Chapter 329: Yao Xi Meets His End

Geng Wu asked, "Don't we have a prisoner policy?"

Luo Dagu laughed, "The prisoner policy doesn't apply to beasts like Yao Xi."

The Daxia army's prisoner policy was personally formulated by Lin Qian, and it was quite complex — not as simple as 'surrender and live.' Currently, only officers who had attended the Army-Navy Academy had systematically studied it, so it was normal that Geng Wu didn't know.

For the prisoner policy and the determination of war crimes, Lin Qian had drawn on the foundation of war crime adjudication established by Tonkin Trials after World War II.

In principle, there were individual criminal responsibility, commander responsibility, and no immunity for obeying orders.

Simply put, if a person did something wrong, that individual bore responsibility; the commander who could effectively control him also bore responsibility; and the individual could not completely evade liability by claiming an officer ordered him to do it.

As for the core crimes, there were three: the crime of unjust war, war crimes, and crimes against humanity.

Under the crime of unjust war, only resisting foreign invasion or suppressing tyrants and rebels could be excused; all other wars were unjust, and those who planned or decided them were to be punished.

The other two categories both protected civilians, mainly covering deliberate attacks on civilians, mistreatment of prisoners of war, destruction of civilian facilities, and destruction of cultural property. Additionally, for the Liaodong and Southwest fronts, there was also a crime of treason.

Whether these charges were reasonable was debatable, but at least there was a standard — no arbitrary chaos driven by a commander's personal whims. A bastard like Yao Xi clearly committed war crimes of an egregious nature; even with mitigating circumstances for voluntary surrender, he couldn't escape a bullet.

Take, for example, the late Governor-General of the Dutch East India Company, Coen, who exterminated the inhabitants of the Banda Islands to monopolize the spice trade — an indisputable crime against humanity, deserving of death ten thousand times over.

By contrast, although Qin Liangyu had inflicted casualties on the Daxia army, her White Spear Troops had not harmed civilians in the slightest; even without voluntary surrender, she bore no guilt.

As for the misdeeds of the Prince of Jingjiang, from the three angles of individual criminal responsibility, commander responsibility, and no immunity for orders, they could not be tied to Qin Liangyu either.

Luo Dagu had attended the Naval Academy, and at this moment he showed off what he had learned without pause.

Not only Geng Wu, but even Zheng Zhilong and Bailangzai listened with great interest.

After a moment, Bailangzai asked, "Then that barbarian Yuan — if we caught him, what crime would he be charged with?"

Luo Dagu thought for a moment, then made a throat-slitting gesture.

Zheng Zhilong said, "Why? I've heard Yuan the barbarian's army also has excellent discipline, and the Jiangxi popular unrest was just misgovernance, not an army offense — it doesn't fall under the three crimes you just mentioned."

"Because... because..." Luo Dagu scratched his head and ears in frustration.

Determining war crimes was a very complex matter — something for university law school students to research in the future. Academy students had only learned the surface, so naturally they couldn't answer complex questions.

Lin Qian explained, "By nature, war crime law does not impose punishment for misgovernance without malicious intent.

But the Jiangxi unrest spread on all sides, causing massive civilian deaths. If Yuan Chonghuan adopted a callous attitude, failing to protect civilians or quell the disorder, that would be a crime.

As for specific sentencing, Yuan Chonghuan was a theater commander, and the unrest's casualty scale was very large — that constituted aggravating circumstances. If it truly went to court, Yuan Chonghuan might argue in his defense that the moment the unrest erupted, our army entered Jiangxi, and he had no choice but to resist us first. At that point, facts and evidence would need to be laid out to determine whether Yuan Chonghuan was truly powerless, whether he truly adopted a laissez-faire attitude, and whether he truly was indifferent to the lives of the common people.

That is what courts and judges are for — and that is why the new law is so important and must be urgently drafted and implemented." When formulating this standard, Lin Qian had once applied it to the generals of the Great Ming. If they did not surrender voluntarily, roughly one in ten captured generals would need beheading, about two in ten were completely blameless, and seven in ten would need imprisonment.

And if they surrendered voluntarily, then half could have past offenses forgiven entirely, even demoted but retained in service; those needing beheading dropped to just half a tenth. This principle of striking at the few while winning over the majority was consistent with the earlier approach of dividing the landlord class.

Everyone was lost in thought.

By now the fleet had sailed past Ganzhou, and they could see the Zhang River and Gong River merging into one waterway — from this point on, it was the Gan River.

After sailing on for a long while, Luo Dagu pointed at a stretch of riverbank on the west shore: "That's where Regional Commander Lei landed during the Battle of Huangtianji. Over ten thousand army soldiers came ashore here and crossed mountains and ridges to reach Huangtianji."

Lin Qian followed his gaze and saw layer upon layer of mountain ridges along the bank with no roads at all, and the riverbank was extremely narrow. For Lei Sanxiang to command a force of over ten thousand through such terrain, arrive successfully, and fight a brilliant battle of annihilation was extraordinarily difficult.

Lin Qian asked himself whether he had the ability to do the same — he did not.

Zheng Zhilong, however, frowned and pondered for a long while before asking, "What if Yuan Chonghuan is truly captured, tried, and found innocent? He killed quite a few of our men."

Lin Qian said, "How many counts as many, and how many counts as few?"

Zheng Zhilong was lost in thought.

Bailangzai said, "How about casualties above one thousand? I think one thousand counts as many."

Lin Qian shook his head: "Law and lawlessness are judged by conduct, not by numbers. Come, let me tell you a story about the Mongols." The weather was clear that day, so Lin Qian had tables and chairs set up in the cabin with tea brewed, and he began his tale from the pre-Qin era.

The land of Cathay had always maintained a clear understanding of the ethics of war. In the pre-Qin period, war was already divided into two categories.

Take the Sima Fa and the Gongyang Zhuan as examples.

Going to war with just cause and fighting in open, proper formation counted as a soldier's duty.

Slaughtering the people, torturing prisoners to death, and plundering the old and weak counted as unjust war.

That was why most people didn't know how many Zhao soldiers Bai Qi killed at the Battle of Changping, yet everyone knew he buried forty thousand surrendered troops alive — he was nailed to the pillar of shame forever.

If Daxia did not distinguish the nature of wartime conduct and convicted enemy generals merely by how many of our own they had killed, that would essentially be legalized blood vengeance, clearly violating Cathayan values.

How could we still claim to be the embodiment of justice? How could we still break enemy morale and win over neutral forces? Wouldn't that become tribal vendetta?

Doing that would be political suicide.

The Art of War says, "Do not intercept a retreating army; when besieging an army, always leave an opening."

So killing enemy generals out of vengeance directly cut off the enemy's hope of survival, forcing them to fight to the death — militarily, it was also extremely stupid.

When the Guanning Army rebelled, its generals had wanted to defect to the Daxia army but hesitated out of fear of retaliation, and in the end they were wiped out before the Zhennan Gate. When Yao Xi and Yang Dezheng killed the Governor of Southern Gan, they too had considered surrendering but feared retaliation, which was why they tried to establish their own power and brought about the city-wide looting. And this was even with Daxia publicly propagandizing its prisoner policy every day.

If we truly established an iron rule of "kill a thousand of ours, execute the prisoners," what would happen? Wouldn't that make the north an enemy unto death?

In that case, even if the Great Ming fell, northern generals would defect to Li Zicheng rather than to Daxia.

And when Li Zicheng failed, those generals would defect to the Jianzhou barbarians and keep fighting Daxia to the bitter end.

To unify Cathay, one would have to slaughter every northern soldier and general to the last, then spend one or two hundred years digesting the hatred and mending the rift. Would anyone really be that stupid?

In history, someone actually was — the Mongols.

When the Mongols attacked cities and seized territory, they loved to employ the terror policy of "those who submit shall thrive, those who resist shall perish" — any city that offered even slight resistance would be slaughtered to the last.

Did this policy make the Mongol conquest of the world smoother or harder?

It was true that a great many cities in Khwarazm and Russia surrendered out of sheer terror, but it also steeled the Song army and people, who would rather die than submit. Diaoyu City held out for thirty-six years, and even the Great Khan of the Mongols died beneath its walls.

Even after the Southern Song fell, this bone-deep hatred was passed down and erupted again in the late Yuan.

The once-invincible Mongol Empire, from Genghis Khan's founding to the destruction of the Northern Yuan, lasted barely a hundred years — which, in a way, broke the cyclical law of feudal dynasties in reverse.

Since Diaoyu City was mentioned, Xiangyang City had to come up; and since Xiangyang City was mentioned, Guo Jing, Huang Rong, and Niujia Village had to come up as well. Everyone was just drinking tea and chatting, not holding a government affairs meeting, so Lin Qian drifted off-topic as he talked.

Having just seen the impregnable city of Ganzhou and then discussed the Mongols, Lin Qian took the opportunity to tell the story of The Legend of the Condor Heroes.

Lin Qian could only remember the general outline of the story's plot, and only the famous characters and martial arts moves — so his extremely condensed telling was finished in less than an hour.

Lin Qian himself felt it wasn't even good enough to be called a story — at best it was a plot summary.

Unexpectedly, the brothers listened, utterly entranced.

Bailangzai said, "Helmsman, that Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms and Dog-Beating Staff Technique you spoke of—are they real? Where can one learn them?"

Zheng Zhilong said, "A true hero serves the nation and its people—Guo Jing is a real hero. Genghis Khan conquered territories ten thousand li wide—he too is a hero! Your Majesty, where did you hear this story?"

It was no wonder the two were so excited—in this era, storytelling was already extremely popular. Historical tales included the Three Kingdoms, Water Margin, and the Chronicles of the Eastern Zhou States; crime stories included the Cases of Judge Bao and the Cases of Judge Hai; tales of gods and demons included Journey to the West and Investiture of the Gods.

But there was no wuxia at all.

Moreover, entertainment options in this age were extremely limited. Many games that Lin Qian found utterly boring were still played with rapt fascination by the people of the time—like pitch-pot.

The Jianzhou barbarians even used the Three Kingdoms storybook as a military-political textbook.

Given the appeal of the Legend of the Condor Heroes story, for the listeners it was like having their skullcaps pried open and bewitching elixir poured straight in.

And the story was extremely timely—with the realm in chaos, everyone yearned for a hero to save the world, and the story's core theme of loyalty to family and country matched the values of the era.

The villain in the book was the Jin Kingdom, and now the Jianzhou barbarians called themselves the Great Jin; the Southern Song court in the book was corrupt and absurd, just like the present Great Ming; Guo Jing was also a simple, kind-hearted ordinary man—everything matched the present perfectly. The immersion was overwhelming—it felt like a story from their own lives. Lin Qian hadn't expected that with his plain, flat storytelling style, he could interest the two so deeply, so he could only answer honestly: "I made this story up."

That wasn't entirely a lie—after so long, no one could retell the whole thing from beginning to end. Lin Qian's version was extremely condensed; apart from the names and the spiritual core, most of the plot really was his own invention.

Zheng Zhilong savored the story endlessly and sighed, "This story is truly well written! Your Majesty, why not tell this story in the military camps?" Lin Qian found the suggestion reasonable and ordered, "Find a few professional storytellers at once!"

"Yes!" Geng Wu acknowledged and passed the order to his subordinates.

Lin Qian's original plan for military camp entertainment had already included having storytellers perform in the army.

However, while Lin Qian could barely remember a few military songs, he couldn't tell stories at all, so he had planned to find storytellers once they neared Nanchang.

Now it seemed that just the improvised version of The Condor Heroes was enough—with professional storytellers polishing it, it would make an excellent tale, not only entertaining and interesting, but also highly educational.

That evening the fleet anchored at Wan'an County. After supper, five storytellers were brought aboard. At first they trembled with fear, thinking disaster had befallen them—but unexpectedly, once aboard, they were invited to listen to a nobleman tell a story. They let out a long sigh of relief, then felt overwhelmed by the honor.

Meanwhile, Ran Qiu and Su Qingmei, who shared Lin Qian's ship, heard that His Majesty was going to tell a story and both made a fuss about coming to listen. Zhang Qiao, who shared quarters with the two women, also came along.

For this version of The Condor Heroes, Lin Qian racked his brains to recall many more details and also fabricated some plot points himself to make the story more complete. He told it in one breath until the sun set; when lamps were lit on the ship, the warm yellow glow made the story's atmosphere even richer.

All around was utterly silent; everyone held their breath and listened intently, letting Lin Qian's voice carry even farther. The accompanying ships also quietly drew close, surrounding Lin Qian's vessel in the middle.

Everyone drooled over Huang Rong's Beggar's Chicken, celebrated Guo Jing's mastery of the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms, and clapped in satisfaction at the death of the traitor Yang Kang. After a long while, Lin Qian finally reached the ending where Guo Jing and Huang Rong defended Xiangyang. He slowly exhaled and picked up his teacup to moisten his throat, only to discover the tea hadn't been refilled—Ran Qiu, who was responsible for pouring his tea, had long been lost in the story and forgotten all about it. Seeing Lin Qian raise his cup, she hurriedly went to fetch water.

The others also woke as if from a dream, faces wearing lingering smiles of unsatisfied appetite. Some even asked what happened afterward—whether Xiangyang held. As for the five storytellers, their expressions were the most dramatic—they looked as if their very souls had been pulled out of them.

A moment later, one of them stood up, then fell to his knees with a thud, kowtowing three times so hard the deck boomed. The man said, "For the grace of your teaching, I have no way to repay you. From this day forth, I will serve at your side through thick and thin, even if it means being ground to dust!"

Three other storytellers also woke as if from a dream, all kneeling and kowtowing, saying similar words.

They didn't know who Lin Qian was, but Jiangxi was now a war-torn land. For Lin Qian to gather over twenty ships and roam freely on the Gan River meant he either held great power or possessed great wealth.

And the people around Lin Qian—the women were all beautiful as flowers, and the men all broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, radiating killing intent, carrying guns on their backs—surely he was a man of immense authority.

Lin Qian telling them this version of The Condor Heroes was a grace of teaching. They seized the chance to kowtow and perform the disciple's salute—it neither seemed too flattering, nor failed to curry favor with the powerful.

Storytelling was a lowly profession in the Great Ming. Being able to serve someone like Lin Qian was no different from leaping to heaven in a single step.

"No need to be ground to dust. Just polish this story, and when we reach the military camps, tell it to the soldiers. You won't work for nothing—there will be pay."

The four storytellers all insisted that the grace of teaching came first, and how could they dare accept payment.

As he spoke, Lin Qian sized up the one storyteller who remained standing. He found it rather amusing that while all his colleagues had knelt, this one still stood—quite like a "sea brush rest."

Seeing Lin Qian's gaze fall on him, the man rose and clasped his hands in salute: "This humble latecomer, Liu Jingting, offers his respects..."

At these words, the four kneeling storytellers all straightened their backs at once and turned to stare at Liu Jingting as if they'd seen a ghost.

One of them muttered, "Liu Mazi—he's Liu Mazi?"

Liu Jingting ignored the other four and simply said, "Sir, this story of yours is a marvel of the age. Liu does not accept rewards without merit. If there is any small way I can be of service, please do command me."

Geng Wu leaned close to Lin Qian and said in a low voice, "Your Majesty, he's Liu Mazi—the number one storyteller of Jiangnan."

Lin Qian had a vague impression of the name—it seemed that in history, Huang Zongxi had written a biography for this man, which had even been included in school textbooks.

But just how influential this man truly was, he didn't know.

Lin Qian asked directly, "I hear Master Liu is the number one storyteller of Jiangnan?"

"I wouldn't dare—before you, sir, Liu is nothing worth mentioning." Liu Jingting said with great humility.

Zhang Qiao then said, "There's a saying in Qinhuai: 'Better to hear Mazi's tales than to be enfeoffed as a marquis of ten Battalion Commander.'

This Master Liu's skill is absolutely unprecedented—not only is his fame immense among the common folk, but even Minister Fan and Grand Secretary He treat him as an equal and receive him as an honored guest.

I heard that Master Liu tells stories at the Changyin Pavilion by the Qinhuai River—how did he end up in Jiangxi?"

Zhang Qiao's words seemed to be a question, but in truth she was introducing the man to Lin Qian—after all, both Liu and Zhang were figures in the arts world and knew each other well. Liu Jingting said, "Storytelling requires capturing the mannerisms of characters and familiarity with the customs and temperaments of different regions. Hence Liu only tells stories at Changyin Pavilion for three months each year, spending the rest of the time traveling. Unexpectedly, when I arrived in Ganzhou last year, I found myself trapped by war. Forgive my embarrassment."

Lin Qian thought to himself—artistic creation needs to stay close to the grassroots, coming from the people and going to the people. This Liu Jingting truly understood the craft. And to earn such esteem from both colleagues and officials, he must surely possess great skill.

Lin Qian had originally only wanted to find some ordinary storytellers; finding the most famous one was naturally even better. He immediately revealed his identity and purpose.

In Ganzhou city, Liu Jingting had witnessed the brutality of the Ming army and the kindness of the Xia army toward the common people. He was already willing to help, and having received such a supreme storybook as The Condor Heroes—such a great favor—how could he possibly refuse? He agreed wholeheartedly.

The next day the fleet continued on, sailing to Ji'an Prefecture.

Just as Luo Dagu had said, the place had been ravaged beyond recognition by the Leveling Kings—not only were the wealthy families all dead, but not a single poor commoner remained either. Ji'an Prefecture had once been fertile land, covered in farmland; now only a thousand li of desolation remained.

Normally, armies that rebel would put on a show of restraint at first, not immediately burning, killing, and looting. Lin Qian didn't understand why Jiangxi's Leveling Kings had degenerated so quickly. Luo Dagu said, "Because Ming soldiers joined their ranks. We've been fighting the Great Ming in Jiangxi for so long that countless Ming deserters have fled—all of them went to join the various Leveling Kings, bringing their evil habits of abusing the common people with them."

To be sure, there were also some rebel armies that never changed their principles—they didn't press-gang laborers or plunder the people. But the consequence of this was that the good factions grew weak and were gradually swallowed up by other rebel armies that did evil deeds. So now, every single Leveling King in Jiangxi, without exception, was a bastard.

Lin Qian asked, "How many Leveling Kings remain unsubdued?"

Luo Dagu said, "Those along the Gan River were first wiped out in batches by Zhu Dadian, then wiped out in batches by us—they've basically been cleaned up.

Only in northern Jiangxi is there still a Leveling King surnamed Chen, with the greatest power. He operates in the area from Raozhou to Hukou—that place is where three provinces meet. The Ming army can't do anything about him, and our forces haven't attacked there yet either."

Lin Qian nodded and said no more. Two days later, the fleet arrived at Linjiang Prefecture. Though this place had endured the wars, it had suffered less damage than Ji'an Prefecture. Ma Chenglie's garrison troops were stationed in the city, maintaining order.

Continuing toward the front lines, the surroundings grew ever more grim. Even along the riverbanks, one could occasionally see unburied corpses. Wild dogs roamed around the bodies, eyes red, bellies round and swollen, baring their teeth and growling fiercely at the passing fleet.

The closer to the front lines, the more tragic the surroundings became.

Passing Fengcheng County, they even saw a small battlefield—several hundred corpses lay on the ground, with Xia garrison troops around them, burying the enemy dead. Smoke from gunpowder still hung in the air; the earth was stained dark red with blood. Intestines and brain matter were scattered everywhere. Many corpses had been trampled into the mud, leaving only hair waving in the wind—a truly ghastly sight.

Lin Qian sent someone to inquire about the situation.

After a while, Geng Wu reported back: "A band of roving bandits. Which Leveling King they served under, even they couldn't say—their Leveling King is dead, so these men turned to robbery for a living."

Lin Qian said, "Understood."

Another day passed, and the fleet finally arrived beneath the walls of Nanchang. From afar, they could see red shield-and-halberd banners fluttering atop the city walls.

After disembarking, Lei Sanxiang led men forward to receive them.

Lin Qian said with slight surprise, "Nanchang has already been taken?"

Lei Sanxiang chuckled and said, "The Helmsman arrived at just the right moment. We captured it just before dusk yesterday. That bastard Yao Xi was caught, and we were about to execute him. The Helmsman might as well come watch."

Hearing this, Lin Qian walked toward the military camp together with Lei Sanxiang. On the way, Lin Qian remarked casually, "I hear Third Brother killed Zhu Dadian with his own hands? Quite the display of might." Lei Sanxiang's body stiffened, and he lowered his head guiltily, saying, "The Chief of Staff has already issued a reprimand..."

"You are a Regional Commander, not a common soldier. What if you charged to the front and something happened to you?"

Lei Sanxiang said, "During the Battle of Poyang Lake, didn't the Helmsman have the Candle Dragon pursue Yuan Chonghuan's flagship?"

Lin Qian frowned. "Is a main flagship going forward to duel a general one-on-one the same thing?"

The two spoke in very low voices, and no one around them heard.

Lin Qian said, "Forget it. Let this be the last time."

"Alright, I've got it." Lei Sanxiang said again with a mischievous grin.

As they spoke, the group had already walked into the military camp, where most of the soldiers looked tense and were on high alert.

In front of the central army headquarters, several dozen people were tied together in a string, squatting on the ground, watched over by more than twenty soldiers with fixed bayonets standing around them.

Lei Sanxiang said, "Helmsman, we did a rough check. These dozens of men are the chief culprits behind the city raid that night in Ganzhou. This..."

As he spoke, Lei Sanxiang stepped forward and yanked one man out by the scruff of his neck.

"He is Yao Xi."

Lin Qian took a look. The man was of medium build, his face swollen and bruised all over, hands and feet bound, dressed in a coarse brown cloth garment. Clearly he had tried to change into civilian clothes and flee when the city fell, and had been caught.

Seeing Lei Sanxiang's attitude and manner of address, Yao Xi immediately curled up his body and kowtowed on the ground without stopping, saying, "I wish to surrender, I wish to surrender! I beg the Helmsman to show mercy. As long as you spare my humble life, I will do whatever the Helmsman commands."

Lei Sanxiang said with a sinister tone, "Helmsman, when this bastard was fleeing, he killed two of our brothers. We absolutely cannot spare him."

On the way here, Zheng Zhilong had heard Lin Qian's discourse on war crimes. He knew that Lei Sanxiang's words were reasonable in sentiment but would not hold up legally, and could not put Yao Xi to death, so he questioned, "Yao Xi, robbing the great clans and noble families is one thing, but why did you let your soldiers plunder the common people?" "Injustice! I didn't! I truly didn't!" Yao Xi knew death was imminent and hastily defended himself. "I only ordered the plundering of wealthy households, not the common people! That night I was in a hurry to escape from Ganzhou. If I had let my soldiers plunder the entire city and made it known to everyone, wouldn't that be asking for death?

It was those soldiers—after looting the big households, they still weren't satisfied and insisted on robbing the common folk. I couldn't stop them!"

Lin Qian asked, "Which wealthy households did he order to be plundered? Did they all hold scholarly degrees or official rank?"

The staff officer accompanying the army said, "He ordered the plundering of five households in total, all of whom held scholarly degrees."

Under the provisions of the Great Xia War Crimes Regulations, those with scholarly degrees or official rank, because they possess privileges and use those privileges to oppress the common people, are not considered civilians. The law defines such persons as gentry-officials.

Plundering gentry-officials does not constitute a war crime.

The corner of Yao Xi's mouth curled up smugly, and then he said, "It truly was the soldiers under my command who disobeyed orders. By the time I learned of it, it was already too late."

Although he had not surrendered, when the Great Xia besieged Ganzhou, they had dropped many leaflets into the city. Through these, he had thoroughly familiarized himself with the prisoner policies and war crime determination policies, and when giving orders he had deliberately exploited loopholes, leaving himself a way out.

Unfortunately, the Great Xia War Crimes regulations had anticipated all kinds of situations. The provisions were long and tedious, and naturally could not all be printed on the leaflets.

The loophole Yao Xi thought he had was actually already sealed shut by the regulations long ago.

Lin Qian said in a cold voice, "Killing gentry-officials is permissible—that clause is meant for soldiers and starving refugees with no way out, who cannot survive without killing gentry-officials. What about you?

You are a Ming army general who ordered your troops to engage in private plunder. You served as a Guard Commander of a guard station for half your life—would you not know what kind of men your soldiers were? You knowingly committed the offense, indulged greed, destroyed military discipline, and when the plundering expanded, you imposed no limits but instead abandoned the city and fled!

More than three hundred civilians died in all of Ganzhou, over eight hundred households were robbed, and over a thousand people were left homeless. With such heinous crimes, you still vainly hope to evade punishment through sophistry?" Yao Xi continued to argue without cease.

Lin Qian said, "Chop off his head!"

"Right away!" Lei Sanxiang had long been waiting at the side with a great blade. At the order, he dragged Yao Xi aside like a dead dog, raised the blade, and brought it down. The blade lodged between the bones of Yao Xi's neck. Lei Sanxiang cursed under his breath and, like chopping meat, hacked down many times before finally severing Yao Xi's head.

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen