Beneath the gloomy sky, more than thirty people had their hands tightly bound with hemp rope and were linked together in a line.
Sacks covered their heads. The fabric was loosely woven, full of large and small gaps, allowing them to vaguely see their surroundings.
Ankle shackles were fastened around their feet. Every step they took brought the sound of iron balls dragging across the ground.
They had been arranged in a wide plaza surrounded by Gefran civilians who had come to watch.
After a period of "coexistence," the Gefrans had gradually grown accustomed to Peng Joe rule.
Sometimes, the human species truly was an incredibly strange creature—or perhaps it simply possessed an extremely powerful capacity for adaptation.
Just a few months ago, they had still wanted nothing more than to tear chunks of flesh from one another.
Yet now, they were already able to coexist peacefully.
Humans, in the end, needed only to have their minimum requirements for survival met to muddle through!
The bound prisoners were brought to the execution platform.
It was a wooden structure built on a raised platform, but its original color was no longer visible. It was entirely black.
If someone took a planer and shaved off a few layers, they would find that after the blackest outer layer was removed, the color grew redder the deeper they went.
This was not the result of some expensive dye, nor was it Dragon Blood Wood. It had simply been soaked in blood, dyed red and then black, layer by layer!
Human blood!
They were tied behind individual wooden posts, and an officer walked onto the execution platform.
He casually picked up several pages of newspaper from the short table beside him, repeatedly turning them around as he looked at the surrounding crowd.
"These people were