Chapter 404 - 175: Futile Struggle
The impact of the strong flashlight on him was far greater than the shock it caused to the natives.
...
Seeing the brown-haired fellow already in the same "shocked" state as the natives, Chen Zhou didn’t give him a chance to recover and immediately began the interrogation.
He first attempted to communicate with the brown-haired guy using "broken English."
It was clear that the man had some understanding of English and seemed to comprehend parts of it, but the difference between 17th-century and 21st-century English was simply too vast.
It was as if a thousand-word article was placed before him, and the reader only recognized a few words, making it impossible for him to summarize what the article was about.
Werner, being unlearned, could only understand English because he had lived at sea for many years and had interactions with the British, learning some nautical terms and swear words.
If he were to communicate with the British of his time, he might not even manage, let alone with Chen Zhou, the "man from the future" with 21st-century Chinese accent.
...
Seeing the brown-haired man frown and listen seriously for a long time yet still in confusion, unable to utter a word, Chen Zhou knew that communication through language was impossible.
So, he took out the paper and pen he had prepared long ago, turned off the strong flashlight, and began to try written communication.
Of course, 17th-century English was quite different from 21st-century English too.
Even with the Bible, he could only understand a few words, and as for the labels on the ship’s medicine, he relied half on spelling and half on guessing, so he didn’t dare to consume any of the medicine.
As for this brown-haired guy, he was even worse in English reading than Chen Zhou.
None of the simple words written on the paper was recognized by the brown-haired guy.
Realizing that showing English to this prisoner was like playing a lute to a cow, Chen Zhou resorted to his last trick—simple drawings.
...
Several attempts at communication came to nothing, Werner already sensed that if he didn’t contribute some useful information soon, his fate wouldn’t be good.
After unbinding his restrained arms, he didn’t even take the chance to rub his eyes sore from the flashlight’s glare; instead, he picked up a pen and began to "describe" the important information he knew.
In a moment of desperation, Werner directly disrupted his previous plan and first mentioned the treasure of the Inca Kingdom, hoping this "bombshell" would increase his chance of survival.
He didn’t notice the pristine, smooth paper he was using, nor did he pay attention to the elegantly designed pen in his hand.
Under the faint light of the oil lamp, only the rustling of the pen tip could be heard repeatedly in the interrogation room.
...
Werner had a certain talent for drawing.
He quickly drew an Indian with a feather crown, then with a few strokes sketched out the legendary Golden Temple, Golden Palace, and Golden Sun God Statue.
After conveying all elements symbolizing wealth, Werner drew a small island on the paper.
On the edge of the island, he drew a few small wooden huts, further away, there were a few simple-lined figures digging pits, with several large wooden boxes placed beside the pits.
Werner excitedly pointed at the boxes, then drew a long line connecting the boxes with the Golden Temple, raising his head to look at Chen Zhou expectantly.
He hoped to see greed and frenzy for wealth on this mysterious "phantom’s" face, which would signify his chance for survival.
...
However, Chen Zhou’s face, half-illuminated and half-shadowed, remained calm, without a trace of emotion.
The 17th-century Spaniards painstakingly buried the goods they brought from South America; what else could it be but treasure?
Having heard Werner’s description, Chen Zhou already had a guess about what the Spaniards had buried in the cargo boxes.
The brown-haired man’s actions merely confirmed his guess and were not enough to surprise him.
...
"Is there more?"
Chen Zhou leaned over the long table, pulled the A4 paper from Werner’s hand, snatched the pen, and inquired through drawings for more details.
For example, the total number of ships in the fleet, the number of sailors, the number of cannons, the number of firearms, and the size of the ships.
...
These specific questions made Werner realize that this "phantom" before him seemed to have far greater courage and ambition than he had imagined.
He not only wasn’t afraid of their fleet but was even planning to confront them head-on.
"What exactly gives him such confidence?
Is it that beam of white light?
Damn it!
What other means does he have—my God, could he really be a Devil from Hell?"
Taking the pen, his wrist hovering over the paper, Werner didn’t know if he should reveal everything he knew.
Where the treasure was buried only concerned his own life, but the scale and equipment of the fleet involved far more than just himself. Even though he was always adept at deception, he couldn’t help but hesitate in the face of such serious consequences.
"He doesn’t know the truth anyway, why not deceive him?
Should I exaggerate the strength of the fleet, or portray it truthfully?
Judging by his appearance, he seems to know something about firearms and ships; if I double the number of ships in the fleet, would that scare him off and make him release me?"
Werner’s mind was racing, yet he hadn’t found an appropriate choice when he suddenly felt light-handed—
The pen had returned to the "phantom."
...
"Since you’re unwilling to betray your companions, I will respect your choice!"
Knowing that this brown-haired man was indecisive and was surely trying to figure out how to deceive him.