Return of Black Lotus system:Taming Cheating Male Leads

Chapter 512: Chapter-512

A high-stakes, dangerous race on the capital’s most prestigious training ground? The Emperor’s spies wouldn’t just be watching; they would be writing furious, detailed reports about this exact moment. Every single eye in the capital would be glued to this field. Her grandmother’s carriage could probably parade out of the capital gates with a marching band right now, and no one would even notice.

Heena smoothly rested her hand on her hip, projecting an aura of supreme, insulting boredom.

"A race over the heavy cavalry track," Heena mused out loud, ensuring her voice carried to the eager crowd. "Very well. I accept your challenge, My Lord. But racing for mere pride is incredibly dull. If we are doing this, we need proper stakes."

The nobleman sneered, confident that his years of training would easily crush a sickly woman. "Name your price, Madam. When I win, you will dismount, kneel in the dirt, and publicly apologize to me in front of every minister present."

The crowd murmured. Kneeling in the dirt was an ultimate, devastating humiliation.

Heena smiled. It was a terrifying, razor-sharp smile that made the nobleman’s horse instinctively take a nervous step backward.

"Agreed," Heena said smoothly. "But when ’I’ win... you will dismount, hand over the reins of your horse to me, and you will walk all the way back to your uncle’s estate on foot. Through the main merchant district. In your flashy riding boots."

The nobleman’s eyes widened. Walking through the crowded, filthy merchant district on foot, having lost his horse to a woman, would make him the laughingstock of the capital for the next decade.

But with hundreds of nobles watching, he couldn’t back down now. His pride had trapped him completely.

"You are on, Lady Seera!" the man snarled, violently yanking his horse’s reins to turn toward the starting line of the heavy track. "Prepare to eat dust!"

Heena calmly patted the muscular neck of her black warhorse. The beast snorted, stomping its hooves as if sensing the impending violence. The Aura Stone on her wrist pulsed with a cool, steady rhythm, keeping her mind hyper-focused and her body entirely free of pain.

She spurred her horse forward, lining up next to the furious nobleman at the start of the heavy track.

The crowd of ministers, scholars, and nobles practically rushed the fences, their eyes wide with anticipation. This was no longer just a morning scandal; this was the greatest piece of political theater the capital had seen in years.

Suddenly, a sharp, genuinely amused smile formed on Heena’s face. Instead of spurring her horse forward to the starting line, she pulled back on the reins, turning her black warhorse sideways to face the crowd.

"Well, before we do this," Heena announced, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the excited nobles. "Whose place is this exactly?"

The entire crowd fell completely silent. The young scholars and old ministers exchanged confused glances.

Heena raised her riding crop, pointing it deliberately toward a subtle stone marker in the grass. "If I am not wrong, we are bordering private property. Up until that line, this is a general playground that the public is allowed to use. But past that marker, where the heavy cavalry track sits, we are encroaching on private estate grounds."

The arrogant nobleman scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes. "You are just making excuses to back out! Are you scared, Lady Seera?"

Heena looked at him with a gaze so patronizing it could have withered a plant.

"If you fall today and break your pretty little legs, what will people say?" Heena countered smoothly. "Who would your furious uncle blame? Me? The property owner? I want to be completely legally sure. When you inevitably lose, I do not want you crying to the capital guards that I trespassed on someone’s private property or sabotaged the terrain. So, let’s ask the owner for his explicit permission first."

"It is my property."

The voice didn’t boom across the field, but it was so remarkably clear, calm, and chillingly melodic that it immediately parted the crowd.

Heena turned her head toward the source of the voice.

Stepping out from beneath the shade of a large weeping willow tree was a man who looked like he had wandered out of a mythical painting. If Samuel was a dark, predatory eagle, this man was a pristine, untouched swan.

He was dressed in a sweeping, light blue silk robe decorated with incredibly intricate, silver floral embroidery. A flawless white undershirt peeked out from his collar, and his long, ink-black hair was tied back into an elegant, neat ponytail. He exuded an aura of absolute, chilling tranquility—like a solitary, beautiful flower blooming untouched on the peak of a snowy mountain.

The crowd of nobles instinctively parted for him, many bowing their heads respectfully.

But while the rest of the capital might have been mesmerized by his ethereal beauty, Heena’s tactical, modern mind was focused on something else entirely.

’’He is absolutely crazy,’’ Heena thought, staring at his immaculate outfit.

She looked at the dusty, dirt-filled, heavily trafficked martial arts ground, and then back at his sweeping light blue and stark white silks.

’’Why on earth would anyone wear pristine white to a dusty training ground? Does he know how hard it is to wash white silk in this era without a washing machine? The maids in his estate must literally want to murder him. What an absolute menace.’’

The ethereal man walked gracefully to the edge of the heavy cavalry track, his white boots somehow completely avoiding the mud. He stopped a few paces away from Heena’s towering black warhorse, looking up at her with serene, unreadable eyes.

"I am the owner of this tract of land," the man said, his voice smooth and exceptionally polite. "And I have no objections."

The arrogant nobleman, recognizing the newcomer, immediately paled slightly and bowed in the saddle. "Lord Prime Minister. I apologize for the disturbance on your borders."

’’Prime Minister?’’ Heena’s eyes narrowed behind her invisible facade. This beautiful, impractical man was the Prime Minister of the empire? The youngest in history, if her memorized Vanguard dossiers were correct.

"You do not need to apologize," the Prime Minister said softly, his gaze shifting from the sweating, anxious nobleman back up to Heena. A faint, almost imperceptible glimmer of interest flashed in his cool eyes. "In fact, I am quite interested to see how the young Madam of the Vanguard handles the heavy cavalry track. The property is yours to use for this race."

Heena offered a perfectly measured, respectful nod from the saddle. "Thank you, My Lord. I will try not to get too much blood on your pristine grass."

The Prime Minister’s lips curved into the ghost of a smile. He took a graceful step back, gesturing toward the obstacle course.

"The track is clear," he announced.

Heena turned her attention back to the arrogant nephew of the Marquis, who was now sweating profusely under the combined pressure of the crowd and the Prime Minister’s watchful eye.

"You heard the man," Heena smirked, leaning forward in her saddle as her horse pawed eagerly at the dirt. "No excuses left, My Lord. Try not to snap your waist."

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