Chapter 8: Methods (1)
Chapter Three: Methods
As Yan Chuan scrutinized the crowd, a sudden burst of arrogant shouting erupted from a distance.
Several soldiers were escorting a man dressed in luxurious robes.
“What do you think you’re doing? I am the young master of the Zhao family, Zhao Tiande! Are you all blind? Release me at once, or I’ll have your entire family executed!”
Zhao Tiande bellowed at the soldiers with brazen arrogance, but though their faces darkened, the soldiers did not let him go. They forced him to the bamboo hut.
Behind them, more soldiers carried the corpse of Ma Gongfeng and eight ceremonial banners.
“What’s your name? I’ll see your whole family executed!” Zhao Tiande shouted wildly.
Yan Chuan narrowed his eyes as he watched Zhao Tiande’s bluster.
“Execution of nine generations? Who gave you such authority?” Yan Chuan’s voice was icy.
Having now understood his own identity and status, Yan Chuan seized the moment to solidify his position.
He was a prince of equal rank to the Emperor of Yan—a title he disliked, yet could not deny. His status was on par with Emperor Yan himself, which meant he too was a sovereign in his own right.
The law is the backbone of the nation, inviolable. Execution of nine generations is the gravest sentence, reserved only for crimes that threaten the imperial authority, and such a judgment can only be decreed by an emperor. In the state of Yan, only Emperor Yan—and now Yan Chuan—held that power. Not even the head of the Zhao family, let alone the young master, had the right to invoke such a sentence.
With just one sentence, Yan Chuan drew Zhao Tiande’s glare.
A sneer curled Zhao Tiande’s lips. “Heh, Yan Chuan, you wretch, do you even know who I am? You’d better release me now, and I’ll pretend nothing happened!”
“Your Highness,” a middle-aged eunuch immediately explained, “the Zhao family is one of Yan’s great clans. The patriarch has even been granted the title of Prince with a Different Surname, wielding immense power—he commands thirty percent of our military, much of it stationed nearby. This Zhao Tiande holds the rank of Marquis, known as Marquis of Virtue.”
“Hah! Now I remember—your soul-loss ailment hasn’t healed, has it? You lose your memory once a year. Now do you recall who I am? Release me at once, or the Zhao army will level this place!” Zhao Tiande ranted with renewed bravado.
Yan Chuan fixed him with a cold stare and interrupted in a deep voice, “Marquis of Virtue? As an official of Yan, you dare show such contempt for the royal family? Slap his mouth! Huo Guang, carry out the punishment!”
“Yes, Your Highness!” Huo Guang rose from his kneeling position.
Clenching his fist, Huo Guang stepped forward.
“What do you think you’re doing? Anyone who dares strike me will have their family executed!” Zhao Tiande shrieked, his face twisted with rage.
With a resounding slap, a crimson handprint bloomed on Zhao Tiande’s cheek.
“You dare hit me?”
Slap! Slap! Slap! One after another.
Yan Chuan did not call for a halt. Huo Guang’s hand rose and fell relentlessly, and in moments, Zhao Tiande’s face was swollen and distorted, his speech slurred, his arrogance shattered by terror.
“Stop! Please, stop!” Zhao Tiande begged desperately.
But the slaps continued, merciless and unceasing.
“I beg you, stop! My teeth are falling out—please, no more!”
Yan Chuan watched coldly as the arrogance drained from Zhao Tiande, replaced by helpless terror. With nowhere to run, he could only plead for mercy.
“Enough!” Yan Chuan commanded.
Immediately, Huo Guang withdrew. Zhao Tiande, clutching his face, staggered to the ground, his eyes wide with fear as he looked at Huo Guang. Only when the punishment ended did he lower his hand, but his face was grotesquely swollen.
Fearful and resentful, he glared at Huo Guang with venom in his eyes.
Yan Chuan glanced at the remains of the old Daoist on the ground, whose body had been destroyed by his will. His gaze grew even colder.
“Speak—why did you plot against me? Tell me everything!” Yan Chuan demanded in a deep, unyielding voice.