Yang Qing and the others had been trapped in that little courtyard for two full days.
The courtyard was quite comfortable to live in, and the surrounding scenery was pleasant. There was just one problem: no matter what Yang Qing and the others tried, they could not leave it.
And the dry rations they had on hand were visibly dwindling.
Before leaving, Emperor Zhetian had made himself perfectly clear: he would make Yang Qing wish he were dead.
That evening, Bu Er and Jiang Zhizhou had dug up a patch of potatoes in the courtyard.
Naturally, someone had deliberately buried those potatoes there.
The intention behind it was equally obvious.
Those people wanted Yang Qing and the others to have no choice but to eat these potatoes once they had finished all their dry rations.
And every one of those potatoes had been laced with poison, in varying amounts.
If they did not eat, they would die; if they ate, they would die all the same.
The only difference was whether they died sooner or later.
"I never imagined that a lofty Sacred Emperor would come up with such an inventive punishment." Yang Qing looked at the potatoes dug up in the middle of the courtyard and gave a little smile.
He had thought that, as a Sacred Emperor, the man would have any number of vicious methods at his disposal if he wished to punish someone. Who could have known he would resort to such a seemingly ordinary trick?
As the saying went, the Great Dao was simplicity itself. Sometimes, the simplest way to deal with someone was also the most effective.
Emperor Zhetian had spent centuries preparing, even accounting for everything that might happen in the centuries after his demise, all to ensure the most perfect rebirth for