Chapter 1103: Torture (Part 1)

When Malashenko really walked up to him, the SS soldier who was knocked to the ground by the butt of a rifle still hadn't recovered.

Lying on his back means he was breathing out more than breathing in, but he wasn't dying yet. At most, he was hit so hard that he couldn't recover immediately and needed some time. Seeing that the guy was not in danger of death, Malashenko squatted quietly beside him to see when he could catch his breath.

"Hey, you're not dead yet?"

Malashenko spoke in German, which really surprised the SS soldier who was lying on his back.

"Bah! Russian pig, inferior! Are you proud of being able to speak German? You will always be inferior!"

Although he was lying on the ground and had not had time to stand up, the SS soldier's foul language and gentle manners did not stop. He basically pointed at Malashenko's nose and started to curse directly. It was a blessing in disguise that his saliva did not fly on Comrade Lao Ma's face.

"Ah"

Malashenko seemed to be a little disappointed and sighed softly. He immediately reached out and patted the face of the SS soldier who had a big bump on his head.

The inconspicuous little action had an obvious insult. Feeling that he had been humiliated, the SS soldier immediately wanted to struggle to get up and do something.

Unfortunately, the burly Red Army soldiers surrounding him would not let him do what he wanted. With his legs and arms pinned down, it was unrealistic to get up and do something. He could only struggle like a maggot on the ground, unable to get away.

"Let me make it clear to you in advance. I don't have much time to waste my words with you. You just answer whatever I ask. I don't have time to listen to your foul mouth, and I don't want to know your bullshit leader and faith loyalty. You just need to know that I can kill people, I dare to kill people, and I prefer to kill people like you who are worse than pigs and dogs, and beasts in human skin. Do you understand?"

Malachenko explained the situation for the last time, but the SS soldier who was pinned to the ground still looked extremely rampant.

"Shut up, Russian! I won't answer any of your questions, and you can't get any answers from me! Long live the Führer! Long live Germany!"

"What on earth is this bastard yelling? Is he mentally ill? I think Malashenko is wasting his time."

Lavrinenko, who was watching the show on the side, saw this scene and couldn't help but complain to Kurbalov beside him.

"I don't know, but I think as long as it's done by the brigade commander, it must be meaningful. Comrade deputy brigade commander, I think we just need to wait here for a while and wait and see.

Lavrinenko did not get recognition from Kurbalov, and then turned his head again to look at Malashenko who was still "wasting time". Lavrinenko, who didn't understand German at all and was not interested in this rubbish language, could only shake his head.

"What can a normal person communicate with a madman? I think this German bastard is a psychopath, crazy. "

Kurbalov did not respond, but chose to continue to be a bystander and watch, while Malashenko's personal interrogation continued.

"The first question is, how many troops did your division have before this battle? I want specific numbers. "

No matter how badly the SS-1st-level assault captain on the ground cursed, Malashenko seemed to be deaf to it and continued to ask questions without changing his expression. However, this situation was regarded by the irritable brother on the ground as weakness and actively lowering his status to seek cooperation.

"Do you have dog shit in your ears? Russian shit, I said, I can't do it! ! ! ! ! ! "

Ah——

"You, you, my hand, how dare you! ? "

If it were possible and there was enough time, Malashenko would have plenty of ways to make this SS fanatic, who was as smelly and hard as a stone in the toilet, speak honestly.

When it comes to torture and torture, the "strange and lewd tricks" that have been passed down to this day in the Celestial Empire are simply too numerous to mention.

Not to mention a SS-level assault captain, even if Himmler was tied up and in his hands, Malashenko would be sure to make this gentle beast with eyes tell him what color and pattern his underwear was wearing today.

But now time is tight, and there is neither extra time nor suitable occasions and props for torture.

So, Malashenko chose a more straightforward method: ten fingers connected to the heart.

Working hard on fingers was one of the signature skills of torture in ancient Celestial Empire. First, the idiom "the fingers are connected to the heart" is not a joke. The pain from the fingers is generally stronger than other parts of the body and can pierce the heart.

Malashenko, who had already grasped the dagger in his hand, stabbed the SS-1st-level assault captain's fingernail and the flesh and bones of the index finger below. In an instant, the "flesh and bones were connected" and the candied haws were skewered on the spot.

The severe pain without any preparation and signs made the originally stubborn SS-1st-level assault captain grin with a distorted face and howl loudly.

The heart-wrenching painful wails resounded throughout the entire position where the afterglow of the war was still there, but Malashenko was smiling with the corners of his mouth raised.

Malashenko was not laughing for the pleasure of torturing people, that was really a bit perverted.

Malachenko was laughing at the German guy who looked like a stone in the toilet, smelly and hard, but once he started to do something with his body, he could tell from the painful wailing like a pig being slaughtered that the German guy's willpower was far less powerful than his mouth skills.

"Oh, listen to this sound, it seems that your body is more honest than your mouth, is that right?"

With a grim smile and sarcastic words, the SS-1st-level assault captain, whose facial features were distorted, looked angry and painful, at least that was the case in the eyes of ordinary people.

But in the eyes of Malachenko, who was the closest and squatting down to look directly at the other party, there was something different in this guy's eyes compared to before, and Malachenko called it "fear".

"You, you, I'm going to kill you! You Russian pig, bastard, inferior"

Puff--

Crack--

"Ah!!!"

Malashenko, who had no intention of saying anything more, saw that the drug was not strong enough, so he pulled out the knife instantly and then dropped it directly and accurately, piercing the fingernail in another instant, piercing the adjacent middle finger, and sinking into the soil.