Chapter 827: Lingchi Execution at the Hanging City Gate, Iron‑Blooded Wrist Secures the Western Trade Route

The next day at noon, on the square outside the Cheng Nan Gate of Tongwan City, a three‑zhang‑high execution platform cast a dense black shadow in the sunlight.

The platform was built from Tongwan City's thickest pine timber; each pillar was thicker than an adult man's waist, and the top was studded with forty‑seven sharpened Wooden Stakes, each binding a person stripped of their shirt.

He Lanhu was on the very central stake.

His knees were completely ruined, his whole body hung from the stake by iron chains, the weight of his body borne by the chains wrapped under his armpits; the shattered knees swelled into two irregular lumps beneath his trousers, and every inch he fell produced a muffled groan from his throat.

The crowd around the square had become so dense that no gaps could be seen.

One hundred thousand townsfolk surged in from inside and outside Tongwan City—some riding atop the walls, some climbing the eaves of the gate towers, and a sea of black bodies packed every inch of the square, necks stretched long, faces filled with a frenzy that mixed anger and anticipation.

Zhang Wenqian stood on the left side of the execution platform, cradling a Bamboo Silk Scroll filled with the Crime List, his azure official robe rustling in the wind.

He cleared his throat, raising his voice.

"Dushui He Lanhu, colluding with the enemy Qi State's Shadow Department, privately forged twelve thousand weapons, smuggled three hundred seventy‑thousand jin of iron ore, Crime One!"

A wave of curses erupted from the crowd below; someone flung a wilted vegetable leaf at the platform, and with a snap it slapped onto He Lanhu's face.

Zhang Wenqian let the curses die down a moment, then continued.

"Tolerating his relative's Iron Wolf Gang monopolizing the Western Trade Route, slaughtering thirty‑seven innocent merchants, sinking bodies in Sunken Corpse Heaven Pool, including a three‑year‑old child, Crime Two!"

As soon as that charge was spoken, several women in the crowd began wailing on the spot, their howls tinged with a pain that pierced the softest part of the heart.

A fist‑sized stone flew from deep within the crowd, striking He Lanhu's temple precisely; blood ran down his brow bone, mixing with the leaf on his face.

Zhang Wenqian turned the Bamboo Silk Scroll to the second page.

"Deducting Shuyi's Three Thousand Provincial Soldiers' pay for seven years, leaving a vacancy of One Thousand Two Hundred Cavalry, embezzling fourteen‑ten‑thousand taels of silver from military wages, Crime Three!"

That charge sent the former soldiers under He Lanhu's command into a frenzy; some ripped off their boots and threw them onto the platform, others clenched fists, eyes reddened, and surged forward, only to be stopped by the Ti Cavalry maintaining order.

Zhang Wenqian flipped to the final page of the Bamboo Silk Scroll, his voice deepening further.

"All these crimes are as solid as a mountain of iron evidence; the Confession is fully sealed, the material evidence in the Tax Ledger is conclusive."

He rolled up the Bamboo Silk Scroll, handed it to the Cha Yi beside him, and turned to look at Chen Yan seated on the main seat.

"Minister, please issue an order."

Chen Yan remained motionless on the main seat.

His gaze swept slowly over the forty‑seven people bound to stakes on the platform, finally resting on He Lanhu's face.

He Lanhu's head hung low, blood streaming from the wound at his temple, his mouth open, saliva and blood foam mixing and dripping from his chin.

Chen Yan spoke.

"Execution by Lingchi."

When those four words left his mouth, his tone was as flat as reciting a grocery list.

"Hang the corpse at the city gate."

"Expose the corpse for ten days."

"To warn and set an example."

The executioners lifted short blades onto the platform; each blade was polished to a shine, its edge coated with a thin layer of salt water to prolong the victim's pain.

The first slash fell on He Lanhu's left shoulder.

A scream burst from his gray‑washed face, echoing over the heads of a hundred thousand people, ricocheting off the city walls three times before slowly fading.

The townsfolk below watched the ultimate torture without turning away.

Some slapped their thighs in applause, some knelt and kowtowed toward Chen Yan, while many simply clenched their fists, faces showing a thrill released after long suppression.

Chu Ci stood at the back of the crowd, not looking at the platform.

He watched the faces of the townsfolk below.

Chen Wu stood beside him, his voice low.

"Lord, the light in these townsfolk's eyes has changed."

Chu Ci's Adam's apple rolled, his voice hoarse.

"It's not the light that changed; the Minister made them realize something."

He withdrew his gaze from the townsfolk's faces and looked at the young, stern‑faced man on the Gaotai's main seat.

"On this land of Xiazhou, no one can ride over them and defecate; whoever dares to reach out, the Minister will chop off their hand."

After the execution, forty‑seven Human Heads were placed in bamboo cages and hung on the four city gates of Tongwan City.

Chen Yan rose from the main seat, a corner of his Great Cloak's hem lifted by the wind.

"Chu Ci."

Chu Ci hurried up from the crowd onto the platform, standing with fists clasped.

Chen Yan pointed his finger toward the west.

"From today, the Western Trade Route is under your jurisdiction; all illegal checkpoints are to be dismantled, taxes collected uniformly by Zongguan Fu, the tax rate set by the state, you will enforce it."

Chu Ci's eyes reddened, his voice tight yet full of resolve.

"Shuyi accepts the command; if any account does not match, Shuyi will bring the head to meet you!"

Chen Yan patted his shoulder, said nothing, and turned to descend from the execution platform.

One month later.

Zhang Wenqian stood in the doorway of the Main Hall of the General Office, cradling a freshly issued Tax Ledger, his expression three times more exaggerated than when he last reported autumn harvest numbers.

"Minister, since the Western Trade Route was reopened, caravans have poured in nonstop; in just one month, tax revenue has entered the treasury amounting to 1.8 million taels of silver."

He turned the ledger to the final page, his finger drawing a heavy line across the summed figures.

"Including previous reserves and autumn harvest taxes, the national treasury has now surpassed five million taels."

Chen Yan sat behind the desk, his finger tracing a circle on the rim of his tea cup, his voice even.

"Five million taels."

Zhang Wenqian's mouth lifted three points upward.

"Pillar of the State, this figure, even across the whole Great Zhou, can only be held down by Taicang of Chang'an."

Chen Yan did not respond to his words; his finger withdrew from the teacup and landed on the edge of the military Shupan on the table.

He stood up, walked to the Shupan, and pressed his palm on the spot representing the Negotiation Office garrison.

"Old Zhang."

Zhang Wenqian's smile faded a little.

"Pillar of the State?"

Chen Yan withdrew his hand from the Shupan, turned, and looked at him.

"Even if the treasury is full, the army's soul is empty; everything is a sandcastle."

He walked back behind the desk, sat down, and his gaze passed over Zhang Wenqian's shoulder, landing on Gu Yuci and Lu Ming standing at the entrance of Zheng Hall.

"Both of you, come in."

Gu Yuci and Lu Ming exchanged a glance, then strode across the threshold.

Chen Yan pushed the teacup aside, crossed his hands to support his chin, and his eyes swept over the two faces twice.

"I, the Duke, will ask you a question."

Both of them straightened their bodies at the same time.

Chen Yan's voice lowered a half-step.

"Our soldiers, after all, are fighting for whom?"

Lu Ming scratched the back of his head, and a natural expression appeared on his simple, broad face.

"Of course, we fight for the Pillar of the State."

Chen Yan shook his head.

"If one day I die, will they still keep shouldering the weapons?"

The air in Zheng Hall suddenly grew three degrees colder.