The white silk on the back of her neck was as rough as a piece of cold sandpaper.
Every breath carries the unique musty smell of dust and decay, which is unique to the cold palace, and penetrates into the heart. Ling Cang knelt on the smooth, mirror-like white marble slab. The stinging pain in his knees had long been numb, replaced by a bone-chilling chill that spread from the depths of his bones.
She didn't cry or beg for mercy.
Three days ago, she was Ling Cang, the queen of Muyi Tianxia and the legitimate daughter of the Duke of Zhenguo.
Now, she is just a sinner. The crime is treason.
Joke.
Big joke.
