Chapter 516: Chapter-516
"Wait a minute," Heena said, dropping her hands and glaring at him, a new wave of confusion hitting her. "I am not ’that’ famous in the merchant district. My name alone isn’t enough to just magically open an unlimited line of credit at every boutique in the capital. How the—"
Before she could even finish her sentence, Samuel reached into his tunic. With a theatrical flick of his wrist, he pulled out a small, flawlessly carved piece of glowing green jade.
Heena’s breath hitched.
She stared at the token. In this ancient era, that specific jade seal was the literal equivalent of a modern, unlimited black credit card. The only difference was that in her past life, you actually had to swipe the black card. Here? You didn’t even have to do that. You just flashed the jade token, and the merchants practically fell over themselves to pack up your items, sending the astronomical bills directly to her estate’s financial ledgers.
"How the hell did you get my jade?!" Heena roared.
Without a second thought, she lunged down the stone steps, her hand shooting out like a viper to snatch her financial freedom back from his manicured fingers.
But Samuel was impossibly fast. With a swift, effortless pivot that completely betrayed his "weak hostage" persona, he sidestepped her lunge perfectly.
"Uh-uh," Samuel tutted, holding the jade token high out of her reach with a maddening smirk. "Grandma gave this to me before she left for the South."
Heena stumbled, catching her balance on the stone railing. "Why would she give ’you’ my money?!"
"Because," Samuel smiled, his dark eyes practically sparkling with expensive mischief, "she explicitly told me to use it for our wedding shopping."
Heena stared at him, her jaw practically unhinging in pure, unadulterated horror.
"What type of grand, imperial-level wedding are you planning on ’my’ money?!" Heena shrieked.
Before Heena could even draw enough breath to scream, Samuel simply waved his hand with a breezy, dismissive flick of his wrist.
"I am getting late," Samuel announced cheerfully, completely oblivious—or expertly ignoring—the murderous, dark aura radiating from her.
And with those damned, casual words, he turned on his heel and strolled out the main doors. He even had the sheer audacity to whistle a light, upbeat tune as he went off to burn through her hard-earned Vanguard fortune.
Heena stood frozen on the stone steps, her eye twitching so violently she thought she might give herself a migraine.
She looked up at the ceiling, feeling like she was caught in a massive, cosmic scam. Between the digital System constantly siphoning her hard-earned achievement points for basic survival, and this sham of a husband freely swiping her literal money for his shopping sprees, she was being bled dry from both sides!
’’I am going to work myself into a literal, early grave just to fund these two parasites,’’ Heena groaned internally, rubbing her temples.
Realizing that murdering her husband on the front steps would ruin her schedule, Heena forcefully swallowed her rage. She stormed into the dining hall, shoved a rapid, completely un-aristocratic breakfast of plain rice and steamed buns down her throat, and marched back out into the courtyard.
This time, she didn’t even look at the stables.
Riding a purebred beast of war onto the men’s sporting grounds was a calculated political masterstroke. Riding one directly through the heavily fortified front gates of the Imperial Palace just to go tutor a bratty nine-year-old prince was a one-way ticket to getting shot full of arrows by the paranoid royal guards.
Besides, the massive adrenaline rush from her morning stunt was finally fading, leaving behind a wave of heavy, sleepy fatigue.
"Yeah, we are taking the carriage," Heena muttered to the head guard, practically throwing herself into the plush, velvet-lined interior of the official Vanguard transport.
As the carriage jolted into motion, the heavy wooden wheels clattering loudly against the capital’s uneven cobblestone streets, Heena closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the window. She braced herself for the inevitable spike of pain. Usually, the bumpy carriage rides made the tumor behind her eyes throb like a war drum.
But as the minutes ticked by... nothing happened.
Heena opened her eyes, blinking in sheer surprise. Her head... it didn’t hurt. At all.
There was only a peaceful, absolute clarity in her mind. The cool, purifying energy from the Aura Stone bangle on her wrist was humming quietly, working in perfect, seamless harmony with the lingering, pristine soul vitality she had received in the void. For the first time since she had transmigrated, she didn’t feel like her brain was actively trying to kill her.
’’Wow,’’ Heena thought, a genuine, relieved smile touching her lips. ’’I really have to thank Serena or whatever for this.’’
Instantly, a familiar blue holographic screen snapped into existence, hovering right in the middle of the carriage.
’’[Her name was Seera, Host. Not Serena,]’’ the System corrected, its mechanical voice sounding incredibly dry and deeply judgmental.
Heena crossed her arms, glaring at the floating blue text as the carriage bounced over a pothole.
"Listen here," Heena whispered aggressively, keeping her voice low so the driver outside wouldn’t hear her arguing with the air. "My physical name in this world is currently Seera. If I go around referring to the original soul as Seera, it feels exactly like I am talking about myself in the third person like a ghost! Do you want me to do that? Do you have any idea how much bad luck that brings? It is practically a curse to speak of yourself like a dead person!"
The System fell completely silent. The glowing blue interface seemed to freeze in sheer, unadulterated disbelief at her logic.
’’[Host...]’’ the System finally replied, its digital voice dripping with absolute, heavy sarcasm. ’’[You literally hijacked her dead body. You stole her entire life, her military title, and her physical form... and you are seriously sitting here worrying about the ’bad luck’ of uttering her name out loud?]’’
Heena opened her mouth, ready to fire back a sharp defense.
She paused. She closed her mouth. She tried to find a logical loophole, realized she had absolutely no defense against that brutal, factual checkmate, and promptly clamped her jaw shut.
She aggressively turned her head to look out the carriage window, actively ignoring the floating blue screen for the rest of the ride to the palace.
.
.
.
.
On the other side of the capital, a storm of an entirely different nature was brewing.
The grand courtroom of the Imperial Palace was so massively scaled that it looked as if the Emperor had literally hollowed out an entire secondary palace just to create it. High above the polished stone floor, the Emperor sat on a towering, intricately carved throne, wearing his heavy golden robes and the imperial crown.
Down the sweeping stone stairs, spread across the open court ground, the absolute elite of the empire were gathered. The factions were completely defined by their attire.
Kneeling on the pristine floor were twenty civilian scholars draped in deep blue robes, ten high-ranking administrative ministers in green robes, and ten senior officials in crimson red. Standing proudly on the far side, directly opposite the scholars, were ten military leaders wearing full, heavy battle armor.
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