Chapter 40: Confiscation, Extermination, and Death by a Thousand Cuts

Boom!

Mao Wenlong felt as if his brain had been struck by lightning. He snapped his eyes open, only to find that the youth who had delivered such deafening revelations was nowhere to be found.

Glancing out through the window, he saw that the sky was already bright with the morning light. His attendants outside, seemingly alerted by the movement within, breathed a long sigh of relief upon seeing Mao sitting on the bed.

"Grand Marshal, you have finally returned to your senses. You gave us quite a fright last night."

Mao Wenlong regained his usual composure. "What happened yesterday?"

A look of embarrassment flickered across the attendant's face. "Cough... Grand Marshal... last night, you were acting as if possessed by a spirit or suffering from a delirious fever..."

"Ever since you returned, you kept shouting, 'Great Ming is saved! Great Ming is saved!' You tossed and turned until the middle of the night before finally falling asleep."

Yesterday!

Listening to his subordinate, Mao Wenlong suddenly recalled the things he had inquired about. He realized that his memories were spinning through his mind like a revolving lantern.

Those things... they were all true!

Mao Wenlong rose abruptly from the bed, only to find that his movements were significantly more agile than they had been over the past two years. Even the chronic injuries sustained from years of campaigning felt much better than before.

Just as he stood in silence, a clamor rose from the street outside the window: "Come and see! The Emperor has issued a decree to confiscate the estate of the Marquis of Wuqing!"

The Marquis of Wuqing?!

Hearing the name, Mao Wenlong was taken aback. He had heard rumors of the Marquis—a man known for his arrogance, tyranny, and collusion with corrupt officials; his reputation among the common folk had long been foul. However, the Marquis was a direct descendant of the clan of the Empress Dowager Li from the Wanli era, a genuine imperial relative, which was why no one had dared to touch him.

Yet, such a man had suddenly been targeted for confiscation by the new Emperor?!

He immediately ordered his attendant: "Bring me civilian clothes. Let's go and see!"

Before long, Mao Wenlong followed the surge of commoners on the street to the gates of the Marquis's residence. The estate was already surrounded by a large detachment of the Imperial Guard, leaving only a cleared space in front for the onlookers.

Beneath the grand plaque of the residence, a middle-aged man knelt, clutching an ancestral tablet and wailing in agony.

"An injustice! I am an imperial relative, blessed by the nation's grace for generations—how could I have committed acts of corruption and lawlessness? I must see the Emperor! I am being wronged!"

The man wailing in despair was the current Marquis of Wuqing, Li Guorui.

When the group of foreigners had been captured, he had received the news that very night. Terrified by the Emperor's recent displays of brutality and bloodthirst, Li Guorui had been paralyzed with fear. But after a day passed without further action, a glimmer of wishful thinking had taken hold:

As a noble imperial relative, he was fundamentally different from the officials and thugs the Emperor had already executed. Surely, the Emperor would not punish him for such a minor matter; at most, he would receive a stern warning afterward.

But he had not expected that, only one day later, the Imperial Guard would arrive to surround his mansion. In a desperate final struggle, Li Guorui had grabbed his ancestral tablet and rushed to the gate, holding onto one last shred of hope:

The Emperor... surely he would show some regard for the dignity of the Imperial family?

Facing Li Guorui's cries, the Imperial Guards did not intervene; they simply stood by with their hands on their blades.

Mao Wenlong, watching from the crowd, did not join in the cheers of the people. As he observed, his mind raced. He had only heard rumors before, but what was happening now was something he was witnessing firsthand.

"Yesterday, there wasn't even a whisper of this, yet today, with a single word from His Majesty, a noble Marquis and imperial kinsman is being stripped of everything."

"Those rumors were indeed true!"

As for whether Li Guorui’s wailing would damage the dignity of the Imperial family, Mao Wenlong didn't even bother to consider it. Would a new Emperor who had already cowed the entire civil bureaucracy into silence care about something like this?

As a military officer, Mao Wenlong's perspective was simpler: only the survivors were qualified to care about reputation.

While Mao Wenlong pondered, a commoner in front of him suddenly spoke to someone nearby:

"This dog-begotten Li Guorui! The Emperor should have killed him long ago! Have you heard? A single meal of his costs thousands of taels of silver! We couldn't earn that much even if we farmed for ten lifetimes!"

Another person added, "As long as one breaks the law, the Emperor treats even imperial relatives the same. Having such an Emperor is truly the fortune of our Great Ming!"

Sounds of agreement rose from the surrounding crowd, and the cheers grew even louder. For the common people, it had been many years since they had seen such a high-ranking figure fall, let alone someone as notoriously corrupt and powerful as Li Guorui. Not to mention, it was an undeniable fact that he had allowed his servants to bully the weak and trample the innocent.

Mao Wenlong glanced at the men who had spoken. With his experience, it was not hard to see that they were likely agents planted by the Imperial Guard. At the same time, Mao realized that this confiscation was likely not as simple as it appeared.

Sure enough, just as he was thinking, the sound of galloping hooves echoed from afar. Soon, dozens of cavalrymen surged down the street, and the crowd spontaneously parted to make way. Mao Wenlong was pushed back by the throng, but he could still clearly see the murderous, black-clad youths at the lead.

Mao Wenlong knew these were the Emperor's personal guards. With their arrival, the noisy crowd fell instantly silent.

As the cavalry reached the gates of the Marquis's residence, one of the youths in black jumped from his horse and shouted in a clear, ringing voice: "A verbal decree from His Majesty!"

The crowd knelt in a wave.

"Li Guorui, Marquis of Wuqing, has colluded with foreigners and secretly engaged in usury, causing countless families to be ruined and lives to be lost. The evidence is conclusive, and the crimes are unforgivable!"

"Therefore, his title is stripped, all properties and lands are to be confiscated, and his entire clan is to be executed."

"Li Guorui himself, along with the ringleaders and accomplices in his household, shall be executed by *lingchi* (death by a thousand cuts) in three days."

"The foreigners and their associates are to be dragged to the Caishikou execution ground and executed by *lingchi* immediately!"

With that, the Shenwei Battalion guards did not linger. They turned and dragged Li Guorui into the mansion, and immediately, shrill, harrowing screams erupted from within. Time was tight and the task was heavy; they had to extract the details of his assets before the execution in three days.

The onlookers outside fell into a profound silence. Confiscation, extermination, *lingchi*—these words ignited the blood in their veins.

For years, everyone in the Great Ming knew that the soldiers lost to the Jin alone numbered in the hundreds of thousands. If one added the uncounted commoners of the Great Ming, the figure would be well over a million. Even in the outskirts of the capital, there were many refugees who had fled from Liaodong.

Among those who had died, how many were their own kin, children, or brothers-in-arms?

National hatred and personal grief intertwined. After a brief silence, the crowd erupted like a wildfire. Once, they had no choice. But now, with the new Emperor on the throne and the Great Ming beginning to rebuild from the ruins, they saw hope and felt their spines stiffen.

Someone in the crowd shouted, "Long live the Emperor! May our Great Ming prosper!!!"

Mao Wenlong watched as the entire crowd erupted in a simultaneous, thunderous roar.

The fifty-year-old Mao Wenlong watched this scene, his knuckles white as he gripped his hands together.

*If the entire Great Ming could be like this, what is there to fear from the mere Jin?*