Chapter 502: Chapter-502
Yet here the boy was, covered in dirt, his hands visibly bleeding and blistered, willfully ignoring the ultimate authority of his parents to continue a grueling, torturous exercise.
The Empress’s flawless, serene mask violently cracked.
For a fraction of a second, absolute fury flared in her eyes. Her entire, years-long master plan had been meticulously designed to turn the Ninth Prince into a soft, useless, widely despised weakling who could never threaten her biological son’s path to the throne. But in less than twenty-four hours, this Vanguard bitch had somehow managed to inject a spine into the boy.
"My heavens!" the Empress suddenly cried out, her voice dripping with artificial, maternal horror. She immediately rushed forward, holding her silk handkerchief to her mouth. "My poor child! What has happened to you? Look at your hands! Guards, fetch the imperial physician immediately! Bring towels!"
Several eunuchs scrambled forward, carrying wet cloths and water basins, intending to swarm the boy and drag him away from the training ground.
Heena didn’t even draw her sword. She simply took one fluid, blindingly fast step forward, perfectly interposing herself between the rushing servants and the swinging Prince.
"Halt," Heena commanded. Her voice wasn’t a shout, but it carried the chilling, absolute authority of a Vanguard general on a battlefield.
The eunuchs instantly froze in their tracks, terrified of the young woman dressed in jet-black.
"Lady Seera!" the Empress gasped, stepping forward with tears welling perfectly in her eyes. "Have you no heart? Look at him! He is practically collapsing. He is a prince of imperial blood, not a common foot soldier to be tortured in the dirt. Step aside and let his mother tend to him."
Heena looked directly into the Empress’s eyes. She saw the venom hiding behind the fake tears.
"With the utmost respect, Your Majesty," Heena replied, her tone flawlessly polite but entirely unyielding. "The boy is currently in the middle of a set. If his concentration is broken now, his stance will fail, the count will reset to zero, and the physical agony he has endured for the last three hundred swings will have been for absolutely nothing."
"He is bleeding!" the Empress raised her voice, turning slightly to ensure the Emperor and the ministers saw her deep, motherly distress. "This is not training; this is sheer cruelty! I will not allow you to abuse my son any longer!"
Heena slowly turned her gaze away from the Empress and looked directly at the Emperor, entirely bypassing the woman’s authority.
"Your Majesty," Heena addressed the golden-robed ruler, her voice ringing clear and steady. "When you handed me the jade token of the Royal Tutor yesterday, you asked me to forge a weapon worthy of the Imperial Family. A weapon cannot be forged without heat, pressure, and the striking of the hammer."
She gestured toward the sweating, panting boy behind her, who had miraculously not stopped swinging. ’"Three hundred... and fifteen..."’
"Look at him," Heena continued, her fox-like eyes locking onto the Emperor’s calculating gaze. "Before yesterday, His Highness would have wept if a servant had accidentally bumped his shoulder. Today, he is standing on his own two feet, his hands are bleeding, his muscles are failing, and yet he has not asked for your help. He has not begged for mercy. For the first time in his life, he is choosing to fight."
Heena took a slow, deliberate step closer to the Emperor, her aura radiating pure, martial pride.
"Does the Emperor of this great nation want a son who remains a fragile piece of glass, safely wrapped in silk but shattering at the first strike?" Heena asked boldly. "Or does His Majesty want a dragon who can hold a sword when the enemies of the empire come knocking?"
The courtyard was dead silent. The ministers behind the Emperor were sweating profusely, terrified by Heena’s audacious, borderline treasonous bluntness. The Empress was practically vibrating with suppressed rage, waiting for her husband to reprimand the arrogant Vanguard heir.
The Emperor stared at Heena for a long, heavy moment. Then, his eyes shifted to the boy.
’"Three hundred... and eighteen..."’ the Prince wheezed, entirely focused on the tip of his wooden sword.
A slow, booming laugh suddenly erupted from the Emperor’s chest.
The sound shocked the entire courtyard. The Emperor stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with genuine, profound satisfaction. He raised his hand, gesturing for the eunuchs and the Empress to fall back.
"Leave him," the Emperor commanded, his voice echoing with absolute finality.
"But, Your Majesty—!" the Empress pleaded, her heart sinking.
"I said, ’leave him’," the Emperor repeated, his tone dropping into a dangerous warning that instantly silenced his wife. He looked back at Heena, a fierce, approving smile on his face. "The old Marquis always boasted that the Vanguard could turn a stray dog into a lion in a matter of days. It seems he was not exaggerating. Lady Seera, you possess the true spirit of your grandfather."
Heena offered a perfectly measured bow. "I merely polish the jade that Their Majesties have provided."
"Keep polishing," the Emperor ordered, turning his back on the Empress. "From this day forward, no one—not the servants, not the guards, and not even the inner palace—is allowed to interfere with the Ninth Prince’s martial training. The Vanguard has absolute authority in this courtyard."
He cast one last, proud look at his sweating son before sweeping his golden robes and marching out of the courtyard.
The Empress stood frozen for a moment. Her beautifully manicured nails dug so deeply into her palms that they almost drew blood. Her perfect plan had just been entirely dismantled by a sickly twenty-two-year-old girl. She shot Heena a look of absolute, concentrated hatred, before forcing her serene mask back into place and hurriedly following her husband.
Once the massive royal entourage had completely cleared the gates, the suffocating political pressure in the courtyard vanished.
Behind Heena, the Ninth Prince let out a ragged, choking sob. His knees finally buckled, and he crashed onto the stone, dropping the wooden sword. He had held on just long enough to prove his point, and now his body had completely failed him.
Heena turned around and walked over to him. She didn’t yell. She didn’t mock him.
She calmly reached into her robes, pulled out a small, clean ceramic vial, and tossed it onto the stone beside his head.
"Drink that," Heena said quietly. "It is a medicinal Vanguard tonic. It will stop your muscles from cramping and prevent your blood vessels from tearing. Then, go back to your room and rest. We are done for today."
The boy slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows. He looked at the vial, and then looked up at Heena, his bloodshot eyes entirely devoid of their usual arrogance.
He had heard everything. He had heard the Empress—the woman who supposedly loved him more than life itself—trying to drag him away and keep him weak. And he had heard Heena—the woman who had brutally beaten him yesterday—standing up to the Emperor to defend his potential.
For the first time in his pampered, manipulated life, the Ninth Prince’s worldview shattered, completely reorganizing itself around a new, terrifying reality.
"Why..." the boy croaked, his voice raw. "Why did you defend me?"
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