Chapter 573: Chapter-573
’He dug this grave when he decided to play the famous scholar,’ Heena replied coldly in her mind, taking a sip of soup. ’Let him lie in it.’
Seeing that his terrifying wife was not going to save him, Samuel let out a loud, highly dramatic sigh. He stood up from his cushion, his movements clumsy and hesitant. He nervously smoothed out the wrinkles in his black and silver robes, looking around the hall as if he were completely out of his depth.
"Well... uh... I suppose I cannot refuse an imperial request," Samuel stammered, his voice slightly higher than usual. He offered a messy, slightly crooked bow to the Emperor. "This lowly one will... do his best, Your Majesty."
The civil officials sneered openly. The Minister of Rites leaned over to his neighbor, whispering loudly enough for the front rows to hear. "Look at him tremble. He is a complete fraud. The Dongji province must have bribed the examiners."
The Prime Minister’s smile was triumphant. "Excellent. But a simple poem about flowers or the moon would be too easy for a Top Scholar, would it not? Let us make it interesting."
The Prime Minister gestured toward the massive, open doors of the Great Hall, which looked out over the dark, sprawling courtyards of the Forbidden Inner City.
"The empire is currently facing harsh winters in the northern provinces, and heavy floods in the east," the Prime Minister said, his tone suddenly turning incredibly grave and political. "Compose a piece that addresses the weight of the empire’s burdens, the duty of the officials, and the grace of His Majesty. And you must do it... in exactly seven steps."
The hall gasped.
A ’Seven-Step Poem’ was the absolute pinnacle of scholarly challenges. It required the poet to compose a flawless, complex, and rhyming masterpiece in the exact time it took them to take seven physical steps across the floor. It required instantaneous tactical thinking, profound vocabulary, and nerves of absolute steel. To force this upon a man who looked like he was about to faint was an act of pure political execution.
"Seven steps?" Samuel squeaked, his eyes going wide. "But... but Prime Minister, my legs are quite long! Seven steps is very fast!"
The court erupted into mocking laughter.
"Begin, Scholar Samuel," the Emperor commanded, his tone dropping its amusement, replaced by the heavy, expectant authority of a ruler.
Samuel stood at the edge of his table. The laughter in the hall slowly died down, replaced by a tense, suffocating silence. The Prime Minister watched him like a hawk, ready to tear apart whatever pathetic nursery rhyme this idiot managed to string together.
Samuel took a deep, shaky breath. He looked down at the jade floor.
He took his first step.
Clack.
The sound of his boot hitting the jade echoed loudly. But the moment his foot landed, something completely shifted.
The nervous, trembling slouch in Samuel’s shoulders instantly vanished. His spine straightened into a line of absolute, unyielding iron. The bumbling, fearful expression melted off his face like wax held to a flame, revealing the cold, predatory, devastatingly sharp angles of his true nature.
He took his second step.
Clack.
"The northern winds howl, carrying the weight of a thousand frozen bones," Samuel’s voice rang out.
The Great Hall collectively flinched. The high-pitched, whiny tone was completely gone. His voice was now a deep, freezing baritone that resonated through the massive space with the authority of a booming war drum. It was smooth, hypnotic, and utterly commanding.
He took his third step.
Clack.
"While the eastern rivers swell, drowning the harvest in a sea of muddy tears."
Heena stopped chewing her lotus root. She slowly lowered her chopsticks, her sharp eyes locking onto the tall, imposing figure of her fake husband. The sheer, overwhelming aura radiating from him was suffocating. He was no longer a chameleon hiding in the brush; he was the dragon descending from the clouds.
He took his fourth step.
Clack.
He took his fifth step, his dark eyes snapping up to lock directly onto the Prime Minister.
Clack.
"The rats in the granary grow fat, wearing silk robes and preaching of loyalty."
The Prime Minister’s face drained of all color. The metaphor was a direct, razor-sharp blade aimed right at his throat. Samuel was calling the corrupt civil officials rats stealing the empire’s resources while pretending to be righteous. It was an insult of the highest, most sophisticated order.
He took his sixth step, turning his gaze away from the pale Prime Minister and looking up at the golden throne.
Clack.
"But the Son of Heaven sits above the clouds, his eyes piercing through the heavy fog of deceit."
The Emperor leaned forward, his hands gripping the golden armrests of his throne, his eyes wide with profound, unadulterated shock. The sheer brilliance of the composition—the flawless transition from critique to absolute imperial reverence—was something the Emperor had not heard in decades.
Samuel took his seventh, and final, step. He stopped directly in the center of the hall, standing in the exact same spot where Heena had performed her dance.
Clack.
"The sword strikes the flesh, but the truth... the truth shatters the foundation of the rotting house."
Samuel stood in absolute silence, his hands clasped casually behind his back. The dark, predatory smirk returned to his lips as he looked around the Great Hall.
The silence was deafening. It was heavier, more profound than the silence that had followed Heena’s dance.
The civil court was completely paralyzed. The top scholars of the Imperial Academy stared at Samuel with their mouths hanging open, their minds frantically trying to process the sheer literary magnitude of what had just been spoken. The poem was completely flawless. The rhyming scheme was an archaic, incredibly complex structure that hadn’t been used since the previous dynasty. The metaphors were lethal, the political commentary was profound, and he had executed it in exactly seven paces without a single stutter.
He had not just met the Prime Minister’s challenge. He had completely, utterly annihilated it, and he had dragged the entire civil court through the mud while doing it.
"Impossible," the Minister of Rites whispered, his face completely pale. "That... that structure... the vocabulary..."
At the Vanguard table, the glowing blue lion was sitting frozen, its digital jaw practically touching the floor.
"Host..." the System whispered, completely awe-struck. "He... he isn’t just a psycho. He is a literal, certified genius."
Heena didn’t reply, but a slow, dangerous smile finally curved her red lips. She picked up her wine cup, a surge of dark, undeniable satisfaction rushing through her veins. The idiot had actually done it. He had played the fool for hours, only to drop the mask and execute the entire court with his words.
"HAHAHAHA!"
The Emperor’s booming laughter shattered the paralyzed silence. The Son of Heaven threw his head back, completely overjoyed. He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing like thunder.
"Brilliant! Absolutely, unequivocally brilliant!" the Emperor shouted, pointing a golden-ringed finger at Samuel. "You vicious, sharp-tongued rogue! You hid your claws this entire night just to strike when they least expected it!"
The Emperor looked down at the Prime Minister, whose face was currently a sickly shade of grey.
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