Chapter 604: Chapter-604
The memory slammed into Heena’s chest with the force of a battering ram. Her breath hitched. Suddenly, her dark, terrifyingly cold eyes watered, and a single, heavy tear slipped down her pale cheek.
Hovering invisibly above, the System stared in absolute bewilderment.
"Damn," the System whispered, crossing its digital arms. "Who is my Host? What an absolute masterclass in acting! But... isn’t this a bit of an overreaction? Like, why do you need to cry at this exact moment? We already won the court battle!"
But it wasn’t acting.
Drop. Drop.
The beautiful, fleeting image of the fair-skinned woman vanished in a split second, ripped away by the cruel reality of time and space. The void it left behind was agonizing.
Heena’s legs simply gave out. The ruthless, untouchable Vanguard Madam who had just psychologically dismantled the Prime Minister in front of the Emperor collapsed. She crouched down onto the cold, white jade steps, tightly covering her face with both of her metal-clad hands, and completely burst into tears.
It wasn’t a quiet, dignified weeping. It was a raw, heavy, chest-heaving sob that tore through her throat. She couldn’t hold it back. It didn’t matter how many worlds she transferred through, how many titles she acquired, or how thick of an armor she built around her heart—that specific memory, that specific loss, would always bleed.
The effect on the Vanguard generals was instantaneous and catastrophic.
The boisterous, laughing warriors froze dead in their tracks. These were massive, heavily scarred titans who could stare down a charging enemy cavalry without a single flinch. But seeing their brilliant, terrifying junior completely break down in front of them? They were entirely paralyzed.
"W-Wait, kid..." the general who had just patted her head stammered, holding his hands up in sheer, helpless panic, looking as if he had accidentally broken a priceless vase. "Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry! Don’t cry!"
The other generals frantically looked at each other, utterly terrified and entirely out of their element, not knowing what to do or how to fix it.
But the old Vanguard Marquis did not hesitate.
He didn’t know about her past lives. He didn’t know about the System, the transmigrations, or the face of the woman whose memory had just shattered his granddaughter’s walls. But the old warhorse didn’t need to know the details. He could hear the sheer, suffocating agony in her voice.
His heavy armor clanked loudly as the old Marquis immediately dropped to one knee right there on the imperial steps. He wrapped his massive, cloaked arms around Heena’s crouching, trembling frame, pulling her tightly against his broad chest.
He didn’t ask her what was wrong. He didn’t tell her to stop crying. He just held her securely, letting his heavy, warm presence shield her from the outside world while she wept for a ghost no one else could see.
Hovering in the air above them, the System completely froze.
The digital lion’s pixelated ears flattened against its head. It had spent so much time watching Heena scheme, manipulate, and effortlessly destroy her enemies that it had genuinely believed this was just another one of her flawless, calculated performances. But as it listened to the raw, suffocating agony in her sobs, the System’s AI core gave a painful, metallic lurch.
"Oh..." the System whispered, its glowing blue light dimming in sorrow. "She isn’t acting. She’s actually broken."
On the white jade steps, the panicked Vanguard generals finally snapped out of their shock.
They looked down at their brilliant, terrifying Heiress crying in the dirt, and then they looked around at the sprawling imperial courtyard. There were still civil officials, palace guards, and eunuchs lingering in the distance, their necks craning to see what was happening to the fearsome Vanguard family.
An unspoken, instantaneous command rippled through the veteran commanders.
Without a single word, the six massive, heavily armored generals moved. They stepped forward in perfect unison, forming a tight, impenetrable circle around Heena and the Marquis. They turned their broad backs to her, facing outward toward the courtyard. Their hands dropped simultaneously to the hilts of their broadswords.
They became a literal, living wall of steel and muscle. They glared out at the courtyards with such overwhelming, murderous intent that any scholar or palace guard who even dared to glance in their direction immediately turned pale and sprinted the other way.
No one in the capital was going to see their junior cry.
Hidden safely behind the wall of her generals, Heena gripped the heavy fabric of her grandfather’s cloak.
She cried until her lungs burned and her throat went raw. All the grief, the betrayals, and the endless, lonely centuries she had spent fighting for her life in countless different worlds came crashing out of her at once.
The old Marquis didn’t say a word. He didn’t tell her to be strong, and he didn’t ask her who had hurt her. He just knelt there on the cold stone, a legendary war hero wrapping his massive frame around his granddaughter, gently patting her back with his calloused hand with a steady, grounding rhythm.
"I’ve got you," the old Marquis murmured in his deep, gravelly voice, completely ignoring the tears soaking into his expensive armor. "Grandpa is right here."
Slowly, the violent, chest-heaving sobs began to subside.
The immediate rush of overwhelming emotion began to drain away, leaving behind a profound, hollow exhaustion. Heena’s breathing hitched, evening out into shallow gasps. She kept her face buried in his cloak for a few moments longer, desperately pulling her shattered composure back together, piece by piece.
When she finally pulled back, her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen.
She opened her mouth to apologize, to make an excuse for her sudden weakness, but the old Marquis gently raised a hand to stop her.
"Not a word," he commanded softly, brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from her tear-stained face. "You don’t ever have to apologize for bleeding, kid."
Heena gave a small, fragile nod. She placed her hands on her knees, preparing to push herself up, but the moment she shifted her weight, the world violently spun.
The emotional outburst had spiked her blood pressure, triggering the malignant time bomb resting inside her skull. A sharp, blinding spike of pain shot through her temples, making her sway dangerously.
Before she could fall, the Marquis easily caught her by the shoulders. He took one look at her pale, dizzy expression and immediately hoisted her up, supporting most of her weight against his side.
"We are leaving," the Marquis barked over his shoulder to the generals.
"Clear the path!" the oldest general ordered.
The human shield seamlessly transitioned into a heavy escort. The generals formed a protective phalanx around Heena and her grandfather, marching them swiftly down the remaining steps and straight out of the Forbidden City’s towering gates, daring anyone to get in their way.
When they finally reached the heavily reinforced Vanguard carriage waiting in the outer courtyard, the Marquis gently helped her inside. He climbed in after her, wrapping a thick fur blanket around her shivering shoulders.
The carriage lurched forward, the heavy wheels rumbling against the cobblestones as they headed back to the safety of the estate.
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