Chapter 595: Chapter-595
The Prime Minister tucked the heavy memorial securely into his wide crimson sleeve. He turned toward the door, absolutely buzzing with the anticipation of his impending victory.
He paused, glancing back over his shoulder at the Third Wife.
She had managed to drag herself up off the floor, kneeling submissively by the foot of the bed. Her head was bowed so low her tangled hair brushed the floorboards, hiding her bruised, swollen face from view. She was violently trembling, clutching her torn robes together.
"Clean yourself up," the Prime Minister ordered coldly, adjusting his jade thumb ring. "If any of my servants or the household staff see you looking like a slaughtered pig, I will take a knife to your face. Keep the doors locked, and have the kitchen brew my morning tea. It had better be sitting on my desk the exact moment I return from court."
"Y-Yes, Master," the Third Wife rasped, her voice a broken, pathetic whisper.
Satisfied that she was entirely broken and compliant, the Prime Minister didn’t spare her a second glance. He turned and swept out of the master bedroom, his heavy crimson robes trailing behind him like a river of blood.
He stepped out into the crisp morning air, climbing into his grand, heavily escorted carriage. As the wheels rolled toward the imperial palace, the Prime Minister closed his eyes, savoring the absolute perfection of his plan, completely oblivious to the fact that the hourglass on his life had already run out of sand.
The Great Hall of Supreme Harmony was a breathtaking monument to absolute power. Towering pillars carved with golden, ascending dragons held up the vast, vaulted ceiling, while the morning sun streamed through the crimson lattice doors, bathing the polished jade floors in a regal, burning light.
Dozens of high-ranking civil and military officials stood in two perfectly aligned rows, their hushed murmurs filling the cavernous space. It was a standard morning assembly. Ministers stepped forward one by one, bowing deeply as they read their daily reports—border taxes, agricultural yields, and minor provincial disputes.
High above them all, seated upon the towering, gilded Dragon Throne, the Emperor listened with half-lidded eyes, entirely bored by the mundane hum of bureaucracy.
Then, a single voice violently cut through the chatter.
"Your Imperial Majesty!"
The Prime Minister stepped out from the head of the civil officials’ line. He did not bow gracefully. He did not wait for the eunuch to announce him.
Instead, he gathered his heavy, crimson silk robes and threw himself forcefully to the ground.
CRACK.
The sharp, brutal sound of his knees violently hitting the solid jade floorboards echoed like a gunshot in the vast hall.
The immediate effect was staggering. The entire imperial court fell into a suffocating, absolute silence. The murmuring officials froze in place, their eyes widening in sheer shock. The Prime Minister, the most powerful civil official in the empire, a man of unparalleled dignity and untouchable status, was kneeling on the hard floor like a desperate peasant begging for his life.
Even the Emperor was caught off guard. His heavy, golden robes rustled as he immediately leaned forward on the Dragon Throne, the boredom completely vanishing from his eyes.
"What is the meaning of this?" the Emperor asked, his deep voice carrying an undeniable edge of suspicion and surprise. "What grievance carries such immense weight that it brings Our Prime Minister to his knees?"
The Prime Minister kept his head bowed, his shoulders trembling perfectly—not out of genuine fear, but as a masterful, theatrical display of righteous agony.
He slowly raised both hands high above his head, holding a tightly bound, triangular wooden memorial board—the highest form of an urgent imperial petition, reserved only for matters of national crisis.
"Your Majesty!" the Prime Minister cried out, his voice echoing with raw, devastating emotion. "This humble servant knows that by raising this petition, I am walking into the jaws of death! I am willingly putting my life, and the lives of my entire clan, in absolute peril just to speak these words to the Son of Heaven!"
The civil officials exchanged terrified, sideways glances. If the Prime Minister was claiming his life was in danger, the target of his petition had to be a titan.
"Speak," the Emperor commanded, his eyes narrowing, his innate paranoia immediately flaring to life. "Who do you dare accuse?"
The Prime Minister slowly lifted his head. His dark eyes were perfectly crafted pools of loyal, desperate sorrow.
"Your Majesty, I formally petition for the immediate arrest and investigation of the Vanguard Marquisate!"
A collective, horrified gasp rippled through the Great Hall. The military generals on the opposite side of the aisle instantly bristled, their hands twitching toward the empty hilts of their ceremonial swords. Accusing the Vanguard family was political suicide.
But the Prime Minister did not flinch. He pitched his voice louder, making sure his venomous words reached every corner of the silent hall.
"The Vanguard family has grown entirely too arrogant! They have forgotten that they are subjects, and now believe they sit above the Crown itself!" The Prime Minister’s voice thundered, completely fueling the Emperor’s deepest, darkest fears. "Last night, without Imperial decree, without permission from the Throne, the Vanguard Marquis mobilized a fully armed, lethal unit of shadow guards and infiltrated the Forbidden Inner City!"
The Emperor’s face instantly darkened into a mask of pure, freezing rage. The Inner City was his home, his sanctuary, housing his wives and his absolute authority.
"They deployed their private military within the Imperial Harem!" the Prime Minister shouted, striking the wooden petition against his own palm for emphasis. "They treated Your Majesty’s sacred palace as their own personal hunting ground! They have overstepped their military authority, undermined the Imperial Family, and dared to threaten the very foundation of the Throne!"
The Prime Minister pressed his forehead firmly against the cold jade floor, his voice cracking with the perfect climax of a loyal martyr.
"This subject accuses the Vanguard Marquis of High Treason! I beg Your Majesty... sever this overgrown, arrogant branch before it crushes the Imperial Dragon!"
A stunned, absolute silence fell over the Great Hall.
The officials stood completely frozen, their faces draining of color. If what the Prime Minister said was true, this was not just a political scandal; it was a grave, catastrophic felony. Entering the Emperor’s household with an unsanctioned army or private guards was a crime punishable by the execution of nine generations. Even for a decorated war hero like Grandpa Marquis, it would mean the absolute annihilation of the Vanguard bloodline.
Every single pair of eyes in the hall slowly turned to look at the old Marquis. He stood perfectly calm, his broad shoulders squared and high, completely unbothered by the death sentence hanging over his head. He didn’t speak a single word in his defense.
Suddenly, the frantic slap-slap-slap of footsteps approached the center of the hall. A high-ranking palace eunuch rushed in, bowing deeply past the kneeling Prime Minister.
"Your Majesty!" the eunuch announced, his voice echoing in the quiet hall. "The Heiress Apparent of the Vanguard family, Lady Sera, requests an immediate audience!"
Hearing that, a collective realization rippled through the court.
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