The Central Precinct felt like a tomb. As the heavy iron doors of the Interrogation Block hissed shut, the sound of the outside world—the sirens, the rain, the frantic barking of radio dispatchers—died instantly. Here, the air was thick with the smell of ozone and old, dry paper.
Captain Sarah led Han Feng down the hallway with a grip that bordered on assault. Her hand was clamped around his upper arm, her fingers pressing into the muscle with enough force to bruise. She was walking fast, her heavy tactical boots thudding against the concrete floor like the beat of a war drum.
She didn't speak. She didn't look at him. But Han Feng could feel the heat radiating off her. The [Scent of Desire] was still lingering in her lungs, a slow-acting poison that was turning her usual discipline into a jagged, desperate rage.
She shoved him into Interrogation Room 4.
The room was a concrete box. One metal table, two steel chairs bolted to the floor, and a large, one-way observation mirror that dominated the far wall. The lighting was a single, flickering fluorescent strip that cast long, sickly shadows across the room.
"Sit," Sarah commanded, her voice cracking slightly.
Han Feng pulled out the chair with a slow, deliberate scrape. He sat down, the 'Spirit-Suppressing' cuffs clinking against the metal tabletop. He looked perfectly at ease, as if he were waiting for a business meeting rather than a felony interrogation.
Sarah didn't sit. She stood across from him, her hands braced on the table, leaning into his space. She had pulled off her tactical gloves, and her knuckles were white where they gripped the steel.
SLAM.
She threw a thick, manila folder onto the table. It was his file. Or rather, the "trash" file the world had kept on him for twenty years.
"Han Feng. Age 22. Bankrupt. Family disgraced. Cultivation level: Pitiful," Sarah read out, her voice dripping with a mockery that felt forced. She flipped through the pages, her eyes darting to him every few seconds. "Your father was a fraud who died in a gutter, and your mother ran off the moment the coins stopped flowing. You're the last of a dead line, Han Feng. You're a footnote in a history book that nobody is ever going to read."
Han Feng didn't flinch. He let the insults wash over him, his expression one of mild amusement.
"Is that the best you've got, Sarah?" he asked softly. "You've spent ten minutes researching my past, but you haven't spent a single second wondering why those 'unbreakable' cuffs feel like paper to me."
Sarah's eyes flared. She slammed her hand down on the table again, leaning even closer. Her face was inches from his now. He could see the faint dusting of sweat on her forehead. He could see the way her pupils were blown wide, struggling against the primal heat his presence was radiating.
"I don't care about your tricks!" she hissed. "You assaulted a Young Master. You corrupted a CEO. In this city, I am the Law. My 'Justice Heart' was forged in the fire of the Divine Academy. You are nothing but a flicker of filth that I am going to extinguish."
She reached out, grabbing him by the collar of his damp shirt, pulling him upward until his chest hit the edge of the table.
"You're going to tell me how you did it," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of hate and something she refused to name. "You're going to give me the source of that power, or I'll make sure you never see the sun again."
Han Feng smiled. It was a dark, predatory expression that made the fine hairs on Sarah's neck stand up.
System, he thought. Close the curtains. It's time for a private lesson.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Skill Activated: [Lust Domain: Absolute Silence]
Range: 10 Meters.
Effect: Electronic blackout initiated. Physical locks engaged. External sound dampened to 0%.
Suddenly, the flickering fluorescent light died. The room plunged into a thick, suffocating darkness.
In the observation booth next door, the monitors turned to static. The recording software crashed. The electronic lock on the door engaged with a heavy, magnetic thunk.
Sarah gasped, her grip on his collar tightening instinctively. "What... what did you do?"
"I leveled the playing field," Han Feng's voice came out of the dark, smooth and terrifyingly close.
A faint, golden glow began to radiate from Han Feng's wrists. Sarah watched, her breath catching in her throat, as the 'Spirit-Suppressing' cuffs began to groan. The reinforced steel twisted like warm wax.
SNAP.
The cuffs shattered, the fragments clattering uselessly to the floor.
Han Feng stood up. He didn't just stand; he rose like a shadow, his presence expanding until it filled every corner of the small room. Sarah tried to scramble back, her hand reaching for the holster at her hip, but her fingers felt like lead.
The [Lawbreaker's Charm] was at full power now. Every second she spent in the dark with him, her 'Justice Heart' was being smothered by a blanket of raw, masculine dominance.
"You talk a lot about Justice, Captain," Han Feng said. His voice was a low vibration that seemed to come from the walls themselves. He took a step forward, his boots silent on the concrete.
Sarah backed away until her spine hit the cold, one-way mirror. She was trapped between the glass and the man who was supposed to be her prisoner.
"Stay back," she ordered, but there was no authority left in her voice. It was a plea.
Han Feng didn't stop. He walked right into her personal space, his chest nearly touching her tactical vest. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off him, melting the frost of her discipline.
He didn't hit her. He didn't use violence. He reached out and placed his hands on the arms of her chair, effectively pinning her against the glass.
"You looked at my file and saw a loser," he whispered, leaning down until his lips were brushing the shell of her ear. "But your body knows better, doesn't it, Sarah? Your 'Justice Heart' is screaming, but your blood... your blood is begging."
He reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of her tactical vest, hooked into the reinforced nylon. He could feel the frantic, hummingbird beat of her heart against the back of his hand.
Sarah's head fell back against the glass. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and ragged. She felt like she was drowning in him. The smell of the forest, the rain, and the dark power was overwhelming.
"interrogate me, Sarah," Han Feng urged, his voice a silken command. "Ask me your questions. Ask me why your knees are shaking. Ask me why you haven't called for help."
"I... I can't..." she choked out.
Han Feng gripped the front of her vest, his knuckles brushing the soft skin of her throat. He leaned in, his weight forcing her deeper into the chair, the "Tomboy" warrior reduced to a trembling mess beneath his gaze.
"Justice is a beautiful lie, Captain," he murmured. "But this? This heat in your chest? This is the only truth you have left."
He shifted his grip, his hand sliding down to the duty belt she wore so proudly, his fingers grazing the gold badge that represented everything she had fought for.
"Let's talk about the 'Justice' blooming in your chest right now, Captain," he said, his voice dropping to a growl. "Is it helping you? Or is it just making you want to break?"
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Target Sarah: 45% Corrupted.
Status: Willpower Collapsing / Primal Submission.
Warning: The 'Justice Heart' is cracking. One more push will unlock the [Precinct Defilation] event.
Sarah opened her eyes. They were clouded with a dark, hazy desire that she no longer had the strength to fight. Her hand, which had been reaching for her weapon, moved instead to his shoulder, her fingers digging into his shirt as if she were trying to pull him closer.
"Please..." she whispered.
Han Feng leaned in, his lips a fraction of an inch from hers. "Please what, Captain? Tell me exactly what the Law wants from me."