Return of Black Lotus system:Taming Cheating Male Leads

Chapter 466: Chapter-466

The grandfather nodded grimly. "The Emperor completely broke down over it. At his lowest, he had about seven concubines forced into his harem. And the darkest irony? A few of the times he was drugged and dragged to a concubine’s chambers... the drug was slipped into his cup by the Empress herself, for the sake of the empire’s survival."

Heena sat in stunned silence. The sheer psychological horror of that dynamic was staggering.

"Eventually, the Empress did get pregnant," the Marquis continued. "Her first child was a daughter, and the Emperor adored that little girl with his entire life. But the concubines grew jealous. They tried to assassinate the baby. To save his daughter, the Emperor snapped and completely butchered two of the highest-ranking concubines. Their families immediately rebelled, and the capital ran red with blood for months."

The old general looked at Heena, his weathered face shadowed by the carriage lights.

"Being the father of a nation means you cannot always be a father to your blood. The Emperor knows exactly how dark that throne is. He knows the children of the concubines will inevitably scheme, poison, and kill each other for power. So, he simply doesn’t give a damn about them. He lets the concubines’ children act as bait, fighting and killing each other in the mud, while he quietly and ruthlessly protects the only four children he actually considers his own."

The grandmother slowly turned the page of her book, not even looking up as she spoke. Her voice was calm, yet it carried the terrifying, absolute weight of someone who had survived decades of palace bloodshed.

"Child, simply bringing a life into this world does not guarantee a parent will love it forever."

Heena raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her modern sensibilities briefly clashing with the brutal reality of this world. "Grandmother, I have to ask. If you bring a child into the world, isn’t it your fundamental responsibility to take care of them? I’m not saying you have to move heaven and earth for them until the day they die, but isn’t it a basic, non-negotiable duty to at least raise them?"

The grandmother finally looked up, her dark eyes meeting Heena’s. "Under normal circumstances? Of course it is the duty of a parent. But what if the father was never asked? What if he was forced, drugged, and cornered into siring them for the sake of political survival?"

She closed her book with a soft, definitive ’thud’.

"The Emperor is exactly like this. And it is not that he blindly hates all the children born to the concubines. He isn’t a mindless monster. Look at the Eighth and Tenth Princes—they wanted no part in the succession war. They wanted to be scholars. So, the Emperor allowed it. He provided them with the best tutors, the finest libraries, and a life of absolute peace. But providing for them does not mean he will ever allow ’anyone’ from that harem to threaten his true family."

The carriage swayed slightly, the dim mana-light casting long shadows across the grandmother’s elegant, unreadable face.

"When those ambitious women were brought into the inner palace, they didn’t just sit quietly and sew. Every single one of them wanted the Empress’s crown. They still want it today. Only the Emperor truly knows how many assassination attempts have been launched against his wife."

The grandmother’s voice dropped, carrying a chilling note of ancient grief.

"Before their first daughter was born, the Empress was pregnant once before. The Emperor... he was the one who found her. He had to watch the love of his life collapse, bleeding out onto the cold stone floor, losing their very first child right in front of his eyes. And the worst part? The imperial court was a nest of vipers, and they covered their tracks perfectly. He could never find the concrete evidence needed to execute the culprit."

Heena’s breath hitched slightly. The pieces of the Emperor’s cold, calculating demeanor on the throne suddenly clicked into place. ’’No wonder he looked at the dying Seventh Prince with such dead eyes,’’ she realized. ’’To him, the concubines’ children aren’t family. They are the offspring of the women who murdered his first unborn child.’’

"To the Emperor, his true children and his wife matter above all else," the grandmother continued smoothly. "To save the woman he loves, there is no depth he will not sink to. In fact, the Empress acts as his only chain, keeping him tethered to his sanity. If you left it entirely up to the Emperor..."

The grandmother offered a thin, cold smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "...he would have slaughtered every single woman in that harem, and burned their noble families to ash, long before any of them even dared to utter the Empress’s name."

The carriage fell into a heavy, contemplative silence, save for the rhythmic clattering of the wheels against the cobblestones.

Heena rested her chin on her hand, gazing out the window at the passing shadows of the capital. The dark, bloody lore of the imperial family had completely shifted her perspective. The Emperor wasn’t just a negligent father or a cruel tyrant; he was a desperate, ruthless survivor fiercely guarding the only things he loved in a palace built on corpses.

And tonight, the Empress had deliberately pulled Heena right into the absolute center of that protective circle.

"Which brings us to your new appointment," the grandmother said, her voice slicing cleanly through the quiet. She set her book down completely now, folding her hands in her lap. Her sharp eyes locked onto Heena. "A Royal Tutor to the Ninth Prince."

The old Marquis immediately slapped his knee, a booming laugh echoing in the confined space. "Hahaha! A Marcuset teaching imperial etiquette and literature! We’ll need to forge you a ruler made of solid steel, Seera! If that little pastry-stuffed prince doesn’t memorize his military tactics, you just smack him right on the head!"

"Quiet, you old bear," the grandmother snapped, though her eyes held a glimmer of strategic amusement. She turned her focus entirely back to her granddaughter. "Seera, you must understand exactly what the Empress did tonight. She did not hand you that position simply because she enjoyed your drum performance."

Heena met her grandmother’s gaze, her own phoenix eyes darkening with understanding. "She saw a weapon."

"Exactly," the grandmother nodded approvingly, a cold, proud smile touching her lips. "The Ninth Prince is thirteen. He is young, slightly spoiled, and terribly naive to the true horrors of the succession war. Until now, the Empress and the Emperor have shielded him completely. But as he grows older, the concubines and the older princes will inevitably target him."

The grandmother leaned forward, the dim mana-light casting a severe shadow across her beautiful features. "The Empress watched you stand in the center of that hall, surrounded by warlords, and openly defy the Second Princess without a shred of fear. She saw you wield heavy silk like a battlefield whip. She didn’t appoint you to teach him poetry, Seera. She bound the Marcuset vanguard directly to her youngest son. She wants you to be his shield... and his executioner."

Heena’s lips curved into a slow, razor-sharp smirk. The sheer political weight of it was intoxicating. "A shield that strikes first, then. I can work with that. The little prince seemed... pliable enough."

"Just don’t break him on the first day," the grandfather chuckled, crossing his massive arms. "The Emperor might actually object if you make the boy cry too much."