Chapter 632: Chapter-632
"Grant the blessing," the Emperor sighed, waving his hand at the stunned eunuchs. "And double the palace guards. That little sociopath is definitely going to blow something up."
While the capital was thrown into absolute, panicked confusion over the sudden Vanguard wedding, the civil court officials were sweating bullets. They had just lost the Ministry of Revenue to a spectacular, terrifying treason charge. Now, the Vanguard Madam was throwing a massive, rushed wedding, and every single high-ranking official was expected to attend. The old foxes of the court sat in their studies, biting their nails, frantically trying to figure out if the wedding banquet was actually a trap to poison them all.
Because all eyes, all paranoia, and all the capital’s gossip were entirely focused on the wedding preparations, absolutely no one noticed the shadows moving in the dark.
On the night before the wedding, the streets around the Vanguard estate were illuminated by thousands of red paper lanterns. But across the city, the Ministry of Rites was dead silent.
Kael and a dozen elite Vanguard shadow guards slipped over the high stone walls of the Ministry like ghosts. They bypassed the standard night watchmen effortlessly. The civil court’s security was an absolute joke compared to military standards; these guards were used to chasing off drunk scholars, not defending against hardened assassins.
Kael reached the heavy wooden doors of the central archive building. He pulled out a specialized lockpick, and within three seconds, the iron mechanism clicked open.
They slipped inside the massive, dusty library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves held thousands of scrolls and bound books—the official, unaltered imperial examination papers of every scholar who had tested in the last five years.
"Find the top three hundred commoner exams," Kael whispered into the dark, his scarred face illuminated only by a single, heavily shielded glow-stone. "And find the corresponding aristocratic exams that magically received perfect scores. We need the physical proof of the grade-swapping."
The shadow guards scattered into the aisles, moving with terrifying, silent efficiency.
Back at the Vanguard estate, Heena was sitting quietly in her bedchamber, dressed in a loose white inner robe. The agonizing headache was momentarily kept at bay by a dangerously high dose of herbal painkillers.
The door creaked open, and Samuel walked in. He looked completely exhausted, having spent the entire day terrorizing the capital’s merchants into submission, but his golden eyes softened the absolute second they landed on her.
He carried a heavy, exquisite wooden box in his hands. He walked over to the bed and set it down gently beside her.
"The seamstresses just finished the final alterations," Samuel said, his voice a low, warm murmur. He flipped the brass latch and opened the box.
Inside rested the most breathtaking, opulent red wedding gown Heena had ever seen. It was woven from the absolute finest imperial silk, heavily embroidered with pure gold thread depicting soaring phoenixes and fierce, protective dragons. It was a dress fit for an Empress, yet tailored specifically for a warrior.
Heena reached out, her pale fingers lightly tracing the gold embroidery. It was heavy. Real.
"It’s beautiful," Heena whispered, genuinely taken aback.
Samuel sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently cup her pale cheek. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, entirely ignoring the dark circles she hadn’t bothered to cover up for him. He knew she was sick. He knew she was hiding the severity of it. But for tonight, he wasn’t going to push her or interrogate her. He was just going to give her the world.
"Tomorrow, Wife," Samuel promised softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her temple. "Tomorrow, you become legally mine. And the Emperor, the civil court, and the heavens themselves will not be able to do a single thing about it."
Heena listened to his profound promise, but instead of melting into his embrace, she reached up, grabbed the thick silk lapels of his collar, and pulled him down to her eye level.
"I am not going to be yours," Heena corrected, her dark eyes flashing with that familiar, feral Vanguard arrogance. "You are going to be mine, Mr. Son-in-law."
Samuel blinked, then let out a low, genuine laugh. By marrying into her family’s estate and securing her political protections, he was technically acting as a matrilocal son-in-law.
"Yes, my wife," Samuel smiled, wrapping his arms securely around her waist and pulling her into a tight, warm hug.
There was a profound, radiant happiness in his golden eyes. But as her face pressed into his shoulder, completely hidden from his view, Heena’s smile instantly vanished. The crushing exhaustion bled back into her features, her eyes fluttering shut as she allowed herself, just for a moment, to lean all her failing weight against his broad chest.
Samuel was not a fool. As he held her, he could feel exactly how fragile she had become beneath the layers of silk. He had already cornered and ruthlessly interrogated the estate physicians the moment he returned, threatening them with absolute ruin if they lied to him. But the physicians had sworn on their lives that she was merely severely overworked and needed rest. They simply didn’t know about the blood clot in her brain.
Samuel knew that trying to command the Vanguard Madam to rest before her political war was finished was a physically impossible task. She would just fight him and drain her energy faster. But he was a calculating, patient scholar. He was playing the long game. Once he became her legal husband in twenty-four hours, he would have the ultimate, unassailable authority to lock the doors, throw away her paperwork, and force her to rest whether she liked it or not.
"Did you lose some weight, Wife?" Samuel murmured, his brow furrowing slightly as his large hands traced the sharp, prominent curve of her spine.
Heena completely froze.
"Oh," Heena deflected smoothly, her voice muffled against his robes. "I... I just wanted to become slightly lighter for the wedding. The dress is heavy, you know."
Samuel let out a booming, entirely unconvinced laugh. Without a single warning, he leaned down, swept his arms under her knees and her back, and effortlessly lifted her into a sudden princess carry.
"I could lift you up even if you became two hundred kilograms, Wife," Samuel declared, looking down at her with a fond, chiding smirk. "So don’t worry about the weight of a dress. Just eat."
Heena stared up at him. Her brilliant, over-analytical brain instantly caught the statistical anomaly in his romantic declaration, completely bypassing the affection and zeroing in on the logic. She narrowed her eyes.
"So, you want to say that I look like I am two hundred kilograms?" Heena challenged dryly.
"No, Wife. That is absolutely not what I meant," Samuel replied smoothly, though he could already sense the trap closing around him.
"Then, tell me," Heena continued, crossing her arms while still suspended in the air. "Do you regularly lift women who weigh two hundred kilograms?"
Samuel’s golden eyes widened slightly at the sheer absurdity of the accusation. "Of course not, Wife."
"So how do you confidently know that you can lift me up if I were two hundred kilograms?" Heena pressed, her interrogator persona flawlessly activating.
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