Chapter 650 --650

Chapter 650: Chapter-650

Heena had just flawlessly dismantled the Ministry of Rites, secured her family’s political dominance, and mentally checked out of the Imperial Assembly. She turned on her heel, fully prepared to march back to her estate and terrorize her new thirty-year-old son.

But the civil officials, having just watched their greatest, darkest secret dragged into the harsh light of day, were pushed entirely past the brink of rational thought. A fragile, hyper-stressed Deputy Minister from the back row completely snapped.

"The investigation is not over, you fucking bitch!" the Deputy Minister shrieked, his voice cracking with hysterical, suicidal rage. "Where do you think you are going?!"

Heena paused, casually looking over her shoulder just in time to see the enraged scholar charging directly at her. He had raised his heavy ivory-and-wood court tablet high above his head, fully intending to smash it down onto the Madam’s skull.

Heena didn’t even flinch. With the effortless, terrifying grace of a seasoned warlord, she simply leaned two inches to the left.

The Deputy Minister missed her entirely. The momentum of his desperate swing carried him forward, and he violently face-planted onto the polished marble floor. His wooden tablet smacked against the stone with a pathetic, echoing thwack.

Heena looked down at the groaning scholar, her eye twitching. She let out a long, deeply exhausted sigh.

She raised her hand and snapped her fingers once.

"Kael," Heena stated flatly.

"Right here, Madam," General Kael replied instantly. The massive, heavily scarred general reached behind his armored backplate and, completely defying all known laws of spatial physics, casually pulled out a beautifully painted, oiled-paper umbrella.

Every single person in the Imperial Court—from the trembling scholars to the Emperor himself—was entirely stunned. Why on earth did the military faction bring an umbrella to the morning assembly?!

Heena didn’t explain. She grabbed the umbrella from Kael, walked straight up the golden steps toward the throne, and aggressively shoved it into the trembling hands of the Head Eunuch.

"Please protect the Emperor with it," Heena ordered, her tone completely deadpan.

"Uh... y-yes, Madam?" the Head Eunuch stammered, staring at the seemingly delicate paper umbrella in profound confusion. He had absolutely no idea what she meant. Was the roof leaking? Was it going to rain inside the supreme throne room?

Heena didn’t wait for his brain to catch up. She spun around, her sociopathic patience having officially reached its absolute limit.

In one swift, fluid motion, Heena reached down and yanked off her heavy, thick-soled military boot. She gripped it by the heel, testing the weight, and marched directly toward the groaning Deputy Minister who was currently trying to scrape his bruised face off the floor.

Before the man could even look up, Heena swung her arm back and violently slapped him across the face with the sole of her shoe.

SMACK!

"You fucking moron!" Heena roared, her voice echoing like a thunderclap as she hit him again. Smack! "Do you think I am some delicate, sheltered noble lady sitting around in a pavilion writing poetry all day?! How dare you raise a weapon at me!"

Smack! Smack!

The civil officials stood frozen in absolute, unadulterated horror. The terrifying Madam was physically beating a high-ranking government official with her footwear in the middle of the Supreme Hall of Harmony!

"Barbarian!" the Deputy Minister wailed, throwing his arms up to shield his face from the relentless flurry of shoe-slaps. "Help! Murder! She is killing me with a boot!"

That single, pathetic cry for help broke the fragile dam of restraint. The scholars, already humiliated, terrified, and pushed to the absolute edge of their sanity, let out a collective roar of desperate indignation.

"Defend the dignity of the civil court!" an elderly Censor shouted, his voice shaking as he frantically waved his wooden tablet in the air. "Subdue the military thugs! Protect the Minister!"

And just like that, the most prestigious political arena in the world devolved into an absolute, unhinged tavern brawl.

The scholars, possessing zero physical combat skills but fueled by the sheer, unbridled power of academic rage, ripped off their tall official hats and began throwing them like completely ineffective projectiles. They charged forward in a disorganized mob, frantically swinging their wooden court planks like oversized spatulas.

On the other side of the hall, the generals absolutely lit up with pure, unfiltered joy.

It was strictly forbidden by imperial decree to bring drawn swords into the Emperor’s presence. Doing so was an automatic act of high treason punishable by execution. But nobody had ever explicitly written a law about throwing hands in the morning court!

"Form a defensive perimeter!" the old Marquis bellowed, a massive, feral grin spreading across his scarred face. "Show these nerds how the military handles a debate!"

The generals eagerly threw themselves into the fray. Since they couldn’t use blades, they instantly improvised. The heavy thud of military boots being yanked off echoed across the hall. But boots weren’t enough.

"Belts off, boys!" Kael roared joyfully, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight.

In perfect synchronization, the military commanders unbuckled their thick, heavy leather belts. These were not the delicate, embroidered silk sashes of the civil court. These were reinforced military-grade leather straps equipped with massive, solid brass and iron buckles.

The terrifying sound of snapping leather filled the air.

CRACK! WHACK! CLANG!

The scholars didn’t stand a chance. The fight was a complete, hilarious massacre.

A frail historian tried to bravely quote Confucius while swinging his wooden tablet at a scarred general. The general merely sidestepped, wrapped his thick leather belt around the historian’s ankles, and yanked. The historian went flying face-first into a priceless decorative Ming vase.

Another elderly minister desperately tried to throw his silk shoe at the old Marquis. The Marquis caught the shoe mid-air, threw his head back in a booming laugh, and chucked his own solid-iron military boot directly at the minister’s chest, sending the old man skidding backward across the polished marble like a curling stone.

In the center of the chaos, Heena stood with one shoe on and one shoe off, aggressively swatting away incoming wooden planks with her boot like she was playing a highly violent game of tennis.

"Look at them," Heena scoffed, effortlessly dodging a flying silk hat. "They are fighting like complete idiots. They don’t even know how to properly throw a punch!"

The Prime Minister, Gu Chen, was the only civil official surviving the onslaught. Using his elegant, flowing footwork, he was desperately weaving through the battlefield, dodging flying boots, swinging belts, and screaming scholars, aggressively trying to ensure not a single speck of blood, sweat, or dirt landed on his pristine white robes. He looked like he was performing a delicate waltz in the middle of a warzone.

Sitting high up on the raised golden throne, the Emperor watched the utter destruction of his majestic morning assembly with completely dead, hollow eyes.

The Grand Hall of Supreme Harmony echoed with the sounds of screaming nerds, laughing warlords, the sharp clang of metal belt buckles meeting skulls, and the rhythmic, terrifying smack of Heena’s shoe.

Suddenly, a stray projectile—a massive, iron-reinforced military boot thrown with way too much enthusiasm by General Kael—sailed straight past the fighting mob. It arced through the air, completely bypassing the imperial guards, and flew directly toward the Emperor’s face.