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Ma Hechang blinked and hurriedly added, “Sir… Won’t you hang it up?”
Zheng Liushu snapped at him, “We hang ringleaders. Once they rot, we burn them. What’s the point of hanging a child?”
Ma Hechang nodded and muttered something, though uneasy. “Just don’t go soft. They wronged us badly.”
“Our administrator will decide.”
“You could hang them on racks, drill holes in their heads, stuff wicks in them and burn them slowly…”
“We’ll suggest it.”
“If you could set a rack here it’d be best… It’s just a suggestion...”
Seeing the look of impatience on Zhang Liushu’s face, Ma Hechang shut up and left.
Watching him go, Yang Gaoshan clicked his tongue. “That guy’s full of demands. Should we build him a theater too and give him seats?”
He was a refugee from the Bonechewer Clan.
Unlike Zheng Liushu who had become a captain, Yang had only recently joined after working in the ammunition lines.
“Maybe his kin died in this disaster?” said Wu Pangfei, another taller soldier beside them. He came from the Falling Leaf Ridge. He had been drafted...
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