Ministers Begging Me to Ascend the Throne Chapter 1070 - 118: Does the Princess of Annan Want to Shake the Great Zhou Dynasty’s Court?

The Imperial Court of Judicial Review processed the case with astonishing speed. In less than three days—actually just two—the verification of all Prince Zheng’s crimes was complete. Every charge leveled by the Princess of Annan in court against him proved accurate, without any setup or invention.

Across the years, Prince Zheng had wantonly claimed over a thousand lives in his fiefdom. This offense alone ignited a massive furor among the courtiers. By this count, it appeared he slew someone nearly every single day.

Upon reviewing the confirmed findings from the Imperial Court of Judicial Review, the emperor’s face grew ominously dark. He promptly ordered Sun Kui to proclaim every one of Prince Zheng’s misdeeds, then proclaimed an edict detailing his doom. Firstly, Prince Zheng got stripped of his title and erased from the Imperial Jade Scroll as a commoner. Secondly, his capital dwelling and fiefdom Prince Mansion were seized. Thirdly, officials in his fiefdom faced a full probe; those colluding with him would suffer harsh penalties. Lastly, he faced public beheading.

Civil and military officials reeled in shock upon hearing the emperor’s order to execute Prince Zheng by beheading. Though they recognized his crimes’ severity, they figured the emperor would spare his own son from death. But against all odds, the emperor coldly chose to decapitate his blood kin.

Deep regret consumed the emperor over Prince Zheng’s atrocities, and before the assembled ministers, he admitted his paternal shortcomings in raising him, birthing a monster far viler than beasts from the Royal Family. He sought to beg forgiveness from the fiefdom’s folk, owning that they endured hellish suffering under Zheng while he, the father, remained blind.

Execution wouldn’t happen in the capital; instead, Prince Zheng returned to his fiefdom for a public beheading, letting locals witness it directly. This achieved multiple aims: firstly, soothing the locals’ pent-up rage; secondly, demonstrating to them that guilty princes die like any peasant—if you kill, you pay with blood; thirdly, proving the emperor hadn’t forsaken them and upheld righteousness; fourthly, striking fear into potential wrongdoers.

An imperial envoy got dispatched to personally convey Prince Zheng back to his fiefdom for the axe. Naturally, this envoy bore another duty: collecting proof on fiefdom officials who schemed with Prince Zheng. The worst offenders didn’t need hauling to the capital; on-the-spot public executions sufficed. Lesser criminals headed to the capital for demotion, banishment, or jail as fitting.

As the imperial envoy transported Prince Zheng to his fiefdom for doom, the emperor specially penned an edict of apology to the local masses.

During the journey back to his fiefdom, once the public learned of his evils, they raged and hurled rocks, spoiled eggs, and rotting foliage at him. His escorting guards stood idle, letting the barrage batter him.

Prior to departure, the imperial envoy fretted that Prince Zheng might end himself midway and queried the emperor on precautions. The emperor dismissed concerns, stating Prince Zheng lacked the guts or spine for suicide. If unease lingered, the envoy could cram cloth into his mouth to stop tongue-biting.

Inside the prison cart, the ex-Prince Zheng looked utterly miserable, blood streaking his brow and cheeks, his head and form stinking of rotten eggs and wilted leaves. A vile odor clung to him.

Terror had shattered the former Prince Zheng, clinging feebly to existence. With rag crammed in his mouth, no sounds escaped. Back in his cell, he’d whimpered pleas like “Mother, save me. Uncle, save me. I don’t want to die...”

Upon hearing of his fiefdom-bound public death, he descended into insanity, soon turning slack and near-comatose. Yet guards dosed him with potions and sustenance en route, ensuring he survived for the blade.

Incidentally, post-sentencing to spectacle execution, neither his concubine mother nor Duke Anyang Mansion begged mercy for the former Prince Zheng. Logic dictated his birth mother would intercede for her boy. Yet she not only abstained but boldly petitioned the emperor, owning her maternal lapses that spawned his horrors, and begged her own punishment.

Regarding her brother Duke Anyang, the concubine mother refrained from appeals too, knowing aid would doom him. She aimed to shoulder every fault alone, banking on her candid admission and long-shared bonds to let the emperor spare Duke Anyang and his heir, safeguarding the Wang Family.