The legendary castration

  I don't know how I've managed to survive this bitter life.

  After being splashed with cold water by someone, he felt what it was like to be worse off than dead for the first time.

  In less than half an hour, he fainted three times.

  He was now suspended in mid-air by an iron chain, with two large iron hooks inserted under his shoulder blades from the back, hanging him up like a pig to be slaughtered.

  The executioner was clearly a seasoned professional, piercing the xiphoid process without killing him or knocking him unconscious, leaving him suspended in a state of being unable to die or live.

  One of the guards used a whip soaked in chili water to continuously lash him, making his already heavily scarred upper body even more battered.

  The chili water seeped into his wound, and the pain of the whip lash on his body became negligible.

  "The warden said, 'What on earth has this kid done? The higher-ups have specifically instructed us to take good care of him.'"

  "I heard it's because he messed with a woman he shouldn't have and offended Lord Wang."

  The prison guard put down the whip in his hand, panting, and turned to look at the other prison guard. At this time, he was sitting by a burning stove, leisurely drinking tea, and asked: "Could it be that it's Lord Wang, the Minister of War?"

  "Who else in Luoyang City dares to call himself 'Duke' besides the Minister of War?"

  "It serves him right, he's so brazen and daring, even daring to touch the wife of the Minister."

  The jailer said, and then whipped Zhen Ming again with several lashes. He turned his head and asked: "Jailer Zhang, do you want to try it out? It's been a long time since we've met such a tough guy. From start to finish, he was whipped more than a hundred times, but he didn't even hum a sound."

  The prison guard put down his tea cup, stood up, took the whip from the other guard's hand, walked to Zhen Mingku's side, lifted his head with the whip, and saw that he was still conscious, only gritting his teeth from start to finish. He sneered coldly: "You're quite spirited, daring to glare at me with your eyes. I don't know if you'll have this courage later. Honestly, I've seen many tough guys, but in the end, none of them didn't beg for mercy. I hope you won't disappoint me."

  "Prison guard chief, you don't think this kid is mute, do you?" asked the prison guard beside him.

  The prison guard sneered coldly: "Even if he's mute, I'll make him speak. Bring over the bamboo sign."

  The bamboo skewers have arrived, they are sharpened to a point, shiny and tough, seemingly having undergone special craftsmanship of soaking and roasting, looking not only tenacious but also extremely sharp.

  The prison guard took one out and grabbed Zhen Ming's hand.

  The bamboo slip slowly pierced into his thumb nail, Zhen Ming's body convulsed in agony, he lifted the only mobile head and violently bumped it against the face of the prison guard.

  The prison guard's long nose bled profusely and he retreated five or six steps back.

  "Hold on tight!" He wiped away the blood flowing from his nose and said with a ferocious grin.

  Bamboo skewers were inserted one by one into the bitter fingers of Zhenming.

  Until the tenth needle, Zhen Ming's endurance finally couldn't withstand the excruciating pain that pierced his heart with every finger, his physical tolerance reached its limit, and he let out a loud roar before fainting.

  The prison guard spat a mouthful of blood on him: "I thought you were mute, I've got plenty of time to waste with you, let's see if your mouth is harder or my skills are more varied!"

  As he spoke, he pointed to the jailer beside him: "You, go find a doctor to take a look at him. I don't want him to die so easily!"

  ……

  I don't know how long I've been locked up in this dark and windowless cell, only knowing that I've survived a cold winter from the changes in temperature, and made it to early spring.

  Each time he came to from his stupor, he was lying on the damp stone floor of a dungeon, covered in bruises and with his hands and feet locked in iron chains, unable to move even a finger.

  According to his current confused sense of time, every two or three days, he would be carried to the torture chamber by several prison guards and interrogated with severe punishment by the head of the prison guards and several other guards. In his impression, this kind of treatment had not been less than thirty times, which was almost three months.

  The dungeon was dark and damp, he contracted tuberculosis, at first it was phlegm that he coughed up, later on, there was no more phlegm, just large chunks of blood.

  His body was so weak that even a three-year-old child could knock him down.

  In the past three months, he has been subjected to numerous nameless instruments of torture. He was forced to sit on an iron-studded chair, his buttocks covered in blood holes. A red-hot branding iron was pressed against his chest, or he was made to walk back and forth on a floor filled with hot coals. The prison guards jokingly called this "Buddha's dance", implying that even the gods had to dance for their amusement.

  He had thought it would be better to just die several times, but every day there was a traveling doctor who came in to treat him, applied medicine to his wounds, set his fractures, and forced him to drink medicine, making it hard for him to even think about dying.

  Others who traveled through time and space became princes, emperors, or at least the illegitimate sons of wealthy families, with beautiful wives and a dying father, ready to inherit their legacy upon his death. But he had traveled into a woman's crotch, kissing her thigh without knowing whether he was dead or alive. As it happened, this woman was also an emperor's concubine. As a result, he was framed, made a scapegoat, and sent to a dark dungeon where the sun never shone, locked up for several months, subjected to inhumane torture.

  That prison guard still wanted to get a confession of an accomplice from his mouth, he had to have an accomplice, he would have confessed earlier, but now he didn't even know what era he was in, let alone confess to a behind-the-scenes accomplice, even if he wanted to frame some great treacherous minister or high-ranking official, he couldn't say the name of who it was.

  His ridiculous self-respect, which did not allow others to offend him, had no place to rest in this dark prison. His dignity and personality were ruthlessly trampled underfoot until the day he collapsed.

  He felt he couldn't hold on much longer, in front of him there were only two options, one was to end his own life, the other was to kneel down in front of the prison guard and cry bitterly, licking his boots like that tall and shameless man he saw when he first arrived, flattering and fawning, wagging his tail like a dog to survive.

  When his uncle starved himself to death, he had righteously scolded him until he cried. Now thinking back, with his uncle's strong character, making such a choice of barely holding on must have been the result of a long period of painful internal struggle. Today when it was his turn to face such a choice, he finally understood what it felt like for his uncle to lie in bed for five years unable to move, having others serve him even for using the bathroom, and living without any dignity at all, requiring how much courage.

  Let him kneel down and beg for mercy from that mentally abnormal prison guard, he can't do it either. He still has a little bit of sanity left, telling him to stand upright even if he dies.

  He thought he was the most embarrassing crosser in history, losing face for modern people. He no longer believed that those who crossed over from modern civilized society to ancient barbaric times could achieve anything. It's like throwing a sheep into a pack of wolves, with only one outcome: no bones left.

  "Let's eat!"

  He felt he couldn't hold on much longer, in front of him there were only two options, one was to end his own life, the other was to kneel down in front of the prison guard and cry bitterly, begging for mercy, licking his boots, like that tall and strong man he saw when he first came, flattering and fawning, wagging his tail like a dog, struggling to survive.

  When his uncle starved himself to death, he had righteously scolded him until he cried. Now thinking back, with his uncle's strong character, making such a choice of barely holding on must have been the result of a long period of painful inner struggle. Today when it was his turn to face such a choice, he finally understood what it felt like for his uncle to lie in bed for five years unable to move, having others take care of his feces and urine, living without dignity, and how much courage that required.

  Make him kneel down and beg for mercy to that mentally deranged prison guard, he can't do it, he still has a little bit of sanity left, tell him even if he dies, he must stand upright.

  He has been wandering alone since he was six years old, until he met his uncle. He has experienced a lot of hardships and understands the truth that the more difficult the situation is, the more one must struggle to survive.

  In the 21st century, I've been to prison and sat in a cell, but who would have thought that after crossing over to this dark dynasty, I still can't escape the disaster of being imprisoned. If it were someone else, they'd probably have smashed their head against the wall by now.

  But he is a hard-luck person, and children with hard luck are tougher than others.

  ……

  "Let's eat!"

  A bowl of rice with a strong smell was thrown in through the dog hole on the door of the cell.

  Ben, who was meditating with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them, and a glint of sharpness that didn't match his current weak physical state flashed in his eyes. He struggled to get up and crawled towards the bowl of gruel.

  Today's meal might be the last one in his life. Judging from the fragmented words he heard when he met with the prison warden last time, today the warden is going to inflict on him a punishment more cruel than death for a man.

  Castration.

  This cruel punishment, made famous by Sima Qian, if nothing unexpected happens, today he will experience the pain that Sima Qian once endured, without anesthesia, the pain is imaginable.

  He didn't want to write a legendary history book, nor did he want to enter the palace as an official, and even less did he want to practice some kind of kung fu. What's more terrifying in this world than losing a man's dignity? Even if it means death, he still wants to maintain the last bit of dignity as a man.

  Before he died, he had to give those dogs a bit of color for their master's prestige, but that required some strength.

  He had long been accustomed to this spoiled food, enduring the nausea, and quickly filling his stomach. Then, he suddenly fell to the ground, clutching his belly and wailing loudly.

  "What's all the commotion? You've disturbed my peaceful sleep!" The jailer heard the voice and pounded on the prison bars.

  He fell to the ground and rolled about in agony, cursing the Three Character Classic.

  The gate creaked open, and a prison guard walked in with a whip, muttering to himself: "Let you shout, it seems you haven't had enough of the taste of the whip, I'll whip you until you can't shout!"

  With a bitter fate, no longer hesitant, he slammed the bowl in his hand to the ground, secretly hiding a shard in his sleeve, and burst out laughing: "Want me to bow my head to you slaves? Next life!"

  Boom!

  He crashed headfirst onto the floor.

  Then he convulsed his limbs a few times, foamed at the mouth, and soon lay motionless on the ground.

  The prison guard was taken aback for a moment, then walked over to Zhen Ming's body, squatted down, and reached out to check his nostrils.

  At this moment, a sudden change occurred. Zhen Mingshu, who had been unconscious, suddenly opened his eyes and used all the strength he had left to swing the shard of porcelain in his hand at the neck of the prison guard.

  With or without intention, the prison guard didn't even have time to react, his neck was slashed open, eyes filled with terror, both hands covering his neck, fell to the ground, mouth agape like a fish out of water, but unable to make a sound.

  Before long, blood began to flow from between his fingers, and he convulsed all over, soon becoming unable to move.

  Zhen Ming bitterly didn't have time to check if he was dead or alive, quickly stripped off the prison guard uniform from his body and put it on himself, propping up his weak body, poked his head out to take a look around, spotted an opening, covered his mouth and nose with one hand, bowed his head and swiftly exited the cell.

  He met several prison guards in the corridor, who asked him something when he opened his mouth. He just shook his head and fortunately the light in the cell was dim, so the other guards didn't notice anything unusual about him.

  All the way unimpeded, all the way to the gate of the prison, he was overjoyed in his heart, just at this time, a loud shout came from behind: "Halt!"

  ……

  At this sound, it was the prison chief who had tormented him for two months. Zhen Ming stopped in his tracks, and a surge of uncontrollable anger rose to his head.

  A low sobbing of a woman could still be heard from behind.

  It's definitely impossible to escape, unless...

  He secretly hid the broken porcelain pieces in his sleeve, turned his back to the prison head, and asked in a low voice: "What are your orders, Prison Head?"

  "Where's the wine you bought?"

  Zhen Ming let out a sigh of relief and said in a low voice: "I'll go buy it for you right away."

  Chen Lao Tou heard this and furrowed his brow, "You're quite straightforward today. In the past, asking you to buy some wine was like asking you to cut your own flesh... You wouldn't be hiding something good and wanting to transfer it out of prison quickly, would you?"

  Zhen Ming's bitter cry was met with a single, ominous word: "Not good." It turned out that the prison guard he had just knocked down was an unyielding iron rooster, who was now calculating his next move. The warden released the terrified woman from his grasp and walked towards him.

  The ordeal had unexpectedly calmed her down.

  "How can I feel like you're not an old miser? Turn around and let me take a look."

  One hand landed on Zhen Mingshu's shoulder, and Zhen Mingshu seized the opportunity to turn around, swinging the shard of porcelain in his hand at the back of that person's neck once again...

  That prison head was shocked, his hands were not bad either, he hurriedly bent back and dodged this fatal blow, but did not completely dodge, Zhen's bitter hand with the ceramic piece from his mouth to one eye...

  "Ah——"

  A heaven-shaking, earth-shattering scream of pain burst forth from the mouth of the prison head, Zhen Ming's bitter cry as he turned his head to meet a knee strike that crashed into his belly, sending him doubling over in agony, vomiting up what little food he had just eaten. Another elbow strike followed, crashing down onto the back of his skull.

  All his movements were done in one breath, but he had also exhausted all his strength, and with a thud, he sat down on the ground. At this time, even a three-year-old child could easily knock him down.

  With a thud, the prisoner fell to the ground, motionless, and it was unclear whether he was dead or alive.

  What made Zhen Ming feel fortunate was that the other prison guards in the cell heard the warden's miserable cry before he fainted, but not a single one came to see what had happened. It seemed they were already used to the miserable cries of various prisoners being tortured in the cell.

  Zhen Ming sat on the ground for a long time before slowly recovering some of his strength. He stood up shakily and looked at the woman brought by the prison head, seeing that she was trembling all over while leaning against the wall, her eyes filled with fear and cowardice.

  "Are you leaving?"

  The woman shook her head rapidly, seemingly having long since succumbed to the tyrannical power of the prison chief. Even if someone were to take her away, she wouldn't dare step out of the prison gate.

  He didn't dare to linger, his own life was in danger, and bringing a woman with him would only put her in harm's way. Without hesitation, he turned around and quickly exited the prison gate.

  ……

  At this time, Zhen Ming was standing on a bridge.

  At both ends of the bridge, there were over a dozen prison guards chasing after him. The one in the lead was the prison head who had his face slashed by him, with thick white gauze wrapped around his face and one eye covered up, looking like he had injured his eye.

  His face was twisted in rage, as if he would have liked to tear Zhen's life into a thousand pieces.

  After leaving prison, Zhen Ming suffered hardships and hid everywhere, but ultimately could not escape the furious pursuit of the prison chief.

  Zhen Ming was well aware that if he fell into the hands of this prison chief again, there was no doubt that he would not be able to come out alive.

  Looking at the rushing river, with his current physical condition, the probability of jumping into the river and surviving is almost zero.

  Death is inevitable, but how he dies is his choice.

  He turned his head, grinned at the lock with a contemptuous smile that was suffocating, and in the lock's resentful eyes, he jumped into the river...