Chapter 41 This Matter Still Requires Yuan Chonghuan

Outside the Execution Ground at the Vegetable Market.

Every single patch of open ground capable of holding a person was packed solid by a frenzy of raving commoners.

More than a dozen foreigners were bound to the execution racks.

At the sharp cry of "Proceed with the execution!", over a dozen veteran executioners—men long accustomed to the prison cells and skilled in every manner of handiwork—successively poured basins of ice-cold water over the pale chests of the foreigners.

This was an intangible cultural heritage passed down by their ancestors.

Drenching them with ice water before applying the blade caused the heart to contract violently.

This method not only allowed the condemned to experience the utmost agony most clearly, but also minimized bleeding when the blade finally fell, ensuring a slower death.

It was designed to be both aesthetically pleasing and practical.

As the very first sliver of flesh was carved from the left breast, the shrieks of the condemned on the stage drove the audience below into an even deeper frenzy.

With every slice of flesh carved away, the commoners opened their mouths to rain down curses and thrust their arms high in roaring cheers.

Mao Wenlong watched the scene for a short while before turning and striding toward the post station.

He had become thoroughly convinced that all of this was being orchestrated behind the scenes by the new emperor.

And the reason behind the new emperor's actions was undoubtedly to ignite the emotions of the common people, thereby uniting the populace of the Great Ming to take up arms and resist the Later Jin.

No, no, no!

For a sovereign sent by the heavens like His Majesty, "destroying the Jin" was a far more fitting description.

Mao Wenlong's heart surged with turbulent emotions, and his steps were as swift as flying.

So much so that his two young attendants behind him had to break into a trot just to keep up.

Lingchi—death by a thousand cuts—held no particular spectacle for Mao Wenlong; on the battlefield, he had long grown accustomed to the sight of flying arms and legs.

His Majesty was summoning him tonight.

He needed to seize the present moment to draft a detailed analysis of the current situation in Liaodong for His Majesty's reference.

Even if these analyses of his could merely save His Majesty a fraction of time, it would be entirely worth it.

......

Meanwhile.

At the very same time the execution ground at the Vegetable Market was ringing with deafening cries of slaughter.

Another gathering of Great Ming officials was taking place within that secluded courtyard.

This time, the number of attendees was even greater than the previous gathering.

The expressions on the faces of this group were ominously dark.

When Tian Ergeng and his faction were previously executed, none of them had felt such sheer terror and panic as they did now.

Yet today, upon hearing that the Marquis of Wuqing's entire clan had been exterminated and their properties confiscated, with the Marquis himself suffering the agonizing fate of lingchi, they truly began to completely unravel.

Death in itself was a terrifying thing.

If one were to die in such an excruciatingly agonizing manner, it became infinitely more terrifying.

In the eyes of everyone present, the Emperor's actions were most likely a stark intimidation directed at the entire court and bureaucracy before his impending imperial tour.

Regardless of whether the Emperor actually harbored such intentions, this behavior had certainly planted that exact suspicion firmly in their hearts.

And so, they were afraid.

They feared whether the next butcher's knife would descend upon one of them, serving as a warning to terrify the rest.

After all, the Marquis of Wuqing was an imperial relative by marriage, a genuine peerless marquis of the highest rank.

His political standing exceeded even that of the senior officials of the grand premier rank within the court.

Moreover, the Marquis of Wuqing's family had flourished for over three generations.

His foundation and influence were far beyond what Tian Ergeng—viewed by high officials merely as a tool for doing dirty work—could ever compare to.

Yet, a figure of such magnitude had his entire clan wiped out with a single word from the Emperor.

No due process, no trial, simply because of a single word!

He was mad, utterly and completely mad!

This was the behavior of a tyrant akin to Jie and Zhou!

Granted, from a practical standpoint, the current Emperor was still far from capable of uprooting all of them by their roots.

Otherwise, the entire Great Ming realm would instantly suffer from paralyzed administrative orders and widespread regional fragmentation.

However, selecting a single unfortunate soul from their midst to be flayed was well within the madness and capability of the present Emperor.

The problem, however, was that no one was willing to gamble, nor did anyone dare to gamble, on whether they would become that unfortunate soul.

The fear of the unknown was the most unsettling thing of all.

Therefore, they had to unite to create a massive institutional counterweight against the Emperor, forcing him to hesitate and refrain from acting rashly.

Only by doing so could they ensure that the butcher's knife would not easily fall upon any single one of them.

Amidst an atmosphere as gloomy as stagnant water, Huang Liji, acting as the current leader of the officials, finally spoke:

"All of us here are now like ants on a hot pan; the slightest lapse in attention could lead to utter and irredeemable ruin."

"Therefore, I urge you all to pool your wisdom and think of a way to weather this immediate crisis."

"Once we pass this hurdle, the days ahead will become manageable once more."

As his voice trailed off, an official hailing from Fujian stepped forward: "How about we submit a joint memorial overnight claiming that the wokou pirates are invading the borders, just to force His Majesty to hesitate out of concern for the imperial ancestral shrines?"

This was a heavily relied-upon tactic.

Back after the demise of Emperor Chengzu, Emperors Xuanzong and Yingzong had attempted to lift the maritime ban and dispatch fleets to the Western Oceans.

And then, Fujian miraculously witnessed a massive invasion of wokou pirates along its borders, accompanied by widespread civilian rebellions.

The moment the imperial decree was rescinded, Fujian instantly returned to peace.

This trick was a remarkably effective instrument wielded by the civil official faction in their struggle for power against the emperor.

When the emperor was weak, a single fabricated memorial could frighten him into retreat; when the emperor was strong, well, one simply had to manufacture a genuine commotion.

Huang Liji shook his head: "Fujian is too far away; I'm afraid it won't be enough to sway His Majesty's resolve."

Another official stepped forward and suggested: "Then... what about tax resistance in the Jiangnan region?"

"Over these past few days, the Emperor has already confiscated millions of silver taels, and now he has the Marquis of Wuqing's estate to fill the treasury's deficits. I'm afraid such a move would yield little effect."

The officials collectively fell into silence.

Simultaneously, a subtle burning rage began to rise within each of their chests.

This won't do, and that won't do either—why on earth did we ever choose this man to be Emperor?!

Furthermore!

What on earth have we done wrong to force us into such a corner?!

We have merely acquired a few hundred thousand mu of fertile farmland, constructed a few gardens, and amassed a bit of silver. Which noble family throughout the dynasties has not done the exact same?

Why must they relentlessly single us out and refuse to let go?!

Amidst the heavy silence, yet another official stepped forward: "Perhaps... the situation in Liaodong could stir His Majesty's concerns."

The four Grand Secretaries of the Cabinet and several white-haired elders cast calm gazes toward him: "Go on."

"If there are upheavals in Liaodong, the capital will be plunged into a defenceless predicament. Considering this, His Majesty will undoubtedly have misgivings and will not dare to act rashly, even if he proceeds with his imperial tour."

As his voice fell, immediate voices of agreement echoed.

"This proposal is remarkably sound; I deem it viable."

"It's just—will that side cooperate? The situation in Liaodong is complicated; it is far from being a monolithic block."

The official who made the proposal gave a cold laugh: "What is there to fear? If we submit a false memorial overnight, even if the forces in Liaodong receive the news and send word back to the capital, it will still take two to three months."

"If we create further delays from our end, having the news reach the capital in three to five months is hardly a difficult task."

Huang Liji shook his head: "A mere fabricated memorial alone is far from enough to hoodwink our wise and sagacious Emperor."

He left the second half of his sentence unspoken, but everyone present understood its meaning.

They had to possess the genuine capability to provoke turmoil in Liaodong; only then would the Emperor truly feel constrained and hesitant.

After a brief moment of reflection among the assembly, an elderly man nodded: "This proposal is indeed well-conceived, except... the execution of this matter will require the involvement of Yuan Chonghuan."