Among the crowd watching, many people no longer dared to look, their faces pale as they covered their eyes...
Duan Rong sat alone in the small tavern, the intense smell of blood wafted in with the wind, overshadowing the smell of yellow wine.
The scent of blood was too strong. Duan Rong had no appetite, and instead drank a pot of yellow wine, cup after cup.
Six rows of prisoners, thirty heads, in the span of a few breaths, all were separated from their bodies.
Many of these prisoners had family members and kin, but no one dared to come for the execution, as this was a filthy blood case; getting involved might lead to collective punishment.
Busy trying to distance themselves, who would dare come to see the execution?
In the intense scent of blood, thirty souls turned into lonely ghosts in an instant...
The crowd gradually dispersed, and the bodies were dragged away by the constables, sent to the Desolate Burial Mound!
