A blow from the sky -(Volume 1 and 2)

Author: Wen Rui'an
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: The executioner Li wouldn't dare to guess. After beheading so many heroes, good men, ruffians, and scoundrels over the years, he naturally knew that some things, though he longed to know them, were better left unknown. In recent years, since becoming an executioner, even when eating his meals, he would feel a wave of bloodlust, slowly swallowing it down. Even when bathing, when he drew water from the well and poured it over his head, for a moment with his eyes closed, he felt as if he were bathing in the crimson water. His head often ached too. It pained like bone was cracking and marrow was corroding. He often believed it was a form of retribution. He knew that with every life he took, he was also destroying his own blessings. Ever since he and his father had entered this "profession," though no one respected him, no one dared to fear him either. Because with the knife in his hand and the head on the other side, the power of life and death lay solely in his grasp.
Even when visiting brothels, the pretty, delicate women there wouldn’t dare to ask him for money. Even when buying half a pound of pork at the market, the coarse-faced fellow wouldn’t dare to shortchange him by less than half a tael, sometimes even giving him an extra tael or two as a "token of goodwill." In these times, no one knew who might fall under whose blade one day. If he happened to be the one holding the knife, everything would be at his mercy: he would cut off lives, but how he chose to do it, whether swiftly or slowly, was entirely up to him. Sometimes, a single stroke wouldn’t be enough to kill. The head might not fall off, and the person might keep screaming, blood still gushing. Without the executioner’s command, he would stand by with his knife, waiting patiently for the blood to drain before the person finally died.
Sometimes, he would deliberately cut the blade slightly off-center, first severing a rib or cutting off an ear, causing the criminal intense pain, which was enough to break his spirit. As a result, some criminals died of fear or pain. There were also those who were beheaded in halves. He had once beheaded someone with a single stroke, but the person didn’t die. Facing his severed limbs, he murmured for nearly an hour, blood having dried and congealed before he finally breathed his last.
Once, he deliberately cut a young man of only seventeen or eighteen stroke by stroke. The young man’s parents, who had raised him bite by bite, stared at him, covering their hearts as if their own hearts were being torn apart. That time, he cut with both heart and hand—because who could blame him when the young man’s family had once offended the executioner-in-chief, Tu Jing! With a single stroke, half of the man’s head flew off, brains splattering everywhere, covering the ground. Yet the man still had the strength to crawl on the ground, writing countless "suffering" and "misery" characters, but each one was headless: perhaps losing half his skull made it impossible for him to write complete words?
So many people feared him, and the families of those to be executed often tried to curry favor with him. Some brought silver, others invited him for drinks, and even women came to offer themselves, just begging him to use his sharp blade to cut off the head swiftly, leaving a layer of skin so the family could bury the body "whole" and seek "good fortune." Otherwise, one time when he was in a rage, he swung his knife, and the man’s head and body were separated. The slippery head rolled out, following the bloodstains like a cat’s paws had stepped in blood, but after searching for half the day, he couldn’t find the head. To this day, the head has never been found, and the family had no choice but to bury the headless corpse. His widowed mother-in-law cried so hard she choked on her tears, regretting not having promised him a good night before.
But today, he could no longer show off his prowess. The man in the prison cart showed no signs of pleading. He didn’t even spare him a glance. Yet he could sense the disdain in others’ eyes.
"Cut away, cut away! With this stroke, and the next, you’ll never need to sleep at night or go out in the daytime!"
The heroes of the entire martial world were all waiting to tear out his heart to drink!
The man had no grieving family members to see him off, but he suddenly felt that in the thick fog, there were plenty of fierce faces from all over the mountains and rivers. Whichever one came first would be the one to die first. It was still too early to tell!
Of course, he didn’t dare to offend Ren Lao and Ren Yuan either. He knew that many of the men he had beheaded were unjustly accused, some having been doomed because of carelessness or negligence that had displeased these "two Rens," leading to their heads being separated and leaving them with no one to appeal to.
Now, he had no choice. The head had to be cut. He could only take it step by step. He believed that the executioner-in-chief, Tu Jing, was in a similar situation.
Usually, widows, widowers, gold, silver, and treasures, he had taken far more than he deserved, but who could blame him when the official was higher than he was? Yet, in his heart, today, as long as he passed this test, he would rather resign and flee the scene than face another beheading or execution ever again.