Song Lin jested.
"Your Majesty, my scalp feels somewhat itchy…"
Sun Jixue responded with a bitter smile.
"Guards, drag them out and execute them! What literary grandmaster? Utter nonsense!"
"Mercy!"
The group of corrupt scholars wailed and pleaded, especially Sun Jixue, filled with regret and hatred. If he had known earlier, he wouldn't have come out. A shameful life was still better than an honorable death.
"Sun Jixue!! Look at the mess you've made!"
Under the shadow of death, the colleagues who talked about Taoist orthodoxy turned on each other, shirking responsibility and desperately calling for help.
Yet, none of it could stop the inevitable: heads rolling to the ground.
Sun Jixue only felt a sharp pain in his neck before his consciousness began to fade.
What a pity… The so-called Taoist orthodoxy was nothing more than an excuse. In truth, Sun Jixue was simply dissatisfied with being ignored by Song Lin.
...
Song Lin stood before the barbarian leader, Prince Yu.
