madnovel Chapter 31: The Ringleader Executed
Chapter 31: The Ringleader Executed
The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated, and the old locust tree cast a long shadow on the bluestone slabs. The town of Blackstone, steeped in three years of bloodshed, was suddenly ripped open by a roar as fierce as tearing silk. The roar of the crowd rolled through the streets and alleys, carrying the smells of earth and sweat, like a late summer torrent overflowing the paddy fields, making the faded "Peace" wooden sign at the town entrance vibrate loudly.
The bluestone of the platform was cool from the morning dew. The veins that had bulged when Zhang Bo swung his arm hadn't yet subsided, and his bark-like hands left damp marks on the stone. The stone tiger beneath the platform suddenly spun around, the muscles on his single arm taut like sun-dried cowhide. He brandished his gleaming woodcutter's knife high—the hilt blackened by sweat, the blade flashing a cold light in the rising sun, almost blinding. His roar, rough yet piercing, came from his throat like sandpaper: "Follow me—chop those man-eating beasts!"
"Let's go!" "Revenge!"
The voices of the twenty-three men rose in unison, not loud, but like the snapping of a broken string, carrying a resolute determination. In the past, they huddled in the dilapidated thatched huts of the refugee camp, their backs bent, but now, burning with the rage of blood feud, they felt no pain from bamboo shavings piercing their palms, nor did they take the scrapes of rusty knives on their fingertips as mere reminders. These simple tools, when raised, seemed as robust as old locust tree branches, exuding an aura of relentless, unyielding killing intent.
When Butcher Li stormed out of the butcher shop carrying his cleaver, the lard still clung to his apron. The stench of meat mixed with his anger from the blade stung his nose. Widow Liu's hands, gripping the doorframe lever, were sweaty. The lever, cleaved by her husband, still held a faint warmth in its grain, yet now trembled under her hand. More people rushed out of the houses, the handles of hoes worn smooth, the rolling pins smelling of flour, even half a brick clenched tightly, knuckles white. The crowd grew like a snowball, footsteps, panting, and curses mingling together into a surging tide of anger, rushing towards the courtyard with its vermilion lanterns in the center of town.
When Lin Yan's fingertips touched Su Qingyao's sleeve, he felt her arm was very taut, like a fully drawn bow. He gently tugged at it and whispered, "Let's go to the Demon Suppression Division first. Zhao Mang is in the late stage of Body Tempering, and his soldiers have some fighting ability. If we let them form a battle formation and counterattack, the townspeople will suffer heavy casualties." The thin calluses on his palm brushed against her sleeve, carrying a slight roughness left from practicing swordsmanship.
Su Qingyao's eyelashes trembled. The roars of the crowd still echoed in her ears, but she instantly calmed herself. She understood Lin Yan's meaning—Zhao Mang was the open weapon, Chen Fuhai was the hidden poison. If the open weapon wasn't eliminated, the people would be lambs to the slaughter. As she nodded, the silver hairpin in her hair swayed, revealing the small cinnabar mole behind her ear: "I'll go to the town mayor's office and keep an eye on Chen Fuhai, in case he's desperate." Her hand steadied as she reached for her leather pouch, and when her fingertips touched the intricate mechanisms, she knew what to do.
"Be careful." Lin Yan's voice was as soft as morning mist, yet it landed firmly. The words had barely left his lips when he moved. His [Swiftness] talent activated silently; his clothes brushed the ground almost imperceptibly. He swept into the side alley like a gust of wind, his gray robes brushing against the blue brick wall, leaving a faint shadow. Su Qingyao watched his retreating figure, took a deep breath, lifted her skirt, and hurried away. Her skirt swept across the stone steps, kicking up a few specks of dust that landed on her orchid-embroidered shoes.
***
The stone lions at the entrance of the Demon Suppression Bureau, their cracks filled with ash, which used to inspire awe, now seemed devoid of spirit. Inside the gatehouse, two soldiers were as pale as waterlogged paper. One gripped his spear, his hand trembling, the brass ring on the shaft jingling. The other had just stepped over the threshold when his companion grabbed him tightly. In their struggle, they knocked over a teacup on the table, spilling tea onto the ground, creating a small cloud of steam.
"boom--"
The sharp crack of the snapping bolt drowned out everything else. It wasn't the crowd that had pushed it open; it was a swift, powerful kick that broke it, sending splinters flying with a faint, metallic scent of pine. Lin Yan stood in the doorway, his face obscured by the backlight, only his eyes gleaming coldly, like the icy stars of a winter night. He could smell the sweat and cheap alcohol emanating from the soldiers in the courtyard, and the clatter of their newly donned leather armor, the plates scraping together like a taut string.
Zhao Mang stood in front of the soldiers, his face as pale as the moss in the corner of the courtyard, his eyes bloodshot. Last night, the Wolf King sent word that "everything is in order," so how could these peasants dare to rebel at the crack of dawn? What alarmed him even more was Lin Yan—shouldn't this kid have become a sacrifice in the wolf den? How could he still be standing here, his eyes more somber than when they last met?
Seeing Lin Yan alone, Zhao Mang was first stunned, then his eyes burned with rage. "Lin Yan! You traitorous rebel! How dare you incite the common people to revolt!" The sound of him drawing his sword was piercing; the hundred-refined steel blade gleamed with a ghostly blue light as it was unsheathed, much brighter and heavier than the weapons of ordinary soldiers. "Seize this traitor! Dead or alive!"
The soldiers looked at each other, their feet rooted to the spot. The roars outside grew closer, ear-piercing, but Zhao Mang's lingering power remained. Seven or eight of his cronies, steeling themselves, shouted and charged forward with their spears. Lin Yan looked into their eyes; most were filled with fear and confusion, except for two seasoned veterans whose eyes held a hint of ruthlessness—likely accustomed to Zhao Mang's tyranny.
He didn't draw his sword, but merely swayed slightly, advancing instead of retreating. His [Swiftness] talent made him so fast he left afterimages, precisely catching the two spears that thrust at him in the middle. The spear shafts were slippery with sweat, yet he held them firmly. With a twist and a flick of his wrist, two crisp "cracks" rang out, and the two soldiers' hands instantly split open, blood seeping out and staining the spear shafts red. As they staggered backward, they knocked over their comrade, whose sword clattered to the ground with a piercing sound.
The third spear thrust towards his ribs, carrying a slight breeze. Lin Yan dodged to the side, his left hand gripping the spearhead like an iron clamp, while his right hand, fingers together like a knife, slashed at the shaft—the thick hardwood snapped in two with a resounding crack, splinters splattering onto his sleeve, but he remained oblivious. In the blink of an eye, the surrounding soldiers lay sprawled on the ground, some groaning and clutching their wrists, others staring blankly at the broken spear; no one dared to approach again.
Zhao Mang's pupils shrank to pinpoints. As a late-stage Body Tempering cultivator, he immediately recognized Lin Yan's skill—his strength and techniques were far superior to their last meeting! This was no ordinary peak Body Tempering cultivator; it was a perfected one! What extraordinary encounter had this kid had in the mountains? Shock poured down like cold water, yet it also ignited his ferocity—if he couldn't defeat Lin Yan today, he would be truly finished once the rioters outside stormed in.
"Get out of my way!" Zhao Mang roared, slashing his blade to slash away the fleeing soldiers blocking his path. His internal energy surged, and his skin gleamed with an iron-gray sheen, as if covered in rust. He gripped his blade with both hands, and a faint blade aura pulsed on the blade, carrying a slight chill—this was the threshold he had reached after practicing the "Wind-Breaking Blade" for twenty years, and today he would use it to fight for his life.
"Wind-Breaking Slash!" He stomped his foot, creating spiderweb-like cracks in the bluestone slab, the sharp stone chips grating painfully on his soles. He moved with the blade, the light flashing like a bolt of lightning, slashing towards Lin Yan's face with a piercing whistling sound—this slash was devoid of any fancy moves, all his strength and ruthlessness concentrated on the blade, determined to cleave Lin Yan in two.
The wind from the blade arrived first, whipping Lin Yan's hair back, the ends brushing against his cheeks, causing a slight itch. He didn't move, his eyes as calm as a deep pool. Only when the blade was half a foot from his face did he slightly shift his feet, his figure sliding away like a ghost—a close call, the wind from the blade grazing his nose, carrying a slight metallic chill. At the same time, he clenched his right fist, gray-black Devouring Spirit True Essence gathering at the knuckles, and without dodging or avoiding, he slammed it towards the side of the blade.
"clang--!!!"
The sound of fist clashing with steel blade was like the tolling of a temple bell, so loud it hurt the eardrums. A shockwave erupted from the point of impact, causing the clothes of the surrounding soldiers to flutter wildly. Some covered their ears and retreated, their faces pale. Lin Yan felt a powerful force surge through his fist, numbing his knuckles, but the Devouring Spirit True Essence, like a hungry wolf, was seeping into Zhao Mang's body along the blade—he could clearly feel the fluctuations of the other's blood and qi being devoured bit by bit.
Zhao Mang's hand instantly split open, blood flowing down the hilt of his sword, dripping onto the bluestone slab and spreading a small patch of red. The hundred-refined steel sword in his hand groaned under the strain, swinging upwards from the punch, completely exposing his chest. "What?!" He was terrified. This strike was his trump card; how could it be broken by a bare hand? The eerie, chilling aura crept up his arm, freezing his very blood.
How could Lin Yan miss this opportunity? He moved in close, his left hand forming a claw with his five fingers, swirling with true energy, and pulling at Zhao Mang's throat with a suction force. Zhao Mang was terrified, desperately tilting his head back and crossing his arms to protect his chest—but Lin Yan's grab was just a feint. In the instant Zhao Mang tried to block, Lin Yan transformed his claw into a palm, precisely striking his Tanzhong acupoint on his chest.
"puff!"
Zhao Mang felt as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer, spitting out a mouthful of blood with a slight metallic taste. He flew backward, crashing heavily onto the steps in front of the main hall. The stone steps trembled from the impact, and he rolled to the ground, curling up in pain. He tried to get up, but found that his chest felt like it was being crushed by a huge rock, his blood and qi were rapidly dissipating, and he felt a sharp pain in his dantian—he knew that his cultivation was ruined.
The soldiers in the courtyard were stunned and fell silent. Looking at the young man who slowly withdrew his fist without even groaning, and then at Captain Zhao lying in a pool of blood as pale as paper, their last shred of resistance turned into cold sweat. Clang, clang, clang—weapons fell to the ground, and the soldiers all knelt down, heads bowed low, not daring to look Lin Yan in the eye.
Lin Yan ignored them, walked to Zhao Mang's side, and lifted him up like a dead dog. Blood trickled from the corner of Zhao Mang's mouth as he glared at him venomously, his throat making a hoarse sound, unable to utter a complete sentence—only his eyes held a murderous rage. "Your crimes will be judged by the entire town later," Lin Yan said coldly, carrying him towards the door. Zhao Mang's feet dragged on the ground, scraping against the bluestone slabs with a harsh sound.
***
The vermilion gates of the town mayor's mansion were tightly shut, the rust on the door knockers gleaming from being polished, yet unable to conceal the deathly silence behind them. Shi Hu and Butcher Li rammed the door, their shoulders aching from the impact, but the door remained unmoved—clearly blocked from the inside. "Chen Fuhai! Get out here!" Shi Hu's roar made the door knockers clang, the veins on his one arm bulging as if they were about to burst.
Inside the warm pavilion of the mansion, incense was still burning, but its sweet fragrance couldn't quell the cold sweat on Chen Fuhai's body. When he was first awakened by the clerk, he thought it was a servant being unruly, but upon hearing the words "the townspeople have rebelled," his obese body instantly slumped into the armchair. His silk pajamas, soaked with cold sweat, clung to his back, feeling chilly and uncomfortable. He had managed Blackstone Town for eight years, and he understood the principle of having multiple escape routes better than anyone—the secret passage under the artificial hill in the back garden, which he had dug at great expense years ago, led directly to an abandoned brick kiln outside the town, originally intended to defend against bandits, but now it would be used to escape for his life.
"Quick! Take the secret passage! Go to Qingzhou Prefecture and find Chief Liu!" Chen Fuhai hastily put on his outer robe, his fat hands rummaging through the hidden compartments of the study, stuffing a few antique jade artifacts and a stack of silver notes into his pocket—the notes were wrinkled from his sweat, yet he still clutched them tightly. The clerk and two servants supported him as he staggered toward the back garden. His legs felt like they had no bones, creaking as they stepped on the wooden floor of the corridor, as if they were about to break.
The withered lotus leaves floated on the surface of the lotus pond, exuding an air of decay. The artificial hill was right in front of them; the Taihu stone at its base looked ordinary, but it was the key to the mechanism. The clerk's hands trembled as he pushed and twisted according to his memory. With a "click," a mechanism rattled from the crack in the stone, and the Taihu stone moved aside, revealing a dark, damp opening. A musty, earthy smell wafted out, making Chen Fuhai cough twice.
The moment Chen Fuhai saw the cave entrance, a slight smile appeared on his face, but it was extinguished by an old, hoarse voice: "Master Chen, in such a hurry to leave, where are you going to make your fortune?"
He froze, as if frozen in place, and slowly turned his head. In the half-withered bamboo grove beside the artificial hill, Uncle Zhang stood shirtless, his bronze skin covered in calluses, the woodcutter's knife in his hand gleaming coldly in the morning light. Behind him followed Widow Liu and several men from the blacksmith shop, each with eyes that seemed to be tempered with fire, staring intently at him.
"Zhang... Zhang the blacksmith?" Chen Fuhai's fat face twitched, forcing out a smile that looked more like a grimace. "What are you doing? It's a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding... There are rioters causing trouble outside. We went to Qingzhou Prefecture to get reinforcements, also for the sake of the people in the town!" As he spoke, he tried to move towards the cave entrance, but his feet seemed to be nailed to the ground.
"Calling for reinforcements? You're going to find your backer, Chief Liu, aren't you?" Uncle Zhang sneered, slamming his machete on the ground with a dull thud that made Chen Fuhai's feet go numb. "Chen Fuhai, stop pretending. Corporal Lin brought back your account books, secret letters, and blood crystals from the Wolf King. And all those nonsense you uttered yourself—the villagers under the old locust tree heard it all clearly."
"No...impossible..." Chen Fuhai murmured, the antique jade artifacts in his arms falling to the ground with a "crash," a jade ruyi breaking in two, but he was completely unaware. That account book was his lifeline, how could it have fallen into Lin Yan's hands? His last bit of luck burst like a bubble, his legs began to tremble, and he could barely stand.
Just then, a loud crash came from the front yard, the sound of wood breaking mixed with the shouts of the crowd—the gate had been smashed open! A raging tide of people rushed into the mansion, the shouts of fighting and killing growing closer and closer, like the urgent beat of a death knell. "Master! Run!" The clerk shoved him, his voice trembling.
This push brought out Chen Fuhai's ferocity. A desperate glint flashed in his eyes, and he suddenly pulled out a gold-inlaid and jade-embedded dagger from his waist, yelling as he lunged at Uncle Zhang: "Old man, get out of my way!" Having lived a life of luxury for many years, his movements were clumsy and laughable, and he swung the dagger crookedly.
Zhang Bo didn't even touch his knife, simply dodging to the side. His arms, honed from years of blacksmithing, were incredibly strong. He raised his foot and kicked Chen Fuhai in the stomach—a stomach as soft as dough, and the moment he kicked, Zhang Bo could feel the bone beneath the fat. "Ouch!" Chen Fuhai cried out in pain, the dagger flying from his hand. His obese body rolled to the ground like a ball, curling up in agony, spitting out bile.
The advisor and servants were so frightened that they knelt down with a thud, kowtowing repeatedly, their foreheads hitting the flagstones with a thud. "Spare us! We were forced into this!" "It's not our fault!"
When the crowd surged into the back garden, this was the scene they saw. Chen Fuhai lay sprawled on the ground like a lump of mud. Widow Liu walked over, pointed at his nose with the door knocker, her voice trembling yet loud: "You heartless bastard, give me back my child's life!" Her tears fell, splashing onto Chen Fuhai's trouser leg, leaving a small wet patch.
"Drag him out! Drag him to the town center!" "Don't let him die too easily!" Amidst the roars of the crowd, Chen Fuhai was dragged up by a throng of hands. His silk robe was torn, exposing his fat flesh, making him look like a pig waiting to be slaughtered. He mumbled cries for mercy, but his voice was drowned out by the raging tide.
***
Under the old locust tree, the stone platform was crowded with people, and even a few teenagers were sitting on the branches. When Lin Yan, carrying Zhao Mang, and Zhang Bo, and others, escorting Chen Fuhai, appeared in front of the stone platform at almost the same time, the roar of the crowd rang out like thunder, shaking the leaves of the old locust tree to the ground.
"Kneel down!" someone shouted, and the cry immediately echoed in everyone's ears. Zhao Mang was slammed hard against the stone platform. He tried to struggle to stand up, to maintain the last shred of his dignity, but a villager behind him kicked him in the back of the knee, sending him sprawling to his knees with a thud. His knees hit the bluestone slab, and he groaned in pain. Chen Fuhai fared even worse, collapsing to the ground, his crotch soaked with sweat. The stench of sweat and grime wafted through the crowd, drawing angry curses.
Lin Yan stepped onto the stone platform. The morning light shone on him, revealing bloodstains still on his grey cloth clothes, which only accentuated the clarity of his eyes. He scanned the crowd below—elderly people with tears in their cloudy eyes, young people with clenched fists and bulging veins, and women holding children whose tiny hands clutched their clothes tightly. He took a deep breath, his voice carrying clearly throughout the crowd: "Zhao Mang, Captain of the Demon Suppression Division, neglected his duties, colluded with demons, used living people as sacrifices, resold demon-suppressing grain, extorted protection fees, and harmed the people—the evidence is irrefutable!"
With each statement he made, the roars from the audience grew louder. Zhao Mang lowered his head even further, but he still couldn't help but raise his eyes and sweep them over the crowd with resentment—these peasants, whom he usually trampled underfoot, now dared to point fingers at him.
Lin Yan then pointed at Chen Fuhai, his voice growing even deeper: "Chen Fuhai, the mayor of Black Stone Town, deceived his superiors and concealed the truth, mastermind the sacrifice, used the lives of refugees to refine blood crystals, embezzled government funds, bribed his superiors, and oppressed the local people—his crimes are heinous!" Chen Fuhai collapsed to the ground, his body trembling like a leaf, too weak to even defend himself, only tears and snot streaming down his face.
Finally, he looked at Wang Po and the others who were being held captive to the side. Their faces were deathly pale, and some had even wet themselves in fear: "You all aided and abetted the wicked, and your actions as accomplices to evil will not escape your punishment!"
"Kill them!" "Avenge our dead loved ones!" "Heaven's justice is clear, retribution will not be swift!"
The roars grew louder and louder. Lin Yan raised his hand and pressed down, and the crowd gradually quieted down. All eyes were on him, filled with expectation and trust. He took a deep breath and said loudly, "Fellow villagers! Zhao Mang and Chen Fuhai's crimes are beyond redemption, incurring the wrath of Heaven and the hatred of the people! According to the laws of the Great Yin Dynasty, those who collude with demons and commit murder should be executed! Those who embezzle military rations, bribe officials, and oppress the people should also be punished! Today, I, Lin Yan, in the name of a squad leader in the Demon Suppression Division, on behalf of the elders of this town—"
He paused, his gaze sharp as lightning, sweeping over the two sinners below the stage: "Execute Zhao Mang and Chen Fuhai on the spot! To comfort the souls of all the villagers who died unjustly in the past three years! To uphold the law and order of Black Stone Town! To serve as a warning to others!"
"good--!!!"
The cheers were deafening, almost lifting the sky above Blackstone Town. The children in the old locust tree joined in, their voices clear and powerful.
Lin Yan said no more and walked up to Zhao Mang. Zhao Mang suddenly raised his head, his eyes filled with despair and resentment, and hissed, "Lin Yan! You will die a horrible death! Commander Liu will not let you go! Qingzhou Prefecture—"
Before the words were even finished, Lin Yan's sword was already drawn. A flash of light, too fast to see clearly, followed by a "plop" sound as blood spurted out, staining the stone platform and its veins. Zhao Mang's head flew off, rolling to the ground below, his eyes still wide open, filled with resentment and fear.
The crowd fell silent for a moment, then erupted into an even louder roar. Someone was crying; it was Sun Jin's wife from town. Her husband had been drinking and complaining, and Zhao Mang had killed him on charges of "communicating with demons." Now, she was holding her child, trembling with sobs, yet also with a relieved smile.
Lin Yan walked towards Chen Fuhai with his knife, the blood dripping onto the ground with a "drip-drip" sound that seemed to strike Chen Fuhai's heart. Already terrified, the sight of the blade caused him to let out a scream that was not human. He scrambled backward, his fat scraping against the flagstones, leaving a stain: "Spare me! Corporal Lin, spare me! I have money! I'll give you all my money! Don't kill me..."
Lin Yan's eyes remained unwavering as he raised his hand and brought the knife down.
Another head rolled down, landing at Wang Po's feet. She screamed in terror and fainted. Chen Fuhai's body lay on the ground, blood gushing out and seeping into the cracks of the bluestone slabs, mixing with Zhao Mang's blood.
The sunlight shone down, and the color of blood stung the eyes. In the crowd, some people cried out loud, finally releasing the pain that had been suppressed for three years; some raised their arms and shouted, excited that their grievances had been redressed; and many more people exhaled a long breath, as if a huge stone that had been pressing on their hearts had finally been lifted—in that breath were fear, anger, and a slight sense of relief.
Lin Yan wiped the knife on the corpse's clothing and sheathed it. The brass clasp on the scabbard clicked crisply and forcefully. He looked down at the crowd, his voice regaining its calmness, yet carrying an undeniable authority: "The ringleader has been executed! Wang Po and the others are temporarily detained pending further investigation and punishment! From this moment forward, Shi Hu will temporarily take command of the defense of Black Stone Town! All matters concerning the town will be discussed by Uncle Zhang in consultation with all the villagers!"
"We will obey Corporal Lin's orders!" Uncle Zhang and Shi Hu clasped their hands in greeting, their voices booming. Immediately, more and more people joined in, the shouts rising higher and higher.
Lin Yan gazed at the distant Canglang Mountain. The morning mist had dissipated, and the mountain's outline was clearly visible. The cancer in Blackstone Town had been removed, but Chief Liu of Qingzhou Prefecture would never let it go so easily. He touched the hilt of his sword, the calluses on his palm brushing against the cool metal, and he felt prepared.
However, that's a story for another time.
At that moment, the sunlight was perfect, shining on everyone's face. Children peeked out from their parents' arms, looking curiously at the stone platform, their eyes no longer filled with the fear of the past; the old people sat under the trees, their wrinkles smoothing out, revealing long-lost smiles; the men straightened their backs, their hands gripping their weapons no longer trembling—this sunlight had finally shone into every corner of Blackstone Town, and into the hearts of everyone.
Blackrock Town ushered in a blood-stained, yet truly new dawn.