Chapter 588: Chapter-588
But she wasn’t wrong to curse. She had been off the grid for over an hour.
By now, Samuel—that overprotective, calculating bastard of a fake husband—and her grandfather would have definitively realized she was missing. The Vanguard didn’t just sit around and wait for ransom notes. They acted.
’System,’ Heena called out internally. ’Scan the perimeter. Are they here?’
By the window, the digital lion’s ears twitched. It peaked its glowing head out into the dark night. "Oh, Host. They aren’t just here. The palace roof is practically crawling with them. I’m counting at least twenty Vanguard shadow guards in the immediate vicinity."
Heena had to hand it to her family. The Emperor’s forbidden palace was supposed to be the most secure fortress in the empire, yet these high-ranking officials and military generals treated the ancient walls like it was a free, open playground.
A dangerous, predatory smirk finally returned to Heena’s lips. If the Vanguard secret guards had already infiltrated the inner courts and established a perimeter, then this entire game had just violently shifted in her favor.
Breaking the Prime Minister’s spine and stuffing him into a half-coffin wasn’t just a plan anymore. With her shadows in place, it was going to be terrifyingly easy.
Heena stepped past the trembling Third Wife and approached the broken wooden window. She leaned slightly against the frame, looking out into the dark, desolate courtyard of the guest pavilion.
She took a deep breath, pursed her lips, and whistled.
It was not a normal, sharp trill meant to grab someone’s attention. It was a very specific, rhythmic, looping melody—an eerie, hollow tune that sounded like a haunting lullaby played on repeat.
She whistled the loop exactly three times.
The moment the third note faded into the freezing night air, the shadows in the courtyard violently came alive.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
Without a single sound of footsteps or rustling fabric, a dozen figures clad in pitch-black, lightweight armor dropped directly from the eaves of the roof and materialized from the darkness of the courtyard. They landed in perfect, synchronized unison just outside the window, dropping to one knee with their heads bowed in absolute submission.
Heena looked down at the lethal squad of Vanguard shadow guards from the window, her expression entirely unimpressed.
"Why did it take you so long to get here?" she demanded, her voice flat and laced with a freezing, casual authority.
The leader of the shadow guards kept his head bowed, not daring to meet her eyes. "We apologize, Young Mistress. The Emperor’s inner arrays caused a slight delay, and the Lord Commander ordered us to secure the outer perimeters before moving in."
Heena let out a quiet huff, accepting the excuse. She leaned forward slightly, her fox-like eyes narrowing into dark, merciless slits as she delivered her command.
"Find all the assassins of the Prime Minister that are left in this palace," Heena ordered, her voice completely devoid of any human warmth. "And kill every single one of them. Leave no traces."
The reaction from the shadow guards was instantaneous and terrifying.
They didn’t hesitate or question the logistics of slaughtering the Prime Minister’s men inside the Emperor’s palace. Instead, an intense, bloodthirsty glare flashed across their partially concealed faces. The stifling aura of suppressed violence rolled off them in waves. It was exactly like tossing a fresh, bloody bone into a pit of starving, rabid dogs.
"As you wish, Mistress," they replied in perfect, chilling unison.
In the blink of an eye, the shadows shifted, and the entire squad vanished into the night air, scattering across the Forbidden Inner City to hunt down their prey.
Hovering beside Heena’s ear, the glowing blue System watched the empty courtyard, its digital eyes wide with sheer awe and horror.
"Damn," the System muttered, shaking its pixelated head. "They are just as crazy as you."
Hearing the digital lion’s comment, Heena just smirked. She casually shrugged her shoulders, her damp, ruined robes shifting around her.
’Well,’ Heena replied telepathically, entirely unbothered by her family’s collective bloodlust. ’They were trained by my Grandpa, after all. What did you expect?’
Heena turned away from the broken window, the cold night breeze blowing through her damp hair. She looked back at the center of the room.
The Third Wife was staring at her, completely frozen against the wall. The frail woman’s mind was violently short-circuiting. She had just watched this seemingly ruined, paralyzed woman whistle into the dark and summon an entire elite death squad to commit mass murder inside the Emperor’s palace, as casually as if she were ordering tea.
The realization hit the Third Wife like a physical blow: she hadn’t just made a deal for her survival. She had made a deal with a demon.
"Now," Heena said, her wet boots clicking softly as she walked back toward the trembling woman. "Let’s talk about your part in this."
Heena reached into the deep, hidden inner pocket of her ruined robes—one of the few compartments designed by the Vanguard to be entirely waterproof. Her long, pale fingers pulled out a tiny, innocuous-looking wooden pillbox.
She popped the lid off with her thumb. Inside rested a single, translucent white pill that looked exactly like a piece of hardened sugar.
"Hold out your hand," Heena ordered.
The Third Wife hesitated for a fraction of a second before slowly extending her bruised, trembling palm. Heena dropped the pill into it.
"What... what is this?" the Third Wife whispered, staring at the tiny object as if it were a live scorpion.
"It is a Vanguard specialty," Heena explained, her voice low and dangerous. "Odorless, tasteless, and entirely undetectable by silver needles or imperial doctors. Dissolve it in his morning tea. It will not kill him. But within twelve hours, it will completely severe the motor neurons in his spine."
The Third Wife’s breath hitched.
"He will be fully conscious," Heena smiled, a dark, terrifying curve of her lips. "He will hear everything. He will see everything. But he will not be able to move a single muscle, speak a single word, or even swallow his own spit without your help. A perfect, inescapable half-coffin."
"Host, remind me to literally never cross you," the System shrieked from the ceiling, hugging its digital self. "You are terrifying."
The Third Wife’s hand shook violently, but this time, it wasn’t from fear.
She closed her fingers, clutching the tiny pill so tightly her knuckles turned entirely white. She looked up at Heena, the last remnants of her fragile, doll-like persona burning away into cold, hard resolve.
"I will do it," the Third Wife vowed, her voice eerily steady. "But tonight... how do I explain tonight? The assassins are dead. The Prime Minister will know someone intervened."
"He will suspect the Emperor’s secret guards or my grandfather’s men," Heena corrected sharply. "He won’t suspect you. Not unless you act like a fool."
Heena stepped closer, looking the woman up and down. Her hair was a tangled mess, her robes were filthy, and she was covered in bruises.
"You look exactly like a woman who was caught in the crossfire of an assassination attempt," Heena noted pragmatically. "Go back to your assigned bedroom. Tear the curtains down, smash a vase, and lie on the floor. When the imperial guards finally arrive to investigate the missing assassins, you will wake up hysterically crying. You will tell them a man in black broke in, struck you on the back of the neck, and knocked you unconscious."
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