Chapter 162 When He Died, His Eyes Were Still Open…

Chapter 162: Eyes Wide Open in Death...

By now, the Consort of the Northern Wilderness King understood all too well—this was all A Chan's doing.

First, she had turned Zhao Yin against her, then used the incense burner as bait to lure Huang Lin into her carefully laid trap, all for this very day.

The Consort suddenly recalled Zhao Yin’s earlier words—how he had first persuaded her to send Huang Lin to deal with A Chan, and today deliberately led her out of the city.

Yet, despite her distrust even toward her own father, she had never once doubted Zhao Yin. And so, she had fallen right into the trap.

The Consort hated A Chan, who had manipulated Zhao Yin from the shadows, but at the same time, she was overcome with terror. She knew this fox spirit would never let her go.

Zhao Yin was her only hope now. No matter what, she couldn’t give up on him so easily.

She turned to Shang Yin. "Zhao Yin, surely you know? For a demon to take over a human is an abomination in the eyes of heaven and earth. Helping her is helping evil. Whatever she promised you, she’s only using you. Don’t keep making this mistake."

"I know she’s using me," Shang Yin’s reply chilled the Consort to the bone. "She came to me because her goal was to use my hands to kill you. I’ve always known that."

"That’s not true, Zhao Yin! She’s just got you under her spell. It’s not too late to stop now. Why die for her?" The Consort spoke earnestly. "You’re my flesh and blood. Whatever grievances there are between us, can’t we talk it out? I wronged your mother, I know you resent me for it. I swear, I’ll make it right for what happened to the Shang family."

The Consort’s words were heartfelt, and A Chan was enjoying every minute of it.

It seemed the Consort had used every bit of kindness she possessed in her lifetime to sway Shang Yin. Unfortunately, she had chosen the wrong target.

When the Consort finally fell silent, A Chan couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, ruining the moment.

Under the Consort’s hate-filled stare, A Chan deliberately asked Shang Yin, "I think the Consort has a point. What do you think?"

"Hm," Shang Yin replied half-heartedly.

"So, do you want to change your mind? You’re the strongest here. If you change your mind, you can call this whole thing off anytime."

Shang Yin gave her a look. Change his mind?

He was certain that if he betrayed A Chan now, he’d become the next Huang Lin.

Behind A Chan’s sweet face was a real monster.

He bent down and grabbed Zhao Xun by the head. Moments later, Zhao Xun came to, blinking.

Once he was awake, Shang Yin finally spoke. "I won’t go back on my word."

His answer drained all color from the Consort’s face. She had run through countless escape plans in her mind, but none were viable. Zhao Yin’s presence had cut off every escape.

All that remained in the Consort’s heart was regret—the attack dog she had trained for her own protection had now turned against her.

Watching the shifting emotions on the Consort’s face, A Chan remarked, "I’ll bet the Consort deeply regrets letting you live before. She must be cursing you as a backstabbing snake in her heart. Am I right, Consort?"

The Consort scoffed disdainfully. "If you’ve got the nerve, just kill me. Stop wasting your breath."

A Chan gave a slow, mocking clap. "Truly worthy of the Consort of the Northern Wilderness King. I’m impressed."

Then, turning to Shang Yin, she said, "Since the Consort has made such a request, we mustn’t disappoint her."

By now, Shang Yin had already yanked Zhao Xun to his feet and pushed him at the Consort. "Tie her hands and feet," he ordered.

A coil of rope landed at Zhao Xun’s feet.

Zhao Xun instinctively grabbed the rope, his face white with fear as he stared at Shang Yin and Chen Hui, who had thrown it to him.

He had heard their conversation and understood their intentions. Now, only fear remained in his heart.

"I... I..." Zhao Xun’s hands trembled uncontrollably.

Seeing him hesitate, A Chan said lazily, "If he won’t do it, get rid of him and let his son handle it instead."

"Fine."

Shang Yin agreed without hesitation. As he stepped forward, Zhao Xun screamed, "I’ll do it! I’ll do it! Don’t come any closer!"

Scrambling up from the ground, Zhao Xun ignored the dirt on his clothes. He averted his gaze from the Consort’s furious glare and struggled with the rope, wrapping it around her wrists and ankles.

When the Consort saw Zhao Xun actually obeying, she was shaking with anger. "How dare you, Zhao Xun! I’m your mother!"

Zhao Xun swallowed hard and whispered, "Mother, I have no choice. They forced me. You understand, don’t you?"

Of course, the Consort couldn’t understand a son who would help her killers. Clenching her teeth, she spat, "How did I ever give birth to such a worthless bastard! Willing to harm your own mother—you’ll die screaming!"

Knowing she wouldn’t escape alive, the Consort was blinded by rage and hopelessness. She no longer cared about appearances, wishing only to curse everyone who had betrayed her with the vilest words.

In her eyes, Zhao Xun was now one of her tormentors.

Zhao Xun’s face darkened at her tirade. Just as the Consort was about to keep yelling, he suddenly hit her across the face.

The sharp crack of the blow silenced the room. The Consort stared at him, stunned.

Zhao Xun’s heavy breathing was loud in the stillness. Pointing at himself, he hissed, "I’m the bastard? Then what does that make you? You stepped over my father’s dead body to reach the King of Northern Wilderness. You refused to acknowledge me, ashamed that I was your disgrace. You abandoned me to the Zhao family, ignored me for years, and then expected me to beg for your crumbs of attention like a dog!

You think I’m unworthy to be your son, that only Bai Zhanhuang deserves that title, don’t you? Too bad Bai Zhanhuang can’t save you now."

As he spoke, he yanked the ropes tight around the Consort’s wrists, knotting them securely before moving to bind her feet.

Even after restraining her, Zhao Xun’s anger hadn’t subsided. He turned to Shang Yin. "I’ve tied her up. What else do you want?"

Shang Yin pointed to a wooden frame nearby. "Hang her on that."

"No! Zhao Xun, put me down!" The Consort finally snapped out of her daze, shrieking, but Zhao Xun wasted no time hauling her up onto the thick wooden beam.

"Got a butcher’s knife?" Shang Yin asked Chen Hui.

Chen Hui left briefly and returned with two boning knives.

Shang Yin took one and stepped behind Zhao Xun, shoving the other into his grip before gripping it firmly.

"Father," Shang Yin called. Zhao Xun shuddered, instinctively clutching the knife.

"What... what are you doing?"

Shang Yin’s voice hissed in his ear. "Today, only one of you—you or the Consort—will walk out of here alive."

Zhao Xun’s teeth began chattering uncontrollably.

"Compared to the Consort, you and I have no real enmity between us, right?" Shang Yin patted Zhao Xun’s shoulder lightly. "So, I’d prefer it if you were the one to survive."

"Z-Zhao Yin, sh-she’s still your grandmother..."

"So you’re volunteering to die in her place?" Shang Yin sounded genuinely puzzled. "That’s fine too."

"No, I—"

"I know, Father just spoke in haste." Shang Yin's tone softened, as if comforting him. "You've never killed anyone with your own hands before, have you? It's alright. Think of her as livestock—just find the right angle and strike once."

Shang Yin released his grip and nudged Zhao Xun, whose body had gone rigid, encouraging him. "Go on."

The Dowager Consort watched in horror as Zhao Xun stepped forward with the boning knife in hand. Her eyes were wide with terror, and she kept babbling, "No... don't... stop..."

But Zhao Xun seemed entranced, his eyes veined and protuberant. "Mother, don’t blame me... I just want to live."

Then, he strode to the wooden frame, closed his eyes, and plunged the knife forward.

A wet *thunk* followed as the blade pierced flesh. Warm blood splattered onto his face and hands. The piercing shrieks were heard only by those present.

Zhao Xun opened his eyes and looked down—the knife had stabbed into the Dowager Consort’s side.

Shang Yin applauded from behind. "Good boy. Again."

Zhao Xun pulled the knife out and stabbed again.

At first, his hands trembled with fear. The Dowager Consort convulsed in torment from the two strikes, her cries devolving from oaths to desperate pleas for a mercy killing.

Hearing her begs, a shadow of remorse crossed Zhao Xun’s face. The next strike aimed for her heart—but his hand faltered at the last moment.

Her clothes were soaked in dark red blood, spreading in a dark puddle beneath her. Despite the wounds and blood loss, she still had the strength to scream.

A Chan sat in her chair, watching as Zhao Xun plunged the blade again and again, missing every vital spot. By her count, this was the eighth strike.

The strung up Dowager Consort swayed like half a pig carcass hanging at a butcher’s stall, just as she had once described to Shang Yin.

Zhao Xun, now slick with gore, was losing control. He stared at her, hissing, "Why won’t you die?"

The Dowager Consort’s mouth was full of blood. Pain had made her bite off shreds of her own tongue. She stared back, wondering the same—why *wasn’t* she dead yet?

A Chan’s gaze shifted from the half-mad Zhao Xun to Zhao Zeqian, who had just woken up.

She realized she had underestimated Shang Yin’s hunger for retribution. A consciousness imprisoned for twenty years only *seemed* normal.

Shang Yin spoke to Zhao Zeqian: "Now it’s your turn, little brother. Only one of you and your father will walk out alive."

He added, "I never meant to involve you. But since Father insisted on bringing you along, you’ll have to earn your place."

Then, he pressed the second knife into Zhao Zeqian’s hand. Zhao Zeqian closed his fist around it.

Zhao Zeqian was far more ruthless than Zhao Xun. He lurched to his feet, closed in behind his father, and drove the blade between his shoulders.

Zhao Xun stiffened. With great effort, he turned his head—only to see Zhao Zeqian’s face contorted with effort.

"Ze... Ze..." His mouth worked wordlessly before he collapsed, motionless.

The Dowager Consort watched as her grandson killed her son. Then, she saw Zhao Zeqian’s eyes widen in horror as his hand, still clutching the knife, jerked upward—and stabbed himself through the heart.

The blade plunged in and out. Warm blood sprayed over her face.

Right before her fading vision, Zhao Zeqian too fell. Now, she had lost both son and grandson.

Only when silence settled did Shang Yin approach her.

Standing before the frame, he took out a handkerchief and gently wiped her face. But there was too much blood—it only smudged the gore instead of cleaning away.

His movements were tender, his voice soft. "When my mother died, she hung just like this in a prison cell. Exactly like you now."

The Dowager Consort weakly mumbled, slurred through blood: "I was wrong... just kill me."

Shang Yin shook his head. "The Dowager Consort is never at fault? You don’t truly believe that, do you? Do you know why this happened?"

He didn’t wait for an answer. "Because of A Chan."

"Dowager Consort, aren’t you curious? Why did Zhao Yin—who once obeyed your every whim, who would’ve died for you—betray you? Why did he help A Chan?"

"Why?" she gasped. Even in death, she wanted to know why she had lost.

Shang Yin leaned close and whispered, "Because I’m *not* Zhao Yin. He was just a fragment of my consciousness. He took over my body—almost erased me completely."

Seeing her stunned expression, he sighed. "Only A Chan noticed me. She never meddles, so she never thought to help me... until you sent assassins after her. *I* tipped her off."

"You?" The Dowager Consort finally understood how A Chan had escaped in time.

If not for that, they wouldn’t have struggled so hard only to let her flee to the capital.

"Me." Shang Yin smoothed her disheveled hair, humoring her dying question. "Not long after reaching the capital, A Chan found me... and woke my consciousness."

"So that’s how..." she murmured.

"Yes. Just that straightforward." Shang Yin smiled. "They say evil begets evil ends. Don’t you agree?"

The Dowager Consort lifted her eyelids, gazing at A Chan, who still sat motionless in the distance. Her vision blurred, but she could *feel* A Chan’s stare.

Detached. As if she were watching butcher's work.

A Chan had looked at her like that many times before.

Merely some fox demon who stumbled into human territory—naive, yet disdainful, dismissing everything.

She hated that gaze. It reminded her of the Shang family.

Commoners, yet they flaunted their so-called heritage in her face. What good did it do them? They were exterminated nonetheless.

An icy dread seized her. Endless screams echoed in her ears—were those the Shang family’s voices? Were these their dying imprecations? Cursing her for bringing the King of Northern Wilderness to their doom?

She strained to listen, but cold and pain blurred her mind. The harder she strained, the deeper her despair.

*Their* curses had brought her here. The dead had come collecting!

The Dowager Consort died of blood loss. From the first stab to her last breath, she endured three mortal hours.

Her dead eyes stayed wide.