Three days later, at noon.
Qingyang City, Zhuge Clan Martial Arts Arena.
The place, which was usually used for the clan's disciples to spar and compete, filled with cheers and sweat, was today enveloped in a grim and heavy atmosphere.
Around the martial arts arena, members of the Zhuge Clan stood densely packed. Whether from the main family or the branch families, almost all the prominent figures in Qingyang City had received the Clan Head's order and were required to be present.
They all had complex expressions, whispering to each other in low voices. Shock, doubt, fear, schadenfreude... all kinds of emotions intertwined and fermented in the crowd.
They simply couldn't believe that the Fifth Elder, Zhuge Ming, who was powerful and influential just three days ago and regarded by many as one of the future pillars of the clan, would end his life here today in the most humiliating and cruel way.
"Traitor"!
This accusation, like a heavy mountain, weighed on everyone's heart.
In the northern part of the martial arts arena, a high platform had been erected. The Clan Head, Zhuge Yuan, dressed in formal black attire, sat in the main seat in the center of the platform, his face as placid as still water. On his left and right were all the remaining elders of the clan, except for the Third Elder. They all had solemn expressions and were as quiet as cicadas in winter.
In these three days, the Clan Head had launched a bloody purge within the clan with the force of a thunderbolt.
All the deacons, stewards, and even guards who were implicated with Zhuge Ming and identified as his partisans were taken down without mercy and thrown into the dungeon. What awaited them would be a cruel punishment second only to death by a thousand cuts.
This ruthlessness and decisiveness made everyone see clearly what terrifying power this usually seemingly gentle Clan Head would unleash once his reverse scale was touched.
"The time has come!"
Following the executioner's high-pitched announcement, two burly Shadow Guards, escorting a person with disheveled hair and his limbs locked in heavy shackles, slowly walked up to the execution platform in the center of the martial arts arena.
That person was none other than Zhuge Ming.
In just three short days, he seemed to have aged by decades. His once shrewd and sharp eyes were now dim and lusterless, filled with bloodshot veins and despair. His cultivation had been personally crippled by the Clan Head. Now, he was no different from an ordinary old man.
He was roughly forced to his knees on the execution platform and chained to a cold iron pillar.
Zhuge Yuan slowly stood up from the high platform. His cold gaze swept over the silent crowd below and finally landed on Zhuge Ming.
"Zhuge Ming."
His voice, enhanced by spiritual energy, was clearly transmitted into the ears of everyone present.
"You colluded with foreign enemies, harmed the qilin of the clan, and intended to usurp the position of Clan Head. For each and every crime, the evidence is conclusive. Today, in the name of the 37th generation Clan Head of the Zhuge Clan, according to the clan rules, I sentence you... to the punishment of death by a thousand cuts!"
"Do you have any last words?"
Zhuge Ming slowly raised his head. On his face, which was as pale as paper, a strange smile suddenly appeared.
He did not look at Zhuge Yuan, but used all his strength to turn his gaze to an inconspicuous corner on one side of the high platform.
There, a wheelchair was parked.
Zhuge Xuan was sitting quietly in the wheelchair, covered with a thick blanket. His face was still pale, and he looked like a frail patient. Uncle Quan stood respectfully behind him.
He was like an outside observer, watching this bloody drama, which was all caused by him, with a cold eye.
Their four eyes met.
One was full of venomous resentment and unwillingness.
The other was as calm as a pool of unfathomably deep, cold water.
"Last words?" Zhuge Ming suddenly burst into crazed laughter. The laughter was hoarse and mournful, echoing over the entire martial arts arena. "Hahahaha... The winner becomes a king, the loser a bandit. I have nothing to say! I only hate... I only hate that I underestimated you! Underestimated you, a young whelp!"
His gaze, like a poison-coated dagger, was fixed on Zhuge Xuan.
"Zhuge Xuan! You are ruthless! You are vicious! I have schemed my whole life, but in the end, I fell at the hands of you, a 15-year-old brat! I am not reconciled! Even as a ghost... I will never let you go!"
His venomous curse made many people present feel a chill run down their spines.
However, in the face of this curse before death, there was not the slightest ripple on Zhuge Xuan's face.
He even nodded slightly at Zhuge Ming, the corner of his mouth curving upwards into an almost imperceptible, faint arc.
That expression seemed to say:
"Your curse, I accept it."
"But, so what?"
This indifference, this contempt, could destroy a person's last shred of dignity more than any vicious words.
Zhuge Ming's laughter came to an abrupt end. As if all the strength had been drained from his body, he dejectedly lowered his head, only constantly muttering, "Monster... you are a monster..."
A trace of forbearance flashed in Zhuge Yuan's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by decisiveness.
He waved his hand sharply.
"Execute!"
The cold word, like the judgment of the god of death, announced Zhuge Ming's final end.
...
Zhuge Xuan did not watch the tragic scene in the martial arts arena until the end.
The moment the execution began, he signaled to Uncle Quan to push him away from that place filled with blood and wails.
Sunlight streamed through the branches and leaves of the trees in the courtyard, casting dappled spots of light and shadow. A gentle breeze blew, bringing the warmth of early summer, and... a faint, almost imperceptible smell of blood.
"Young Master, where are we going now?" Uncle Quan's voice was a little cautious.
The events of the past few days had had too great an impact on him. He looked at the young man in the wheelchair before him, and the awe in his heart had far surpassed loyalty.
He even sometimes felt that what he was serving was not a person, but a... demon god in human skin.
"Let's go see Third Grandfather," Zhuge Xuan's voice was very calm.
Uncle Quan's movement paused slightly, but he did not ask any more questions, only obediently changed direction and pushed the wheelchair towards the residence of the Third Elder, Zhuge Lie.
The Third Elder's residence seemed unusually quiet at this moment.
Most of the servants had been sent to the martial arts arena to watch the execution, leaving only a few trusted aides to guard outside the bedroom.
Seeing Zhuge Xuan's arrival, the faces of these people showed extremely complex expressions. There was sympathy, there was pity, and also a trace of... ineffable distance.
After all, in their eyes, the young man before them was ultimately responsible for the disaster that had befallen the Third Elder.
Uncle Quan stepped forward and spoke a few words in a low voice with the steward guarding the door. Soon, the steward bowed and stepped aside, making way for them.
The bedroom was filled with a thick smell of medicine.
The Third Elder, Zhuge Lie, was lying quietly on the bed. His face was still deathly pale, his breathing weak, and his chest was wrapped in thick bandages with dots of blood seeping through.
A highly respected physician in the clan was performing acupuncture on him, trying to stabilize the chaotic and violent spiritual energy in his body.
Seeing Zhuge Xuan come in, the physician stopped his movements, bowed slightly to him, sighed, and said, "Young Master... for the Third Elder's injuries, this old one has done my best. All his internal organs are ruptured, and 70% to 80% of his meridians are broken... It is already a great fortune that his life could be saved. It's just that in the future... I'm afraid he will no longer be able to use spiritual energy, and will be no different from a cripple."
These words pronounced the death sentence on Zhuge Lie's martial arts career.
No expression could be seen on Zhuge Xuan's face.
He just signaled to Uncle Quan to push the wheelchair to the bedside.
He quietly looked at the unconscious old man on the bed, who was once as fierce as a tiger, for a long, long time.
Then, slowly, he stretched out his uninjured right hand and gently took Zhuge Lie's hand, which was covered with age spots and trembling slightly from the pain.
His voice was very soft, very gentle, and only two people could hear.
"Third Grandfather."
"Rest and recover in peace."
"From today onwards, your share of... mettle and responsibility."
"I will carry it for you."
As if hearing his words, the long eyelashes of the unconscious Zhuge Lie trembled slightly.
A line of turbid tears quietly slid down from the corner of his tightly closed eyes.