Chapter 569: Chapter-569
The grief was gone, replaced by an absolute, freezing rage.
With her hair firmly tied back into its sharp ponytail, Heena’s eyes became completely laser-sharp. The tapping from the Vanguard tables erupted once more, no longer a heartbeat, but the thunderous, chaotic rhythm of a full-scale battlefield charge.
Heena moved. She was no longer fighting ghosts; she was cutting down a sea of enemies.
Her sword sliced through the air with terrifying precision. Every spin, every heavy parry, every brutal thrust painted a vivid picture of a lone warrior fighting against impossible odds. The court could almost hear the clash of steel, the screams of the dying, just from the sheer intensity radiating from her blade.
Suddenly, Heena paused in mid-swing.
She tilted her head, her eyes widening as if she had just spotted someone across the bloody battlefield. Her jaw clenched. With a fierce cry, she rushed forward, her sword becoming a blur of steel as she violently cut down invisible enemies, desperately carving a path to protect this unseen person.
She skidded to a halt directly in front of the front-row tables, stopping inches away from a young, high-ranking noble lady.
The noble lady gasped, completely mesmerized. The illusion was so powerful, so intensely real, that she entirely forgot she was at an imperial banquet. When Heena reached her empty hand out, desperate and urgent, the noble lady’s hand instinctively flew forward to grab it.
Heena smiled—a brief, fierce flash of relief.
She gently pulled the lady up, seamlessly incorporating her into the dance. In a swift, frantic motion, Heena pantomimed grabbing her by the waist and running, dodging invisible arrows. Then, with a heavy, exhausted movement, Heena threw an imaginary bag into the mud. She gestured sharply, as if a dozen precious, stolen items had spilled out across the dirt.
The noble lady stood frozen, completely bewildered, as Heena suddenly dropped to her knees right in front of her.
Heena slammed her right hand over her own heart, bowing her head deeply. Her expression was one of absolute, desperate pleading. It was clear she was begging the lady for something—something worth more than her own life.
The noble lady didn’t know what to do, her hands hovering nervously in the air, but Heena’s dance carried the story forward.
Heena’s eyes turned completely fierce. She gave a single, resolute nod, as if answering an unspoken condition. In a move that made the entire Great Hall gasp in collective horror, Heena took the hilt of her live steel sword, pressed it into the trembling hands of the noble lady, and then forcibly pulled the razor-sharp edge directly against her own neck.
With the blade resting at her throat, Heena threw herself forward into a brutal, desperate kowtow, thumping her forehead heavily against the jade floor.
She was offering her life.
The hearts of everyone in the hall violently clenched. Even the cynical civil officials felt a suffocating lump in their throats. The sheer, raw devotion of a warrior surrendering her weapon and her life to beg for a single favor was completely overwhelming.
Slowly, Heena lifted her head. A radiant, heartbreakingly beautiful smile flashed across her face, looking up at the terrified noble lady as if she had just granted her the greatest wish in the world.
Heena took her sword back and rose to her feet.
The rhythm from the Vanguard tables shifted one last time, settling into a proud, triumphant march. Heena began to dance again, but this time, there was no pantomime, no desperate acting.
This was the true Vanguard sword dance.
It was the fiercest, most breathtakingly elegant display of martial prowess the capital had ever seen. She moved like a dragon soaring through the clouds, her blade reflecting the chandelier light in blinding arcs of silver. It was a dance of victory, of a general who had survived the impossible and secured her prize.
She spun, bringing the sword down in a final, flawless arc, and paused.
A soft, knowing smile graced her lips. It was the smile of someone who finally believed they were safe.
And then, the tapping completely stopped.
The Great Hall was plunged into a dead, horrifying silence.
Suddenly, Heena’s eyes shot wide open in sheer shock.
Her back arched violently. She let out a silent, breathless gasp, her body convulsing exactly as if a heavy, invisible blade had just been violently driven through her back.
She stood frozen for a torturous second. Slowly, agonizingly, she turned her head to look behind her, her eyes filled with absolute, shattering disbelief at whoever had just stabbed her in the dark.
The strength completely vanished from her legs.
Heena collapsed onto the cold jade floor, dropping heavily onto her knees. She drove the tip of her sword into the ground, her trembling hands gripping the hilt desperately just to keep herself from falling flat.
Her head slumped forward. Her grip on the sword loosened, and she slowly, quietly closed her eyes, the life completely fading from her body.
The dance was over.
For ten long seconds, no one in the Great Hall moved. No one spoke.
Then, a soft, stifled sob echoed from the front row. The noble lady who had held the sword was openly weeping, pressing her silk sleeve against her face. Across the room, hardened ministers wiped furiously at their eyes, completely undone by the tragic, unspoken story of the Red Moon Hunt.
The Great Hall remained suspended in absolute silence.
Slowly, the heavy, suffocating illusion of the battlefield began to fade. Heena opened her eyes, the fierce, dying warrior vanishing, leaving only the calm, collected Vanguard Madam in her place. She smoothly pulled her sword from the jade floor, stood up to her full height, and slid the blade back into its scabbard with a sharp clack.
She turned first toward the throne and executed a flawless, martial bow. Then, she turned toward the young noble lady in the front row, offering a soft, completely genuine smile.
"Thank you, My Lady, for your assistance," Heena said gently.
The noble lady was still trembling, clutching her silk handkerchief. She was completely trapped in the emotional rollercoaster of the moment, unable to form words. She just nodded dazedly. The rest of the court was in a similar state of shock. None of the civil officials truly understood the exact historical context of what had just happened, but they all felt as if they had just lived through the excruciatingly painful, tragic life story of a real person.
From the golden throne, the Emperor let out a heavy, deeply nostalgic sigh, followed by a slow, solemn chuckle.
"Haha... it has been a very long time since I have seen this story," the Emperor murmured, his eyes reflecting a rare, genuine respect.
The civil officials exchanged bewildered glances. They had no idea what His Majesty was talking about.
Heena kept her head bowed respectfully. "I just wanted the people to remember the story, Your Majesty. It has been so long that perhaps many of our younger generation have completely forgotten this tale. I do not want her legacy to end, so I thought it was fitting to show it here tonight."
The Emperor looked at her, his smile softening. "I never thought someone could portray a historical epic through a dance like this. It gave me a profoundly different feeling than simply reading the archives."
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter