The Thorn Whip That Tore Flesh and Terrified the Court, Secret Scheming in a Dark Room to Sharpen Their Blades

The thorn branches whipped through the air with a howling wind, weaving an impenetrable web of shadows.

The purple-brown branches were still flecked with dust and blood, but now they had been stained a glaring crimson. Every blow cracked through the air, lashing layered stripes of blood across Lord Changping's bare back.

His flesh had once been pampered and smooth, as if coated in delicate powder. Now it looked as though a layer had been ripped away.

Blood seeped from the ragged flesh, quickly gathering into crisscrossing stripes. It ran down his trembling waist and abdomen, pooling in a small puddle on the flagstones.

"Smack—"

"Aah!"

Before the crack had even faded, all the officials at the back of the line shuddered in unison, even the beards beneath their chins quivering.

Several older men instinctively hunched their backs, as if the barbed branches had just grazed their own flesh. Cold sweat trickled down the backs of their necks beneath their collars, soaking the insides of their robes.

At that moment, everyone kept their heads bowed low. Not one dared lift their eyes for even a glance.

The bronze bells beneath the eaves clanged in the wind, but they could not drown out the unending whip cracks and screams.

A young official newly appointed to his post clenched a silk handkerchief in his sleeve, his knuckles whitening until they seemed ready to snap.

Just the other day, he had heard at Xianyang Palace about Lord Changping's many achievements as Qin's chancellor. Admiration and awe had filled his heart, and he had decided that, if he got the chance, he would cling tightly to this powerful patron.

And now, today, he watched this noble scion of the royal house roll in the mud like a stray dog. Not a trace of his