Chapter 634: Six Horses, Six Corpses

Three days later.

Chang'an.

At the first moment of noon.

The blazing sun hung high in the sky, pouring down a sea of scorching fire that baked the whole city of Chang'an to a searing heat.

The bluestone‑paved streets of Dong Shi had been bleached by the sun, and stepping on them gave a noticeable burning sensation.

A tea stall by the street, bearing a faded teal cloth awning, swayed feebly in the hot wind.

Inside, a few greasy wooden tables were set, and a water jar in the corner held several coarse porcelain tea bowls, the only hope of coolness in this scorching heat.

Just then, the wooden door of the tea stall creaked open, and a broad‑shouldered, stout man, drenched in sweat, walked in.

He wore a Rough Cloth Short Coat, its collar and cuffs soaked with sweat and clinging to his skin, beads of sweat rolling on his dark forehead and streaming down his cheeks.

A drop formed at the tip of his chin and "splashed" onto the ground, evaporating instantly without a trace.

The man raised his hand to wipe his face, clearing the sweat, and couldn't help shouting, "It's scorching!"

"This damned heat is practically melting people!"

After complaining, he looked toward the bustling tea stall owner behind the counter and called out, "Owner, a bowl of cold tea!"

"Quench my thirst!"

The owner, a man over fifty with a face etched by wind and frost, did not waste a word; he deftly scooped a coarse porcelain bowl from the water jar, filled it with a generous serving of chilled tea, hurried to the man's side, placed the bowl on the table, and smiled, "Here you go! Please enjoy, sir!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he turned and began tidying up the stall's belongings.

He swiftly folded the cloths scattered on the table and stacked the long benches in the corner.

He even took down the abacus hanging on the wall and shoved it into a drawer, giving the impression that the shop was about to close.

The man lifted the tea bowl and gulped down more than half of it with a "glug glug" sound; the icy tea slid down his throat, instantly dispelling much of the heat.

He set the bowl down, watched the owner's busy figure, and, puzzled, asked, "Owner, what day is it today?"

Having said that, he pointed toward the shop's entrance.

Outside, the streets of Dong Shi were swarming with people, a sea of black heads.

Normally open silk shops, grain stalls, and blacksmith furnaces were all shut tight; the shopkeepers and clerks crowded onto the street, standing on tiptoes looking westward, faces full of excitement and anticipation.

"Why are all the shops in Dong Shi closed for business?" the man scratched his head, puzzled, "Everyone's crowding the street, even you are busy tidying—what's going on?"

The tea stall owner kept moving, sliding the last wooden table toward the corner while answering without turning his head, "Sir, in a moment at the third quarter of noon, we will execute the Qi State traitor Gao Changjing at the execution ground in Dong Shi. Haven't you heard?"

"What?!" the man exclaimed, as if doused with cold water, startled to his feet; the tea bowl in his hand clanged against the table, splashing a few drops.

His eyes widened, his voice rose, and he asked in astonishment, "Who? You mean that Qi State traitor Gao Changjing, who has been lurking in Chang'an, repeatedly committing crimes?"

"He's been captured?!"

Gao Changjing's name was infamous throughout Chang'an.

He repeatedly sowed discord in secret, colluding with treacherous officials, causing many families to be ruined and lives lost.

The people of Chang'an had long harbored deep hatred for him, hoping someone would bring him to justice.

The tea stall owner nodded heavily, a hint of satisfaction on his face, "Indeed!"

"This treacherous villain has finally met his downfall, which comforts the citizens he harmed!"

The man, invigorated by the words, eagerly asked, "Who possessed such skill to capture this damned villain?"

The owner straightened up, brushed dust from his hands, and retorted, "In Chang'an, who else could have such methods and daring?"

Without waiting for a reply, he puffed out his chest, his voice brimming with unmistakable pride, and proclaimed, "It must be the Grand Preceptor's son, Prince of Ancheng Yuwen Ze, and our Lord Chen Yan!"

He then beamed, leaned close to the man, lowered his voice yet couldn't hide his excitement, adding, "And later, the officials overseeing the execution will be those two as well!"

"I heard Gao Changjing was captured by those two personally, with fifty‑seven men, not a single one escaped!"

"Great! That's wonderful!" the man, blood boiling, slammed the table hard, shaking the tea bowl, "Truly a gratifying sight!"

"These two gentlemen, truly admirable!"

He paced two steps in excitement, then suddenly seemed to recall something, stopped, looked at the owner, and asked, "By the way, a few evenings ago I saw Lord Chen Yan leading a squad of embroidered messengers, escorting several prison carts into the city. Those carts were tightly covered—couldn't they be transporting Gao Changjing?"

"Most likely!" the owner affirmed, having already packed up the stall, a lock clenched in his hand, eager to claim a good spot on the street.

"Alright, sir, I won't keep you any longer!"

"I must hurry, or I'll miss a good spot and won't see the villain's execution!"

He said that, stepped toward the doorway, and upon reaching the threshold turned back, waved at the man, and generously said, "You don't need to pay for the tea; consider it on me!"

"Consider it a share of the celebratory spirit for punishing the villain!"

Before the words finished, he bolted out of the tea stall, plunged into the crowd, and rushed toward the execution ground.

The man watched the owner's back, then glanced down at the tea bowl on the table and grinned.

He fished a heavy copper coin from his money pouch, slapped it onto the table with a "clack", and shouted loudly, "Owner, wait for me!"

"Such a gratifying event cannot be missed!" he shouted, sprinting forward, his sturdy arms parting the crowd ahead, also heading toward the execution ground.

At the second quarter of noon, the sun was at its peak, its scorching light making people's skin and hair tense.

The streets of Dong Shi were already jammed, citizens shoulder to shoulder looking forward, the noisy chatter and children's play mingling with the rolling heat.

Fortunately, officials from Jing Zhao Fu and Qiu Official Office, wielding water‑fire staffs, formed several squads to maintain order at the crowd's perimeter and the street's center.

They periodically shouted to halt the pushing, preventing the scene from spiraling out of control.

At that moment, at the front of the crowd, a sharp‑eyed young man rose onto his tiptoes, pointed toward the street entrance, and shouted, "Look!"

"The prison cart transporting the Qi State traitor Gao Changjing is coming!"

The words struck the bustling crowd like a stone dropped into boiling oil, instantly quieting it for a moment.

Immediately, all the citizens turned their heads, looking in the direction the young man pointed.

At the street entrance, a squad of soldiers clad in Xuan Armor, wielding Long Spears, marched forward with resonant steps.

Behind them, two prison carts rolled in, their wheels grinding over the bluestone road, emitting a muffled thud.

On the wooden rail of the first Prison Cart, a disheveled figure was locked, it was Gao Changjing.

Though only in his twenties, his eyes were now lifeless, the eye sockets sunken, a head of tangled blue‑black hair scattered, stained with dust and grass, long having lost the noble bearing of his past.

His prison garb was ragged and wretched, stained with grime and blood, clinging tightly to his body, outlining his thin frame.

Yet even so, it could not hide his astonishingly striking appearance....

High cheekbones, a straight nose, lips tinged with pallor yet still finely contoured; even in his unkempt, filthy state, a breathtaking beauty shone through.

In the crowd, a rough‑looking man stared dumbfounded, subconsciously swallowed his saliva, muttering, "That Gao Changjing… is actually more beautiful than the portrait posted by the authorities!"

As soon as the words fell, his gaze turned a few degrees obsessed, faintly revealing a lecherous desire for Gao Changjing's body.

A nearby commoner in a short shirt heard this, immediately gave him a sideways glance, sneering with disdain, "Your mouth's about to drool!"

He then deliberately raised his tone, reminding, "Wake up! He's a man!"

"He's a disaster that corrupts Great Zhou!"

The rough man seemed oblivious, instead licking his cracked lips, chuckling lewdly, "A man isn't impossible either!"

"If I could taste him in this form, then execute him, that would make this life not in vain....."

"Pah!" the commoner spat hard, rolled his eyes wide, retorting angrily, "Stop daydreaming here!"

"Don't even look at the crimes these traitors have done; a death ten thousand times isn't enough!"

The man was rebuked into silence, yet still couldn't help stealing glances at the Prison Cart, though he dared not speak another word.

The Prison Cart rattled onward, drawing nearer, only a few zhang away from the commoners.

The earlier curious chatter instantly turned into thunderous curses.

"Damned traitor! Finally we've caught you!"

"You've harmed so many of our villagers; today you'll repay blood with blood!"

"From now on we'll see how you continue to plague Great Zhou's people!"

Amid the curses, someone tossed a rotten vegetable leaf; with a "slap" it landed squarely on Gao Changjing's shoulder.

That strike seemed to light the fuse.

Countless angry commoners scrambled, picking up pre‑prepared items from their chests or the ground.

Rotten leaves, sour, stinking bran cakes, blackened, decayed vegetable roots....

Also mud‑mixed furnace ash, street‑swept filth, all hurled at Gao Changjing in the Prison Cart in a single rush.

The filthy debris struck the wooden rail of the Prison Cart, fell on Gao Changjing's body and face, producing a dull thud.

While throwing, the commoners raised their arms and shouted, their voices shaking eardrums, "Dare to do evil in Great Zhou! This is your end!"

"Blood for blood! Return the lives of our villagers!"

Inside the Prison Cart, Gao Changjing curled his body, hung his head low, letting the filth rain on him, too lazy even to dodge.

His eyes stared vacantly at the wooden planks beneath his feet, his face showing neither humiliation nor anger, only a dead, loveless silence.

Who could know that in recent days he had already endured endless humiliation.

Those jailers who hated him to the bone, those perverse embroidered‑clad envoys, those selected beggars, under the pretext of visiting, took turns grinding his dignity to dust.

He could no longer seek life, nor could he seek death.

Now being led to the execution ground, for Gao Changjing it was in fact a release.

The Prison Cart pressed on until it stopped at the execution ground at the far end of Dong Shi.

In the center of the execution ground, a high platform had already been erected.

Below the platform, six steed horses stood side by side, coats glossy and sleek, spirits extraordinary.

Each horse had a thick hemp rope tied to it, the rope's end heavy, clearly prepared for execution.

Just as the commoners' gazes fell upon those six horses, the side door of the platform suddenly opened.

Two figures clad in purple official robes stepped out side by side.

On the left stood Yuwen Ze.

His dark lining, purple outer robe, robe edges embroidered with dark‑gold clouds, a jade belt at his waist, gave him an upright bearing, his brows exuding steady authority.

On the right was Chen Yan, also in a purple official robe, handsome, eyes sharp as an eagle, his glance carrying a chilling righteousness.

The moment the two appeared, the noisy execution ground fell silent for a few breaths.

Yuwen Ze raised his hand, took a simple megaphone from the hidden sword‑hand behind him.

He lifted the horn toward the black‑mass of commoners below the stage, announcing loudly, "People of Chang'an, be quiet!"

His deep voice, carried by the megaphone, spread through the heat, landing clearly in each ear.

The noisy execution ground instantly fell mute.

Countless eyes simultaneously fixed on the high platform, watching the two side by side, daring not even a breath.

Yuwen Ze nodded with satisfaction, set down the horn, raised his hand pointing at Gao Changjing, who was kneeling at the side of the platform, escorted by soldiers, and asked loudly, "Everyone gathered here must know who that person is, right?"

His words fell, and the execution ground was silent for a moment, then erupted in a roar like mountains and seas, each voice higher than the last, shaking heaven and earth:

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

Yuwen Ze held the megaphone, his chest rising slightly, his expression growing stern, his bright eyes burning with a chilling flame.

He scanned the black crowd below, each word resonant, righteous, and shouted, "Today, here, we publicly execute Gao Changjing with extreme punishment!"

"It is to tell the world, anyone who dares to disrupt Great Zhou's state and harm Great Zhou's people, this is their fate!"

His words fell, the megaphone sent his voice to every corner of the execution ground, piercing the stifling air, striking straight into the people's hearts.

In an instant, the execution ground burst into earth‑shaking cheers, "Good! Excellent!" cries rose one after another.

A wave of shouts rose higher and higher.

Booming applause followed, clatter echoing everywhere, making eardrums buzz.

The townsfolk all wore delighted expressions; some raised their arms and shouted, others clenched their fists, their eyes brimming with triumphant joy.

Chen Yan stood aside, his gaze calmly fixed on the horizon.

The sun hung at the zenith, its golden glare dazzling, exactly the scene of the third quarter of noon.

He raised his hand, glanced at the sun's shadow, then turned to Yuwen Ze beside him, his voice low and with a hint of reminder: "A Ze, the third quarter of noon has arrived!"

Yuwen Ze heard the words, turned his head and exchanged a glance with Chen Yan.

Their gazes met, both understanding.

He nodded heavily, replying in a deep voice, "Hmm!"

Immediately, Yuwen Ze raised the megaphone, shouted toward the waiting embroidered‑clad envoys below the stage, "Execute!"

Those two words landed with authority, bearing unquestionable command.

The embroidered envoys already waiting aside moved at the sound.

They wore dark‑blue flying‑fish robes, belts bearing Blade, and strode with agile steps to Gao Changjing.

Several envoys together hauled the limp, mud‑like Gao Changjing from the ground, their movements crisp and efficient, without any hesitation.

Then they produced the prepared coarse hemp rope and bound Gao Changjing firmly to the reins of six Horses.

The rope dug into flesh, yet Gao Changjing only let out a faint whimper, lacking any strength to struggle.

And atop the Horse that had Gao Changjing's neck bound, the rider was not a bystander but Zhang Poqi, clad in plain white mourning garb.

He pressed his lips tightly, his jaw clenched hard, his eyes blood‑red, staring intently at the foe before him, his gaze swirling with long‑suppressed hatred.

That mourning attire was worn for his tragically slain father; today, he would personally end this deep sea of blood feud.

With everything prepared, the embroidered envoys stepped aside and shouted in unison, "Mount!"

Six handlers simultaneously brandished Horse Whip, striking hard at the Horses' backs.

The horses winced, immediately rearing and neighing, galloping off in six different directions!

"Ah—!"

A piercing scream suddenly rang out, piercing the noisy cheers.

Gao Changjing's body was pulled by the six galloping Horses at once, the crisp sound of bones cracking faintly audible.

In an instant, the figure that had once amazed countless people with its beauty was torn to pieces.

Fresh blood splashed onto the scorching Qingshi Shiban, instantly steaming up whiffs of foul odor. The execution ground fell silent for a moment, then erupted into even more frenzied cheers.

The townsfolk all beamed, clapping joyfully, their deafening shouts nearly overturning the entire Dong Shi: "Well done! Well done indeed!"

"This wretched Gao Changjing, finally meets his justice!"

"How gratifying! Truly gratifying!"

Zhang Poqi, astride his Horse, watched the grim scene, his taut muscles suddenly relaxing.

He flipped off the Horse, landing with a "thud" as he knelt on the scorching ground; his knees throbbed sharply, yet he felt no pain.

Then, he lifted his head, gazing at the clear blue sky, the hot tears in his eyes finally spilling, his voice choked yet each word clear, brimming with emotion and relief, he shouted, "Father! Does your spirit in heaven see this? Your child has avenged you!"

After speaking, he knocked his forehead on the ground three heavy bows, the impact producing a dull thud.

Immediately, Zhang Poqi slowly raised his head, his gaze cutting through the noisy crowd toward Yuwen Ze on the Gaotai.

Sunlight fell on Yuwen Ze's purple official robe, gilding its edges, making it appear especially imposing.

Zhang Poqi's gaze grew ever firmer, silently vowing in his heart, "From now on, I shall swear to serve my lord to death, sacrificing all without hesitation!"