Chapter 518: Chapter-518
High up on the golden throne, the Emperor rested his chin on his knuckles.
His face was an unreadable, imperial mask, but his dark eyes swept over the Minister of the Right with a chilling, disappointed coldness. The Emperor knew exactly what Heena was doing. He suspected the morning race was a deliberate distraction, a loud firecracker set off to hide some other movement in the shadows. But because the Marquis’s nephew had been stupid enough to issue the formal challenge himself, Heena had executed the stunt with absolute legal and social perfection.
There was no angle for the throne to punish her without looking blatantly tyrannical and foolish.
"The Vanguard General makes a flawless point," the Emperor’s voice finally echoed through the hall, calm but carrying the absolute weight of the heavens.
The Minister of the Right’s knees instantly gave out. He collapsed back onto the polished stone floor, bowing his head in trembling defeat.
"If a nobleman of this empire cannot tell the difference between a beast of war and an estate pony, then he has no business issuing wagers on a martial ground," the Emperor declared, his gaze shifting to the faction of red-robed officials, specifically targeting the pale, sweating Marquis of Westlake. "The fault lies entirely in his own arrogant incompetence. Lady Seera broke no laws. She merely answered a challenge as befits a daughter of the military."
The Emperor waved his hand dismissively. "This court will not waste another breath on the bruised ego of a foolish boy. The complaint is dismissed."
Grandpa Marcuset didn’t gloat. He simply offered a crisp, perfect military salute to the throne, his armor clinking loudly in the quiet room.
"Long live His Majesty," Grandpa boomed respectfully.
But as the old general lowered his hand, his eyes briefly met the Emperor’s. In that single, fleeting second, the unspoken war between the throne and the Vanguard crackled violently in the air. ’You cannot touch her,’ Grandpa’s eyes promised. ’I am watching.’
While the Imperial Court moved on to actual state matters, the heavy, reinforced black carriage of the Vanguard Estate finally rolled to a halt outside the towering crimson gates of the Imperial Palace.
Heena stepped out of the carriage, immediately drawing the stunned stares of the heavily armored royal guards.
Normally, female tutors arriving to teach the royal children wore heavy, multi-layered silk robes, walking with tiny, measured steps and keeping their heads bowed in deep reverence. Heena, however, stepped onto the palace grounds wearing dark, functional riding leathers, tall boots, and a heavy black cloak. Her hair was still tied in a strict, high ponytail, and she walked with the predatory, measured stride of a battlefield commander.
She didn’t look like a scholar arriving to teach poetry. She looked like an assassin arriving to clean house.
"Halt," a royal guard captain stepped forward, crossing his spear over the entrance. "Identify yourself."
Heena didn’t even slow her pace. She casually reached into her cloak and flashed the high-level imperial tutoring jade the Emperor himself had been forced to grant her.
"Madam Marcuset," Heena stated flatly. "Here to instruct the Ninth Prince. Unless you want to explain to the Emperor why his son’s education is being delayed, I suggest you move."
The captain took one look at the jade token, then one look at her sharp, terrifying eyes, and immediately stepped back, shouting for the gates to open.
A nervous, trembling eunuch escorted Heena through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, finally stopping in front of an extravagant, isolated pavilion surrounded by a beautiful koi pond.
"The... the Ninth Prince is inside, My Lady," the eunuch whispered, looking absolutely terrified of the closed doors. "Please be careful. His Highness is in a... terrible mood today."
"Noted," Heena said. She didn’t bother waiting for the eunuch to announce her. She simply reached out and pushed the heavy, painted wooden doors open.
’SWISH.’
The absolute second the doors parted, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air.
Heena didn’t panic. Thanks to the physical relief provided by the Aura Stone and the heightened senses of Seera’s lingering soul, the projectile moving toward her face looked as if it were traveling in slow motion.
Without even blinking, Heena casually raised her right hand and snatched the object out of the air, mere inches from her eye.
She looked at her hand. It was a heavy, solid brass paperweight, thrown with enough malicious force to shatter a normal person’s nose or knock them completely unconscious.
Heena slowly lowered her hand, her fox-like eyes sweeping the luxurious study.
The room was a disaster. Precious silk scrolls were torn to shreds on the floor. Expensive porcelain vases had been smashed against the walls. In the center of the chaos, standing on top of a massive mahogany desk, was a twelve-year-old boy wearing extravagant golden robes.
This was the Ninth Prince. The notorious, tyrannical brat of the Imperial Palace who had already driven away or hospitalized six different tutors this year.
He was currently holding a second brass paperweight, his arm cocked back to throw, but he had frozen completely. His eyes were wide with shock as he stared at the woman in the doorway who had just effortlessly caught his ambush weapon barehanded.
Heena stepped fully into the room, letting the heavy doors shut firmly behind her. The terrified eunuch outside didn’t dare follow her in.
She looked at the brass paperweight in her hand, then looked up at the spoiled prince standing on the desk.
A slow, terrifyingly cold smile spread across Heena’s face.
"Good morning, Your Highness," Heena said softly, tossing the heavy brass weight into the air and catching it again with a solid ’thwack’. "I hear you have a bit of a discipline problem. How fortunate for you... I specialize in discipline."
"How dare you?!" the Ninth Prince growled, his face twisting into an ugly, spoiled sneer as he stood atop the mahogany desk. "How dare you enter an imperial pavilion without my explicit permission?!"
Heena didn’t even blink. She calmly walked over to a nearby side table and gently set the heavy brass paperweight down.
"Well, you see, Your Highness..." Heena began, her voice smooth and dangerously calm.
Before the Ninth Prince could even process her words, Heena moved. Thanks to the terrifying physical conditioning of a Vanguard warrior, combined with the absolute clarity of the Aura Stone, she crossed the room in a literal blur.
In a single, fluid motion, she appeared directly beside the desk. Before the prince could even gasp, her hand shot out, brutally twisting his wrist.
"Ah!" The prince yelped in pain, his fingers involuntarily snapping open.
The heavy porcelain vase he had just grabbed with his other hand slipped from his grasp, plummeting toward the floor.
’CRASH.’
"And what?" the prince shrieked, clutching his twisted wrist.
He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Heena’s right hand whipped across the air.
’’SMACK.’’
The sharp, echoing crack of the slap rang out through the study like a gunshot. The sheer force of the strike lifted the twelve-year-old prince entirely off his feet, sending him crashing hard onto the polished wooden floor.
Silence instantly choked the room.
The prince lay on the ground, completely shell-shocked, a bright red handprint already swelling on his cheek.
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