At this moment, Jiang Wenyu's mind was in complete chaos, like an ant on a hot pan.

He knew he was doomed today. He wanted to beg for mercy, but looking at Chen Zhennan's icy face, he knew it would be useless. He could only make a difficult choice between slitting his own throat and hanging himself.

Just then, Gu Siyao, holding a three-foot-long white silk ribbon, moved gracefully and slowly entered.

Following closely behind, Feng Zirou carried a gleaming sword, its sharpness seemingly capable of slicing through the heavy air.

Gu Siyao glanced at Jiang Wenyu and said quietly, "You should make a decision sooner rather than later, lest you end up with your head separated from your body."

Feng Zirou chimed in, "Yes, Jiang Wenyu, today is your death day. Don't hold onto any more illusions. Do you really think some miracle will happen?"

Hearing their words, Jiang Wenyu became even more flustered, and large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.

He opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word for a long time. He looked just like the internet meme "The clown is actually myself." He was once high and mighty, but now he has fallen to such a state.

Jiang Wenyu's gaze darted back and forth between the sword and the white silk, his mind in turmoil.

The atmosphere inside the tent was extremely tense, so tense that you could hear a pin drop.

The people around him watched him silently, without making a sound, only the heavy breathing rising and falling.

After a long silence, Jiang Wenyu made up his mind, his lips trembling slightly as he said, "Fine, fine, I'll choose to hang myself."

Upon hearing this, Gu Siyao stepped forward without saying a word and wrapped the white silk around Jiang Wenyu's neck.

There was no pity in her eyes; her movements were clean and efficient, and she tightened the reins forcefully.