Chapter 6 — The Wedding Veil Still Cold, Loyal Bonds Severed

I looked at the magistrate and immediately chimed in, echoing his sentiments.

"Since the Heir apparent loves his beloved wife so dearly, he certainly wouldn't bear to let her suffer."

"It is merely fifty strikes, which should pose no difficulty whatsoever for the Heir."

Hearing my words, the woman rolled her eyes and timidly tugged at the young man's sleeve.

"Brother, perhaps you could..."

"No!"

The voice that cut her off belonged to the matriarch. She glared at the woman fiercely, then without another word, dragged her son aside. If the young lord had truly wished to refuse, his mother would never have succeeded in moving him. Yet, he remained silent, gently prying the woman's fingers away from his sleeve while lacking the courage to meet her gaze. Seeing this, the magistrate lost his patience and commanded the guards to proceed with the execution immediately.

The woman was pinned to the cold stone floor by a pair of bailiffs as the heavy wooden paddle slammed ruthlessly against her mouth. She let out a piercing shriek, calling frantically for the young lord to save her, but the blows fell with such merciless speed that she could not even complete a single sentence. The young lord stood with his back turned, his hands clenched tightly at his sides, his fists trembling violently. When he finally turned to look at me, his eyes burned with bitter hatred. I merely shrugged, my expression dripping with profound mockery. Before even a dozen blows had landed, blood began to seep from the corners of her mouth, and her desperate cries grew increasingly faint. By the twentieth strike, she could no longer endure the agony and slumped limply to one side. Hearing her feeble groans, the young lord rushed forward to cradle her in his arms. Her tears mixed with saliva, her face smeared with blood, and as her mouth parted, two broken teeth fell out—a picture of utter wretchedness. Whether from agonizing pain or consuming fury, she truly lost consciousness within his embrace. The young lord glared viciously at the magistrate, accusing him of excessive brutality. He believed that a display of towering rage would cow the magistrate into dropping all charges, but he was gravely mistaken. Because the crimes committed by the woman's family implicated countless others, the magistrate was resolute in taking her in for intensive interrogation. He placated the young lord with assurances that a prison physician was on duty, guaranteeing that neither her life nor the child she carried would be in danger. As for the remaining twenty-odd unfulfilled strikes, they would be administered as soon as she regained consciousness. Veins bulged on the young lord's forehead in pure rage as he roared aloud.

"You people truly possess no humanity! She has been reduced to this state, yet you still refuse to spare her!"

Cutting ahead of the magistrate, I replied with a chilling voice.

"When her father was plundering the imperial coffers, and when she was pulling the strings behind the scenes to ruin my reputation, did any of you ever spare a thought for humanity?"

"The magistrate is upholding the law impartially; the Heir would do well not to conflate matters."

The magistrate cast a look of deep appreciation in my direction, his demeanor toward the noble family growing even colder before he ordered the guards to carry the prisoner away. The following day, when the woman woke and was confronted with the overwhelming mountain of evidence laid before her, the entire world seemed to go black. She demanded to see her father, but the court bailiffs denied them contact to prevent collusion. She then demanded to see the young lord, only to be told that unless he was implicated in the crime, visits were prohibited. After turning every option over in her mind, she finally requested an audience with the primary accuser. The magistrate sent for me, though I had long since been prepared. I did, however, have a single condition: since the person I was accusing was not the woman alone, her father must also be present. The magistrate furrowed his brow, seemingly worried that I intended to allow the father and daughter to coordinate their stories. He whispered confidentially that the old fox was extremely cunning and had intentionally dragged his daughter into the mess merely to exploit his connections with the powerful household and escape punishment. If that were allowed, the case might drag on indefinitely without resolution. I offered no reply. The evidence was glaringly clear; the family could not escape their fate, but this was a magnificent opportunity to drag the young lord down with them. Even if he could not be legally convicted, it would be enough to utterly ruin his prospects. What I desired went far beyond mere punishment. When the public confrontation took place before the court with the ironclad evidence presented, the father and daughter could no longer deny their guilt. Just as the verdict was about to be pronounced, the frantic elder lost his composure and screamed directly at his daughter.

"You must find a way to contact the young lord and beg him to save our family!"

"You are carrying the heir of his noble house; how could they simply stand by and watch you be condemned?"

"Child, there is no need to hide it any longer! The silver you took to run the usury scheme—was it not provided to you by the young lord himself? Have you forgotten?!"

Furious, the magistrate slammed his gavel down, warning the old man that inciting others to commit perjury was also a capital offense. The woman collapsed once more into unconsciousness.

Upon regaining consciousness, the woman followed her father's lead, testifying that the funds used for the high-interest loans had indeed been bestowed upon her by the young lord. The young lord was promptly summoned to the court for questioning. True to expectations, he completely denied the fabricated accusations leveled by the elder, demanding that solid evidence be produced. In his heart, the young lord had always firmly believed that he had never given money to the woman. He had convinced himself that she was a woman of noble pride and pristine virtue, utterly devoid of material greed since the day they met. Indeed, when she learned that he was placed under strict surveillance by his family, she had even secretly spent her own money to assist him. It was this elaborate facade that had made her appear so entirely different from the vain aristocratic ladies of the capital, deepening his misplaced trust in her character. Yet, who said that only the silver he directly handed her could serve as proof? If it could be verified that he had accepted funds from her in return, those very transactions could equally be submitted as material evidence before the court.