Iron Fist Clears Traitors, Ancheng Citizens; Mysterious Gate Refines Qi into Dan Yuan

Over the next few days, even the wind in Wu'an City carried a biting chill that seemed to scour away the dust.

Wang Bo's remaining underlings and the Qian Family's hired lackeys were rooted out one by one by the Blood-Clad Army and the newly appointed Qin officials.

The embezzled silver found in the county yamen's storehouses was piled in burlap sacks along half a street.

The land deeds hidden in the cellar of the Qian Family's old estate, spread across the ground, could have circled the courtyard three times.

The execution ground was set up in an open space in South City, blood flowing in streams.

Every flash of the executioner's blade sent another head rolling into the dust.

Those mountains of flesh who had once strutted about in power and privilege came crashing down all over the ground.

When the Qian Family patriarch was pressed onto the execution block, Old Man Zhang, an aged tenant farmer whose three mu of irrigated land had once been forcibly seized by him, squeezed into the very front of the crowd on his cane. Tears streamed from his clouded eyes, yet he smiled and muttered, "Someone's finally let me vent this breath..."

There was also Widow Li, whose son had been driven to death by the Qian Family. Clutching her son's wooden spirit tablet, she kowtowed three times beneath the execution platform, utterly unaware that blood was already seeping from her forehead.

There was not the slightest fear among the watching townsfolk—only the exhilaration that had been suppressed for years.

For the first time, they felt that the dark clouds hanging over Wu'an City for so many years had finally dispersed for good.

The hope of clouds parting to reveal the sun welled up in every heart.

The task of surveying the