Chapter 664 --664

Chapter 664: Chapter-664

From the shaded corridors overlooking the pristine water pavilion, a pair of furious, bloodshot eyes watched the entire exchange.

The Prime Minister’s Third Wife stood completely rigid behind a decorative wooden pillar. Though she was too far away to hear a single word of the conversation, the visual alone was enough to make her blood boil. She watched her husband—the man who had brutally beaten his first wife just days ago—smiling warmly and pouring tea for a beautiful, unmarried young noblewoman. He looked like a gentle, attentive immortal, completely captivated by his guest.

The Third Wife’s hands clenched so tightly into fists that her manicured nails bit painfully into her palms, threatening to draw blood. She crushed her expensive silk handkerchief, her chest heaving with suffocating jealousy and outrage.

"This bastard," she whispered, the venom in her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

She remembered her own precarious position in the household, the terrifying reality of Gu Chen’s true nature behind closed doors. Desperately fighting to control her rapidly fraying temper, she squeezed her eyes shut, spun on her heel, and stormed away down the corridor before she did something suicidal like interrupt them.

Meanwhile, miles away in the opulent halls of the Imperial Palace, a completely different type of domestic crisis was unfolding.

"Father! It is completely unacceptable!"

The shrill, demanding voice of the Ninth Prince echoed loudly off the gold-leafed walls of the royal drawing room. The young prince, wearing heavily embroidered silk robes, was stomping his foot in a full-blown aristocratic temper tantrum.

"She is my official tutor!" the Ninth Prince shouted, looking between the stressed Empress and his father. "I am a prince of the bloodline! Why is she always so incredibly busy?! She hasn’t attended a single one of my lessons!"

Sitting at the head of the room, the Emperor did not look up.

The most powerful man in the world was currently slouched in his chair, staring blankly at the wall, desperately trying to enjoy a single, uninterrupted cup of soothing chamomile tea. His royal meridians were still throbbing from his encounter with the Vanguard Madam, and his patience for children—biological or adopted thirty-year-olds—was in the negative digits.

The Emperor slowly lowered his porcelain cup. He turned his tired, hollow eyes toward his screaming son.

"Lower your voice, Prince," the Emperor commanded, his tone completely flat but carrying the terrifying weight of absolute authority. "Is this the etiquette you have been taught? Do you think the Supreme Palace is a local fish market?"

The Imperial Role Model

The Ninth Prince immediately shrank back, his arrogant tantrum instantly extinguished by the sheer, freezing pressure of the Emperor’s aura. He nervously tugged at his silk sleeves, looking toward his mother for help.

The Empress, a beautiful and calculating woman who usually navigated the palace with flawless grace, forced a gentle smile and poured the Emperor a fresh cup of tea.

"Your Majesty, please do not be too harsh on him," the Empress soothed, her voice like honey. "The prince is simply eager to pursue his martial studies. But ever since you appointed seera Vanguard as his honorary Military Tutor to appease the army, the Madam has not stepped foot inside the royal study once. It is quite disrespectful to the imperial bloodline."

The Emperor closed his eyes, his headache returning with a vengeance. He aggressively rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Empress," the Emperor said, his voice entirely hollow. "Do you have any idea what that woman did today? She adopted a thirty-year-old man, claimed he was a newborn baby, and then used him to legally extort two hundred and fifty thousand gold taels from the Ministry of Rites. If I let her within fifty feet of my son, she won’t teach him military strategy. She will teach him how to mathematically bankrupt the royal treasury and overthrow my throne by Tuesday."

The Ninth Prince’s eyes suddenly widened, practically sparkling with unadulterated awe.

"Is it true she beat the Deputy Minister in the face with her shoe?!" the Ninth Prince blurted out, bouncing on his heels. "All the palace eunuchs are talking about it! Father, I want to learn that! I want to learn the Vanguard Flying Boot Technique! Please make her teach me!"

The Emperor completely froze. He stared at his ninth son, horrified that the young prince was already idolizing the capital’s greatest sociopath.

"Absolutely not," the Emperor deadpanned, staring into the void. "Guards. Confiscate all of the prince’s shoes immediately. And tell the Head Eunuch to draft an edict. Seera Vanguard is summoned to the palace tomorrow morning to fulfill her tutoring duties. If she is going to torture my court, she can at least babysit my child while doing it."

The next morning, the Royal Study of the Imperial Palace was completely devoid of its usual peaceful, scholarly atmosphere.

The Ninth Prince was sitting at his low mahogany desk, absolutely vibrating with anticipation. True to the Emperor’s furious edict, the young prince was entirely barefoot. His tiny royal toes wiggled against the cold marble floor, but he didn’t care. He was staring unblinkingly at the sliding doors, waiting for his idol to arrive.

Standing in the corner, the Head Eunuch looked like he was about to faint from sheer stress.

Suddenly, the doors slid open.

Seera Vanguard strolled into the Royal Study. She wasn’t wearing the delicate, flowing robes of a traditional palace tutor. She was wearing her crisp, dark military uniform, complete with heavy, iron-reinforced boots.

"I heard," Heena announced, casually tossing a heavy wooden training sword onto the prince’s desk with a loud THWACK, "that someone in this room wants to learn how to legally assault government officials."

The Ninth Prince gasped. He immediately scrambled out from behind his desk, threw himself onto his bare knees, and bowed so deeply his forehead touched the floor.

"Master!" the ninth prince shouted, his voice cracking with pure devotion. "Please accept me as your disciple! Teach me the Vanguard Flying Boot Technique!"

Heena raised an eyebrow, looking down at the barefoot child. She slowly crossed her arms.

"I cannot teach you the Flying Boot Technique, Your Highness," Heena deadpanned. "You do not have any boots."

The Ninth Prince looked down at his bare feet, his lower lip trembling with absolute devastation. "F-Father confiscated them! He said I am a danger to the civil court! Does this mean I can never be a great Vanguard warrior?!"

Hovering invisibly over the prince’s head, the System frantically flashed a red warning screen. "Host! Do not encourage this! You are going to corrupt the imperial bloodline! Teach him poetry! Teach him chess!"

’Shut up, I am teaching him practical life skills,’ Heena scoffed internally.

Heena crouched down so she was eye-level with the devastated ninth prince. She reached out and patted his small shoulder.

"Do not cry, Prince," Heena said, her voice dropping into the solemn, terrifying tone of a seasoned warlord passing down ancient wisdom. "Your father taking your shoes is simply your first great test. A true Vanguard does not rely on footwear. A shoe is just a tool. Violence... violence is a mindset."

The Head Eunuch let out a quiet, terrified whimper in the corner.

"It is?" the Ninth Prince sniffled, his eyes widening in awe.