Chapter 142: The Execution of a Thousand Cuts

What is a co-wife? Naturally, she holds the exact same status and rank as the legal wife. Generally, those who manage to become co-wives possess lofty statuses. Otherwise, it is extremely difficult to attain such a position—this being one of the prerequisites for a co-wife.

And this concubine indeed had an extraordinary background, hailing from a collateral branch of the Murong family. What did this signify?! It naturally meant that this concubine was a member of the Murong clan. But since she was of the Murong family, why would she marry Zhang He and even become his co-wife?

All of this was merely the handiwork of Murong Fu. Murong Fu had no intention whatsoever of caring whether Zhang He planned to remarry or not. In Murong Fu's view, since Zhang He had married a woman of the Murong family—regardless of whether she was from a collateral branch or elsewhere—as long as she was a Murong, it meant that Zhang He was also half a member of the Murong family.

Yet how could Zhang He not know? This was precisely one of the conditions by which Murong Fu intended to bind him to the Murong clan. One might wonder: did the mighty Murong family really need to stoop to such methods? In truth, all of these events were meticulously orchestrated by Murong Fu himself. To Murong Fu, the person he had his eyes on was not Zhang He at all. In Murong Fu's estimation, Zhang He was at best a mediocre figure. If not for the influence behind Zhang He that Murong Fu deemed worthy of cultivation, he probably wouldn't have bothered with Zhang He in the first place.

At the time, Zhang He possessed a somewhat timid temperament, and had even lost his former vigor and ambition. In the end, he had no choice but to take this concubine as his wife. He never expected that this concubine, emboldened by her background, would repeatedly humiliate and berate his legal wife. After all, everyone has a temper. How much more so for Zhang He? Therefore, Zhang He immediately intended to seek a formal separation. In his view, since Murong Fu had set his sights on the influence behind him, he wouldn't dare to do anything drastic to him. However, his legal wife constantly persuaded him to endure it all.

Murong Fu certainly did not dare to deal with Zhang He openly, but what about in secret? Let us not forget that Danyang Commandery was firmly under Murong Fu's control. Killing a commandery governor was a crime that could be treated as either major or minor. However, given Murong Fu's status and methods, finding a scapegoat would be an effortless task. Zhang He's legal wife naturally did not want her husband to offend Murong Fu on her account, which only made Zhang He feel all the more guilty toward her.

Recalling these past events now, Zhang He found himself smiling somewhat bitterly. So his forbearance had only made others perceive him as weak and spineless? Since that was the case, he would choose to forbear no longer. Moreover, in Zhang He's view, Fang Xu was currently orchestrating a grand chess game. And whether he himself was qualified to become a pawn within it depended entirely on his current attitude.

"Zhang He! How dare you! Do you wish to make an enemy of the Murong family?" Seeing that Zhang He remained completely unmoved, the concubine reprimanded him with a trace of anger.

*Crack!*

The crisp sound of a slap left everyone present staring at Zhang He in utter disbelief. After all, everyone understood this concubine's background, and they also knew that Zhang He had always treated this co-wife with mild courtesy in the past. It was already a wonder if she didn't bully him; when was it ever her turn to be struck by Zhang He?

Yet now, Zhang He had actually done it, and delivered a fierce, resounding slap across the face of this co-wife of his. Suddenly, Zhang He discovered that slapping someone across the face could be such an exhilarating thing. With that thought, he could not help but land three or four more slaps. Gradually, he found himself growing more and more accustomed to the motion. If not for his legal wife stepping in to stop him, this co-wife might well have been beaten to death on the spot by Zhang He's own hands.

"My apologies, I got a bit carried away," Zhang He remarked casually, a sentence that caused the concubine, who was already on the verge of fainting, to pass out completely.

Seeing that there was no one left to disturb him, Zhang He smiled reassuringly to comfort his legal wife, then murmured, "Watch your husband," before turning his stride toward the chief steward, who was pinned to the ground and struggling frantically.

As he walked, Zhang He drew the waist saber from the guard beside him. Seeing Zhang He approach with a drawn blade, the chief steward was truly seized by panic. He began to beg for mercy over and over again, terrified down to his very soul. But in Zhang He's eyes, the game had only just begun; how could he possibly let the fellow off the hook now?

"You certainly have a lot of nerve! Did you really think that because you're connected to the Murong family, this official wouldn't dare touch you?" Zhang He crouched down in front of the chief steward, asking with a smile.

The chief steward's expression twisted in struggle as if he had swallowed something foul, but Zhang He gave him no opportunity to speak. The edge of the waist saber was pressed directly against the steward's gums, and with a sharp yank—the terrifying power of the blade should never be underestimated—it violently sheared away all of the chief steward's teeth in a single motion. The steward let out a muffled, blood-curdling shriek, his mouth a mess of gore.

The servants and concubines cowering on the ground trembled violently, suddenly realizing that the Zhang He before them had become terrifyingly unfamiliar.

Without wasting any time, Zhang He stood up and methodically hacked off the chief steward's fingers one by one. As the saying goes, the ten fingers are linked to the heart; the agony was so visceral that even the onlookers felt a sympathetic shudder. The chief steward quickly passed out from the pain. Yet, seemingly unsatisfied with this state of affairs, Zhang He picked up a cup of warm tea and dashed it straight across the steward's face.

The scalding heat of the tea, making contact with the raw wounds of his mutilated mouth and severed fingers, jarred the chief steward awake with a jolt of excruciating pain. Just as Zhang He prepared to continue his torture, his legal wife tugged gently at his sleeve, her eyes reflecting a reluctance born of pure compassion.

Seeing his wife's expression, Zhang He offered a helpless, bitter smile. He could only lament that his wife was far too soft-hearted—yet wasn't that precisely why he loved her?

Moments later, Zhang He murmured a few instructions to the guards. The guards nodded in acknowledgment, while Zhang He sorted through the recovered loot, selecting a few fine treasures to hand over to them. The guards did not stand on ceremony; from their perspective, they were merely assisting Zhang He with a few matters. Originally, they had not intended to accept any rewards. But one had to remember that these men were imperial guards after all—a service fee was only fitting. Since it meant having enough for several jars of fine wine, why would anyone refuse?

Soon after, the guards briskly cleaned up the courtyard, escorting the rest of the captives, the unconscious chief steward, and Zhang He's co-wife away from the commandery governor's residence. After all, dealing with such people required a proper and suitable venue.