118: Xuanwu Gate turns into a Shura battlefield!

She saw the cold, disdainful, and even secretly gleeful faces of the Civil and Military Officials.

Finally, she looked up at the city wall, at the man she called 'brother'.

Li Chengqian's face was still that dead, icy plain, without a hint of emotion.

He merely watched coldly, as if enjoying a play whose script had long been written.

"No..."

A desperate whisper escaped Gaoyang's throat.

It was too late.

The executioner raised the heavy hilt high.

Sunlight glinted off the gleaming blade, reflecting a dazzling cold light that blinded everyone.

Time, at this moment, was stretched into a viscous syrup, slow and suffocating.

The executioner's muscles bulged, the veins on his arms like coiled evil Dragons.

He opened his eyes wide, let out a beastly roar, and with all his strength, slammed the heavy hilt down!

"Crack!"

A teeth-grating crunch drowned out all the screams and wails.

It wasn't the sound of metal clashing, but the dull thud of bones and organs being instantly severed.

Princess Gaoyang's magnificent palace dress, along with her slender waist, was split in two by that merciless cold light.

Blood, like a breaching flood, gushed from the severed wound.

The warm liquid splattered the executioner's blade, stained the cold flagstones, and even splashed onto the faces of the two Imperial Guards holding her down.

They expressionlessly released their grip, allowing the two still-twitching halves of her body to roll to the ground.

Her upper body, the once beautiful and pampered face, had wide-open eyes with dilated pupils, and her mouth was frozen in a final, silent scream.

Her lower body, those feet in exquisite embroidered shoes, twitched nervously twice, then became completely still.

The rich smell of blood and the foul odor of internal organs instantly permeated the air, assaulting everyone's nostrils.

Outside Xuanwu Gate, there was a deathly silence.

Everyone was stunned by this bloody and brutal scene.

Even the wind stopped blowing.

"Ah—ah ah ah ah—!"

A heart-wrenching wail broke the silence.

Fang Yiai's entire body seemed to have its bones removed, collapsing to the ground.

Under eyelids forcibly held open, two streams of bloody tears rolled down.

He watched with his own eyes as the woman he had loved his entire life, the woman who would act spoiled with him, lose her temper with him, and had once shown him a gentle smile, was thus turned into a blurry mess of flesh and blood.

Hoarse, strange sounds escaped his throat, like a dying beast.

He struggled desperately, banging his head against the ground; the wound on his forehead reopened, blood and dirt mixing together, making him look like a demon crawled out of Hell.

"Gaoyang... Gaoyang..."

He murmured repeatedly, his voice hoarse and broken, every word stained with blood.

Above the city wall, Li Chengqian quietly watched the pile of rotting flesh below, watching the man rolling and wailing on the ground.

There was no expression on his face; it was not his own sister who had just been cut in half, but an insignificant animal.

He slowly shifted his gaze from Princess Gaoyang's corpse to Fang Yiai's face.

In those deep eyes, there was finally a ripple of emotion.

It was not sorrow, not pity, but a cold, cruelly satisfied scrutiny.

This was what he wanted to see.

It was Fang Yiai's pain, his despair, his agony worse than death, at this very moment.

"I just want to make your heart ache."

Li Chengqian's voice was not loud, yet it clearly entered everyone's ears, and like a poisoned dagger, it precisely stabbed into Fang Yiai's heart.

"I want to see just how much grief you can bear!"

Fang Yiai suddenly looked up, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Li Chengqian on the city wall, filled with endless resentment and hatred.

If looks could kill, Li Chengqian would have been cut into a thousand pieces.

But Li Chengqian merely met his gaze indifferently, not even moving an eyebrow.

This bit of hatred, to him, was nothing more than a gentle breeze.

What he wanted was deeper despair.

His gaze swept over the group of Monk soldiers, surrounded by the Imperial Guards, their faces ashen.

They were Princess Gaoyang's followers, her hired thugs, and her claws and teeth for rebellion.

At this moment, their Buddhist staffs and Ring Knife (Jiedao) lay on the ground, each of them trembling like sieves.

The leader, Monk Bianji, the man who had engaged in intimate acts with Gaoyang on the bed, was now even paler, his lips trembling, unable to utter a complete sentence.

"What? Already scared?"

Li Chengqian's voice was laced with mockery, "When you were rebelling with Your Highness the Princess just now, weren't you very brave?"

He gave no one time to react, suddenly waving his arm, his voice like an imperial decree from the nine depths of Hell.

"Guards!"

"Execute all these Evil Monks on the spot, not a single one shall be spared!"

"I want the area outside Xuanwu Gate to run with blood!"

"Yes!"

The Tang Imperial Guards' battle blades were drawn again, the gleaming light of the blades forming a continuous sheet, Killing Intent soaring to the heavens.

At this, the Monk soldiers completely collapsed.

The fear of death instantly seized their hearts.

"No! Your Highness the Crown Prince, spare us! Spare us!"

"We were misled by Princess Gaoyang! We are innocent!"

"I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

Pleading, crying, and screaming blended into a cacophony.

The monks, who had just prided themselves as eminent Buddhist disciples, each with a solemn and dignified demeanor, now completely tore off their disguises.

They abandoned all dignity; some knelt and kowtowed until their heads bled; some were so scared they soiled themselves and tried to flee; others even picked up weapons, attempting a last desperate struggle.

But it was all too late.

Surrounding them were the battle-hardened Tang Imperial Guards.

Facing these terrified Monk soldiers, they were like experienced butchers facing a flock of lambs waiting to be slaughtered.

"Pfft!"

Hands up, blades down.

A large bald head flew into the air, a column of blood spraying several feet high from the neck.

The headless body swayed twice, then crashed to the ground.

This was just the beginning.

The Imperial Guards formed a wall of steel, pushing forward expressionlessly.

The horizontal sabers in their hands became the most efficient killing machines.

"Pfft!"

"Pfft!"

"Pfft!"

The sound of blades entering flesh was incessant.

Head after head rolled to the ground, each with a different expression: some terrified, some stunned, some bewildered.

Blood gathered into streams, staining the monk robes, staining the earth.

Monk Bianji was pressed firmly to the ground by two Imperial Guards; he watched helplessly as his fellow disciples fell one by one, warm blood splattering on his face, he was so scared his Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering, his crotch became wet and warm, and a fishy, foul liquid flowed down his thighs onto the ground.

"Devil... you are a Devil..."

He looked at Li Chengqian on the city wall, uttering desperate ramblings.

Li Chengqian merely watched with cold eyes.

Devil?

Perhaps.

In this man-eating struggle for imperial power, if one did not become a Devil, one would be devoured by Devils.

He would use this bloodiest, most direct method to tell everyone.

To tell Fang Yiai, to tell all the Civil and Military Officials, to tell all those with ill intentions in the world.

He, Li Chengqian, had returned.

That gentle, respectful, frugal, and yielding Crown Prince was dead.

The one who lived was a vengeful, ruthless avenger.

Outside Xuanwu Gate, it had already turned into a battlefield of carnage.