Chapter 653 --653

Chapter 653: Chapter-653

"H-Hey!" Lord Lin shouted, trying to sound authoritative but mostly just sounding like a panicked child. "You! Vanguard! I am the son of the Minister of Rites! You are sitting in my favorite spot!"

Chijen slowly paused his writing. He looked up, his cold, dead eyes locking onto the terrified teenager. He remembered his new father’s specific instructions from that morning: Mathematically prove to them that their families are fundamentally useless.

"Ah. The Minister of Rites," Chijen murmured, resting his bearded chin on his hand. "Your father is Lin Yao, correct?"

"Y-Yes!" Lord Lin puffed out his chest.

Chijen’s eyes narrowed into a dark, highly judgmental squint. "Your father’s latest tax proposal to the Ministry of Revenue cited a three percent deficit in the southern grain yield. But his calculations failed to account for the leap month in the lunar calendar, which means his entire logistical framework was off by twenty-two tons of grain."

Lord Lin blinked, completely lost. "W-What?"

"Furthermore," Chijen continued relentlessly, his voice carrying the absolute, crushing authority of a senior scholar who had spent a decade studying macro-economics. "Your father’s essay on filial piety during his imperial exam was heavily plagiarized from the Third Dynasty archives, and his calligraphy looks like a dying chicken dragged its claws across the paper."

The other teenagers gasped in horror.

"You..." Lord Lin’s face flushed beet red. "You take that back! My father is a great man!"

"Your father," Chijen deadpanned, casually taking a bite of his apple, "was arrested for massive academic fraud exactly twenty minutes ago by my mother. You are currently the son of a treasonous criminal. I suggest you sit down and start memorizing the penal code instead of poetry, young master. You are going to need it to appeal his death sentence."

For three seconds, absolute silence reigned in the Elite First-Year Classroom.

Then, Lord Lin’s lower lip began to tremble violently. The realization that his father was arrested, combined with the sheer, crushing psychological dominance of a grown man insulting his family’s tax policies, was too much for his fragile teenage mind.

Lord Lin dropped his ruler, covered his face with his hands, and burst into loud, hysterical, sobbing tears. He ran out of the classroom crying for his nanny.

The rest of the teenage nobles backed away, pressing themselves against the far walls in absolute terror.

Chijen chewed his apple slowly, watching the crying bully run away. He looked at the horrified professor, who was currently hiding behind his podium.

"Professor," Chijen asked politely, pulling out a fresh sheet of paper from his bunny satchel. "Are we going to cover the advanced geopolitical applications of the southern trade routes today, or should I just take a nap?"

Heena kicked the heavy front doors of the Vanguard estate open, looking entirely refreshed. Her military boots were slightly scuffed, and she was radiating the deeply satisfied aura of a woman who had just solved all her political problems with extreme, unhinged violence.

In the main courtyard, Samuel was elegantly sipping tea at a stone table. He didn’t look like a traumatized, weeping husband anymore. He looked like a brilliant mastermind who had just received some highly entertaining espionage reports.

"Welcome home, Wife," Samuel smirked, setting his porcelain cup down. "I assume the civil court is currently begging for mercy?"

Before Heena could even brag about her shoe-wielding exploits, the front gates creaked open again.

Chijen walked in, still carrying his bright yellow bunny satchel. The thirty-year-old man looked utterly exhausted—not from physical labor, but from the sheer, mind-numbing stupidity of his aristocratic teenage peers.

He walked directly up to Samuel and Heena, dropping his satchel onto the stone table with a heavy thud.

"Father. Mother," Chijen deadpanned, staring at them with hollow, dead eyes. "I have completed my first day of primary education."

Samuel folded his hands together. "Give us the academic report, Son."

The Casualties: Three fifteen-year-old heirs cried for their nannies after their family’s tax fraud was mathematically exposed.

The Academic Dominance: The elderly professor completely abandoned the curriculum and begged Chijen to teach the advanced geopolitical logistics class instead.

The Bonus Objective: Lord Lin was successfully psychologically humiliated and fled the premises.

Samuel’s golden eyes practically glowed with dark, deeply unhinged paternal pride. He stood up and patted the bearded man firmly on the shoulder.

"Excellent work, Son," Samuel praised smoothly. "I told you that mathematics and logic could destroy a bloodline. For making the Minister of Rites’ heir cry in under three minutes, I am officially tripling your monthly allowance."

Heena wiped a fake tear from her eye, leaning against Samuel with a proud, sociopathic smile. "They grow up so fast, don’t they? Just this morning he was sitting on the floor, and now he is out there psychologically ruining the next generation of the civil court."

Chijen closed his eyes, praying for a patience that would never come. "Can I just go process the Vanguard estate’s tax ledgers in the basement now?"

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The next morning, the Vanguard estate dining room was completely peaceful, save for the sound of Heena aggressively cracking walnuts with her bare hands.

Chijen sat at the table, wearing his crisp student robes. He looked down in profound dread at the yellow bunny satchel sitting on the floor next to him. It looked significantly heavier today.

"Son," Samuel announced, gliding into the room with a massive, terrifyingly thick stack of ancient, dust-covered legal scrolls. He didn’t even bother handing Chijen a lunchbox; he just slammed the legal texts directly onto the breakfast table.

"Father," Chijen sighed, staring at the scrolls. "What is this?"

"This," Samuel smirked, his golden eyes gleaming with pure, unfiltered academic malice, "is the original Imperial Land Registry from eighty years ago. Plus, a comprehensive breakdown of the empire’s property laws, inheritance loopholes, and civil litigation clauses."

Heena paused cracking a walnut, looking highly intrigued. "Oho. Are we suing a teenager today, Mr. Son-in-law?"

"Even better," Samuel’s smile widened into something truly diabolical. "I want him to sue the entire Academy."

Samuel leaned over the table, tapping a long, elegant finger against a specific, heavily circled paragraph on the ancient parchment.

"If you analyze the strict legal logic of the original land grant," Samuel explained, slipping into his genius-scholar persona, "the Imperial Youth Academy was built on land temporarily leased from the former Duke of the West. That Duke died without a biological heir fifty years ago. However, under Imperial Code Section 4, Sub-clause B, if a temporary lease is not renewed by a blood relative within half a century, the land defaults back to the state..."

"...Unless a reigning military general invokes the Rite of Reclamation for defense purposes," Heena finished instantly, her sociopathic brain catching up to his flawless legal trap in record time.

Samuel looked at his wife with absolute, unfiltered adoration. "Exactly, Wife. You see it."

Chijen stared at his two terrifying parents. "You want me to walk into the most prestigious civil school in the empire, as a first-year student... and legally evict them?"

"Yes!" Heena and Samuel cheered in perfect, terrifying unison.

"You are going to use advanced legal logic to mathematically and legally prove that they are trespassing on Vanguard property," Samuel ordered, packing the heavy scrolls into the bunny satchel. "If the Headmaster refuses to leave, I want you to charge them eighty years of back-rent, plus interest. Do not come home until we own their courtyard."

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