Chapter 615: Chapter-615
The young maid trembled so violently that her forehead audibly knocked against the polished floorboards. She was absolutely terrified, trapped under the suffocating, heavy gaze of the most powerful and ruthless civil official in the empire.
"M-My... my master..." the maid stammered, her voice cracking with sheer panic. "He is the Vice Minister of Works! Lord Luo!"
Lord Luo.
The Prime Minister’s dark eyes gleamed. Suddenly, the heavy, dry structural engineering books made perfect sense. She was the daughter of the Vice Minister of Works. A noblewoman who hid her ink-stained fingers, snuck out of her manor to buy advanced hydrology manuals, and dared to scold the Prime Minister of the Empire to his face.
She was a brilliant, utterly feral little anomaly hiding right under his nose.
"Vice Minister Luo," the Prime Minister repeated softly, the name rolling off his tongue like a rare, exquisite delicacy.
He slowly reached into his silver silk sleeve. He pulled out a heavy, perfectly minted gold tael and casually tossed it onto the floorboards right in front of the weeping maid’s face.
"Take this," the Prime Minister ordered, his voice returning to that smooth, terrifyingly gentle cadence. "Go catch up to your mistress. And if you speak a single word of this conversation to her, or to your master... I will personally ensure that your entire extended family is sent to the northern labor camps before the sun sets."
The maid gasped, frantically snatching the gold piece from the floor. "I won’t say a word, my lord! I swear it on my life! Thank you, my lord!"
She scrambled to her feet and sprinted down the aisle as fast as her legs could carry her, completely desperate to put as much distance as possible between herself and the smiling devil in silver silk.
The Prime Minister stood alone in the aisle, the faint scent of pine ink and the woman’s subtle, herbal perfume still lingering in the air.
"My lord," his personal knight stepped forward, looking deeply confused by his master’s sudden shift in demeanor. Just ten minutes ago, the Prime Minister had been an inch away from a psychotic break. Now, he looked completely invigorated. "Should I deploy the shadow guards to investigate the Luo manor?"
The Prime Minister slowly closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath.
"No," the Prime Minister answered, a dark, obsessive thrill completely washing away the bitter taste of his morning defeat. "Do not send anyone. I do not want her spooked. I will handle Vice Minister Luo’s household myself."
He turned on his heel and began walking toward the exit of the stationery pavilion, entirely forgetting the paper and ink he had originally come to buy.
As he stepped back out into the bustling afternoon streets of the capital, the commoners immediately parted for him, still terrified of his presence. But the Prime Minister didn’t even notice them. His brilliant, hyper-calculating mind was already spinning with a completely new strategy.
Heena Vanguard had humiliated him. She had locked him out of the imperial court for a month and completely destroyed his political momentum.
But sitting alone in his study and throwing temper tantrums was the behavior of a defeated man. He was the Prime Minister. If the Emperor commanded him to reflect on his actions for a month, then he would reflect. He would spend his suspension quietly, peacefully, and entirely focused on his new project.
He stepped into his luxurious carriage, a slow, predatory smirk returning to his flawless face.
"Return to the manor," the Prime Minister ordered his driver, leaning back against the plush velvet cushions.
He pulled out his wooden folding fan, tapping it rhythmically against his chin. He needed to draft a perfectly subtle, impeccably polite letter to the Ministry of Works. After all, as the Prime Minister, it was only natural for him to take a sudden, deeply personal interest in the empire’s river dam construction projects.
The Vanguard Madam had been a lethal, untouchable dragon. But Miss Luo? She was a brilliant, sharp-clawed little bird who had just willingly flown right into his cage. And he was going to thoroughly enjoy clipping her wings.
.
.
.
The peaceful, exhausted afternoon at the Vanguard estate didn’t last long.
Just before sunset, a secret imperial decree arrived. It wasn’t delivered by the usual flamboyant palace eunuchs, but by a completely silent, masked messenger. And the contents of the decree were incredibly strange.
Heena was summoned for a private, immediate meeting with the Emperor. But the location wasn’t the Great Hall, the Imperial Gardens, or anywhere even remotely close to the Forbidden City.
She was ordered to go to a small, nondescript hotel room in the middle of the South Side Market.
Heena stared at the address written on the parchment, her brow twitching.
’Is this old man really interested in me?’ Heena mused telepathically, narrowing her eyes as she strapped her heavy broadsword back onto her waist. ’A cheap hotel room in the market? Really?’
Hovering by the mirror, the System let out a loud, highly judgmental digital snort.
"Come on, Host," the System mocked, rolling its glowing blue eyes. "You are not such a peerless beauty that absolutely everyone in the capital is romantically interested in you."
’I am incredibly beautiful,’ Heena argued flatly.
"Yeah, well," the System countered dryly. "If you are talking about being interested in killing you? Then yes, I think the whole world is incredibly interested in you."
’Shut the fuck up,’ Heena snapped, tossing her navy blue cloak over her shoulders and heading out the door.
Getting from the Vanguard estate to the South Side Market shouldn’t have been a difficult journey. But Heena barely made it two streets away from her manor before she realized this was no ordinary escort.
She was walking down a narrow alleyway, entirely boxed in.
Three men dressed in pitch-black armor with dark, feathered cloaks moved in perfect, suffocating synchronization around her. One walked directly in front, one covered her blind spot on the left, and the last practically breathed down her neck from behind.
"Excuse me," Heena sighed, stopping in her tracks. "Can you guys let me go? Or at least give me two feet of breathing room?"
The shadow guard in front of her stopped. He slowly turned his masked face toward her. His eyes were entirely dead—devoid of any human emotion, warmth, or hesitation.
"My apologies, Heiress Apparent," the guard said, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. "But you cannot."
Heena crossed her arms, her Vanguard temper flaring just a fraction. "The Emperor called me there to chat, right? I am an allied military commander. I don’t think I deserve such disrespect. Back up."
"I am sorry," the guard replied, not moving a single inch. "But the Master gave us our orders, and we are simply following them."
"Damn," Heena muttered under her breath.
Any other noblewoman, or even a hardened military general, would have immediately started shouting. They would have flashed their jade tokens, thrown their titles around, or demanded respect.
But Heena didn’t say another word. She couldn’t.
She knew exactly who these bastards were.
They were the Emperor’s private, elite shadow guards—the Black Feathers.
They were absolute, unhinged fanatics.
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