Chapter 599 - 597: No, It Can’t Be You

Chapter 599: Chapter 597: No, It Can’t Be You

He reached out for the candied hawthorns the guard offered. Pinching the end of the skewer, he held it up to his eyes. The bright red of the candied hawthorns was such a festive color.

Much like the red robes he wore today.

He murmured, "Mother knows me best. This outfit really is festive. I feel like it’s chased all the bad luck away." He took a bite of the candied hawthorns. Sweet and sour. Not bad at all.

The guard glanced at the execution grounds and couldn’t resist a word of caution. "Young Master, a beheading can be quite bloody. I’m afraid it might frighten you. Why don’t we leave first?" In the guard’s eyes, their Young Master was still young, and an execution ground was no place for a child.

"Scare me? That’s not likely."

Aaron Sinclair waved his hand dismissively. "It’s just a beheading. I’m not only going to watch, I’m going to find the best spot to do it. Right there," he said, pointing toward the area beside the Executioner with the tip of his skewer.

"That spot’s not bad. You can see everything from there."

He turned and walked.

"Come on, let’s go over."

"Yes, Young Master. Please follow me."

The guard nodded slightly.

"Yes, Young Master. Please follow me."

As they spoke, the guard led him toward the high platform of the execution grounds. The guard beside Aaron Sinclair directly presented the Prince Mansion Token.

"This is our Princely Heir."

There was only one Princely Heir in The Warden’s Northern Manor: the one who had recently been found. The Executioner’s gaze rested on Aaron Sinclair for only a moment before he shot to his feet.

"Greetings, Princely Heir."

The officials beside the Executioner scrambled to their feet and bowed as well. "Greetings, Princely Heir."

Aaron Sinclair waved his hand.

"Carry on. I’m just here to watch."

The Executioner smiled and nodded. "Of course, of course. Someone, bring a chair for the Princely Heir."

A chair was quickly brought and set to one side.

Aaron Sinclair eyed the chair they brought, then sat down with a wave of his hand. Despite his young age, his calm and unhurried demeanor meant that no one dared to look at him directly or treat him as a mere child.

More and more people gathered in the market square, forming a wide circle.

They pointed and whispered about The Jacobs on the execution platform.

"Sinners! They deserve to die!"

"Kill them!"

"Kill them!"

One after another, people in the crowd pointed at them, shouting curses.

At that moment, the eyes of the kneeling Jacobs family fell in unison upon Aaron Sinclair, who was seated next to the Executioner. The figure in red, sitting upright in the Taishi Chair, was unmistakable. He had an air of immense nobility, yet the skewer of candied hawthorns in his hand reminded everyone that he was, in fact, just a child.

Upon seeing him,

Mrs. Dawson’s face lit up with agitation, as if she had just spotted her last hope.

"Nathan... Nathan, it’s Mother! You have to save me!"

"I was wrong! I truly know I was wrong now!"

"You must save me."

Caleb Jacobs’ mouth was gagged, and he couldn’t speak. But his eyes were locked on Aaron Sinclair as his body writhed and muffled whimpers escaped his lips. Clearly, he, like Mrs. Dawson, was pleading with Aaron Sinclair for rescue.

Tears and snot streamed down Arthur Jacobs’ face in terror. As time ticked by, he stared at the greatswords in the hands of the headsmen beside him. ’This wasn’t the passing of time; it was a countdown to his death.’

"Brother... I was wrong."

"I was truly wrong. Let me go. I’m begging you, please let me go. I’ll never compete with you again. Anything you want, it’s yours."

Aaron Sinclair stood up from his chair.

His gaze swept over them as he spoke, his voice cold. "You’re not sorry. You just know you’re about to die. Tsk. Don’t think for a second that you’re pitiful. You brought all of this upon yourselves."

"Farewell to your family. In your next lives, remember to learn how to be decent human beings first."

Mrs. Dawson’s eyes widened. Seeing that she couldn’t count on him, her expression instantly twisted.

"Nathan Jacobs, you ungrateful wretch! You have no conscience!"

"If I had known you were born to bring us ruin, I would have strangled you in your cradle! I never should have let you live! This is all your fault! It’s all because of you!"

Arthur Jacobs was furious.

"Nathan Jacobs, why don’t you just die! Go die! You’re the one who should be dead! Everything you have should have been mine! Why do you get to be the high and mighty Princely Heir?! I’ll haunt you even as a ghost! I’ll never let you go!"

The Executioner’s face turned ashen as he sat there.

"How dare you! Insulting the Princely Heir is an even greater crime."

"Hilarious. I’m not afraid of death, so what else is there to fear?"

Aaron Sinclair sat back down, ignoring them completely. He remained that way until the appointed time. The Executioner took out a token and tossed it to the ground.

"Time’s up. Behead them."

The headsmen raised their blades and brought them down in a single, swift motion.

Blood sprayed into the air. The Jacobs were no more.

’Aaron Sinclair watched the scene unfold, but felt nothing. Not even a sense of satisfaction. It was as if they were just... strangers.’

He calmly averted his gaze and finished the last of his candied hawthorns.

Many eyes in the crowd turned to Aaron Sinclair. They were likely wondering how someone his age could face such a bloody spectacle with such composure. He showed no emotion at all. ’Isn’t the Princely Heir still just a child? Even some of the adult gawkers couldn’t help but vomit at the sight.’

Now that The Jacobs had been beheaded,

Aaron Sinclair was bored. He decided it was time to go. But the very moment he stood up, a gale suddenly tore through the square.

In that instant, wind howled and clouds roiled across the sky, the weather changing in the blink of an eye. The heavens grew dim, suffused with a black-red mist. It looked as if the very sky was about to fall.

Faced with this bizarre phenomenon, Aaron Sinclair merely frowned. ’Surprisingly, I’m not the least bit afraid,’ he thought. ’Just... curious. Why does it look like the sky is about to fall on a perfectly fine day?’

Suddenly, a colossal, blood-red eye materialized in the sky, and a voice boomed from it.

"Who... who dares to kill the vessel I so carefully chose?"

As the voice spoke,

Threads of blood appeared in the air, connecting the entire world. It was as if this power had seized the whole of creation, enveloping it completely.

"Blood threads... so many blood threads!"

"Look! An eye in the sky! It’s huge!"

This was Elyndra, the mortal realm, inhabited by ordinary people. They had never witnessed anything so terrifying in their lives. Now, seeing the eye that had suddenly appeared in the sky, they fell to their knees one after another, trembling in fear.

"A heavenly tribulation... This is the wrath of the heavens!"

"The heavens are angry!"

"What’s going on? This is terrifying! I feel like the sky is going to fall!"

The eye in the sky swiveled, its gaze finally landing on Aaron Sinclair. A furious voice echoed from the void, and the eye stared intently at him.

"It is you... I can sense it. You are the anomaly."

"This world was supposed to be in my grasp. All I needed was to absorb its energy, and I could have reformed my body. But you... you ruined my plans! Who are you?!"

"No... This aura... It’s you? No, that’s impossible. You’re supposed to be dead. It can’t be you."