O Imperador Paranóico, Após Me Prisioneirar no Palácio, Matou Loucamente

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As the evening lights began to glow, beside Yong’an Street.

Gu Yan pressed his sword against the neck of a black-clad man, his thin lips curving lightly. “Since you are a deathsworn, I shall make your death a little more interesting.”

“Axiao, cut his flesh and let him bleed. Watch carefully. Don’t let him take his own life. Even if a deathsworn is to die, he must die by my hand.”

Leaning against a tree, Gu Yan listened to the chorus of agonized screams before him. He closed his eyes and savored the moment, then stepped toward the nearest deathsworn. Without hesitation, he raised his sword and drove it once more into the man’s wound, drawing another scream.

“Hush, enough with the noise. You’re annoying me. Tell me, who sent you? Are you here to find someone, or is all this chaos just a smokescreen for something else?” Gu Yan didn’t wait for a reply. He smiled, then began to twist the sword in the wound. The man’s screams came one after another until at last, pain robbed him of consciousness.

Gu Yan rose and walked to another deathsworn. Seeing the man’s body tremble, he chuckled. “You’re afraid of me?”

“Good. Let me guess.” As he spoke, his sword once more pierced a wound.

“Was it the Fifth Prince? Oh, that can’t be—he’s still an infant. Then it must be the Third Prince, am I right?” The sword began to twist again.

“Answer me, and I might grant you mercy.” Though Gu Yan smiled, his eyes brimmed with venom.

At last, one of the men pleaded, “I’ll talk! Please, don’t torture me. It was—it was the Third Prin