Execution

“A Yue... occasionally... you really are a little like...” Clo’s vacant eyes suddenly sharpened. She looked at Li Yue, who was sleeping in her arms with eyes closed, and for a moment, a flash of panic crossed her face. She saw a pair of hollow yet emotionally complex eyes staring back at her.

“Like a piece of strawberry shortcake.” Clo pinched Li Yue's small face. Though Li Yue didn't know what Clo was saying, she rubbed her face against Clo's chest and continued sleeping. Clo forced a smile, swallowing the words she had originally intended to say.

Like what...? Like a blood demon powerful enough to reach the rank of a Great Mage... a blood demon wearing human skin...

...

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty, I truly had no choice! Please, spare my life! I beg you...” A common looking woman was pinned to the floor of the grand hall by two armored knights using their scabbards. The king, his face grim, sat upon his Blood Crystal Throne. He watched the scene in silence; looking closely at his expression, one could even detect a hint of boredom.

“Carlo...” the old king called out in a low voice. Standing tall nearby, Carlo shuddered at the sound of his name before quickly regaining his composure. He handed a scroll he had prepared long ago to the imposing king.

“Your records are quite detailed... very good... very good.” A flash of violence crossed the old king's eyes. “Selling national secrets, teaching forbidden magic without permission... hmm... treason. I recall that carries the death penalty.”

“Has an executioner been chosen?” The old king paid no mind to the increasingly desolate and hysterical cries below. He didn't find it noisy; in fact, he felt a sense of pleasure.

“No... not yet.” Carlo’s voice carried a hint of hesitation. He glanced at the king's profile, still shrouded in shadow, and once again uncontrollably remembered the man’s nickname. Though his magic was the same as the Divine Lord’s, this king clearly possessed more artistic flair.

During the early years when he was expanding the Royal Court’s territory, newspapers from other continents had been blunt in their accusations of his bloody atrocities, crowning him with the gory nickname Flesh Weaver Mordred. However, King Mordred never seemed to care about this slightly disgusting title.

After all, his actual deeds were far bloodier and more terrifying than any superficial nickname could suggest.

“Then I shall choose. As for the method of death, let it be something bloody. Though there is no need for a public display as a warning.” Mordred paused, seemingly too lazy to explain his motivations. He had always only cared about results; the starting point and the process were essentially irrelevant.

Looking back, the days of besieging and slaughtering cities under various pretexts felt as if they were only yesterday. Perhaps it was just because he was getting old, and the days of guarding his empire were so incredibly dull that these memories, the only things that could truly pique his interest, remained exceptionally vivid.

“Go call Dmitry and Adrian. I choose them...” Mordred seemed weary. He ordered the knights to gag the weeping woman. He leaned his head on his hand, eyes half closed as if asleep, yet appearing fully awake.

When he opened his eyes again, the two princes he had summoned were already kneeling before him. He studied them quietly for a while. Thinking of the princes and princesses who were utterly incapable of succeeding the throne, he felt a wave of boredom and lamentation.

This tyrant had personally slain nearly half of his own blood relatives in his youth just to stand on equal footing with his eldest brother to compete for the throne. In the end, that biased old king had still passed the crown to his brother.

The rebellion he launched had swept through half the Royal Court. When he finally ascended the throne, he was forced to face a fragmented nation. However, he was indeed a brutal and autocratic ruler.

He killed all remaining members of the opposing factions, exiled their kin, and pieced the broken map back together. Then, he launched wars to sustain further wars, eventually conquering more than half of the East Continent. Had it not been for the massive mountain range in the center of the continent that almost completely separated the north and south, he believed he could have conquered the entire East Continent in one fell swoop.

“Who wants to be the executioner?” Mordred didn't care for small talk. He tossed a blood crystal sword he had casually condensed in front of the two.

“Your Highnesses, this is an execution for a prisoner who has committed treason,” Carlo reminded them softly, seemingly trying to prepare the two princes mentally.

Adrian bit his lip, looking conflicted and uneasy. Although his magic also involved the special manipulation of blood, he could never seem to make up his mind in such matters.

“I will do it.” Dmitry glanced at Adrian and bypassed the blood crystal sword on the ground. Facing the woman whose eyes and mouth were covered by a long black cloth, his mouth couldn't help but twitch.

He placed his hand on the woman's head, seemingly intending to extract her soul. This was a gentle way to die; the victim would feel almost no pain, and the body would remain intact and aesthetically pleasing.

“Use my sword to kill her.” Mordred yawned, momentarily speechless as he looked at the two. His patience had always been thin. He would demand that the leaders and citizens of a conquered city surrender, or he would slaughter everyone.

He didn't have the patience to wait for them to deliberate. The number of cities he had massacred was countless.

Dmitry’s hand trembled slightly. He could already imagine the bloody scene. Using magic was one thing, but using a blade created an entirely different scenario.

“Two useless fools.” Mordred’s patience had reached its limit. He crooked his finger slightly. Before him, the woman who had been struggling and pleading saw her flesh and blood instantly shattered into fragments. Yet, her face, stained with bitter tears of blood, was perfectly preserved.

Her head, eyes still wide open, rolled to Adrian’s side, a long line of blood trailing across the floor.

“Get out.” Mordred let out a long sigh. The perfect successor in his heart was essentially a version of himself in his youth. But did such a person still exist...

On the dim sea, the passenger ship continued its journey.

“Achoo!” Li Yue sneezed.

“Is it a bit cold in the cabin?” Clo pulled the blanket up for Li Yue and held her even tighter.