The Blood Crown - Chapter 281

Since Yan Sikong killed Xie Zhongren, the eunuch faction had fallen, and this once-powerful chief eunuch had been imprisoned in the imperial prison for three years.

Initially, Emperor Zhaowu did not execute him, even allowing him to “live out his old age” in prison. One reason was due to his years of service, and the other was because he was used as a condition in peace talks with the Feng family. He had once enjoyed the height of wealth and power, and even though imprisoned, he still dreamed of a comeback. But when he learned that the wolf king had entered the capital, he realized that the “good death” he had hoped for was no longer possible.

Emperor Zhaowu needed someone to take the blame for the Feng family’s wrongful case, and who else could it be but Xie Zhongren?

Thus, despite his countless crimes and the irrefutable evidence against him, he had lived for three years in the infamous imperial prison, only to be sentenced to death by slow slicing a few days after the wolf king entered the capital.

On the day of execution, the weather was warm and sunny, and the vast Forbidden City was empty, with thousands gathered at the execution grounds in the West Market, where the crowd stretched as far as the eye could see.

Feng Ye sat at the main position of the execution platform, with Yan Sikong at his side. Xie Zhongren was bound to the execution frame, and with him were his family members, including those who had been spared by Emperor Zhaowu but had now been caught by Feng Ye—over six hundred people, including the elderly, women, and children, all without exception.

Yan Sikong’s vacant eyes scanned the trembling death row prisoners, among whom were innocent women and children. He thought back to the time when he had watched his adoptive father Yuan Mao be decapitated on the execution platform, and to the over two hundred members of the Feng family wrongfully executed. His heart stirred for a moment, but soon returned to calm. Both he and Feng Ye had learned a crucial lesson from their ancestors—and from themselves—“When cutting weeds, you must remove the roots.”

The executioner began to read aloud Xie Zhongren’s crimes, each word soaked in blood and tears, and it took a full hour to finish. When the wrongful execution of Yuan Mao twenty years ago was read, Yan Sikong’s face turned pale, his hands gripping the armrests as he tried to suppress the trembling in his shoulders.

Feng Ye glanced at Yan Sikong and said softly, “You’ve finally cleared General Yuan’s name.”

Yan Sikong replied quietly, “Yes… but sadly, only I can see this.”

“From today on, the whole world will know, just like my father’s name for loyalty and righteousness will be passed down for generations, General Yuan will also be remembered forever.” Feng Ye looked at his enemy bound to the execution frame, his eyes filled with cold contempt. “Their spirits are watching.”

Yan Sikong silently thought, “Father, can you see? You can finally rest in peace.”

After the charges were read, it was almost noon, and the executioner asked Feng Ye for permission to carry out the execution.

With no expression on his face, Feng Ye picked up the fire seal and raised it. The tens of thousands in the execution grounds began to cry out loudly. Feng Ye furrowed his brow, hesitated for only a moment, then threw the fire seal with a sharp snap, and it landed on the ground.

The executioners raised their large knives in unison and struck down in perfect coordination.

In an instant, the blades rose and fell, and blood poured out in torrents, with heads rolling.

The scene of Yuan Mao’s execution kept flashing before Yan Sikong’s eyes. That nightmare-like image, which he thought would have blurred over the years, became terrifyingly clear again as it overlapped with the fresh bloodshed before him.

His head spun, and his chest and heart seemed to be splitting with pain.

Xie Zhongren, bound to the execution frame, watched his family members being beheaded one by one. At first, he screamed and cried, but as the executions continued, he became numb, staring vacantly at the bodies of those who had been alive just moments ago.

Executing six hundred people in one go, the execution ground turned into a river of blood, and even those who had seen countless battles could not remain unmoved.

Feng Ye’s face was tight, cold as a hellish demon. It had been a long time since such bloodshed had occurred in the Forbidden city. The victors and the vanquished were now clearly evident.

His actions were not only for revenge. Since entering the capital, he had encountered numerous officials who were unwilling to submit. This was also a warning to others.

After the six hundred were executed, it was time for Xie Zhongren.

The executioner was a physician from the Imperial Medical Department, whose entire family had been ruined by Xie Zhongren. He volunteered to do the dirty work.

The jailers stripped Xie Zhongren of his clothes, exposing his frail and hideous body to the masses. Over the years, the common people had suffered greatly because of him and hated him with a passion. Shouts of anger and cries for vengeance filled the air.

The physician held a knife as thin as a cicada’s wing. He would use it to slowly slice through Xie Zhongren’s skin, piece by piece, until he died.

As the first cut was made, Xie Zhongren began to tremble violently, and the entire execution frame shook with the intensity of his pain.

Yan Sikong gritted his teeth and watched without blinking.

He wanted to take in every moment of this eunuch’s pain, regret, and fear, as a tribute to his parents and adoptive father in the afterlife. He had sacrificed half of his life for this day.

At first, Xie Zhongren tried to endure, but after a few cuts, he couldn’t help but let out a blood-curdling scream. He was gagged, unable to speak clearly, but through the mumbling, one could make out his curses and insults directed at Yan Sikong.

Feng Ye thought of his father, who had died in his arms without being able to rest, of the tortures he had suffered in prison, of the humiliations he endured, and of the hardships he faced in his desperate escape. The hatred in his heart could not be erased. “He’s so old, I wonder how many more cuts he can endure.”

“Master Jin is highly skilled,” Yan Sikong said, suddenly standing up.

“What are you doing?”

Ignoring the question, Yan Sikong took a few steps forward toward the execution platform. Feng Ye furrowed his brow as he watched him.

Yan Sikong reached Xie Zhongren’s side. His body was riddled with bloody wounds, and the sight was so gruesome that it would haunt anyone for a lifetime.

Xie Zhongren weakly opened his swollen eyes. From those blurred pupils, deep fear and hatred shot out.

Yan Sikong calmly looked at him. “It took me twenty years to get to this day, but unfortunately, no one will avenge you now, because they are all dead.”

Xie Zhongren struggled violently.

Yan Sikong suddenly picked up a piece of Xie Zhongren’s flesh from the plate beside Jin Taiyi. He looked at the bloody chunk and said calmly, “I once swore before my father’s grave that I would eat your flesh, drink your blood, use your bones as my pillow, and sleep on your skin.”

Xie Zhongren stared at Yan Sikong with wide eyes.

In front of tens of thousands of people at the execution ground, Yan Sikong unhesitatingly put the piece of meat into his mouth.

Xie Zhongren suddenly began to struggle madly, as if he had seen a terrifying ghost. Fear filled his gaunt, pale face.

Yan Sikong chewed slowly, enduring waves of nausea, and softly said, “Hmm, it’s rotten.” He suddenly grabbed the plate and threw the piece of meat into the crowd of onlookers.

The crowd was furious and rushed to grab the meat, venting their hatred for this world’s most treacherous eunuch.

In the spring of the thirty-ninth year of the reign of Emperor Zhaowu, Xie Zhongren was sentenced to the Lingchi (slow slicing) execution in the Western Market, dying after receiving two thousand six hundred and fourteen cuts. The entire world applauded.

—

After Xie Zhongren’s death, Yan Sikong locked himself in his room for an entire day and night.

He thought about everything and nothing, as if the weight that had pushed him for twenty years had suddenly disappeared, and now, he didn’t know how to move forward.

He suddenly looked back at his life and realized that apart from his life, he had nothing else. As a young man, he had been full of ambition, believing that with his extraordinary talents, he would make a name for himself in this world. Now, he had gained notoriety, and his fame, reputation, and achievements were all in ruins. His ideals and ambitions had become nothing, and most of his friends and loved ones had turned against him. He lived in a way that might be worse than a common peasant. What did he have left?

He had avenged his father, but then what?

Had he been too clever for his own good, walked himself into a dead end, and realized just how foolish he had been? But what could he do now but see it through?

How could this be?

How could this happen?!

He knew that now was not the time to wallow in self-pity. There were still unfinished matters; he needed to save Yuan Nanyu, and he couldn’t let Han Zhaoxing go. But if he succeeded in these, then what?

Would he continue to stir up storms in the world simply because he needed a reason to live?

In this world, no one truly cared for him or needed him. He had no place to call home. He was like a floating weed, grabbing onto whatever he could, but never having anything permanent.

He had once pinned his hopes on Feng Ye, thinking that he was the one meant to accompany him through life. But later… well, let’s not speak of that.

There had never been a moment when he felt so strongly that he was a useless person. He had once lived for revenge, but after that, what should he live for?

It was truly laughable. How ridiculous his life had been.

—

No matter how despondent he was, when Yan Sikong appeared before others, he still showed no sign of weakness. Wearing the title of Grand Tutor, he could roam freely in the capital, though he was always followed by guards sent by Feng Ye.

After Xie Zhongren’s death, Feng Ye began purging those who opposed him in the capital. Those who could be captured were captured, those who could be punished were punished, and those who could be killed were killed. The city was in a state of terror, and the people could see how much colder and more tyrannical the Wolf King had become. After all, no one could resist the temptation and corruption of absolute power. No one.

Yan Sikong was still thinking about Yuan Nanyu, so he had to actively seek out Feng Ye, hoping to persuade him to show some mercy, seeing it as a way to win people’s hearts.

Feng Ye had been busy dealing with his enemies for days. When he saw Yan Sikong, he said with displeasure, “So you’ve finally come to see me on your own.”

“I came to inquire about Que Wang’s whereabouts.”

“Feng Guozhang has already gone to act as an intermediary. There’s no news yet today, but don’t worry, Chen Mu won’t dare to act rashly against Que Wang. I hold his father and siblings in my hands. Even if he hopes for them all to die, he still can’t let them die in front of the whole world.”

Yan Sikong nodded. “I heard that in the past two days, you’ve captured quite a few people.”

Feng Ye snorted coldly. “They’re old-fashioned, ungrateful. Since they’re so determined to martyr themselves for the foolish emperor, I’ll grant them their wish.”

“Only those truly loyal can adhere to the duties of a minister. If you kill them, you’ll only lose the people’s support. It’ll be counterproductive.”

Feng Ye’s face darkened. “If I don’t kill them, how will I deter the world? Only when the situation is stable can I rest the army and nourish the people. As long as they are fed, what is there to worry about gaining the people’s hearts?”

“The King’s Army is still surrounding the outer city, waiting for you to make a mistake. They’ll call upon the people to rise up against you.”

Feng Ye’s expression shifted. The King’s Army was the last obstacle to his control of the world, and right now, it was difficult to break through. A single misstep could undo everything. After thinking for a moment, he said, “I’ll detain them first and send someone to persuade them. They’d better not refuse the good offer and force me to resort to harsher measures.”

Yan Sikong sighed. Feng Ye had already controlled the capital and seemed to have victory in his grasp, but he didn’t bear the surname Chen. Could the Chen family, the lords of the land, allow their kingdom to fall into the hands of others? Outside the city, the army had surrounded the capital. Feng Ye, did he truly have the fate to rule the world?

—

Apologies, I’ve been very busy these past few days.