Return of Black Lotus system:Taming Cheating Male Leads

Chapter 467: Chapter-467

"He will learn to endure," Heena said smoothly, leaning back into the velvet cushions. "If he is to survive the vipers in that palace, he needs to know how to bite back. I will make sure his teeth are sharp."

Suddenly, a sharp, metallic ’[Ding!]’ echoed in the private void of her mind.

The System’s interface materialized, its digital screen glowing with a chaotic, shifting red light.

’[Host...]’ the System’s voice sounded genuinely rattled. ’[I have finished analyzing the temporal fluctuations surrounding the Imperial Palace. The Seventh Prince’s life signal has completely terminated. He is officially dead in this timeline.]’

Heena kept her face perfectly composed for her grandparents, but internally, she let out a cold, mental hum. ’’And? Did the regression trigger?’’

Hearing that, the System’s digital avatar flickered in her mind, taking on the form of a confused little lion cub. ’[Host... I don’t know how to explain this. I cannot measure any regression taking place. I didn’t see a single temporal fluctuation in his life force upon death. His system just... shut down.]’

Heena’s mind instantly went dead silent.

Something was wrong. A massive, glaring piece of the puzzle was missing. She stared blankly out the carriage window into the passing darkness, her internal voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

’’System... how exactly did you locate the cerebral reversal regression in the first place?’’

The System tilted its virtual head. ’[I wasn’t the one who definitively pointed him out, Host. You deduced it.]’

’’But you confirmed it,’’ Heena fired back mentally, her thoughts sharpening into daggers. ’’You specifically said you saw the regression point centered on him.’’

’[Oh! Well, yes, because of the fluctuation around him,]’ the System replied innocently.

’’Fluctuation? What fluctuation?’’

The System tilted its head even further to the other side. ’[Host, why are you asking such a question? The temporal light fluctuation, of course. The aura surrounding his fate-line. It looked heavily tampered with, like it had been played with and rewound multiple times.]’

Heena froze. Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second.

’’System,’’ she commanded, her mental voice terrifyingly calm. ’’Let me ask you one thing very clearly. Did you just assume he was the regressor simply because he was the cause of the fluctuation?’’

’[Yes, Host,]’ the System replied. ’[There is a heavy temporal aura surrounding him.]’

Her mind started racing at breakneck speed. ’An aura.’ Just because an aura surrounds a person doesn’t mean they are the one generating it. Sometimes, a truly powerful entity casts their aura onto someone else.

Like a target. Or a decoy.

Suddenly, a cascade of plot holes that had been quietly bothering her came violently crashing to the forefront of her mind. None of it made sense.

If the Seventh Prince was truly a seasoned, time-looping mastermind who wanted to annihilate the Marcuset family:

1. ’’The Ambush:’’ How the hell did he not foresee her attacking the iron conduit? A regressor who had lived through multiple lifetimes would know the possibilities and variables of the world.

2. ’’The Exposure:’’ Even if this was his first or second loop, why would he personally expose himself by going to the iron conduit alone?

3. ’’The Insignia:’’ Why would an assassin trying to covertly destroy the empire’s most powerful military family deliberately wear the Imperial Family insignia? It was essentially screaming his identity to any knight who managed to survive the ambush. It was far too obvious.

4. ’’The Banquet:’’ And the biggest, most glaring flaw of all... why was it so laughably, absurdly easy for Heena to infiltrate the royal prep room and swap the poison?

The thoughts violently slammed to a halt. All the noise in her head vanished.

The Seventh Prince wasn’t the regressor. He was the scapegoat. The ’real’ player had set him up to take the fall, knowing Heena would counter-attack and kill him in the process.

Sitting in the dim carriage, Heena closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the plush velvet cushions, and suddenly burst into genuine, unrestrained laughter.

The sound was bright, melodic, and entirely out of place after witnessing a brutal royal assassination.

The old Marquis and the grandmother both stopped what they were doing and stared at her in utter bewilderment.

"Child?" the grandfather asked, his thick eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Are you alright?"

Heena shook her head, still chuckling as she brought a fist up to elegantly cover her mouth. "No, Grandpa. I’m just fine. More than fine, actually."

She turned to look back out the window, resting her cheek against her knuckles. A slow, brilliant smile spread across her face, and her phoenix eyes practically glowed in the dark, filled with a raw, dangerous amazement.

Someone in this capital had just used her as a blade to cleanly assassinate a royal prince, completely masking their own temporal tampering by painting a target on the boy’s back. The city was playing a massive, brilliant game of chess with her, and she had just walked right into their opening gambit.

She hadn’t felt this thrilled—this genuinely ’interested’—in a very, very long time.

.

.

.

The heavy carriage finally rolled to a halt as it passed through the towering, black-iron gates of the Marcuset estate.

The grandfather stepped out first, offering a massive, calloused hand to help his wife and granddaughter descend into the crisp night air. Despite her sudden outburst of laughter in the carriage, the old Marquis didn’t press the issue. He merely patted Heena heavily on the shoulder.

"Get some rest, Seera," he rumbled, his eyes gleaming with pride under the estate’s torchlight. "Tomorrow, the imperial edict appointing you as Royal Tutor will arrive. The capital is going to be in absolute chaos over the Seventh Prince’s death, but with the Empress’s backing, no one will dare look our way. Sleep well. You’ve earned it."

"Goodnight, Grandpa. Goodnight, Grandma," Heena replied, offering a flawless, respectful bow before turning toward her private courtyard.

Heena slipped away from the main halls, silently navigating the winding stone paths of the back garden to avoid the patrolling servants. When she finally reached the secluded safety of her own courtyard, she paused.

The night air was cold, and the silver moon hung beautifully in the starless sky, casting long, pale shadows across the manicured grass.

She stood there for a moment, bathed in the moonlight. She gently rubbed the back of her neck, the adrenaline of the banquet finally fading. Then, she closed her eyes, slowly spread her arms, and let herself fall backwards.

She didn’t brace for impact. She hit the ground ’hard’.

The System, hovering right beside her, let out a digital yelp as it was virtually pushed aside by her fall. The brutal thud of her skull and shoulders slamming into the packed earth knocked the wind completely out of her lungs. But it was exactly what she needed. The sharp, blinding jolt of physical pain shattered the chaotic noise in her head, anchoring her directly to reality.

She rolled onto her side, her fingers blindly grabbing handfuls of grass and dirt. A single, scalding tear slipped from her closed eyes, cutting through the dust on her cheek.

She was angry. She was so, ’so’ intensely angry.

’Damn it!’