Jia Huan stood silently before the bronze mirror in the Interrogation Room for a long time.
Only when hysterical wailing rose from the ministers outside the Imperial Prison did he stir. Hearing of the Empress's death, whether their grief was genuine or feigned, every one of them was overcome with sorrow-and hurled curses as well.
Jia Huan smiled soundlessly, then returned to the Prison Ward.
Slaughtering that venomous woman had just yielded a Middle First Rank Sin Value. Compared with her, the Capital Camp nobles led by Prince of Beijing Shui Rong also carried considerable sin.
He stepped into the spacious prison, where nearly thirty nobles huddled together in a corner, their faces terrified, their bodies trembling.
"Lord Jia, spare me!" Niu Jizong of the Duke's Estate crawled over and slapped himself hard several times with a shaking hand, pleading through tears:
"We are willing to sing your praises, my lord. Please show us mercy!"
Marquis Zhongjing Shi Ding looked even more remorseful, tears and snot streaming down his face:
"Huan'er, Huan'er, I am your grandmother's own nephew! I am Xiangyun's third uncle! That vicious wolf Wang Ziteng stirred everything up and bewitched us into opposing you!"
Jia Huan's expression was icy as he said grimly:
"You razed our three estates and dug up my ancestral graves, yet you still dream of clinging to life? You shameless maggots-wait for your nine degrees of kin to join you in the grave!"
As his words fell, energy surged from both sleeves. Thousands of invisible blades swept out and interwove, every stroke carving into their bodies.
No torment in this world could have been more painful. The nobles were tortured until not an inch of skin remained intact, their eyes filled with profound regret as death approached.
Had they stood with Jia Huan