CHAPTER 525: 527. MENTAL TORTURE

Alcibiades was a charming rogue with high emotional and intellectual intelligence.

When he wanted to win someone’s heart, he couldn’t act like a clingy sycophant, desperate to be by their side every moment.

After verbally introducing a task to Lann, he left without any hesitation.

To be honest, Lann somewhat wished he would linger. That way, he would have an excuse to punch him in the stomach...

But unfortunately, that punch never came.

Lann, bored, turned his wrist and found himself in front of a sizable workshop.

Around the workshop were many marble or bronze sculptures on open ground.

There were sculptures of eagles poised for flight on pedestals, and naked warriors battling sea monsters... a variety of styles.

However, the general theme was the display of the power and beauty of musculature and form – very typical of Ancient Greek sculpture style.

This was Phidias’s sculpture workshop.

In Athens, artists and philosophers were highly revered. Therefore, with Phidias’s sculptural expertise, his personal workshop was almost as large as a warehouse in Piraeus Harbor.

As Lann walked through the wide-open door of the workshop, he saw scaffolding, pulley systems, and other equipment, along with massive chunks of marble.

The tools for making large sculptures, at a glance, looked a lot like quarry tools.

"Is anyone here? Mr. Phidias?"

Lann’s call echoed throughout the workshop.

From the second floor of the workshop, following the Demon Hunter’s call, there came the sudden sound of something falling.

Lann, arms crossed, silently watched the direction of the sound.

After a while, a marble piece the size of a walnut was thrown from the second floor by a trembling hand.

The fairly high-quality piece of stone didn’t even fall within two meters of where Lann was standing and just made a small pit in the sandy ground before coming to a stop.

"Go away! I’ve called the guards! Pericles arranged for guards near the workshop! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave!"

The voice was rather manly in tone, but the words and manner were like those of a frightened child.

Lann’s footsteps on the yellow earth were nearly imperceptible as he easily approached a workshop pillar.

Then he adjusted his breathing, and the Light Body Skill gave his body significant buoyancy in the air.

With a quick forward rush, he pushed off the wooden pillar twice, reaching up to grasp the platform over four meters high on the second floor.

The loudest part of the whole maneuver was about as much noise as someone walking normally.

So when Lann stood behind Phidias, looking down at the master sculptor squatting behind the second-floor railing, Phidias was still anxiously looking downstairs.

"Have they left?"

Only his eyes visible, Phidias peered downstairs.

"Not at all, Mr. Phidias."

The sudden voice from behind made the sculptor abruptly sit down on the floor. He turned around in a panic, only to see Lann, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, looking down at him expressionlessly.

"Alcibiades mentioned you’re feeling troubled recently, so he paid to commission me to help you."

The assertive and clear self-introduction left no room for panic.

Lann now had learned, very well, from the memories of the Sons of the Emperor, how to judge and influence people’s emotions.

So Phidias almost instinctively grabbed Lann’s outstretched hand and was pulled to his feet.

"Do you need to confirm with him?"

After pulling up his mission target, Lann asked him.

Phidias opened his mouth but then shook his head.

"If you’re a mercenary with a face like that, I fully understand why Alcibiades would hire you. This is definitely something he would do."

As he spoke, he moved over and picked up the hammer and chisel he used for sculpting, putting them back in place.

"Sorry, if I had met you before, I would have been compelled to sketch your face and then start sculpting it. But now... I don’t even want to finish the orders I have."

Phidias was a middle-aged man with black hair and a beard, wearing a robe that exposed his right shoulder and half of his chest, although maybe for work convenience, it was only a knee-length tunic.

He should have been in the prime of life, with a leisurely job with food and clothing security, but he now bore heavy dark circles, appearing dazed as if suffering from nervous breakdown.

"Can you tell me what happened? From Alcibiades’ words, it sounded like it was done by a fanatical admirer. But seeing how tormented you are, I’m having doubts."

Lann patted Phidias on the shoulder, offering the man a rare sense of security.

Finally, Phidias could relax and sit down, burying his face in his hands.

"They are demons!" he said muffled, with a hint of sob.

"I don’t mean the mythical kind, but their malicious hearts are just as evil as any mythological demon!"

"They stalk me, chase me, at home, in the workshop, they open my letters, turn over my things..."

Phidias listed many behaviors that in Lann’s dictionary could align with a group known as ’fanatical fans.’

But then, Phidias lifted his buried head slightly, revealing a frightened eye through the crook of his arm.

The panic in that eye... was intensely alarming.

This wasn’t the kind of pressure a mere ’fanatical fan’ could exert on a person.

Lann realized this instantly.

"And those demons, those demons... They deliberately let me know they were doing these things! Many times it was intentionally for me to find out!"

From this sentence on, Lann’s eyes narrowed slightly.

This was becoming interesting.

Allowing the monitored ones to realize their situation, the implicit threat imposed upon them causes a psychological pressure that endlessly escalates until it drives them insane!

In Lann’s homeland, there was a world-famous author who was driven to mental breakdown and then suicide by the national intelligence agency through this method.

And this author was renowned for his ’spirit of effort.’

Even so, at the time of his suicide, he was like a frightened child.

And in an era when even physical diseases are only at a rudimentary stage of understanding, there are people, an organization, who can study the principle of mental torture to this degree?

Recalling Erpinuo’s smile, unwavering even as he lay dying.

Lann felt he might be onto something here.

"They let you discover you were being watched... did you see anything?"

"A silver helmet and visor... They carved the visor into an old wise man... I caught a glimpse through my window. I’ll never forget that night’s glimpse!"

Seeing Phidias curled up into a ball, Lann’s thin lips turned up slightly.

’Divine Teachings’... I’ve caught a tail!