Chapter 496 - -496
An hour passed. The mid-morning sun climbed higher, baking the stone courtyard in a layer of sweltering heat.
The rhythmic, aggressive ’whoosh’ of the wooden sword that had started the session had devolved into a pathetic, wheezing ’thwack’.
"Three hundred... and... forty-two..." the Ninth Prince gasped, his voice barely a raspy whisper.
His lavish, embroidered hunting robes were completely soaked in sweat, clinging uncomfortably to his skin. His arms were shaking so violently that the wooden sword wobbled with every upward swing. His legs, locked in the grueling horse stance, felt like they were actively on fire.
Heena sat in the shaded pavilion, perfectly cool and completely unbothered. She had finished her tea, sampled three different types of lotus pastries, and was now casually flipping through a small book she had brought from the carriage.
"Your back is hunching, Your Highness," Heena called out, not even bothering to look up from the page. "Your stance is broken. The count resets. Back to one."
The Prince froze. His bloodshot eyes widened in absolute, soul-crushing despair. "No! I—I did three hundred! I cannot start over! My arms are going to fall off!"
Heena slowly closed her book and looked up, her dark eyes pinning him to the spot. "Did you stutter on the battlefield, Your Highness? Because if you did, the enemy just took your head off while you were complaining. I said, back to one. Swing."
Tears of genuine physical agony and humiliation welled up in the boy’s eyes, but the terrifying memory of her steel blade sliding from its scabbard forced his trembling arms to lift the wooden sword once more.
"One..." he sobbed, swinging the blade.
Hovering in the shade next to Heena, the System had manifested a digital lawn chair and a pair of holographic sunglasses. It was happily sipping from a digital coconut.
’[I take back what I said earlier, Host,]’ the System purred, watching the pampered royal suffer. ’[This is actually incredible entertainment. Look at him cry. He looks like a wet, angry chicken.]’
’’I told you,’’ Heena replied internally, casually resting her chin on her hand. ’’Physical exhaustion strips away all the political arrogance. By the time I am done with him today, he won’t even have the energy to scheme.’’
Around the edges of the courtyard, the eunuchs and palace maids were still kneeling, their faces pale with horror. Some of them were silently weeping in sympathy for their master, but not a single one dared to stand up or intervene. The terrifying aura of the Vanguard heir had completely locked the courtyard down.
At swing number forty-seven of the restarted count, the Prince’s body finally gave out.
His knees buckled violently. He pitched forward, crashing face-first onto the hard stone with a pitiful groan. The wooden sword clattered out of his blistered hands, rolling away. He just lay there in a crumpled, sweaty heap, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.
Heena stood up. The soft rustle of her wine-colored silk was the only sound in the dead-silent courtyard as she walked over to the fallen royal.
She stood over him, her shadow completely blocking out the sun.
"Get up," she ordered flatly.
"I can’t," the Prince wheezed, pressing his face against the cool stone. "I literally cannot move. Just kill me. Behead me right now. I don’t care anymore."
Heena crouched down slightly. She grabbed a fistful of his luxurious, sweat-soaked hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look her in the eyes. The Prince whimpered, entirely stripped of his royal bravado.
"Listen to me, little prince," Heena said, her voice a low, lethal whisper. "You have spent your entire life surrounded by people who whisper sweet lies into your ear. They let you beat them with sticks so you can feel strong. They let you throw tantrums so you feel powerful. But they are actively turning you into a crippled, useless joke. The second the Emperor dies and the succession war begins, you will be the very first one slaughtered because you have no real strength to protect yourself."
The Prince’s breath hitched. The absolute, unvarnished truth in her words cut deeper than any blade.
"I am the Vanguard," Heena continued, releasing his hair and standing tall. "I do not deal in lies, and I do not coddle the weak. If you want to survive the snake pit you were born into, you are going to let me forge you into a weapon. Or, you can lie there on the ground and prove to everyone that the Ninth Prince is exactly the pathetic failure the Empress raised him to be."
She took a step back, gesturing to the ground.
"Now," Heena commanded, her voice cracking like a whip. "Flip over on your stomach. Hands shoulder-width apart. Back straight. You owe me two hundred push-ups. Move!"
Deep within the confines of her mental space, the System was pacing frantically in its glowing lion form, watching the Ninth Prince practically hyperventilate on the stone courtyard.
’[Host, what if he actually dies?!]’ the System shrieked, its digital tail flicking in sheer panic. ’[Look at him! He is turning blue! You know he could literally have a heart attack from this level of sudden exertion!]’
Heena didn’t even blink. She kept her eyes on the trembling boy, her internal voice dripping with absolute, freezing apathy.
’’Well, isn’t that exactly what the Empress wants?’’ Heena replied coldly. ’’For him to be crippled or dead? If his heart gives out now, then let him die. It saves me the trouble of dealing with him tomorrow.’’
The System gasped, its holographic fur standing on end. ’[Host! You are being entirely too cruel! He is just a kid!]’
’’My head is absolutely pounding,’’ Heena shot back, her mental tone suddenly flaring with lethal irritation. Behind her flawless mask, the dull, throbbing ache of her brain tumor was threatening to push past the chemical barrier of the painkillers. ’’Do you honestly think I care about anything else right now? Who the hell summons a woman who hasn’t even breathed the air of a real battlefield to train a useless rascal like him? And anyway... I really don’t even know what I am supposed to teach him.’’
The System paused its frantic pacing, blinking its large digital eyes in profound confusion. ’[Wait. What do you mean? Can’t you just teach him how to fight? Like, actual hand-to-hand combat and Vanguard sword techniques?]’
In her mind, Heena slowly turned to look at the glowing lion, staring at it as if it were the most spectacular idiot in the entire universe.
’’Do you honestly think I have that much time or energy to spare?’’ Heena sneered. ’’My body is literally shutting down. If I physically exert myself sparring with this brat and get completely exhausted... are you going to materialize out of thin air and massage my head?’’
The System instantly snapped its digital mouth shut. It didn’t say another word. It didn’t even breathe.
When it came to massages, Heena was notoriously, terrifyingly picky. It was a literal death trap. If you applied too little pressure, she would viciously complain that you were as weak as a starving mosquito and completely useless. But the second you applied just a fraction ’more’ pressure, she would instantly accuse you of trying to crack her skull open—and then she would physically beat you senseless for it.