School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 174 --The Visible Spiricontam Energy

Even Isaac, Quentin, and the others seemed to ignore the light as if it was invisible to them.

Owen ventured a question, "What is that?"

"Huh?" Quentin’s deputy looked puzzled, "What?"

Owen pointed towards the direction of the red light, "You can’t see it?"

Everyone appeared clueless, "See what?"

They genuinely couldn’t see it.

Owen, feeling slightly dejected, asked, "What’s that place used for now?"

The red light seemed to be emanating from a row of bungalows.

Quentin glanced over, "That’s where the prisoners of war are held."

Owen immediately got up and started walking towards the source of the red light.

Although he was affable, carrying the title of the saint of dragons meant that no one questioned his actions, and everyone went back to their own tasks.

Owen arrived in front of the row of bungalows.

This place was originally a post station, where the front guest rooms and courtyard had been affected by the ravages of war.

In contrast, the row of stables at the back was mostly intact, except for one that was damaged by fire.

Now, the prisoners were seated in a row inside, their hands tied behind their backs and leaning against the wall.

Any slight movement would earn them a strike with a baton.

There were over a hundred people, all looking dejected and defeated.

The minor leaders and lieutenants were separately confined in two adjacent stables.

As Owen peeked into each stable, he quickly discovered that the red light was actually emanating from one of the prisoners.

To be precise, it was seeping out from around his waist.

This immediately piqued his interest.

He gestured for the soldier guarding the prisoners to come closer, "When was this man brought in?"

"Just recently," the soldier replied, "He was sneaking around in the city, up to who knows what. We found him during a search."

"Oh?" Owen expressed his curiosity, "All of Easthaven Realm’s cavalry have retreated, and he didn’t flee? Has he been searched or interrogated yet?"

The soldier replied, "Not yet, the officers haven’t had the chance to get to it."

The leaders were too busy, who had time to interrogate an inconspicuous foot soldier? But Owen had plenty of time.

"Then I’ll do it."

"Ah?" The soldier was taken aback, "But, but..."

"Don’t you know who I am?" Owen inquired.

"Of course, of course!" Even if he hadn’t known before, after tonight’s battle, Owen was a familiar face to almost half the army, "You are His Highness, the saint!"

"Is there a problem with me interrogating a prisoner no one else has time for?"

Of course, there wasn’t.

At Owen’s signal, Isaac stepped forward and picked the prisoner Owen had noticed out of the crowd.

"What are you going to do!" the man protested as he tried to back away.

He was slim and stood no chance against the two strong men, being lifted like a small chicken.

Owen noted that the moment Isaac and his companion started moving towards the man, the red light at his waist disappeared.

He had been sitting hunched over, his hands tucked at his waist the whole time.

So, it was controllable?

With the scarcity of intact bungalows after the battle, every space had its use.

Owen had no choice but to claim a tent again, evicting its original occupant to throw the prisoner inside.

The rockwolf, already familiar with the drill, moved to the entrance and lay down, signaling a clear ’keep out’ to strangers.

Isaac brought in two chairs, one for His Highness, the saint, and pushed the prisoner into the other.

Owen decided not to beat around the bush, "What’s with the red light on you?"

The man looked perplexed, "What red light?"

Owen personally went to investigate, pulling open the man’s waist area to check, but found nothing.

He then removed the man’s outer layer of light armor.

Still nothing.

After removing two more layers, the man’s face turned pale, and his eyes shifted nervously.

Watching Owen undressing the prisoner, Isaac’s eyelid twitched, his gaze turning peculiar.

Having been by the prince’s side for nearly a month, how could he not know of such a hobby?

The prisoner had neither a notable face nor physique; what could have possibly caught His Highness’s eye in him?

Oh dear, if His Highness starts to have a taste for those close at hand, would he himself comply or not?

Isaac was plunged into deep contemplation.

Fortunately, at that moment, Owen suddenly tore open the prisoner’s inner garment, and something fell to the ground with a clink.

It appeared to be a short staff made of bronze.

Picking it up for inspection, Owen found the staff quite intriguing.

It was only slightly longer than his middle finger, with a thickness comparable to a flute.

The top was engraved with the head of a beast unknown to him, resembling both a bat and a pig, with a pointed snout, short nose, fine teeth, and very small ears.

The staff was engraved with countless lines, resembling both patterns and script, though Owen could not decipher them.

This was certainly not the language of the gods—a subject Owen had studied at the academy.

Yet, their arrangement was symmetrical and neat, adhering to some pattern, exuding a solemn and majestic beauty.

As Owen traced these lines, a strange thought occurred to him: could this be some kind of array?

Moreover, the staff was set with an oval gemstone about the size of a quail’s egg.

Its color was hard to define because, to Owen’s eyes, the gem contained a red substance that seemed to oscillate between liquid and gas, or perhaps it was transitioning between these two states.

This substance occupied three-quarters of the entire volume of the gem, nearly filling it up.

Recalling the red light he had seen outside the temporary cell, Owen turned to ask Isaac, "Do you see this gemstone?"

Isaac nodded.

Owen pressed further, "What color do you see?"

"Dark red," Isaac responded, feeling that His Highness’s behavior had been somewhat off for the past half hour.

Yet, to Owen’s eyes, it was a vivid red, akin to blood.

Owen persisted, "Look closely, can you see the color moving within the gemstone?"

Isaac appeared even more perplexed, but the prisoner’s complexion drastically changed.

Indeed, others could not see it.

Owen, with a smile, turned to the prisoner, "It seems you have something to say, hmm?"

"No, nothing," the prisoner stuttered in his response.

"You can see the anomaly within the gemstone too, can’t you?" he asked the prisoner, "What exactly is this used for?"

The prisoner hemmed and hawed, "There’s no anomaly. It’s just a toy I got from a peddler."

Owen fiddled with the short staff, finding no hidden mechanisms.

The entire staff seemed to be cast as a single piece, without even a seam where parts might join.

Such a high level of craftsmanship.

Sold by a peddler?

Hah.

Then, he pressed the gemstone.

The monster at the top of the staff’s eyes lit up, and it suddenly opened its mouth in a skyward roar, while the lines on the staff’s body began to move like snakes slithering along its length.

Holding the staff, Owen felt as if something was gathering from all directions towards it.

In the blink of an eye, streams of red light descended from the sky, funneling into the monster’s mouth.

That is to say, it wasn’t roaring but rather drawing in.

Owen finally understood the origin of the red light he had seen outside.

Yet, how these beams of light formed remained a mystery to him.

It almost seemed as if they were projected by the beast’s eyes before being absorbed into its mouth.

He waved his hand through the light, which passed through his palm as if it were nothing.

The patterns on the staff’s body busied themselves, moving from the monster’s mouth to the red gemstone, each line shimmering with red light.

However, once they exited the gemstone, they returned to their normal state, repeating this process back and forth.

After observing for a moment, Owen grasped the mechanism: the red light sucked in by the beast’s mouth was transported to the gemstone by these patterns, being stored within.

Could the red substance inside the gemstone be the condensed form of this external red light?

Indeed, the situation grew more peculiar by the moment.

The prisoner watched him, unable to hide his astonishment, as Owen’s expression made it clear: he fully understood how the staff operated.

How could this be possible! Only those who employed special means were supposed to see the "Spiricontam Energy"!

"If you continue to hide the truth, severe punishment awaits," Owen issued his ultimatum.

The prisoner was dumbfounded.

Isaac stepped forward, "My lord, allow me to handle this."

"Very well, it’s in your hands," Owen stepped back, arms crossed, "Interrogate him thoroughly; there might be more to uncover."

Isaac approached and threw a punch.

Experienced in such matters, he positioned himself to the side of the prisoner, ensuring that any vomit or blood expelled from the prisoner’s mouth during the punch to the abdomen wouldn’t splatter onto them.

The prisoner cried out in pain, his face receiving several more hits until one cheek swelled immensely, squeezing his eyes to mere slits.

Yet, he clenched his teeth, refusing to confess.

Isaac ordered a bucket of clean water to be brought over, along with a cloth, which he then soaked in the bucket.

Grabbing the back of the prisoner’s chair, he flipped it so the prisoner was upside down, and draped the wet cloth over his face.

The wet cloth alone could suffocate someone, but Isaac went further by scooping up a ladle of water and slowly pouring it onto the prisoner’s nose and mouth.

The man made muffled noises, struggling like a fish on a cutting board.

In reality, his suffering was even more intense than that of a fish out of water.

Owen recognized this as "water torture," a method that appeared bloodless and woundless, yet subjected the victim to the dual agonies of suffocation and drowning, their physical and psychological limits repeatedly violated.

As long as the torturer maintained a controlled rhythm—alternating between fast and slow, neither too quickly nor too sluggishly—the prisoner’s agony could be exponentially increased.

After observing for several moments, Owen heard a commotion outside, as if a large troop was approaching.

What was happening now?

He strode out of the tent to see a force entering the camp through the main gate, numbering around six hundred humanoids.

There were cavalrymen, foot soldiers, over a hundred wagons, and even laborers, identifiable by their attire and appearance at a glance.

This was another army tasked with transporting supplies.