HuaiAn crumpled to the ground, trembling with fear. She opened her mouth to plead her case, but no words came out. Before she could utter a sound, she was bound and dragged to the central square, where a hastily constructed platform awaited. The executioner’s block gleamed ominously under the morning sun, a grim reminder of the fate that awaited her.

  The next morning, the square was packed with spectators, drawn by morbid curiosity or compelled by the threat of punishment if they stayed away. HuaiAn, frail and broken, was marched to the platform under heavy guard. Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face, a sign of hope—but there was none.

  Marquis Shan addressed the crowd, his voice booming with self-righteous indignation. "This girl stands before you today as proof of the chaos that ensues when commoners rise above their station! She murdered my son, a nobleman of this city, in cold blood. Let her death be a warning to all who would dare challenge the natural order!"

  HuaiAn was given no chance to defend herself. As she was forced to kneel before the executioner’s block, her hands tied behind her back, tears streamed silently down her cheeks. The executioner raised his blade high, the sunlight glinting off its edge. The crowd held its collective breath.

  With a single, swift motion, the blade fell. HuaiAn’s head rolled onto the platform, her life extinguished in an instant. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by murmurs of shock and discomfort. Marquis Shan watched with grim satisfaction, convinced he had restored order.

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  News of HuaiAn’s execution spread like wildfire, reaching the ears of the resistance and igniting a firestorm of anger and grief. For the commoners, her death became a symbol of the nobles’ unchecked cruelty and tyranny. Whispers of rebellion grew louder, emboldening those who had once feared speaking out.

  At the secluded training ground, the mood was somber. Chen Yi, KuiFong, MeiEr, and Li YiTing gathered around a makeshift memorial for HuaiAn, their hearts heavy with guilt and sorrow.

  "We failed her," Chen Yi said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "We should have found her sooner."

  Li YiTing clenched her fists, her usual composure shaken. "Marquis Shan used her death to send a message—to terrify the people into submission. But instead, he’s given us a martyr."

  KuiFong slammed his fist against a tree, his anger boiling over. "We can’t let her die in vain. We have to hit back harder than ever."

  MeiEr wiped away her tears, her voice trembling but resolute. "She was one of us. One of the brave ones who stood up to the nobles. If we don’t fight now, her sacrifice means nothing."

  Through Princess Ying XiuLan’s network, word of HuaiAn’s execution reached every corner of the resistance. It became a rallying cry, a reminder of why they fought and what they stood to lose. Plans for retaliation were accelerated, targeting not only minor nobles but also key figures like Marquis Shan.

  For the resistance, her death served as a stark reminder of the cost of failure—and the necessity of unity. They vowed to honor her memory by continuing the fight, no matter the odds.

  As dawn broke over the forest, the survivors prepared for the battles to come. Their resolve hardened, their spirits unyielding. HuaiAn’s name would not be forgotten—it would become a beacon of hope in the darkest of times.