Chapter 712 --712

Chapter 712: Chapter-712

"Anyway, here," Heena said, dismissing the cosmic artifact with a wave of her hand. "Put it in a containment glass. No, actually, you know what? Leave it under the jurisdiction of the Transmigration Bureau. Hand it over to upper management when we disconnect. They love hoarding things like this, and they’ll put it to better use."

"Understood, Host," the System said solemnly. A small, digital glass vial materialized in the air, cleanly absorbing the red orb before vanishing into the System’s inventory.

With the anomaly secured and the weight of the mission finally lifted, Heena leaned her head back against the carriage wall. The dull throb at her temple spiked, a sharp, warning needle of pain breaking through the Vitality Booster’s fading shield. Time was running out.

She turned her head toward the front wooden partition.

"Driver," Heena commanded, her voice steady, though her hands were beginning to tremble in the dark. "Take us back to the Vanguard Palace. Maximum speed. Do not stop for anything."

Outside, on the driver’s bench, the Vanguard footman violently flinched, his hands jerking on the leather reins.

The Vanguard Palace was not the bustling Marquisate estate where Heena and Samuel resided. It was an independent, sacred monolith carved into the very foundation of the capital. It belonged to no faction, no emperor, and no ordinary noble. It was a forbidden sanctuary where only a "Chosen Vanguard" was permitted to set foot.

In the entire, bloody history of the Great Dynasty, there had only ever been five Chosen Vanguards. The title was inherited not just by blood, but by an absolute, terrifying merit that only appeared once in a generation. Her grandfather, the Old Master, was the current holder. But as his direct, undisputed heir, Heena carried his seal.

The carriage lurched forward, pivoting away from the aristocratic districts. It wasn’t a long journey. The Vanguard Palace sat in the deepest, most heavily fortified sector of the capital, a mere four-minute ride from the Imperial Prison.

Heena leaned over and pushed the heavy velvet curtain aside, letting the cool, humid night breeze wash over her flushed face. It felt incredibly grounding. The god-like fire of the Vitality Booster was burning down to its absolute dregs, leaving a hollow, echoing chill in her chest. The dull throb in her temple was growing sharper by the minute.

But as she looked out at the passing shadows of the capital, she felt a profound, untouchable peace. She was going to leave this world soon. She didn’t have to spend the rest of her life navigating these suffocating, blood-soaked streets. Her work was done.

Exactly four minutes later, the carriage wheels ground to a halt against perfectly fitted cobblestones.

"We have arrived, Madam," the driver whispered through the partition, his voice trembling with instinctual awe.

Heena pushed the carriage door open and stepped out into the night.

When her grandfather had spoken of this place, he had always called it a palace, and looking up at it now, Heena understood why. It was not as sprawling or decadently gilded as the Emperor’s home, but its sheer, vertical scale was breathtaking. It was a fortress of dark stone and ancient, heavy timber, built centuries ago by the very first Vanguard—a True General Madam who had forged the empire’s borders in blood and iron. It loomed in the dark like a sleeping titan.

There were no imperial guards here. Instead, standing at the base of the towering iron gates were the Shadow Knights.

They did not look like normal soldiers. They were clad in heavy, pitch-black armor that seemed to absorb the moonlight, their faces entirely concealed behind featureless iron visors. They did not answer to the Emperor. They did not follow nobles around to protect them. Their sole, eternal purpose was to guard this specific patch of earth.

As Heena approached, the Shadow Knights uncrossed their massive halberds, moving to block her path in complete, terrifying silence.

Heena didn’t speak. She reached into her robes, pulled out the heavy bronze token her grandfather had given her, and held it up to the moonlight.

The Shadow Knights looked at the crest. In perfect, mechanical unison, they stepped back and slammed the butts of their halberds against the stone ground. The heavy iron gates slowly groaned open, unlocking the forbidden sanctum.

Heena stepped across the threshold, and the gates clicked shut behind her, instantly cutting off the ambient noise of the capital.

The silence inside was not just quiet; it was deafening. It was a heavy, ancient stillness that pressed against her eardrums, a terrifying, absolute isolation that made the violent thumping of her own failing heart sound like a war drum.

Before her lay a beautifully laid footpath, constructed from smooth, dark river stones that seemed to glow faintly under the moonlight. The path wound its way through a sprawling, unkempt garden of ancient, twisted pine trees and still, black reflection pools.

Heena sheathed her grandfather’s token and began to walk. The crisp clack of her silk slippers against the polished stone was the only sound in the world, carrying her deeper into the shadows as the final minutes of her life began to bleed away.

The beauty of the Vanguard Palace was fundamentally different from the decadent, suffocating opulence of the Imperial Pavilion Heena had just left behind.

There was no gold leaf here. There were no bright crimson lanterns, no delicate porcelain vases, and no painted constellations on the ceilings. Instead, the palace was a breathtaking masterpiece forged from raw obsidian, ancient ironwood, and pale, unpolished granite. It possessed a stark, lethal elegance—a beauty born not of wealth, but of absolute, unyielding discipline.

As Heena followed the winding footpath, the moonlight spilled over the massive, sweeping roofs, reflecting off the dark, still waters of the courtyard ponds. The architecture was sharp and martial, with wide, open corridors designed for the rapid movement of soldiers rather than the slow, trailing steps of aristocratic women in heavy silk. Silver moonflowers bloomed quietly in the rock gardens, their pale petals glowing like phantom fire against the dark stone.

But the most striking feature of the Vanguard Palace was the absolute, profound isolation.

There were no maids in pale green robes carrying silver trays of plum wine. There were no eunuchs scurrying through the corridors with messages, no cooks tending to roaring hearths, and no gardeners pruning the ancient pines. There was not a single servant inside the massive compound.

The only other living souls in the palace were the Shadow Knights.

They stood at every post. At the apex of every curved stone bridge, at the threshold of every dark pavilion, and in the deep shadows of every archway, a heavily armored knight remained perfectly, terrifyingly still. They did not patrol. They did not speak. They did not even turn their heads as Heena walked past them. Clad in their light-absorbing black iron, they looked less like human guards and more like ancient statues, silent guardians bound to the very foundations of the earth.

This was a place entirely stripped of human warmth, political flattery, and courtly deceit. It was a monument to the sword, built by the first Vanguard Madam to serve as a quiet, untouchable sanctuary for the few who carried the weight of the empire on their shoulders.