Chapter 443: Chapter-443
She stopped at the bottom of the landing, looking directly into the System’s glowing interface.
"So, I will tell you this one word of advice, System: never judge a person because of their work, or because of the mud they were born into. Understood?"
The System shivered under her intense gaze, its screen flashing a submissive green. ’[I... I understand, Host. Of course. I won’t think that way again.]’
Heena let out a soft, weary sigh, the tension leaving her shoulders as she shook her head with a faint smirk. "Good. You’re still a new, naive system, so I’m still teaching you how the real world works. Just don’t be like those hypocritical aristocrats. Don’t be like the bastards who use these people for their own pleasure behind closed doors, and then walk into the light and call them dirty."
She turned toward the small underground fort ahead, where a dark transport vehicle was waiting.
"Don’t be like the people who claim to love the lotus blossom, yet look with utter hatred and disgust at the very mud where it is born."
Heena’s smooth smile faltered, twitching into a look of absolute bewilderment as she stared into the shadows of the underground fort. Expecting some sort of mechanical transport car ( even through the master said horse but she did not believe it) , she was instead greeted by the sight of a magnificent, massive stallion.
"What the actual heck...?" she muttered under her breath.
The horse was stunning—completely, flawlessly jet-black, with a coat that gleamed like polished obsidian. However, given that the subterranean tunnel was already pitch-black and only dimly lit by the flickering orange glow of the kerosene torches, trying to spot a pitch-black horse in the dark was a recipe for a minor heart attack. It wasn’t exactly a practical choice, but there was no denying its majestic presence.
Stepping forward cautiously, Heena approached the beast. The stallion seemed surprisingly docile, letting out a soft huff as she reached out and gently patted its powerful jaw. The horse leaned into her touch, affectionately nuzzling its head against her hand.
As it did, something caught her eye—a thick leather collar fastened around the animal’s neck. ’Strange,’ she thought, ’people usually use bridles and halters, not a collar.’
Curious, she squinted through the dim firelight to read the small, metallic plate engraved on the leather. When her eyes finally focused on the letters, she froze. She stared at it in utter, flat disbelief.
Spelled out in clear, bold letters was: ’’C-A-R-T’’.
’Cart.’
Heena literally slapped her palm against her forehead, letting out a groan. "A Cart? You have a legendary, majestic warhorse, and you name it ’Cart’? God, what is wrong with that man’s brain?"
Despite the ridiculous name, time was ticking. Heena deftly swung herself up onto the leather saddle, grabbing the reins. The System nervously hovered right above the horse’s mane, trembling. ’[H-Host! Are we sure about this? I am a digital interface, I am not programmed to handle equestrian speeds!]’
"Hold on tight, then," Heena smirked.
With a slight nudge of her heels, the stallion started forward at a smooth walk. But within a split second, the horse caught the cue, bunched its powerful muscles, and exploded into a full, thundering gallop down the endless stone highway.
As the sudden burst of speed kicked in, a wild, genuine smile slowly spread across Heena’s face. The System was scared stiff, floating along wildly and desperately trying to keep pace, terrified it would get left behind in the dark tunnel.
But Heena didn’t care. She leaned forward, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The sheer velocity tore her hair from its neat constraints, sending the long, dark strands flying wildly into the air behind her.
It made her incredibly happy. Only girls with long hair truly understood the daily struggle—the sheer, unadulterated pain of having your own hair whipped into your face, blinding you, or sticking to your skin in the sweltering heat. And in this ancient era, with absolutely no air conditioners, no modern cooling systems, and not even a decent electric fan, she had been entirely at the mercy of the suffocating, hot weather.
But right now? With the cool, subterranean wind rushing past at a breakneck pace, forcing her hair back and flushing her cheeks, it felt spectacular. Not for any grand, poetic reason—it just felt damn good to breathe.
The stallion ran and ran, eating up the distance. The tunnel was dark, offering only sparse, flickering light, but the horse didn’t hesitate for a single second. It ran with absolute, flawless confidence, its hooves beating a rhythmic, powerful drum against the ancient stone floor as they raced to intercept the convoy.
Heena noticed that the System, who was desperately trying to keep up like a floating digital horse, was starting to lag behind, its interface huffing and flickering as its pace slowed down. Reaching out with a swift, practiced movement, she grabbed the glowing blue screen with her right hand and pulled it right up into her ship. She securely tucked the AI companion into the inner folds of her riding robes and let out a soft sigh.
The System took a massive, metaphorical deep breath, genuinely trembling from the near-death experience. ’[H-Host... I literally thought you were going to lose me back there! My entire core processor almost melted from the speed!]’
As Cart galloped on, Heena noticed that despite the dim, sparse lighting, the subterranean highway was flawlessly maintained. There was no debris, no fallen rocks—the path was clearly swept and cleaned on a regular basis.
The stallion ran like a machine for nearly eight hours straight. Heena had originally calculated that it would take at least twelve hours to reach her destination, but Cart’s sheer endurance cut the journey down significantly. However, eight continuous hours on a galloping warhorse is an absolute nightmare. Any girl who has ever ridden a horse knows it is an unmatched, agonizing pain in the ass. It completely wrecks your center of balance.
By the time Cart finally began to slow to a halt, Heena’s lower back was screaming, her hips were locked, and her ass was in pure agony. When she swung her leg over the saddle and slid down to test her footing, her legs immediately started trembling. She literally couldn’t feel her thighs, and her waist felt like solid concrete.
She was now standing just outside the rear entrance of the Iron Convoy’s encampment. The massive gates loomed ahead, majestic and intimidating. Stationed here was one of the Marquis family’s elite life battalions—a force of about 300 highly trained soldiers.
In the grand scheme of the novel, if anyone wanted to break or dismantle the Marquis family, they had to deal with this specific battalion first. These soldiers were fanatically loyal; they followed only the Marquis family and his direct bloodline. They didn’t give a single damn about the Emperor or the Imperial edicts. Why? Because almost every single one of them was an orphan or an abandoned street child adopted by Heena’s grandfather. He had raised them, fed them, trained them, and fought alongside them on the brutal frontlines. Their loyalty was so absolute that if the Marquis asked for their heads, they would cut them off themselves without blinking. They were the single most dangerous factor in the entire Empire, which was exactly why the Emperor deeply feared them.
Comments