinctive kidnapper, then withdrew the silver needle from his neck.

He felt his throat loosen, coughed lightly, and found his voice restored. Staring coldly at Qin Chuan, he said, “Go ahead and kill me. The organization will avenge me.”

“If you’re so eager for death, I’ll oblige you. I’m soft-hearted like that.”

As she spoke, Qin Chuan took the dagger from his waist and drew a shallow cut on his arm. Bright blood welled up instantly.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he scoffed.

Qin Chuan pressed her hand to calm him. “Don’t be impatient. The real show is still to come.”

She took a small porcelain bottle from the hollow between her breasts, gently uncorked it, and sprinkled some white powder onto his wound.

Sizzling sounds followed, as if concentrated sulfuric acid was burning flesh. Agonizing pain shot through his body.

Moments ago, the kidnapper had been calm and defiant. Now, he screamed in torment, veins bulging on his forehead, features contorted in agony—an indication of the immense suffering he endured.

The others watched as the wound on his arm turned into black pus, the flesh dissolving before their very eyes. In less than half a minute, his entire arm had vanished without a trace.

The terrifying effect didn’t stop there. The corrosion continued, spreading rapidly toward his shoulder and back.

“Kill me! Hurry, kill me! I beg you, kill me!”

His screams were gut-wrenching, yet even in such agony, he remained conscious.

“I added special ingredients to this corpse-dissolving powder—not only does it melt flesh, but it also stimulates the central nervous system. No matter how painful, you stay awake, witnessing your body dissolve piece by piece. Isn’t it a marvelous experience? Am I not kind for inventing such a humane drug?”

Qin Chuan explained as she moved the dagger to the next kidnapper.

The kidnappers cursed Qin Chuan’s ancestors silently.

Kind?

How could she even say the word?

Nothing about her actions remotely resembled kindness.

Demon! Absolute demon!

These hardened killers, who never blinked at murder, now felt true terror. Compared to Qin Chuan’s methods, their own seemed almost charitable.

“Look! Your comrade has lost a third of his body. I made a mistake—I should have cut his foot, so he’d stay conscious to the very end. Brain death is real death. I’ll test that on you.”

With that, Qin Chuan moved the dagger toward the kidnapper’s foot.

“I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything, just please make it quick,” the kidnapper pleaded, his voice nearly breaking.

“I’ll talk too! I’ll tell you everything I know!”

“Me too, me too! I don’t want to be turned to pus. I haven’t lived enough yet!”

“My mother is eighty, my child is eight months old—I don’t want to die!”

Seeing their comrade corroded to half his body, the kidnappers’ psychological defenses collapsed entirely.

The vice-captain’s face flickered with uncertainty. Truthfully, he wasn’t afraid of death; his line of work demanded indifference to mortality, especially at his level. Yet witnessing Qin Chuan’s perverse killing method, he felt intense discomfort, wondering if he could ever endure such pain himself.

Qin Chuan nodded in satisfaction, smiling. “That’s more like it! The wise know when to bend. Though none of you deserve that title, living is still better than dying. Given your cooperation, I’ll grant your comrade a swift end.”

Without another word, Qin Chuan whipped her wrist, sending the dagger flying like an arrow, burying it deep in the head of the black-robed kidnapper whose body was now mostly dissolved.