The Empress’ Livestream

“Humph! You think I’ll believe it? I repeat: Are you keeping a young, good-looking teen here?” The leader had seen a lot and would not be deceived.

He swung his arm, breaking a gambling table with his lash and injuring a gamester standing in front of it. Blood was streaming down his clothes, which terrified all the others and caused them stand as far away as possible.

Immediately, there was an empty space for the broken table and the moaning man. He was covering his waist, unable to stop the blood from flowing out of his body.

“Don’t lie to me, or all of you will have a taste of my lash! Now, tell me: Is the boy here?”

It was then that the people observed his weapon more closely. It was two fingers thick, with numerous tiny, fine hooks hung along it and twenty shining blades at the tip.

No wonder the man was bleeding so seriously! If the leader had added some force, he would have been dead in the blink of the eye.

The receptionist was the closest to the leader. Seeing the red stained lash, he felt his arms and legs soften.

“I…” He tried to continue his lie, but his throat locked up when he met the leader’s eyes. It was like death itself was clenching his neck.

The crowd knew not what was happening, yet the other soldiers had blocked the door. They could only leave when the boy was found.

To get themselves out of danger, one of them replied before the receptionist did. “They did catch such a boy some days ago. They say he’s gorgeous like a fairy, and his skin is as smooth as…” Before he finished, those next to him blocked his mouth.

Silence prevailed in the lobby. Everyone could feel the deadly danger.

Bang! Some of them could not withstand the atmosphere and fell onto their knees without sensing the pain.

What they did not know was the equal amount of shock and fright in the intruders’ hearts. They were all adult men and understood what was implied in the gamester’s description. All they could think of was the end of their own lives.

Meng Liang was the favorite legitimate son of Meng Zhan, the present master of the house, and was supposed to be Meng Zhan’s successor. But these people… How dare they do that to him!

The leader’s contours became as rigid as steel. There would be a rough storm after they saved the langjun.

At the same time, the receptionist was also desperate. He finally believed Meng Liang about his background, and he knew there was no way the little gambling house could bear the outrage of a house.

He trembled. “That… that boy’s… long gone… gone…”

But the leader did not trust him. He had the picture of these people locking Meng Liang up in a dark, cramped room and doing all sorts of shameful acts to him. Thus, he made a sign to his soldiers, who quickly stationed themselves at all the exits of the place, blocking everyone from leaving.

“Look for Langjun!” The command started their search––or, more appropriately, destruction.

The leader remained in his place like a stone pillar. He folded his arms at his bosom, solemnly waiting for his people to bring back the teenager.

While the receptionist panicked, the guards in the gambling house heard about the news and rushed to the hall with their wooden sticks. A Meng soldier drew his sword without a second thought.

Splash!­ The tables, gambling tools, and silver blocks on the floor became crimson. A guard’s arm was severed. His body was penetrated by the long blade and he hit the ground, which caused a loud noise. He was staring at the soldier with disbelief until he died.

They’re killing! The feeble gamesters vomited at the strong scent of blood, while the braver ones’ faces became as pale as newly painted white walls.

Although those from the gambling house had considered themselves ruthless, they had never really taken the life of any. Now they had met a truly merciless team. While they were using sticks to strike, the men were holding swords to slaughter.

The search was a long process. The soldiers returned gradually, none of them with a positive report.

“We… We did mistakenly keep the langjun with us for some time, but he was rescued the night we caught him!” the receptionist said, his legs shaking. He did not tell tell them that Meng Liang had been missing since only the second night, or else they would know what the gamester had said was true. No noble could endure such humiliation, and he would never admit it.

After a while, other soldiers returned with similar reports: No one had found Meng Liang.

The last one came back with two rolls of bamboo slips covered with dirt and dust. He found them from a firewood storage room. “Leader, please take a look at this…”

This soldier had interrogated two guards and learned that the “potential commodities” were stored with the firewood. He handed in the unopened rolls to the leader, who violently tore away the pieces of cloth tying them up and held them each with one hand. As he scanned through the lines on the slips, all the others held their breath and observed his tightening lips. Is the langjun still alive?

The rolls did not give an explicit answer, but the kidnappers’ demand was clear.

“These people can’t live.” The leader did not bother to conceal his brutal determination. After his order, the soldiers drew out their swords and pointed them at the crowd.

The receptionist, the gamesters, and everyone else from the gambling house gasped. What are they doing?

“They’re going to kill us!” One of them could stand it no longer. As soon as he began to run, his head was cut away from his corpse.

When his blood scattered on the wall, all the others realized their similar fate: They had reached the last morning of their lives.