Li Yuan'an struggled and refused to accept his fate. "Let go of me. If you dare to kill me, my father will rip you apart."
As he cursed, he was shackled and thrown into the prison cart.
There were more and more people watching, and it felt like the street was busier than during festivals.
Li Yuanshao arrived at the tallest teahouse in the city. From here, he could see the execution platform at the market. He had already reserved a private room and was waiting to watch.
Yang Jingwen pushed the door open and entered the private room. "Yuanshao, is this considered one of your wishes fulfilled?"
In front of the window, Li Yuanshao stood with his hands behind his back. His snow-colored robe outlined his cold and noble side. The aura of a delicate and weak flower was getting fainter. "Li Yuan'an is not dead yet."
