Xue Ping was dressed in prison garb and shackled, his appearance emaciated, allowing the curses to pierce his ears as if unheard, without a ripple on his deathly still face.
A few rotten vegetable leaves and crushed eggshells interspersed his disheveled hair, mixed with dried egg whites and other filth, all thrown by the common people on the way to the execution ground.
The crowd of onlookers pointed and cursed at the person in the execution ground, occasionally spitting. If not for the officers blocking them, the items in their hands would have been hurled over long ago; they only regretted not throwing more earlier.
The sun gradually rose to noon, and after kneeling for a long time, Xue Ping made some movements, dazedly lifting his head to watch the sky. Upon seeing the bright sun, he greedily stared at it as if unafraid of its blinding light—such sunlight wouldn't be seen in the Netherworld; better savor it while he could.
How did it come to this step by step?
