Chapter 570: Chapter-570
Sitting beside him, the Empress leaned forward, completely captivated.
"This was a beautiful... drama. A breathtaking performance. I honestly do not know what to say," the Empress admitted, dabbing her own eyes slightly. She looked at Heena with newfound intrigue. "But what is the name of this piece?"
Heena stood firmly, her voice echoing clearly through the quiet hall.
"It is the Red Moon Hunt, Your Majesty."
The Emperor gestured with his hand. "Please, Madam Heena. Explain the story to everyone in this court who does not know what it is, if you wish."
"With pleasure, Your Majesty," Heena replied.
Heena turned to face the vast sea of scholars, ministers, and noblewomen. She stood tall, her voice taking on the cadence of an ancient storyteller.
"This dance is taken from the true history of the Red Moon Hunt," Heena began. "It is not a myth. It is the story of the very first, true General of the Vanguard. She was not of my Marcuset bloodline. She was the first woman in the history of this empire to ever hold the title of General. And she remains the most ruthless, and the most fiercely protective commander our history has ever seen."
A murmur of surprise rippled through the scholars. They all knew a female general existed in the ancient texts, but her personal history had been largely buried by time and patriarchal scholars.
"General Riao did not start as a warrior," Heena continued, her eyes sweeping the room. "She was a commoner. A simple, joyous woman who used to dance in street plays and local dramas to make a living. She fell deeply in love with a soldier. They promised each other the world. But one day, war came to the borders, and her lover was called to the front lines."
Heena paused, letting the weight of the story settle.
"He never came back. For years, Riao mourned him, believing he had died a hero’s death. But the truth was far crueler. The man had not died. He had simply fallen in love with a wealthy woman in another province and married her, leaving Riao to rot in the capital alone."
The noble ladies in the hall gasped softly, finally understanding the agonizing grief in the first half of Heena’s dance.
"When she discovered the truth, the betrayal completely shattered her. It stole her innocence and broke her heart. Riao wanted to end her own life. The sword she held to her own throat—the sword I mirrored in my dance—was the very blade her ex-lover had left behind. She wanted to thrust that sword directly into her own chest to forcefully stop the heart that was still foolishly beating for a traitor."
"But," Heena said, her voice growing fiercely proud, "she stopped."
"She realized that she did not want to die as a useless, broken woman whose name would be forgotten in a few years. She wanted to be remembered. So, she abandoned the theater and learned martial arts in the brutal street alleys of the capital."
Heena looked back toward the golden throne.
"Years later, she crossed paths with the ruler of that era, Emperor Zhao. He was on the run, being hunted by a faction of elite assassins. Riao threw herself into the bloodbath. With nothing but street-brawling swordplay and sheer, terrifying rage, she put her life on the line and saved the Son of Heaven."
The court was entirely spellbound. They now understood the frantic, bloody battle Heena had pantomimed, and why she had begged the noble lady with a sword to her own neck.
"Emperor Zhao was deeply moved," Heena explained. "He asked her what she wanted as a reward. He offered her noble status, unimaginable wealth, gold, and reputation. She could have asked for anything in the world."
Heena looked directly at the female officials seated in the back of the hall, and then at the young noble daughters.
"But Riao only asked for two things. First, she asked the Emperor to establish a formal education system for women, so that women would not be forced to rely on men, but could carve out their own paths in this world. And second, she asked to serve her Emperor as the commanding General of his armies."
A profound silence washed over the Great Hall.
"The Emperor promised her both," Heena concluded softly, the pride in her voice giving way to a heavy, tragic sorrow. "And she became the absolute greatest general of that era. She protected the borders, built the foundation of the Vanguard, and saved countless lives."
Heena lowered her gaze to the jade floor where she had just pantomimed her own death.
"But in the end, her life did not end in glory on the battlefield. She was stabbed in the back in the dark... betrayed and murdered by her own colleague. A fellow general who could not stomach the idea of serving beneath a woman."
Heena’s words hung heavily in the air. The tragedy of General Riao’s death at the hands of a jealous comrade cast a suffocating shadow over the Great Hall.
"The word ’Vanguard’ was not originally a standard military rank," Heena explained, her voice echoing with a deep, unyielding reverence. "It was the personal title that the late Emperor Zhao bestowed specifically upon her. It was the very first title of its kind. Today, everyone who is granted the rank of Vanguard is not just taking a military position—they are inheriting her legacy."
She turned her gaze toward General Lin, General Zhao, and the rest of the hardened military men seated at the tables. The boisterous, rough demeanor of the generals had completely vanished. They sat perfectly straight, their expressions solemn, proud, and deeply moved.
"From childhood, within the Vanguard family and throughout our entire military, every single soldier hears this story," Heena said, her voice projecting across the silent hall. "We do not recite poetry before we march to war. We tell the tale of the Red Moon Hunt."
The civil officials, who just moments ago had been mocking the military for their lack of refinement, now sat in stunned, humbled silence. They finally realized that Heena hadn’t just performed a dance; she had shared the most sacred, blood-soaked ritual of the southern army.
"We tell this story before every single battle to make sure our soldiers remember," Heena continued, her fox-like eyes turning fierce and absolute. "We remind them that the battleground they stand on, the armor they wear, and the right they have to defend this empire was given to them by a frail, broken woman who simply refused to die a useless death."
She slowly swept her gaze across the rows of privileged scholars and sheltered noblemen, letting the weight of her words crush their arrogance.
"It is to make sure every soldier remembers one absolute truth," Heena finished softly, yet her voice carried the weight of a thousand drawn swords. "If you must die... you die respectfully. You do not die as a victim. You die fighting for your place in this world."
A profound, breathless silence commanded the Great Hall. No one dared to pick up their wine cups. No one dared to whisper behind their silk fans.
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