Soulbound: Dual Cultivation-Chapter 383: Torture gives unreliable answers

Lucas crouched in front of the bound scout, close enough that the young man could see his scarred face clearly now that the mask was off, and for a brief moment the scout’s eyes flickered again, not with fear but with something closer to recognition or resignation.

"Rus or Lechia," Lucas asked calmly, his voice level and controlled despite the storm of thoughts moving behind his eyes.

The scout did not hesitate this time. "Rus," he answered, his voice hoarse but steady.

Lucas nodded once, as if he had already expected it, and then he leaned back slightly. "Good," he said quietly. "That means you still know the difference between truth and defiance."

Silence followed, thick and heavy, broken only by the restless shifting of horses and the wind dragging across the barren land. Lucas waited, giving the young man space, watching his breathing, his posture, the way his jaw tightened whenever anyone else spoke.

"Who sent you," Lucas asked next, his tone unchanged. "Which unit do you belong to, and how far is your main force from here."

The scout’s lips pressed together, his gaze dropping to the ground as if Lucas had never spoken at all.

Jennifer crossed her arms slowly. "He heard you," she said, her eyes sharp. "He just decided not to answer." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Lucas exhaled through his nose, a slow measured breath. "I know," he replied. "I am giving him the chance to speak willingly."

Minutes passed, and the scout did not utter another word.

Bartho finally broke the silence with a low scoff. "You are wasting time, Commander," he said bluntly. "He is trained for this, probably fed lies about honor and sacrifice since he could walk. You want answers, you do not ask, you take them."

Lucas glanced back at him. "And how would you suggest we take them."

Bartho’s expression did not change. "Pain," he said simply. "Enough of it, and even the most loyal dog starts to bark."

The scout lifted his head at that, finally meeting Bartho’s gaze, and to Bartho’s clear irritation, there was no fear there at all, only a strange, hollow calm.

"You can try," the scout said quietly. "It will not change anything."

Jennifer stiffened immediately. "Absolutely not," she said, stepping forward. "He is already compromised from the poison attempt, if you push him too far his body might collapse before you get anything useful."

Bartho snorted. "That sounds like a healer’s excuse."

"It is a healer’s warning," Jennifer shot back. "And if he dies, you get nothing."

Lucas raised a hand, silencing them both without raising his voice. His eyes never left the scout.

"You see," Lucas said softly, "this is the part where you think your lack of fear makes you strong."

He leaned closer again, lowering himself to the scout’s eye level. "But all it tells me is that someone convinced you your life ended long before today."

The scout said nothing, but his fingers curled slowly into his palms.

Lucas straightened, turning slightly so the others could hear him clearly. "Torture gives unreliable answers," he said. "Pain makes people say whatever they think you want to hear, and Rus commanders are not stupid enough to send a scout carrying real secrets if fear alone could break him."

Bartho frowned. "Then what is your plan."

Lucas looked back down at the captive, his gaze thoughtful, almost distant. "We do not break his body," he said. "We break the story he has been clinging to."

The scout’s eyes narrowed slightly at that, the first crack in his composure.

"You are far from your camp," Lucas continued, his voice steady and unhurried. "Your message did not get through, your poison failed, and now you are alive in enemy hands. Whatever purpose you thought your death would serve is already gone."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"So you can stay silent," Lucas finished calmly, "or you can start talking and choose what your survival means from this point onward."

The scout swallowed hard but said nothing, his face still unreadable, his resolve unbroken for now, and Lucas knew this would not be decided by force or haste, but by patience and the slow pressure of inevitability.

Lucas motioned subtly with two fingers, and Bartho and Jennifer followed him a short distance away from the bound scout, far enough that their voices would not carry but close enough that nothing escaped their awareness. Lucas folded his arms, his gaze briefly drifting back to the young man before returning to them, and a quiet heaviness settled in his chest as patterns he had seen too many times before aligned themselves.

"He is not fearless," Lucas said in a low voice, more to himself than to them at first. "He is detached."

Jennifer tilted her head slightly, understanding dawning in her eyes. "You think someone else is paying the price for his failure."

Lucas nodded slowly. "Usurpers are fond of that method. They do not just train loyalty, they manufacture it. A mother, a sibling, a lover, someone kept just close enough to hurt. If he succeeds, they live. If he fails, they suffer." His jaw tightened. "That is why he tried to poison himself without hesitation. Dead men cannot be interrogated, and dead men cannot betray those they are protecting."

Jennifer’s lips pressed together as she glanced back at the scout. "That would explain the tear I saw," she said quietly. "Not fear for himself, but panic that he was still alive."

Bartho scoffed, clearly unconvinced. "You are assuming too much," he said, arms crossed. "Soldiers are taught to die. They do not need hostages to make men stubborn."

Lucas turned to him fully now, his scarred face unreadable but his eyes sharp. "Then answer me this," he said calmly. "If he was only loyal to them, why attempt suicide instead of resisting interrogation longer. Why not scream slogans, curse us, or provoke us into killing him. Why choose the fastest end possible."

Bartho opened his mouth, then hesitated, his brow furrowing despite himself.

Jennifer exhaled softly. "People who believe only in a cause usually want to be seen dying for it," she said. "He wanted to disappear quietly."

Bartho’s jaw clenched. "Even if you are right, what does that change," he asked bluntly. "We still need information, and he is still refusing to speak."

"It changes everything," Lucas replied. "Because pain will not work on someone who believes suffering buys safety for someone else. Torture will only convince him that dying faster is the right choice."

Bartho shook his head. "And kindness will suddenly make him talk."

Lucas did not answer immediately. His thoughts drifted briefly, unbidden, to his sister on the train, to the way helplessness had carved itself into his bones in that final moment, and when he spoke again his voice carried a quiet certainty that cut through the argument.

"No," Lucas said. "But understanding might."

Jennifer looked at him carefully. "What are you planning."

Lucas glanced back at the scout again, noting the way the young man’s shoulders were rigid, the way his eyes flicked toward the horizon as if measuring time rather than distance. "I am going to make him realize that silence does not guarantee safety," he said. "And that speaking might."

Bartho frowned deeply. "You are going to lie to him."

"I am going to give him a choice," Lucas corrected. "One that the usurpers never intended him to have."

Jennifer nodded slowly. "I will stand with you," she said. "But we need to be careful. If we push too hard, he might break in the wrong way."

Bartho let out a frustrated breath. "And if he does not talk at all," he asked, his voice low. "What then."

Lucas met his gaze evenly. "Then we adapt," he said. "But we do not become what they expects us to be."

Lucas turned back toward the scout, already preparing himself for the next exchange.