Wen Lingrao looked at him and smiled. “Eunuch Feng, you said you were to kill without mercy, didn’t you? Come on, then.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the eighteen black-armored warriors moved.
They were like a gale of black wind, instantly charging into the ranks of the Embroidered Uniform Guards.
Blades flashed, blood splattered, and a chorus of screams erupted.
The guards were usually arrogant and overbearing, but in real combat, they were no match for these black-armored warriors. These warriors struck with ruthless precision; if they aimed for an arm, they severed it; if they aimed for a leg, they took it off.
A guard swung his saber, but a black-armored warrior dodged sideways and struck back with a single blow to the guard’s shoulder. The blade bit deep, slicing all the way to the chest. The man didn’t even have time to scream before he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
Another guard turned to flee, but a warrior pursued him and brought his blade down on his back. The man pitched forward, blood soaking the ground.
The courtyard was soon covered in gore, and the air was thick with the stench of blood.
The guards lay on the ground, wailing. Some had missing limbs, others were slashed repeatedly, clearly beyond saving.
Eunuch Feng stood there, utterly dumbfounded.
He had lived for more than half a century and had seen all sorts of things, but he had never seen anything like this. Eighteen men, appearing out of thin air, had reduced over a dozen elite guards to a broken mess in the blink of an eye.
These weren’t men; they were ghosts!
Chu Qirui knelt on the ground, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Just moments ago, he had been hoping for Wen Lingrao’s death; now, all he wanted was to run. But his legs were so weak he couldn’t even stand. He could only kneel there, watching in horror as the black-armored warriors stepped closer, one by one.
Wen Lingrao remained where she was, never having taken a single step throughout the ordeal.
The time limit for the summoning had not yet passed, and the warriors stood ready, awaiting her orders.
Eunuch Feng finally regained his senses. He looked at Wen Lingrao, his lips trembling: “You… you… you are committing treason!”
Wen Lingrao looked at him and smiled.
“Treason?” She walked slowly toward him and looked down. “Eunuch Feng, you brought the Embroidered Uniform Guards to my estate to kill me—the daughter of a General, the daughter of a Princess, and the cousin of the Emperor—and you are accusing me of treason?”
Eunuch Feng opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Wen Lingrao reached out and lightly patted his face. “Go back and tell your Noble Consort: if she wants to move against me, let her come herself. Sending a mere slave is not enough to get the job done.”
Eunuch Feng turned to flee.
“Eunuch Feng,” Wen Lingrao called out, “in such a hurry to leave?”
Eunuch Feng’s feet were rooted to the spot. He wanted to say something, but he was speechless.
Wen Lingrao looked down at the bright yellow silk scroll he was still clutching and smiled. “You’re still holding on to this?”
Suddenly, she raised her foot and stomped hard on Eunuch Feng’s hand.
“Aaaah!” Eunuch Feng screamed in agony as the scroll fell to the ground.
He collapsed backward, caught by his two junior eunuchs, but his hand remained pinned under Wen Lingrao’s boot, trapped. She pressed down with increasing force.
The eunuch’s screams grew louder. His two attendants were deathly pale, too terrified to run but unable to do anything but hold their superior while watching his hand be crushed into a bloody pulp.
After a moment, Wen Lingrao lifted her foot. She looked down at the hand; it was mangled, countless bones shattered, dripping with blood. It looked excruciating.
“Eunuch Feng,” Wen Lingrao said slowly, “will this hand still be able to hold an Imperial Decree in the future?”
The eunuch was drenched in a cold sweat from the pain, his lips quivering, unable to utter a sound.
Wen Lingrao crouched down, picked up the fallen scroll, and weighed it in her hand. She smiled at him. “I’ll keep this for you. When I see the Emperor later, I’ll return it to him personally.”
Upon hearing this, Eunuch Feng’s pupils constricted. Ignoring his pain, he stared at her in shock. “What do you want to do?”
Wen Lingrao stood up, patted the scroll, and said calmly, “Nothing much. I just want to enter the palace and have an audience with the Emperor.”
She called out to the back: “Someone, come here.”
Several matrons and maids ran out from the house, trembling as they stood before her. Wen Lingrao pointed at Eunuch Feng and his two attendants: “Take them away and guard them well. They are coming with me to the palace.”
The servants looked at each other, not daring to move.
Wen Lingrao glanced at them and smiled. “What, you don’t listen to my orders?”
The servants shivered and quickly stepped forward to drag Eunuch Feng and his men away. As they were being hauled off, Eunuch Feng shouted, “Wen Lingrao, how dare you! This is treason! You…”
His voice faded into the distance until it could no longer be heard.
Wen Lingrao turned and looked at Chu Qirui, who was still kneeling.
Chu Qirui jolted, subconsciously shrinking back. Having long abandoned any dignity as an Heir, he knocked his head against the ground: “Lingrao, Lingrao, I was wrong, please spare me! I won’t ever dare to do it again…”
Wen Lingrao walked up to him and looked down.
“Chu Qirui,” she said, “when Eunuch Feng’s men were about to kill me earlier, were you quite happy inside?”
Chu Qirui froze, his kowtowing motion coming to a halt.
Wen Lingrao smiled. “Don’t bother pretending. I can tell when you’re happy.”
She crouched down to look him in the eye. Observing his terror-stricken face, she whispered: “You wanted me dead, didn’t you? Fine. Let’s go to the palace together. Let the Emperor judge who deserves to live: the Heir, or his cousin.”
Chu Qirui’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He shook his head frantically: “No, no, I won’t go! Lingrao, I won’t go!”
Wen Lingrao ignored him, stood up, and called out: “Bring me a rope.”
A matron quickly ran to fetch a hemp rope. Wen Lingrao took it and tossed it to the family servants: “Tie him up. He’s coming with me.”
The servants hesitated, afraid to act.
Wen Lingrao glared at them: “What, are you afraid of him? Or are you more afraid of me?”
The servants shivered, rushed forward, and pinned Chu Qirui to the ground, tying him up in a frantic scramble. Chu Qirui struggled and screamed, but no one paid him any mind.
Wen Lingrao looked at Chu Qirui, now bound like a dumpling, and nodded in satisfaction.
She ordered a carriage to be prepared. Soon, one pulled up to the floral gate. She had Eunuch Feng and his two attendants stuffed into one carriage, and Chu Qirui thrown into another.
She boarded the first carriage herself and ordered the driver: “Go to the Imperial Palace.”
The carriage lurched forward.
Chu Qirui lay in the back, tied tight, a rag stuffed into his mouth, muffled sobs escaping him, yet no one listened. He peered through the crack in the curtain, watching Wen Lingrao’s carriage in front, filled with both hatred and fear.
This woman was crazy. Truly crazy.
The carriages traveled toward the palace. Sitting inside, Wen Lingrao kept her eyes closed, her mind racing.
What should she say once she saw the Emperor? How could she frame her argument to ensure she held the moral high ground?
She opened her eyes and looked out the window. In the distance, the palace gates were already coming into view.
She suddenly spoke: “Stop the carriage.”