Chapter 494 --494
She stood perfectly still for ten seconds, allowing the cold stone to cool her clammy palm. She forcefully buried the nausea deep down in her gut, locking the pain away behind a mental wall of pure iron. When she finally opened her eyes, the fox-like sharpness had returned, completely masking the dying girl underneath.
"Lead the way," Heena ordered the trembling eunuch waiting respectfully a few paces away.
The eunuch bowed deeply and quickly began to walk, leading her deeper into the sprawling labyrinth of the Imperial Palace. As they walked, Heena mentally prepared herself for the next battle.
The Ninth Prince.
According to the Vanguard’s intelligence network, the Ninth Prince was fourteen years old. He was not the Empress’s biological son; his mother had been a low-ranking concubine who had mysteriously died shortly after his birth. The Empress had generously "adopted" him, raising him under her benevolent wing.
Yet, curiously, under the Empress’s flawless, motherly care, the boy had grown into a notoriously arrogant, lazy, and violent tyrant. He had supposedly driven three previous Royal Tutors to resign in tears.
Heena saw right through the strategy. The Empress was intentionally raising the boy to be a useless, hated cripple in the political arena, ensuring he could never threaten her own biological son’s claim to the throne. It was a brilliant, vicious method of destroying a child without ever raising a blade.
But Heena wasn’t a standard, poetry-reciting palace tutor who could be bullied by a spoiled teenager. She was the Vanguard.
They arrived at the training courtyard of the Ninth Prince’s pavilion. Before Heena even stepped through the circular moon gate, she could hear the chaotic sounds of a tantrum.
"Useless! You are all completely useless!" a high-pitched, arrogant voice screamed.
Heena stepped into the courtyard. The space was massive, lined with weapon racks and archery targets. In the center stood the Ninth Prince, dressed in lavish, embroidered hunting robes that were entirely impractical for actual combat. He was holding a solid wooden training sword, aggressively beating it against the shoulder of a kneeling, heavily bruised palace guard.
"Stand up and fight me properly, you coward!" the Prince shrieked, striking the man again.
Surrounding them were dozens of palace servants and eunuchs, all kneeling on the ground, pressing their foreheads to the dirt, entirely too terrified to intervene.
Heena watched the display with absolute disgust. The boy’s stance was terrible, his grip on the sword was pathetic, and his reliance on abusing a guard who was legally forbidden from fighting back was the ultimate sign of a weak, pathetic mind.
"Is this the legendary might of the Imperial family?" Heena’s cold, mocking voice cut through the courtyard like a physical blade.
The Ninth Prince froze. He whipped around, his face flushed with arrogant rage. He glared at the tall woman standing at the entrance, taking in her dark, wine-colored robes and the lethal, unbothered expression on her face.
"Who dares interrupt me?!" the Prince demanded, pointing his wooden sword directly at her. "Are you blind?! Bow before your Prince immediately, or I will have your legs broken!"
Heena didn’t bow. She didn’t even blink.
She simply stepped forward. Her boots clicked against the stone courtyard with a slow, measured, terrifying rhythm. The sheer pressure of her aura—a suffocating, blood-soaked presence inherited from generations of Vanguard generals—flooded the space. The kneeling servants instinctively pressed themselves flatter against the ground, trembling violently.
The Ninth Prince’s arrogant sneer faltered. For the first time in his pampered life, his political status felt entirely useless against the sheer, physical intimidation walking toward him. He instinctively took a step back, his grip on the wooden sword trembling.
"I said... stop!" the Prince shouted, though his voice cracked slightly. In a panic, he lunged forward, swinging the wooden sword wildly at Heena’s shoulder.
Heena didn’t dodge. She didn’t draw the steel sword at her waist.
With blinding speed, her left hand shot out. She caught the descending wooden blade barehanded, stopping the strike dead in its tracks. The sheer force of the sudden halt sent a violent shockwave up the Prince’s arms, making him gasp in pain.
Before the boy could process what had happened, Heena violently yanked the wooden sword forward, throwing the Prince completely off balance. She ripped the weapon from his hands and, in one fluid, merciless motion, kicked the back of his knees.
The Ninth Prince let out a yelp of shock as his legs buckled. He crashed hard onto the stone courtyard, falling directly onto his knees before her.
Gasps of absolute horror echoed from the surrounding servants. To strike a member of the Royal Family was an immediate execution.
Heena stood over the kneeling prince, tossing the wooden sword aside like a piece of garbage. She looked down at him, her fox-like eyes glowing with cold, absolute authority.
"My name is Seera Marcuset of Marquise Family," she stated, her voice echoing clearly across the terrified courtyard. "I am the heir to the Vanguard, and I am your new Royal Tutor."
The Prince looked up at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of pain, sheer humiliation, and absolute terror.
Heena leaned down slightly, bringing her face closer to his, her tone dropping into a deadly whisper meant only for him. "Listen to me very carefully, Your Highness. In this courtyard, your royal blood means absolutely nothing. I do not care who your father is, and I do not care about the Empress’s games. If you act like a spoiled dog, I will beat you like one. From this second forward... you belong to the Vanguard."
The Ninth Prince knelt on the hard stone, his brain entirely unable to process what had just happened. For his entire fourteen years of life, no one had ever dared to raise their voice at him, let alone physically strike him and force him to his knees.
For a full ten seconds, the training courtyard was so deathly silent that the faint rustling of the wind through the willow trees sounded like a roar. The kneeling eunuchs and maids were practically trying to bury their faces into the dirt, absolutely certain that they were all about to be executed for witnessing this treason.
Then, the shock wore off, and the Prince’s face turned a violent, mottled purple.
He scrambled backward on his hands and knees, scrambling away from Heena as if she were a demon. Once he was out of her immediate reach, he jumped to his feet, his chest heaving with sheer, unadulterated rage.
"Treason!" the boy shrieked, his voice cracking violently. He pointed a shaking finger at Heena. "You absolute peasant! You dare lay a hand on imperial blood?! Guards! Guards! Cut her down! Execute this treasonous bitch right now!"
Around the perimeter of the courtyard, a dozen heavily armored Imperial Guards instinctively grabbed the hilts of their swords. They stepped forward, their faces pale with terror. They knew exactly who Heena was, but a direct order from a royal prince could not be ignored.
’[Host!]’ the System shrieked in her mind, its digital lion avatar pacing frantically. ’[You literally just assaulted a royal prince on your first day! The Transmigration Agency is going to deduct so many points for this!]’
’’Shut up and watch,’’ Heena replied coldly in her mind.