Chapter 572: Chapter-572
He had lost.
His flawless, meticulously planned assassination attempt—a plot that had taken six months of bribery, blackmail, and careful maneuvering to place the exact right poison in the Head Royal Physician’s hands—had been shattered in a single second by a freak accident. The Emperor was still alive. The Vanguard had not been framed for treason. The Marcuset family was not being dragged out of the Great Hall in iron chains to be executed.
Instead, the Vanguard Madam was currently sitting mere feet away, sipping imperial wine and basking in the absolute glory of the Emperor’s praise.
’How did this happen?’ the Prime Minister screamed internally, his mind frantically analyzing every single variable. ’Was it truly just a draft of wind? Did the Emperor know? Did that military bitch know?’
He slowly lifted his gaze, his dark, venomous eyes locking onto Heena. She looked completely relaxed, her champagne-colored robes pooling around her like a halo of untouchable victory. Beside her sat that utterly useless, loud-mouthed Southern fool, Samuel, who was currently trying to balance a grape on the bridge of his nose for his own amusement.
The Prime Minister’s jaw tightened until his teeth audibly ground together. He could not allow the night to end like this. He refused to let the Vanguard leave the Forbidden Inner City completely unscathed, carrying the Emperor’s favor and ten thousand taels of gold. If he could not destroy them physically tonight, he would humiliate them politically. He would completely shatter their pride.
He could not attack Heena; she had just proven herself untouchable. But the idiot sitting next to her? The live-in son-in-law? He was the perfect, fragile target.
The Prime Minister released a slow, measured breath, forcing his raging heart rate to slow. He picked up his jade wine cup, standing up with a fluid, practiced grace.
As the most powerful civil official in the empire, his movement instantly caught the attention of the entire hall. The low chatter of the ministers died down immediately. The musicians intuitively softened the volume of their zithers and flutes.
"Your Majesty," the Prime Minister called out, his voice smooth, melodic, and dripping with perfectly calibrated reverence.
The Emperor, who was in the middle of picking up a slice of glazed duck with his golden chopsticks, paused. He looked down at the Prime Minister, a sharp, unreadable glint flashing in his dark eyes. The Emperor knew exactly who this man was, and he knew exactly what kind of deadly games he played.
"Ah, my esteemed Prime Minister," the Emperor smiled cheerfully. "What is it? Do you wish to offer a performance for the court as well? I am afraid the Vanguard Madam has set the bar impossibly high tonight."
A ripple of polite, sycophantic laughter echoed from the Vanguard tables, while the civil officials remained stiff and silent.
The Prime Minister chuckled softly, bowing his head in a flawless display of humility. "Your Majesty jests. My old bones could never hope to match the fierce, breathtaking physical prowess of Lady seera. Her performance of the Red Moon Hunt was truly a masterpiece of martial legacy. It reminded us all of the heavy, bloody sacrifices made to keep our borders secure."
He paused, letting his honeyed words wash over the hall, before executing his pivot with surgical precision.
"However," the Prime Minister continued, his voice echoing clearly, "our Great Empire is built on the philosophy of duality. The Yin and the Yang. The Sword and the Pen. Lady seera has brilliantly demonstrated the terrifying might of the sword. But looking at the Vanguard table, I am reminded that the military has recently embraced the pen as well."
The Prime Minister slowly turned his body, his dark, calculating eyes locking directly onto Samuel.
"Sitting beside our fierce Madam is none other than Young Master Samuel," the Prime Minister announced, making sure his voice reached every corner of the vast hall. "The legendary Top Scholar of the Dongji province examinations. A man who allegedly possessed a mind so brilliant, so unmatched in literature and strategy, that he vanished from the capital years ago, leaving the Imperial Academy in deep mourning."
At the Vanguard table, Samuel’s grape slipped off his nose and fell onto his lap. He blinked, looking around with a perfectly acted expression of complete, deer-in-the-headlights confusion.
The Prime Minister’s smile widened into a predatory smirk. "It would be an absolute tragedy for this banquet to end without witnessing the brilliance of such a renowned scholar. Since the Vanguard has claimed the glory of the martial arts tonight, surely their esteemed son-in-law would not mind demonstrating his mastery of the literary arts? Let us see if the Southern Scholar truly lives up to his ancient reputation."
The Great Hall erupted into eager, malicious murmurs. The civil officials, desperate to reclaim their lost dignity, instantly latched onto the Prime Minister’s trap.
"Yes! A brilliant proposal!"
"Let the Dongji Scholar speak!"
"We must hear a composition from the Madam’s chosen husband!"
The trap was incredibly simple, but utterly lethal. The Prime Minister was forcing Samuel into a public scholarly debate. If Samuel refused, he would be branded a coward, and the Emperor would view the Vanguard as arrogant and uncooperative. If Samuel accepted and composed something mediocre—or worse, acted like the bumbling idiot he had been portraying all night—he would be completely humiliated in front of the entire imperial court. The civil officials would tear his words apart, mocking him mercilessly, and Heena’s pride would be dragged through the mud right along with him.
The Emperor leaned back on his golden throne, stroking his beard. He looked deeply amused by the sudden political crossfire.
"An interesting proposal, Prime Minister," the Emperor nodded, his dark eyes shifting toward the Vanguard table. "What do you say, Young Master Samuel? Are you willing to entertain the throne with your legendary intellect?"
Every single eye in the Great Hall pinned Samuel to his cushion.
Samuel sat completely frozen. He slowly reached up, scratching the back of his neck with a shaky hand. He looked at the Prime Minister, then at the Emperor, and finally turned to look at Heena, his eyes wide and pleading, exactly like a helpless puppy begging its master for salvation.
Heena did not even look at him. She calmly picked up her silver chopsticks, picked up a piece of steamed lotus root, and placed it elegantly into her mouth. She was completely, utterly ignoring him.
Under the table, the glowing blue lion rolled onto its back, laughing so hard it was completely soundless.
"Oh, this is rich!" the System practically screamed in Heena’s mind, kicking its digital paws in the air. "The Prime Minister thinks he’s trapping a helpless little mouse, but he just opened the cage to a literal psycho! Host, aren’t you going to help your poor, defenseless husband?"
"Yet within these golden walls, the wine flows sweet, and the charcoal burns bright."
The civil officials suddenly froze. Their mocking smiles were instantly wiped from their faces, replaced by a creeping, icy dread. Samuel was not just composing a poem. He was delivering a direct, scathing political critique of the court’s corruption and luxury in the face of the commoners’ suffering. And he was doing it with flawless, devastating poetic meter.
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