The Villains Must Win

"Who hurt her?"

The maids shivered under his gaze, too frightened to speak. The oppressive weight of his presence was suffocating.

Xue Li, however, dared to break the silence. Lifting her head slightly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, she whispered, "Your Majesty . . . please forgive the disturbance. Xue Li . . . has caused trouble she didn't intend. Please punish Xue Li . . ."

Her soft, trembling voice reached Han Feng, and for a moment, he said nothing, his dark amber eyes unreadable.

Then, without a word, he stepped forward, his boots echoing ominously as he stopped directly in front of her.

"Stand," he ordered.

Xue Li hesitated, her hands trembling as she tried to push herself up. But her movements were slow, hesitant, as though the world bore down on her small frame.

Han Feng's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before shifting to the maids, his expression hardening.

"Who dared lay a hand on her?" he repeated.

The room was silent, the weight of his question hanging heavily in the air.

"The Emperor asked you a question," Xin Yu repeated, his sharp gaze slicing through the suffocating silence.

"Xue Li." Han Feng's voice was calm, but beneath the composure lay an edge that sent shivers down spines.

Xue Li flinched at the sound of her name, her frail form trembling as though his words might crush her.

She appeared as delicate as a withered leaf, one touch away from falling to the ground. The tears brimming in her eyes made her seem even smaller, like a frightened rabbit caught in the hunter's glare.

Han Feng's expression softened, a subtle shift that was almost imperceptible. His tone gentled, though it carried the same authority. "Who did this to you?"

Xue Li's gaze, glassy with unshed tears, lifted to meet Han Feng's, and it was a silent plea—one that begged him not to make her speak.

Xue Li's lips trembled, and the sheer vulnerability in her eyes was enough to stir something deep within Han Feng.

"If you don't name them," Han Feng said, his voice steely once more, "then all of them will be punished."

The air in the hall grew heavy with tension. The other maids erupted in protests, their voices overlapping in a desperate cacophony.

"Silence!" Han Feng's single word sliced through the commotion like a sharpened blade, and in its wake, only the sound of their fearful breaths remained. His gaze, as cold and unyielding as winter frost, swept over the trembling servants. "This emperor personally appointed Xue Li to serve by my side, yet you dare to raise your hands against her because you disapprove of my decree?" His voice grew colder, each word laced with imperial authority. "Who are you to question the will of your sovereign?"

The maids paled visibly, their courage evaporating under his withering gaze. The realization of their mistake hit them all at once, and they clamped their mouths shut, understanding that any further excuses would only worsen their fate.

"Guards," Han Feng commanded without raising his voice, "take them all and give each fifty lashes."

Gasps of horror filled the corridor, followed by wails of protest. The maids fell to their knees, their pleas for mercy echoing off the marble walls.

"Y-your Majesty, please!" one of them sobbed, desperation turning her voice shrill. Her wide eyes darted toward Xue Li, who was standing frozen. "Xue Li! You know I wasn't the one who slapped you! Please, save me!"

But when the frantic maid reached for Xue Li's hand, Xue Li recoiled in fear, taking a stumbling step backward as though even the contact was unbearable.

Han Feng's expression darkened. With one swift motion, he pushed the offending maid away from Xue Li. "Get her out of my sight," he ordered coldly. "And double her punishment to one hundred lashes."

The guards wasted no time dragging the struggling maids away, their cries of anguish fading into the distance.

Xue Li remained rooted to the spot, her body trembling. Her pale face was streaked with the faintest remnants of tears, and her shoulders quaked as though she might collapse under the weight of the moment.

Han Feng's sharp eyes softened again as he took in her small, frail frame. He hadn't noticed it before, but up close, she seemed so . . . fragile.

For someone who had just withstood such an ordeal, she looked ready to crumble like porcelain.

Such a weak little thing, he mused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Yet that same weakness made him feel an inexplicable need to shield her.

"Come, Xue Li," Han Feng said, his voice lower now, almost soothing.

Before Xue Li could find her voice to protest, Han Feng's hand had already taken hers, leading her away. She stumbled slightly, her steps unsteady, but he didn't let go.

Beneath the clumsiness and frail front, however, lay a soul that was cunning than a devil.

At the side, Xin Yu watched the exchange with a raised brow, baffled by the Emperor's uncharacteristic behavior.

Han Feng had never treated a maid with such . . . indulgence.

Still, Xin Yu shrugged, chalking it up to his master's whims. Perhaps she was just a fleeting amusement like the rest.

Xue Li was unlike the proud, self-assured noblewomen who often vied for the Emperor's attention, nor did she fit the mold of those sultry, manipulative beauties sent by opportunists hoping to sway his favor. She was a quiet anomaly in the dazzling, cutthroat world of the imperial palace.

Timid and fragile, Xue Li seemed out of place in the grand hall even if she was a maid. Her every movement carried the air of someone walking on thin ice, and it felt as though the slightest breeze could knock her over.

When the Emperor's voice rose even a fraction, her delicate frame flinched as though struck. Her gaze would lower instantly, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she clasped them in front of her.

When the Emperor ordered the maids to be whipped, Xue Li paled so visibly that it seemed she might collapse then and there. Her lips quivered as though she wanted to plead for mercy but lacked the courage to speak.

Xin Yu observed, a mixture of curiosity and bemusement. He had seen women of every temperament try to ensnare the Emperor—confident, daring, alluring—but never one so openly terrified.

He allowed himself a faint smirk. How long will His Majesty's fascination with this frail creature last?

She was like a flickering candle in a storm, her light delicate and uncertain. Yet, somehow, it had caught the attention of the most powerful man in the realm.

Was it her vulnerability that intrigued Han Feng, her stark contrast to the brazen confidence of others? Or was it simply the novelty of her meekness in a world where boldness ruled?

Xin Yu sighed and adjusted his robes, shaking his head as he walked away. It wasn't his place to question the Emperor's whims. His Majesty was a man of endless appetites and shifting interests. As long as Xue Li kept him entertained, the palace would remain calm.

The Emperor's boredom was dangerous. It had sparked wars over trivial slights, sent entire clans to ruin for his momentary amusement.

Xue Li, would at least, keep him grounded . . . for now.