Chapter 693 --693
Heena opened her mouth, her voice cutting through the heavy, suffocating silence of the throne room like a serrated blade.
"Your Majesty, about twenty years ago, before your coronation, the Empress—who was the Crown Princess at the time—suffered a tragic event. It is recorded that she lost a child."
The words struck an exposed, bleeding nerve.
The Emperor’s face went entirely blank. He violently shoved his golden chair backward, the heavy wood screeching against the polished floor. Without a single word, he reached over to the ceremonial weapon rack beside the throne, unsheathed a gleaming, razor-sharp steel sword, and walked down the steps of the dais.
A wave of absolute, paralyzing terror swept through the hall. Every single imperial guard standing at the periphery dropped to their knees, trembling so hard their armor rattled. The head eunuch squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face into the floorboards, waiting for the sound of a head rolling.
The Emperor stopped right in front of Heena’s kneeling figure. He pointed the tip of the sword directly at her throat, forcing her to look at the cold steel.
"You dare to speak such treasonous nonsense in front of me?" the Emperor whispered, his voice vibrating with a world-ending wrath. "Do you think holding five Imperial Death Pardons means you can say absolutely anything in this court and walk out alive?"
Heena trembled. The biological fear of the physical body seized her muscles, cold sweat dripping down her spine. But her eyes remained utterly defiant, and she continued speaking.
"This subject is not trying to disrespect you, Your Majesty, but I am telling you the blood-soaked truth," Heena said, her voice strained but unwavering. "At that time, when the Crown Princess lost the child, the physician who personally checked her pulse was Physician Lu. He was universally known as the most brilliant medical mind in the capital. But suddenly, immediately after the miscarriage... he died. The palace claimed it was sudden grief, that he could not handle the guilt of losing the imperial heir."
The Emperor’s knuckles turned white around the hilt of the sword. He raised the blade higher, the sharp edge hovering just a hair’s breadth from her neck.
"Shut your mouth," the Emperor commanded, his voice shaking with murderous intent. "Say one more word, Vanguard, and I will chop you in half."
But Heena did not shut her mouth.
"He did not die of grief, Your Majesty!" Heena pushed forward, the words spilling out like rapid-fire arrows. "The last letter Physician Lu ever wrote was for his son. Knowing he was about to be silenced, he took a surgical knife and literally flayed open the skin of his own arm. He hid the letter—written on a piece of waterproof lambskin so his own blood would not ruin the ink—deep inside his own flesh before he was killed!"
The sword wavered. The gruesome, horrifying detail pierced through the Emperor’s blinding rage.
"People say he died of guilt," Heena continued relentlessly. "That is a lie. He died because of what he discovered. And that letter remained perfectly hidden, passing to his son, who has been in hiding for twenty years... until my shadow guards finally tracked him down."
Ignoring the sword at her throat, Heena slowly reached into the inner pocket of her robes. She pulled out a small, stiff piece of ancient lambskin. The edges were darkly stained with twenty-year-old, dried human blood. She presented it directly to the Emperor.
"This is his final confession, Your Majesty," Heena declared, her voice ringing off the high ceilings. "In this letter, Physician Lu clearly states the medical facts he was murdered to hide. When he checked the Crown Princess’s pulse, the child in her womb was exactly seven months old."
Heena paused, letting the devastating mathematics hang in the air.
"You and the Crown Princess had only been married for five months at that time."
The Emperor froze. The air completely left his lungs. He stared at the blood-stained lambskin in her outstretched hands, his pupils dilating in sheer, unadulterated shock.
"And the child did not die on its own," Heena delivered the final, fatal blow. "The letter confirms it was a healthy male fetus. The miscarriage was artificially induced. It was an abortion pill, taken willingly, to erase the evidence before the timeline could expose her."
"You... dare..." the Emperor gasped, the sword in his hand suddenly trembling so violently it looked like it might drop from his grip. His face contorted in a horrifying mix of denial, betrayal, and absolute devastation.
Heena did not cower. The trembling in her body stopped. She slowly raised her head, looking past the lethal edge of the sword and staring directly into the shattered eyes of the most powerful man in the world.
"Your Majesty," Heena said, her voice dropping into a solemn, heavy command. "You are not only the husband of the Empress... you are also the father of this empire. Open your eyes."
The heavy steel sword slipped from the Emperor’s grip.
It hit the polished floorboards with a deafening, echoing clang that made the head eunuch violently flinch. The Emperor didn’t even blink. His trembling hand reached out, his fingers brushing against the cold, blood-stained edges of the lambskin before snatching it from Heena’s palms.
He backed away, stumbling slightly until the back of his knees hit the edge of the golden throne. He collapsed into the seat, his wide, bloodshot eyes dragging across the faded, twenty-year-old ink.
There was no mistaking it. It was Physician Lu’s exact handwriting. The precise, methodical strokes of the capital’s greatest medical mind detailed the exact pulse rate, the fetal development, the unmistakable signs of a seven-month pregnancy, and the undeniable chemical traces of a lethal, high-grade abortifacient. At the bottom, smeared with the dead man’s dried blood, was the personal seal of the Imperial Medical Pavilion.
For twenty years, the Emperor had mourned that unborn child.
For twenty years, he had held the Empress in the dead of night as she wept over their "tragic loss." He had built her a sanctuary, elevated her family to untouchable heights, and ruthlessly slaughtered any concubine who dared to threaten her peace of mind, all out of a profound, devastating guilt that he had not been able to protect their firstborn.
And it was all a grotesque, meticulously orchestrated lie.
She had been pregnant with another man’s child before she even put on the royal wedding dress. She had married him, secured the crown, and then coldly poisoned her own womb to erase the evidence, framing it as a tragic miscarriage to secure his eternal devotion.
The silence in the throne room was no longer tense; it was necrotic. It was the silence of a dynasty fracturing at its core.
The Emperor slowly lowered the lambskin. The explosive, roaring fury from a few minutes ago was completely gone. In its place was a hollow, freezing void. His eyes were entirely dead.
"Get up, Marquis," the Emperor whispered, his voice devoid of all human warmth.
Heena placed her hands on the floor and slowly pushed herself up. Her legs trembled, the physical exertion and the sheer adrenaline finally catching up to her failing body. The room tilted dangerously, black spots dancing in the corners of her vision. She discreetly bit the inside of her cheek, using the sharp copper taste of her own blood to anchor herself to consciousness.
She stood straight, smoothing out the front of her Vanguard robes.
"Her family knew," the Emperor stated. It wasn’t a question. It was a horrifying realization clicking into place.
"The entire core of the aristocratic faction knew, Your Majesty," Heena confirmed softly. "That is why they are untouchable. That is why they move in perfect unison. The Empress’s family holds the ultimate blackmail over the throne, and in return, the Empress ensures the Prime Minister and their lackeys receive endless imperial favor. They are a parasite feeding off the royal bloodline."
The Emperor stared into the empty space across the grand hall. The puzzle was complete. Every rigged examination, every embezzled bag of grain, every murdered concubine—it all traced back to the woman who slept in his bed.
"Who was the father?" the Emperor asked, his voice barely a breath.
Heena lowered her eyes. "My shadow guards could not find a name, Your Majesty. Whoever it was, the Empress’s family likely butchered him twenty years ago to ensure his silence."
The Emperor slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them a moment later, the heartbroken husband was gone. The apex predator of the Great Dynasty had returned, and his eyes burned with a terrifying, apocalyptic calm.
"You said you needed my help to blow off the head of the snake," the Emperor said smoothly, carefully folding the blood-stained lambskin and sliding it into the breast of his royal robes, directly over his heart.
Heena met his gaze, her dark eyes flashing with lethal anticipation. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"The Empress’s birthday banquet is in exactly ten days," the Emperor stated, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "The entire aristocratic faction will be present in the grand pavilion. Every minister, every lord, and the Prime Minister’s entire inner circle."
Heena offered a faint, blood-chilling smile. "A perfect occasion for a royal decree, Your Majesty."
"I will lock down the palace gates," the Emperor commanded, his voice dripping with absolute, freezing malice. "I will grant you unrestricted command of the Imperial Guard for one single night. You will bring your damning evidence. You will bring your Vanguard shadow soldiers. And you will tear them to pieces in front of my throne."
The Emperor leaned forward, the shadows of the hall hiding half of his face.
"Leave no one alive, General."