122: Isn't Li Shimin the biggest black hand?

He knew that was the direction of Huichang Temple.

The corner of his mouth curved into a cold arc.

Bianji, Gaoyang.

They were merely two insignificant pawns in his grand game of chess.

He never intended to kill a monk, or a few monks.

What he wanted to kill were the gods and Buddhas that lorded over people's hearts and stood in defiance of imperial power!

"No monks under Heaven."

He murmured softly, as if savoring the power of these four words.

This was just the beginning.

Outside Xuanwu Gate, the thick scent of blood had almost solidified, stinging one's nostrils.

The thin morning mist had not yet dissipated, but it was tinged with a faint crimson by the sky-high blood Qi.

Xuanwu Gate, the symbol of the Great Tang Empire's power, had now become the most horrifying slaughterhouse.

Between the cracks of the flagstones, fresh blood gathered into streams, flowing slowly, soaking into the earth, and staining the ground a dull ochre.

Hundreds of shaven heads were casually piled at the base of the city wall, like a forgotten heap of winter melons.

They had all been Monk soldiers who followed Princess Gaoyang, chanting Buddhist scriptures just moments before, attempting to shake imperial power with their puny strength; now, their Buddha had not come to save them.

Their eyes were wide open, frozen in the shock, anger, and incomprehension of their final moments.

All the Civil and Military Officials were ordered to "witness the execution" here.

Dressed in their splendid official robes, they shivered in the biting morning wind, their faces paler than those of the dead.

No one dared to whisper, or even breathe loudly.

In the air, there was only the sound of dripping blood, and the distant, inhuman, heart-wrenching wails.

"Ah—!!"

The sound was utterly piercing, like demons from the depths of Hell crying out.

That was Bianji.

The once elegant, enlightened monk who had captivated the Princess's heart was now stripped naked and tied to a wooden frame, like an animal awaiting slaughter.

An expressionless executioner was performing a meticulous work of art on his body with a small knife as thin as a cicada's wing.

Lingchi.

Each cut brought away a thin piece of flesh, yet precisely avoided vital points, ensuring the condemned would consciously meet death in the most extreme agony.

Bianji's body was already disfigured, a bloody mess, but his wails grew even more piercing, penetrating the clouds, striking the eardrums and hearts of everyone present.

Fang Xuanling kept his head bowed, his gaze fixed on his nose, and his nose on his heart; beneath the wide sleeves of his court robes, his hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.

He dared not look; the scene was too horrific, so horrific that it churned the stomach of even this veteran Official, accustomed to turmoil.

Wei Zheng's face was ashen, his lips pressed into a thin line.

His gaze was not on Bianji, but fixed on another spot.

There, directly beneath Xuanwu Gate, an even more shocking sight challenged everyone's cognitive limits.

Princess Gaoyang.

The most beloved Princess of the Great Tang, a favored daughter of Heaven, Li Shimin's precious pearl.

She lay there.

Her upper body was still intact, her beautiful palace gown soaked in blood, her once exquisitely beautiful face now contorted with pain and endless regret.

Her lower body was several feet away.

Waist-chopped.

The executioner's great axe lay discarded nearby, stained with fresh red blood and some indescribable tissues.

Intestines and internal organs spilled onto the ground, mixed with dirt and blood, emitting a nauseating stench.

"Your Highness... Your Highness, why... I am your sister..."

Gaoyang was not completely dead; she used her last ounce of strength, reaching out a blood-stained hand as if to grasp something, uttering a faint and desperate murmur.

The executioner stepped forward, placed a foot on her head, and expressionlessly drew his waist-saber.

"Pfft."

With a dull thud, the world fell silent.

Princess Gaoyang's head rolled to the side, her eyes wide open, unable to rest in peace.

To her dying breath, she did not understand why her once gentle, even somewhat timid, Crown Prince brother had become so... terrifying.

All the Civil and Military Officials were deathly silent.

They watched this scene, watching the imperial Princess slaughtered like a pig or dog outside the main gate of the capital, and a chill shot from the soles of their feet to the crowns of their heads.

He's mad.

His Highness the Crown Prince is truly mad.

All eyes, involuntarily, filled with endless fear, turned towards the solitary figure on the city tower.

Li Chengqian stood there, dressed in his dark Crown Prince's everyday attire, the four-clawed Dragon emblem embroidered in gold thread gleaming with a cold, hard light in the morning sun.

He was expressionless, his eyes calm like a bottomless pool of cold water, indifferently overlooking this human Hell he had personally created.

His sister's tragic death, his lover's wails, the Officials' fear... none of it seemed to stir a single ripple in his heart.

He merely watched, like a chess player examining a game already won.

He did not even spare a second glance at Gaoyang's corpse.

His gaze fell upon the trembling Civil and Military Officials.

Cold sweat seeped from Zhangsun Wuji's forehead; he tried his best to maintain composure, but his slightly trembling beard still betrayed the tempest raging within him.

Even Cheng Yaojin, that boorish ruffian, had now shed all his roughness, shrinking his neck like a quail, not daring to breathe loudly.

Li Jing lowered his eyes, as if in meditation, but the tight line of his jaw showed his extreme inner turmoil.

Li Chengqian's gaze slowly swept across the faces, one by one, filled with terror, shock, and fear.

He was very satisfied.

This was the effect he wanted.

To tell all the Civil and Military Officials, to tell the entire Great Tang—in the most brutal, direct, and merciless way—that times had changed.

He, Li Chengqian, was not the Crown Prince who could be manipulated by anyone.

The face of the imperial family?

The Bloodline of the royal relatives?

Before his absolute power, they were worthless!

Amidst this extreme fear, some deeply thoughtful Officials, such as Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui, forced themselves to calm down and ponder a deeper question.

The monk Bianji's illicit affair in the palace was certainly a path to death.

But in Chang'an City, was there only one Bianji?

In recent years, the Buddhist sect's influence had expanded rapidly; temples occupied vast tracts of land, and monks, though not engaged in production, were rolling in wealth.

Even more, some secretly operated gambling dens, lent money at exorbitant interest, and even harbored criminals and maintained Monk soldiers.

Could one Princess Gaoyang and one monk Bianji have such immense power to stir up the entire underground world of Chang'an?

Absolutely impossible.

Behind them, there must have been an unseen black hand, secretly supporting and fanning the flames.

This black hand used the special status of monks to accumulate wealth for itself, to gather power, and even... to plot rebellion.

In the past, people were not unaware, but due to the immense influence of the Buddhist sect and the ambiguous attitude of the imperial family, no one dared to investigate deeply.

But today, His Highness the Crown Prince, with the force of a thunderbolt, overturned everything.

So, who was this black hand?

Was it a certain Imperial Prince who was an enemy of the Crown Prince?

Was it the discontented Five Surnames and Seven Clans?

Or... an even more terrifying thought, like a venomous snake, suddenly reared its head in Fang Xuanling's mind.

He trembled all over, almost unable to stand steady.

He suddenly looked up, staring again at Li Chengqian on the city tower.

His Highness the Crown Prince seemed to notice his gaze, and the corner of his mouth curved slightly upwards, revealing a cold and meaningful smile.

Fang Xuanling instantly felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, the blood in his veins seeming to freeze.

He understood.

There was no mastermind!

Or rather, the biggest black hand was none other than the Great Tang Emperor Li Shimin, who stood on the city tower at this moment, looking down on all living beings!