Dai Mubai was dead.
He had died from losing every last drop of blood through more than six hundred wounds, large and small.
"Young Master Dai, Young Master Dai, how could you leave just like that?"
"Death ended all your troubles, but how am I supposed to survive now?"
The middle-aged man with the pencil mustache knelt before Dai Mubai, tears and snot streaming down his face.
He was crying his heart out.
"Dai Mubai didn't live his life in vain. Someone actually mourned his death."
Zhu Zhuqing spoke indifferently.
Having witnessed Dai Mubai's death, she felt no ripple of emotion.
"Miss, you've got it wrong."
"I'm not crying for Dai Mubai. I'm crying for myself!"
As he spoke, the mustached middle-aged man knelt before Qin Xiao again. "Your Holiness, this lowly one had eyes but failed to recognize Mount Tai. Please spare my life."
Qin Xiao said coldly, "I gave you a chance. You were the one who failed to make use of it."
"Your Holiness, you really can't blame me for this. Forget three thousand cuts-who knew that brat Dai Mubai would give out after just six hundred?"
The mustached man still refused to give up. "How about I take the remaining two thousand four hundred cuts myself?"
As he spoke, he picked up the dagger and plunged it into his thigh.
Rip.
The sharp dagger instantly tore through his clothing, and crimson blood began soaking the fabric.
"Argh..."
The mustached man grimaced in pain, veins bulging on his forehead as beads of sweat tumbled down.
"You're a ruthless one."
Qin Xiao nodded.
"Your Holiness, does that mean you're willing to give me a chance?"
The mustached man was overjoyed.
"No."
Qin Xiao shook his head. "I mean I'll give you a quick death. Zhu Zhuqing, do it!"