"Well, Prime Minister?" the Emperor asked, his voice laced with heavy, malicious amusement. "Does the Southern Scholar live up to his ancient reputation? Does his pen match the Vanguard's sword?"
The Prime Minister was forced to step forward. He bowed his head so low that no one could see the absolute, murderous hatred burning in his eyes. His political ambush had backfired so catastrophically that it had elevated Samuel to the status of a literary god right in front of the throne.
"It is... a masterpiece, Your Majesty," the Prime Minister forced the words through gritted teeth, tasting blood in his mouth. "Young Master Samuel's brilliance is... truly unmatched."
"Indeed it is!" the Emperor declared. He waved his hand toward the head eunuch. "Reward the Top Scholar! Bring him a ceremonial jade brush from the royal treasury, and a thousand taels of silver! The Vanguard has truly claimed the entire night!"
