Chapter 796: Flaying and Straw Stuffing Threatens the Officials, the Azure Sky

The Central Square of Tongwan City, on the third morning after Chen Yan's order, was completely turned into a battlefield seething with killing intent.

At the very center of the square, a three‑zhang‑high Execution Platform made of a single piece of pine wood stood, its surface covered with scarlet coarse cloth, dark red flags of the Mingjing Division planted at the four corners, and the Cangying Emblem on the flags fluttered wildly in the morning wind.

The open space beneath the platform was enclosed by three rows of cheval de frise and an iron chain by the embroidered‑clad envoy, forming a closed Observation Area; the Ti Cavalry of the Mingjing Division stood fully armed behind the obstacles, their waist‑mounted Horizontal Blades half drawn, and the crossbows already strung.

All civil and military officials of Xiazhou were ordered to assemble in the front rows of the square before dawn, each dressed in neat official robes, standing in the cold wind without daring to exhale.

Zhang Wenqian stood at the front of the civil officials' line; his expression was steady, but the fingers gripping his sleeve tightened slightly.

Hundreds of thousands of Liuren and local residents packed the square to the point of blockage, a sea of heads swarming, a black mass stretching to the edge of sight.

Chen Yan arrived.

He wore the Black Python Pattern Cloak, strode in from the Main Channel on the north side of the square, followed by Hongye and twelve fully armored Beiwei Dead Guards.

The cloak's hem was lifted and dropped by the wind, the dark‑gold python pattern faintly shimmering in the morning light, framing his broad‑shouldered, narrow‑waisted figure like a war god cast from molten iron.

He ascended the stone steps of the Execution Platform step by step, each footfall like a heavy hammer striking everyone's hearts.

He stood firm.

He turned, facing the dense sea of people below the platform.

The murmurs that had lingered in the square fell into dead silence the instant his gaze swept over them, leaving only the rustling of flags in the morning wind.

"Bring the prisoners up."

Chen Yan's voice was not loud, but after channeling Qi Refining, each word hammered into the ears of everyone in the square like an iron nail.

From the side passage of the Execution Platform, the sound of iron chains dragging on the ground grew nearer.

Gao Jiong personally escorted the first group of prisoners onto the platform.

At the front of the line was Zhou Xingsi.

This judicial officer who three days earlier had been calling the shots in Juncheng now wore only a blood‑stained white prison garb, hair disheveled, barefoot, his soles covered with blood blisters scraped by the rough Shiban.

Chained behind him were Liu Dabao, Liu Daba, Zhao Lizheng, and eleven implicated officials and accomplices seized from the Qinghe County office.

Each face bore the marks left by the Mingjing Division's interrogations—some with bruised eye sockets, some with split lips, some limping, their kneecaps evidently displaced.

Fifteen condemned prisoners were pushed to kneel at the very center of the Execution Platform, facing the hundreds of thousands of eyes below.

Chen Yan took a roll of bamboo silk scroll from Hongye's hand and unfolded it.

His gaze scanned the scroll's contents, then he lifted his head and raised the scroll to shoulder height.

"People of Xiazhou, listen carefully."

His voice rolled out from deep within his chest, carrying a weight that could shatter frozen earth.

"The fifteen dogs kneeling on this platform, first charge: colluding with the Shadow Department of Qi State, receiving enemy funds and silver totaling over 13,000 taels, intending to incite Liuren riots under my rule and overthrow Xiazhou's foundation."

A suppressed gasp rose from the crowd below.

"Second charge: embezzling over 700 mu of Liuren farmland, confiscating more than 3,000 jin of grain from official granaries, appropriating forty‑seven sets of farming tools personally allocated by the Pillar of the State, and stuffing the loot into one's own pockets."

Someone began to grind their teeth.

"Third charge: tolerating family henchmen to levy usurious money in the countryside, causing three deaths from compounded interest, forcing seven virtuous women into prostitution, and forcibly taking four local girls."

A young Liuren woman standing in the front rows suddenly covered her face, her shoulders shaking violently, while her husband clutched her, gritting his teeth to force his tears back into his eyes.

"Fourth charge: abusing judicial authority to shield the murderer, classifying the homicide as an accidental drowning, trampling human life."

Chen Yan folded the scroll.

"Fifth charge."

His voice dropped a half step, the low timbre wrapped in murderous intent so intense that the officials in the front rows below felt their legs go weak.

"Wearing my banner, donning the official robes I granted, holding the salary I allocated, and speaking that sentence to my people."

He flung the scroll onto the platform.

"The red seal on the field deed may be stamped over, or it may be scratched off."

The air in the square turned into a slab of ice in that instant.

Chen Yan's voice erupted from the center of that ice.

"No one under heaven has the right to reclaim what I have given you!"

The moment those words landed, the emotions of the hundreds of thousands below ignited as if by a single fuse.

A wrinkled old farmer was the first to collapse to his knees, his forehead striking the earth with a muffled thud.

"Pillar of the State Qing Tian, kill these beasts!"

Then came a second shout, a third, the hundredth, the thousandth.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Roaring cries like mountain and sea tides converged from all directions of the square to the sky above the Execution Platform, shaking the flags overhead violently.

Chen Yan stood at the heart of this wave of sound, his cloak billowing backward in the wind.

He neither incited nor suppressed the emotion; he simply let it burn naturally to its fiercest.

Then he reached into the Bamboo Slip Container before him and drew a vermilion Death Sentence Slip.

Fifteen of them—no more, no less.

He raised the slip high, letting the sunlight make its vermilion lacquer glow like blood.

"Execution by Beheading."

He tossed the first slip onto the platform; its tip embedded in the wood with a crisp clang.

"Principal offender Zhou Xingsi, Liu Dabao, Liu Daba, Zhao Lizheng—four persons—additionally sentenced to Flaying and Straw Stuffing, and three days of prison cart street parade."

Flaying and Straw Stuffing.

Those four words were like four red‑hot branding irons, scorching the faces of all officials below.

Zhang Wenqian pressed his lips together, closed his eyes briefly, and said nothing.

Several minor officials of county‑magistrate rank standing in the rear rows felt their knees start to tremble, one even quietly slipping back into the crowd.

Gao Jiong's gaze swept over the officials' ranks like an eagle, recording every expression on each face in his mind.

Execution.

The executioner is specially trained by the Bright Mirror Office, and his technique is extremely seasoned.

When the Ghost Head Blade was raised, the entire square fell silent as if it were a cemetery.

The blade falls.

The first head rolled onto the crimson coarse cloth, and the column of blood spurting from the neck cavity traced an arc in the sunlight, splashing onto the edge of the Execution Platform and dripping down tick by tick.

The second.

The third.

The fourth.

Only after the fifteenth head had completely separated from its body did the executioner retreat to the side of the platform.

Then came the four chief villains sentenced to Flaying and Straw Stuffing.

When the punishment expert of the Bright Mirror Office stepped onto the platform, he carried in his hand a specially made curved thin‑blade Flaying Knife and a bag of dried straw.

The process did not last long, but the visual impact it left on everyone present was enough that they would see it every time they closed their eyes for the rest of their lives.

Four whole human skins were stripped off from skull to ankle with inch‑perfect precision, then artisans used extremely delicate technique to pack dry straw inside and stitch them into four straw figures the size of living humans.

The straw figures' faces retained the expression twisted by extreme terror before death, their hollow eye sockets gaping toward the sky, exuding a nauseating scent of blood in the sunlight.

The four straw figures were hung on four freshly hewn White Wood Flagpoles, erected at the four corners of the Execution Platform.

Chen Yan stood at the center of the platform, the four straw figures swaying slightly in the wind behind him, the crimson coarse cloth of the platform stained with blood.

He surveyed the sea of people below, already plunged into extreme shock and frenzy.

"From today onward, these four things will be mounted on Prison Carts and paraded through every county town and every village across Xiazhou for three full days."

His finger pointed toward the row of officials below, their faces the color of earth.

"You have all made it clear for the Duke."

His voice at that moment dropped to an almost whispering level, yet each word was like a red‑hot iron nail, precisely driving into the officials' Heavenly Spirit Covers.

"The Duke can grant you wealth and honor, and can also make your deaths look even uglier than these four things."

He withdrew his finger, turned, and the hem of his Great Cloak swept over the bloodstains on the platform, leaving a long dark‑red trail behind him.

"If anyone thinks the Duke's blade is not fast enough, feel free to reach out and try."

A roar erupted from below, so fierce it seemed to change the colors of heaven and earth.

"Chen Qingtian, may you live a thousand years!"

"I am willing to die serving Chen Zhuguo!"

The waves of shouts rose one after another, shaking the early‑spring blue sky above Tongwan City as if it were about to split apart.

Zhang Wenqian stood at the front of the civil officials' line; little expression could be read on his face, yet deep within his downcast eyes, something called awe was slowly settling.

When the Prison Cart left the square, the four straw figures hanging on the flagpoles swayed in the spring breeze, traveling every official road, every city gate, and every village entrance across Xiazhou.

Where they passed, the common folk poured out onto the streets; some clapped with delight, some knelt and wept, and many simply stood by the roadside, silently watching the four straw figures pass before them, then returned home to wipe the Wooden Plaque on their stove, inscribed with "Chen Zhuguo Longevity Tablet," even cleaner.

Three days later.

Every grassroots official across Xiazhou, from county magistrates to village heads, from grain supervisors to storehouse chiefs, all received a Handwritten Letter sealed with Chen Yan's personal cipher.

The Handwritten Letter contained only one sentence.

The Duke's eyes are everywhere.