Several years passed in the blink of an eye.
In the heart of Zhongzhou, upon the ruins of the former Anti-Saint Alliance headquarters, the majestic imperial city of the Saint Dynasty stood tall. Its black stone foundation and golden tile roof shone with a stern, imposing glow under the sunlight.
Before the main city gate lay an expansive plaza. At this moment, the temporary high platform in the plaza's center was surrounded by a dense crowd.
Today was not a celebration, but an execution ground.
On the high platform, several cultivators in tattered Saint Dynasty standard armor, yet still radiating the lingering scent of blood and evil, were restrained by magical force and pressed before the execution blade.
Their faces were deathly pale, their eyes filled with despair and resentment. Some struggled and cursed, only to be viciously kicked in the back of the knees by guards behind them, reduced to whimpering cries.
Below the platform, the onlookers were not just Saint Dynasty soldiers, but also numerous local Zhongzhou cultivators and ordinary civilians permitted into the imperial city district. Their gazes were complex, holding fear, curiosity, and a well-concealed delight.
On one side of the platform stood a lavish canopy.
Ye Fan sat beneath it, dressed in a black python robe embroidered with gold trim. His expression was calm and placid, his deep eyes scanning the scene below with indifference. Years of power had tempered his former naivety, replacing it with an imposing and dignified composure.
He was now the Saint Emperor's adopted son, the Imperial Envoy who enforced the laws, a man truly second only to the Emperor.
The time had come. The supervising official loudly read the charges: "Wang Hu, Li Sha, and six others, serving as frontier generals of the Saint Dynasty, disregarded the Saint Emperor's benevolence."
"Repeatedly violating the 'Saint Dynasty Prohibitions,' they secretly practiced the 'Soul Devouring Evil Art,' brutally slaying one hundred and thirty-seven mortal civilians."
"The evidence is conclusive, their crimes are heinous. According to the law, they are to be executed immediately!"
As the charges were read, a suppressed murmur rose from the crowd.
Killing mortals might have been commonplace in the chaotic past, but after the Saint Dynasty had explicitly forbidden it and executed several high-ranking officials for it, such actions were undoubtedly a direct challenge to the ironclad law.
Ye Fan slightly raised his hand, offering no further words.
The executioner beside him understood, gathering his breath to roar:
"Execute!"
The signal arrow fell.
The gleaming execution blade crashed down!
A spray of blood erupted as several heads rolled onto the ground, faces frozen in their final terror. The headless bodies were quickly dragged away by guards, leaving only a large, glaring patch of bright red on the ground to mark what had just transpired.
After a moment of silence, someone in the crowd shouted first: "Well killed!"
Applause erupted one after another, gradually merging into a single roar. This chorus contained relief for justice served, hatred for past demonic rampages, and awe for the young minister's iron-fisted methods.
Ye Fan watched this all with an impassive expression.
Qin Aoye had fully adopted his suggestions. Over several years, he cleansed the ranks with ruthless methods. Anyone who violated the laws, especially those who harmed mortals or practiced evil techniques, faced severe punishment regardless of status or past contributions.
This initially sparked fierce resistance from remnants of the demonic faction.
Yet under Qin Aoye's overwhelming military support and Ye Fan's meticulous planning, all rebellion was mercilessly crushed.
The fall of countless arrogant generals' heads finally brought initial order to the Sacred Dynasty.
It also began to wash away the dynasty's "Demon Court" stigma.
Public opinion was indeed turning with difficulty, though the process was arduous.
The internal landscape of the Sacred Dynasty was now clear.
As Qin Aoye's most trusted confidant and adopted son, Ye Fan's power was immense.
Though the Ten Sacred Sons held exceptional status nominally equal to Ye Fan, any keen observer could see they were drifting from the Sacred Emperor Qin Aoye.
Especially the faction led by the extremist Wu Wuji.
In contrast, this "isolated minister," Ye Fan, enjoyed ever-increasing imperial favor.
As the execution ground affairs concluded, the crowd gradually dispersed.
Ye Fan rose to return to the imperial city to report his duties.
A man approached with a smile.
His attire was unremarkable, just a simple cyan scholar's robe with a wine gourd casually hanging at his waist. His face was handsome, with an air of casual elegance that clashed with the grim surroundings.
He was Han Junru, the fifth of the Ten Sacred Sons.
Unlike the other Sacred Sons who were either cold or hostile, Han Junru was the only one willing to speak with Ye Fan as an equal, and their relationship was quite good.
A Confucian scholar, he had none of the pedantic air of a stereotypical scholar.
Instead, he was more like a wandering swordsman.
He was also the Sacred Son who most appreciated Ye Fan's "turning evil to righteous" plan.
"Brother Ye, you've worked hard," Han Junru said with a smile, cupping his hands in a casual yet sincere gesture.
Ye Fan halted, a perfectly measured smile appearing on his face as he returned the greeting.
"You flatter me, Sacred Son Han. It was merely my duty."
"Without the Sacred Emperor's decisive measures and the support of you and other Sacred Sons, even with my intentions, I could have accomplished nothing."
His words were half politeness, half truth. The internal cleansing faced tremendous resistance.
Without Qin Aoye's powerful backing and the tacit non-opposition from Sacred Sons like Han Junru who agreed with this path, Ye Fan alone could never have pushed it through.
Han Junru waved a hand, his smile fading as he grew serious.
"Brother Ye, there is no need for false modesty. Establishing order and bringing blessings to the world is a great merit."
"It gladdens my heart to see fewer innocent souls perish in this world."
His gaze swept across the stage at the bloodstains that had not yet been completely cleaned, a flicker of genuine pity in his eyes.
This was fundamentally different from how Ye Fan viewed this act as a means to consolidate power and win hearts.
The two men exchanged a few more pleasantries, discussing details of the new laws and their travels across the lands.
Han Junru was witty and knowledgeable, making conversation with him quite pleasant. After a moment, Ye Fan excused himself, saying he needed to report back to the Holy Emperor.
Han Junru remained standing in place, not leaving immediately. The smile on his face gradually faded as he picked up the wine gourd from his waist. He pulled the stopper and took a swig, yet his gaze remained fixed on Ye Fan's gradually retreating figure.
That back was straight yet carried a hint of solitude.
His eyes grew deeper, no longer as open as before, but filled with an indescribable probing complexity. He murmured to himself in a voice so soft only he could hear:
"Turning evil to good, winning hearts..."
"Ye Fan, do you truly seek peace for this world, or... do you have other designs?"
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