Chapter 461

On the first day of the second month, it was also the last day of Da Ming Wang's life on earth.

Following orders from above, Chen Guanlou arranged for the jailers to bathe Da Ming Wang. They changed the water three times before finally washing him clean.

After eating his final meal—the most lavish one—he would be deprived of all food and water.

"This is for your own good. Think about it: execution by slicing. If fear causes you to soil yourself, the crowd may suffer, but the one who loses face is you. You are Da Ming Wang, leader of all rebels, the first to cry out for overthrowing the court—how could you display such disgrace? Fasting and withholding water is correct; fundamentally, it is to preserve your dignity."

Da Ming Wang gnawed on the chicken leg, his face dark and sullen. He wanted to say something, but ultimately stayed silent.

Chen Guanlou added, "Tomorrow, during the Heavenly Sacrifice, all court officials will attend, along with many onlookers. Have you considered what face you'll show them? If you continue wearing this gloomy expression, people will see you as a stray dog. This concerns your lifelong reputation—think carefully."

With his eloquence, Chen Guanlou worked on Da Ming Wang's mindset. He must enter his final journey with dignity.

After finishing the chicken leg, Da Ming Wang wiped his hands and said, "I, Da Ming Wang, stand tall under heaven and earth. I will not fear slicing. I will never succumb to your fears."

"The body sometimes cannot be controlled," Chen Guanlou said plainly. "For this final meal, I advise you eat only seven or eight parts full. Don't overeat—it would be embarrassing."

Da Ming Wang snorted. The fragrant food suddenly turned tasteless; his mood soured.

"Jailor Chen, you know how to ruin a good mood. You won't even let me eat more—it's my last meal!"

"Precisely because it's your last meal, I want you to die with dignity. Besides, you've never been mistreated. Why act like a starving ghost?"

Chen Guanlou genuinely cared for Da Ming Wang—not deception.

Execution by slicing—few can control their body's instinctive reactions. Even the most resolute, by the end, use all their strength just to bite their tongue and stay silent. Physiological responses become unavoidable.

If Da Ming Wang were merely being taken to the execution ground, Chen Guanlou wouldn't have said so much. But he ascends the altar—better to appear dignified. Everyone's face will be spared. Even in death, he must die with dignity, not filthy and reeking—unworthy of the title of the empire's foremost rebel.

"I won't eat! I won't eat!" Da Ming Wang's spirits sank. He ate only half-full, then lost his appetite—even though it was all his favorite food.

Clearly, he still cared about his dignity—he had listened to Chen Guanlou.

Fasting and withholding water—it was for this reason. Not to humiliate him.

Hmph!

He had misunderstood everything from the start.

He looked up at Chen Guanlou. "What else is planned?"

"Tomorrow morning, you'll bathe again—ensure your body is clean. If you have any unfinished wishes, speak now. After tonight, there will be no more chances."

"You already know my wishes, Jailor Chen. I want you to inherit my legacy, and find me a woman to bear my heir."

"Both are out of the question," Chen Guanlou refused sharply. "If there's nothing else, I'm leaving. The jailers will watch over you. If anything unusual happens, shout loudly. Any sound from here, they'll hear."

"I know, I know—go already. So tedious. On my last day, I can't even have peace."

Chen Guanlou nodded and walked out of the dungeon.

He summoned Xiao Jin and whispered, "Have you prepared what I asked you to?"

Xiao Jin's heart jolted. With a trace of fear, he said, "My lord, it's the final day—nothing will happen. I'll guard the cell door tonight. The preparations made earlier won't be needed."

"What if it does? Do you know what despair is? What it means to fail at the final step? Countless have walked ninety-nine steps only to collapse at the hundredth. Never rely on luck. Do what must be done."

Chen Guanlou suspected the worst of certain people—this final night would be the most desperate.

To be safe, he had Xiao Jin prepare a substitute. If Da Ming Wang met an untimely end, the substitute would immediately take his place—substitute one for another, no need for outsiders to know the truth.

As for Da Ming Wang's appearance—hmm… Only the Ministry of Justice and a few Embroidered Uniform Guards had ever seen him, and only when he was filthy, bearded, and disheveled. That gave Chen Guanlou room to fabricate.

Xiao Jin hurried to say, "My lord, rest assured—the man is hidden in the small courtyard. His build isn't identical, but from a distance, you can't tell the difference. His face is at least four or five parts similar."

"Is he willing?"

"Paid well—he's willing."

"This is slicing."

"He's ill, won't live long. We've taken precautions. If he survives the first few cuts, he'll slip into unconsciousness after."

Xiao Jin was a veteran of the dungeon.

He knew every routine inside out—even more cautious and meticulous than Lu Datou, ensuring no trace of evidence remained.

Chen Guanlou nodded, acknowledging Xiao Jin's arrangements. He had never publicly met the substitute, but he'd secretly seen him once—there was indeed a resemblance. To enhance it, the man was kept indoors, away from sunlight, fed Da Ming Wang's exact diet, and grew pale and plump from lack of sun.

For certain madmen, Chen Guanlou never relied on luck. Preparation was survival. Relying on the higher-ups' conscience was futile—rely on yourself.

That night, the dungeon's guards doubled. The jailers watching Da Ming Wang doubled too. Lights burned all night, leaving no corner unwatched.

At midnight, outside, there was noise—sounds of fighting. The jailers did not move.

They had been ordered beforehand: even if knives fell from heaven, even if the sky collapsed, each man must hold his post. No one was to leave. Eyes locked on Da Ming Wang, missing no detail.

Chen Guanlou stood atop the dungeon, holding his standard-issue waist saber.

He had already repelled three waves of attackers.

Indeed, they were mad.

He timed it, gazing at the moonless sky, even whistling. The light, cheerful tune stood out strangely in the night.

Around the dungeon, shadows seemed to shift—uneasy, restless.

The Embroidered Uniform Guards next door were silent as the dead.

He snorted. He knew—they wanted to kick him while he was down, to snatch the spoils.

Want to snatch spoils? Let's see if I'll give you the chance.