Chapter 104: The Imperial March and a Confession of Peeking

Ye Xingchen gazed down upon the three individuals prostrate before him.

The palpable aura of a Saint enveloped them, pressing down with tangible weight.

From behind him, the cheerful voices of Mu Wanqing and Qizai, discussing the plot of Ultraman, allowed his taut nerves to somewhat unwind.

He was relieved to have intervened promptly, sparing his dear friend from any lasting psychological trauma.

He instinctively reached up to touch the Ultraman mask covering his face.

This alchemical creation, fashioned with a grotesque, acid-scarred aesthetic, certainly proved its worth at times like these.

After all, Su Liyue’s exquisite features were simply too striking.

Coupled with her current strength, merely at the Disciple level, should her face be noted by those with malicious intent…

He recalled his recent experiment, using Su Liyue’s magic to create an entrance BGM.

The sound effects generated by the wind magic vibrating the air still lacked a certain gravitas compared to Chief Qiao’s legendary entrance theme from his memories.

The original Ultraman theme song, it seemed, was indeed ill-suited for combat scenarios.

Perhaps next time, he ought to try “Scarlet Sky.”

That, after all, was the VIP high-quality version, only accessible after a special ‘green diamond’ subscription back in the day.

A spark ignited in Ye Xingchen’s eyes as this thought crossed his mind.

If sound waves could be simulated with magic, then by integrating principles of alchemy, he might truly be able to create an otherworldly version of a magical sound system.

Compared to Earth’s reliance on charging devices, a design that directly drew elemental energy would not only be eco-friendly, but would also effortlessly resolve any issues of power longevity.

Suddenly, he noticed Su Liyue’s fingers were unconsciously tapping out a musical rhythm in the air, mirroring the beat in his own mind.

He quickly cleared his throat, forcing his mind back to the present task.

After all, three trembling informants still awaited their fate.

***

As the powerful music began to resonate once more.

The majestic strains of “The Imperial March” reverberated through the cavern.

Beneath his mask, Ye Xingchen’s lips curved into a faint smile, signifying his entrance into interrogation mode.

This soundtrack was, quite simply, tailor-made for interrogation.

Thanks to countless hours spent in his previous life consuming iconic villainous scenes, even the rhythm of his fingertips tapping the air now conveyed an elegant, yet palpable, sense of oppression.

The magical vibrations generated a bass so powerful it sent tremors through the cavern walls, dislodging dust.

Beneath the three black-clad figures, the very ground they knelt upon began to crack in a spiderweb pattern, pulverized by the sheer force of the aura.

The curved saber wielded by their leader emitted a strained hum, groaning under the immense pressure.

Its blade had been driven a full three inches into the solid rock.

“This Seat’s patience…” Ye Xingchen deliberately drew out the final syllable, watching as their cold sweat pooled into small puddles on the cavern floor.

“…is directly proportional to the duration of this music.” With that, he abruptly escalated his suppressive aura to the mid-Saint Realm.

With a sharp ‘crack,’ the skull ornament on one of the black-clad figures’ gauntlets suddenly shattered.

The three men now felt like fragile bubbles plunged into the crushing depths of the ocean, their very bones emitting a perilous grinding sound.

“S-Senior!” The leader’s face was practically pressed into the earth, each breath a torturous gasp, as if he were inhaling and exhaling razor blades.

“We’ll… cough, cough… we’ll confess to everything! Even peeking into the women’s bathhouse as children!”

Ye Xingchen nearly lost control of his power; the wretched aura emanating from these scoundrels was disturbingly reminiscent of Earth’s common street thugs.

Though he forcefully suppressed the surging anger within him, he inadvertently disturbed the spiritual energy around his body, causing the magical melody, manipulated by Su Liyue in his arms, to suddenly become erratic.

“Deng—ge—!”

From within the solemn Imperial March, a few piercing wails of a suona, reminiscent of the song “Anxiety,” abruptly erupted.

Their peculiar cries echoed eerily throughout the deep cavern.

The fluorescent moss clinging to the cavern walls was dislodged by the sound waves, showering the three figures in an eerie green light.

The curved saber, still embedded in the ground, began to vibrate at a high frequency, emitting a grating screech akin to fingernails dragging across a blackboard.

The three black-clad figures convulsed violently.

Never had they witnessed such a bizarre spectacle.

An entrance accompanied by its own soundtrack was already unprecedented; now, this interrogation was being conducted with such a soul-shaking, discordant accompaniment.

Each shriek of the suona seemed to pierce directly into their very souls.

“Se-Senior, spare our lives! This music… no… this pressure is making my brain boil!” The black-clad figure with the skull ornament suddenly clutched his head.

Ye Xingchen snapped his fingers, and the discordant notes finally ceased, the melody returning to its proper majestic form.

As the background music abruptly reverted to its normal tempo, the pupils of the three black-clad figures constricted sharply.

They had never encountered a being capable of transforming mere melodies into tangible, oppressive force.

Now, even the notes dancing in the air felt like harbingers of death, amplifying their terror beyond measure.

“This Seat asks, you answer.

Why are you, individuals from the Xuanhuang Divine Domain Empire, present here at the border of the Aetherland Empire?” Ye Xingchen’s voice, deep and chilling, continued the interrogation, while Su Liyue subtly adjusted the background music’s rhythm.

“Divulge everything you know, every secret concerning this place, without omitting a single word.”

A soft chuckle emanated from beneath the silver-white mask.

The music abruptly shifted key, and an invisible, palpable pressure settled over the entire cavern.

“Should there be a single false word,”

From the cavern ceiling, a wisp of starlight suddenly descended, etching bottomless chasms into the rock at their feet.

As the music swelled into the sudden, fervent strains of “Requiem for the Dead,” the latter half of his sentence, though spoken softly, carried the crushing weight of a mountain:

“Within three breaths, your souls shall scatter.”

The final words were uttered with an unsettling nonchalance, yet, amplified by the music’s dramatic swell, they conveyed a suffocating sense of dread.

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