IDWBE -Chapter 216 The Sea

“Kill him!”

Finally, someone shouted the first cry.

“Kill him!”

The shouts grew louder and louder.

“Kill him!
Kill him!
Kill him!”

A raging wave of hatred spread through the crowd, and gradually everyone joined in the chant. Faces twisted in fury, sending chills down the spine.

Chen Xinluo, overseeing the execution, waved his hand. Over a hundred constables appeared on the wooden platform, forming a human wall to block the angry mob from rushing forward.

Chen Xinluo glanced at the sun climbing higher, then at the incense burning in the censer, and finally shouted, “The third quarter of noon has arrived!”

The executioner was You Mazi, a young assistant from the Jinfu Tower.

Beheadings, slow slicing, flaying—these were family skills, precise and efficient, no need to elaborate.

In addition, he was skilled with tongs, finger clamps, foot clamps, leg clamps, cleavers, and eighteen other execution tools. Back in Yuezhou, he was recognized as number one—no one dared claim second.

You Mazi had once been a top figure.

Unfortunately, after Han Hui broke Tan City, Zhou Jiuling and many officials became prisoners.

What could a single executioner do? He had no choice but to flee with his family to Baiyun City, barely keeping his life.

The heavens never starve a sparrow; if it can’t eat the kernel, it can eat the husk.

Finally, last year, through a “competitive hiring” by cutting winter melons and incense, he resumed his old trade, becoming Sanhe’s top-ranked executioner.

The only downside: there was no money to be made.

Supporting a family wasn’t covered by the paltry rewards from the office; the main income came from the relatives of prisoners, who would secretly slip him money, pleading for either a gentle or swift hand.

Sanhe was different. Sanhe had abandoned the old ancestral ways and refused to implement the eighteen kinds of cruel punishments.

His exquisite skills had no stage.

Naturally, the relatives wouldn’t pay him either.

With sharply reduced income, he occasionally had to serve in taverns, slaughtering cattle and sheep.

Luckily, this year he had done a couple of labor jobs, earning a little money, so the pressure wasn’t as heavy.

Now, standing on the high platform, the back of his blade in hand, he bowed slightly to the crowd below.

He took a bowl of wine, sipped it, then carefully wiped the blade before bowing again and removing the wooden plank from Han Hui’s back and the rag stuffed in his mouth.

“Execute!”

At Chen Xinluo’s command, You Mazi’s great blade fell with a scrape. The head rolled far across the ground. Han Hui remained kneeling, his body still upright, blood gushing.

You Mazi beamed with pride—this was skill, this was technique!

“Good!”

The crowd erupted in thunderous applause.

After the execution, the constables carried away the body, and sanitation workers began cleaning.

Before the cleanup was finished, a troupe from Chuanzhou hurriedly took the stage, eager to perform face-changing and fire-breathing while the crowd was still present.

Normally, gathering such an audience was difficult; today was the perfect opportunity.

The sun shone warmly, making it very pleasant.

At the storeroom entrance, Ji Hai practiced martial arts while Xie Jiuyun leaned against the doorway, watching. When Ji Hai finished, she said in surprise, “You’re a monk with a good temperament, but your training is bold and expansive, hardly reflecting the detachment and compassion of Buddhism.”

“You are mistaken, Miss. Detachment without clarity of purpose goes nowhere; tranquility alone cannot take one far,” Ji Hai replied.

“Detachment without clarity of purpose goes nowhere?” Xie Jiuyun laughed. “What kind of nonsense is that?”

“A Bodhisattva’s heart, executed with thunderous technique.”

Seeing her gaze on him, Ji Hai immediately lowered his head.

Xie Jiuyun giggled. “You monks are too timid.”

“Homage to Amitabha,” Ji Hai said, “Miss, do you have family? I could send a message for you, so you could return home.”

“My family is far away in Chuanzhou. Can you really send a message?”

Ji Hai hesitated, glanced at the sky, and joined his palms: “The journey is long; I truly lack the ability. Miss, you should rest first. I must fetch water.”

“You monks are too foolish. With so many people bullying you, you don’t even realize it?”

Ji Hai was surprised: “Miss, why say that? No one has bullied me.”

“Forcing you to carry water with iron buckets—isn’t that bullying?” Xie Jiuyun said angrily. “You are too rigid. Once I recover, I will seek justice for you.”

Ji Hai hurriedly said, “I carry water to train, Miss. You mustn’t act recklessly in the temple.”

“Water training?”

Xie Jiuyun laughed. “What kind of foolish method is that? Monk, shall I teach you some martial arts? Don’t think I was running because of cowardice; I was injured. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have fled.”

“I understand your kindness,” Ji Hai joined his palms. “One flower blooms five times; the result will come naturally.”

Turning, he lifted two iron buckets and went down the mountain to fetch water.

Xie Jiuyun watched him go, stomping her foot in frustration—but she was powerless.

The night was gentle.

Lin Yi sat under a tree, sipping wine and tossing peanuts into his mouth, speaking to Shan Qi: “Drink too, don’t be shy.”

“Thank you, Prince,” Shan Qi sipped lightly and said, “After Huang Sifang and Zhao Lichun fled Rao City, they captured Qianshan in Nanzhou, bringing along over a hundred thousand refugees.”

Lin Yi sighed. “That bastard is so incompetent. Heading north to Jiangnan would’ve been better—Yong’an and Wuzhou have rich families.”

Shan Qi replied, “Jiangnan is the empire’s granary, heavily garrisoned. If rebels go there, it’s suicide.”

“That’s true,” Lin Yi laughed. “If Jiangnan falls, the dynasty change isn’t far off. The tomb of Emperor Gaozu can’t hold them, maybe they’ll jump out and beat them up themselves.”

Shan Qi remained silent—how could he respond? It was all Lin Yi’s fault.

“Prince, Ye Jinyu has already left Sanhe.”

Qi Peng answered.

“Where did she go?” Lin Yi asked.

“I don’t know,” Qi Peng admitted.

Lin Yi frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be omniscient? She comes to Sanhe—you don’t know; she leaves—you don’t know. Well, that’s handled.”

“Prince,” Qi Peng explained, “Ye Jinyu has reached ninth rank. My porters and informants are only good at gathering information. Even with tracking skills, her martial ability far surpasses theirs. If she deliberately hides, catching her is nearly impossible.”

“And what about Xie Jiuyun from Chunshan City?”

“She was rescued by Ji Hai and is recovering in the temple’s storeroom,” Qi Peng said, smiling. “With a strategist like him, she won’t get into trouble. Prince, you may rest assured.”

“Truly, fools do have their luck,” Lin Yi envied Ji Hai—this hero-rescues-beauty scenario, he himself never encountered. “A monk meets a beauty… and she’s ninth rank?”

Qi Peng bowed: “Exactly.”

“Damn it,” Lin Yi snorted. “All this talk of ninth rank and Grand Masters—now one after another appears. What is this? You all need to be sharper, check more thoroughly. If they act recklessly on my turf, it’ll be shameful for me.”

Qi Peng nodded and added, “Prince, according to my knowledge, Liangzhou bandit chief Wu Baishun is from Chunshan City.”

“This is developing a criminal network,” Lin Yi thought. To him, whether it was Jizhao Temple or Chunshan City, both were organized crime. “Their ambitions are big.”

Qi Peng continued, “Since Wu Baishun’s campaigns from Jinzhou and Liangzhou to Chuzhou and Jingzhou, his influence has grown.”

“Let the flood rage, none of my concern,” Lin Yi rubbed his forehead. “Dog fighting and horse racing satisfy the people’s entertainment—fine. But gambling and high-interest loans? Absolutely forbidden. Notify everyone: from today, crack down on underground casinos. Any loans exceeding double the interest of Sanhe Bank, send them to labor reform. No one dares to run high-interest usury on my land.”

And the audacity to steal business from his bank!

“Prince, wise as always!”

Shan Qi and Qi Peng were used to Lin Yi’s occasional rogue-style speech.

“Damn right I’m wise,” Lin Yi muttered. Sometimes, hearing his own words, he felt almost deluded into thinking he truly was. Without him, the world might still turn—but barely.

Unlike his previous life, where at work he was invisible, and no one noticed if he spent seven or eight hours in the bathroom.

Clearly, this life had more dignity.

Just no chance to shout “Demacia forever!” anymore.

By the time the road from Baiyun City to the sea was completed, it was almost the end of the year.

Lin Yi rose early, had breakfast, and rode his donkey to see the seaside.

The road was crowded with carriages and pedestrians. The chatter of southern barbarians filled the air; Lin Yi didn’t understand a word.

He had hoped to promote Mandarin in Sanhe, but aside from school children, no one paid attention. People spoke their local dialects—Chuanzhou, Yuezhou, Nanzhou.

“Home is best, the moon is brightest at home.”

Only occasionally, when disputes arose, everyone spoke Mandarin swiftly, fearing no one would understand otherwise.

Many Baiyun residents had never seen the sea, so now that the roads were open, they wanted to witness it.

The road followed the embankment of the West River. All tributaries were either filled or bridged.

Even those who had been here before barely recognized the place.

When Lin Yi reached the seaside, the sun was setting, gilding the waters.

In front of him stretched muddy flats and murky sea water, carried by the West River’s sediment. Large ships couldn’t dock here; goods were transported upstream to wooden piers, then moved by cart to Baiyun City.

From now on, seeing big ships in Baiyun City would be rare.

The sea breeze picked up, and Lin Yi wrapped his shoulders in a shawl given by Xiao Xizi.