Chapter 403 - 175: Futile Struggle
The interrogation lasted the entire night.
The natives were called one by one, returning in a daze, sitting blankly on the wooden boards as if their souls had been extracted.
Werner waited anxiously, observing the expressions of these people, hoping to glean some information in advance.
But without being able to communicate verbally, he couldn’t understand anything, so he could only sit on the boards and await his fate obediently—
Among all the captives, he was the last in line.
...
Finally, the long agony came to an end as Sunday’s finger pointed at Werner.
Like all the previous natives, Werner followed behind Saturday, leaving the campfire and heading up the slope.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, with the thin morning light accompanied by the unextinguished lamps from the watchtower illuminating the path to the platform.
After entering the cave courtyard gate, with just one turn, they arrived at the core area on the island that Chen Zhou had been building for nearly three years.
...
Werner knew in his heart that he had entered the most crucial and dangerous place.
As a captive, he ought to restrain his eyes and not peek at things he shouldn’t, as that would bring him disaster.
But he couldn’t contain his curiosity, or rather, he couldn’t suppress the inner disdain from the Civilized World. Even while following behind Saturday with his head down, he was still sneakily glancing around with his restless eyes.
The neatly paved courtyard bricks, the large glass floor-to-ceiling windows, the stacked wooden boxes inside, various pieces of 17th-century style furniture...
The arrangement inside the cave astonished Werner.
Before entering here, he had two assumptions.
One was that the "ghosts" lived like the primitive natives, surely using all sorts of primitive wooden and pottery tools, living a simple life like Wild Monkeys.
The other assumption was that the living environment of the "ghosts" must be filled with devices beyond his imagination, as luxurious as the residence of the queen’s court artisans.
Otherwise, how could the "ghosts" have created such advanced firearms?
He never expected this residence to be decorated like their Captain’s cabin or First Mate’s cabin, only differing in structure and some details, with similarly styled furniture placed inside.
Before he could think it through or further scrutinize the furnishings inside, Saturday turned right at the front, and Werner had to limp along—he definitely didn’t want to receive a whipping.
...
The "interrogation room" still only lit by a dim oil lamp.
Stepping inside, the view immediately darkened.
Like all the previous natives who came here, as soon as Werner passed through the short, narrow corridor, Chen Zhou grabbed him by his clothes and tossed him behind the long table.
His ankle was injured, and he’d been working all afternoon, without any time to rest. Thrown behind the long table, relying solely on one leg, it was entirely impossible to maintain balance, and he tumbled like a gourd into the wall behind the chair, collapsing to the ground.
"Damn it!"
He instinctively cursed at this rude behavior.
In Werner’s heart, the hatred for the "ghosts" instantly surpassed that for Sunday, making him the person he most wanted to kill.
But this was on Chen Zhou’s turf.
With just a look, Saturday got the signal, leapt over the long table, gave Werner a hard slap, then kicked him in the back, ordering him to get up immediately and sit on the chair.
Though he couldn’t understand the native language, violence was a form of communication.
No matter how painful his foot was, for the sake of his own neck, Werner had to bear the pain, using all his strength to climb up and sit on the chair.
...
Just as he sat on the chair, not yet adjusted to a comfortable position, his hands and feet were swiftly tied by Saturday.
His entire body was pressed against the back of the chair, facing Chen Zhou, and almost reflexively, Werner wanted to lower his head to avoid the "ghost’s" gaze.
However, Saturday wouldn’t allow this—Werner’s hair was yanked, forcing him to slightly tilt his head upward, facing the tall man in the dim light.
Feeling remorseful about his earlier cursing, realizing the gravity of the situation, Werner quickly began to plead.
Under the threat of death, this cunning deceiver unleashed the best acting of his life.
His trembling voice, his sobbing tone, his tears and snot, his sincere words and deep emotions would move even the most cold-blooded Judge.
...
However, unfortunately, Chen Zhou couldn’t understand Spanish, only finding this brown-haired man’s performance particularly comical.
He raised his hand and lightly pressed the switch of a bright flashlight.
At the moment the beam was emitted, the entire world seemed to instantly shift from dawn to noon.
The intense light made it impossible for Werner to open his eyes.
His originally clear consciousness plunged into confusion along with the strong light—
"Oh, God!
What on earth is this?"
Werner considered himself someone with little faith in God, a common fault among sailors.
Usually, invoking God’s name was just rhetoric or out of habit.
But at this moment, seeing the intense light in the dark room, he truly couldn’t comprehend what produced such dazzling brilliance.
"Could it be that magic really exists in this world?
’Ghosts’ are wizards living in the depths of the sea?
Or is there truly someone who can communicate with God, unlike those imposters in the church who secretly meddle with young boys..."
...
The more ignorant a person is, the more indifferent they are to things beyond imagination, feeling it to be nothing extraordinary.
Werner happened to fall into that stage of having some knowledge but not full understanding.