Lord of the Truth

** Poof. **

Robin let his body fall to the ground, not in surrender but in contemplation. He slumped where he stood, lowering himself until he sat cross-legged at the base of the towering palm tree.

With a weary groan, he leaned back against its bark and rested his hands atop his raised knees.

Then, he simply… breathed.

A long, tired breath that escaped his lungs like smoke from an old battlefield.

Since this conversation with the old man had begun, it felt like his entire understanding of the world had shifted. He had stepped — no, been dragged — into a domain of knowledge that felt far beyond him.

He'd uncovered truths... secrets so old and vast they echoed like legends.

And yet, the strange irony was... he still knew nothing.

Nothing he could use. Nothing that gave him an edge, a direction, or even a sliver of clarity.

Just the overwhelming weight of the unknown pressing down on his shoulders.

Time passed in silence.

Finally, after what felt like a very long time, Robin raised his head and spoke again — this time with calm but cutting honesty.

"And what are you, exactly… old man?"

His voice was low, but sharp as steel.

"You clearly don't intend to kill me because I'm one of the candidates. If that were your goal, I'd be dead already. So tell me…

Are you someone who wants to ally with me?

Or someone who's planning to use me?"

The blind old man didn't flinch. Instead, he gently shook his head, as though speaking to a child too eager to understand.

"Neither," he said softly, his tone carrying a kind of eternal sadness.

"As I told you before… I only want to save you.

To pull you away from the damned fate that awaits all of that being's candidates.

Whether you fail like those before you and die in the attempt… or succeed and awaken the true mission — your path is one of torment.

You'll face trials that no soul should endure.

And if you have loved ones — followers, friends, family — know this: they are fated to fall, one by one… Like leaves torn from dying trees in the autumn wind."

He paused.

"I am not trying to scare you, Little Robin. I am simply… telling you what is to come."

Robin's heart clenched at the words. A chill passed through his chest like a whisper from the future.

Was this about completing the All-Seeing's mysterious tasks?

Or something beyond that?

He didn't ask.

Some answers… he already feared.

With a quiet motion, Robin shifted his hands behind his back, leaning deeper into the tree as if its roots could ground the storm within him.

"And more than that," the old man continued, "I want to free you from the burden of that worthless Law of Truth.

I want to pass down something of real value — something that can truly help you survive.

And from what I've seen in you… I believe you can handle it."

Robin let out a dry, bitter laugh.

"You're too late, old man."

His voice was both amused and tired — as if talking to someone who'd offered him a rope after he'd already drowned.

"I've already built my foundations using the Law of Truth.

Even after those foundations were damaged… when I tried to rebuild them with a new law… it didn't work.

They crumbled instantly.

And in their place, the same unclear, unreadable patterns of Truth inscribed themselves again.

Patterns even I can't see."

He tilted his head, eyes cold.

"Unless you're saying I should abandon it after reaching World Cataclysm… after forming the core?"

He shrugged. Find the source of this chapter at M|V|L-EMPYR.

"To be honest, I don't think that'd change much compared to what I'm already doing."

In the world of cultivation, it was common knowledge:

When someone broke through to the World Cataclysm Realm, their very foundations were shattered, their body reformed, and a powerful energy core was born.

With that core came freedom — at least, in theory.

The previous constraints — the dominance of a single law etched into the bones and blood — would disappear.

The law patterns would shift from being integrated into their body to being inscribed on the walls of the energy gathering center surrounding the core.

In short: World Cataclysms could freely channel any law they wished.

A realm of endless flexibility.

But theory… was never practice.

In reality, after centuries or millennia of focusing on a single law, building every move, every reflex, every instinct around it — changing was nearly impossible.

Their fighting style, their rhythm, their soul — all tuned to one law.

And more than that…

The original law runes still remained, etched deeply into the energy gathering center.

Their bodies had evolved and adapted countless times to match that law.

Which meant any new law they tried to use would be awkward, slow, and power-hungry.

At best, they'd access only 50% of its full power.

And at worst… it would leave them exhausted after a few moves.

That's why most World Cataclysms, even though they theoretically had access to every fifth-stage law…

In battle, they almost always stuck to the heavenly law they grew up with — the law they'd poured their life into.

But Robin?

Robin was different.

The Law of Truth had never really taken root in his body.

Aside from his eye, it hadn't altered his physique at all.

His body remained versatile, unbound by the rigid framework most cultivators were trapped in.

Even more, Robin had long since become accustomed to using multiple high-tier, complex laws — thanks to his tattoos.

And because of that…

He didn't need to change his style to be "adaptable."

He was already adaptable by nature.

Even after ascending to the World Cataclysm Realm, he would be able to channel those laws at near-full power using his ability as a candidate: the golden tattoos.

He wouldn't be starting over.

He would be unleashing what he already was.

Simply put, all the variables and irregularities in Robin's path meant one thing:

Stepping into the World Cataclysm Realm wouldn't revolutionize his combat style at all.

He was already fighting in ways that even World Cataclysms — even those in the Nexus State — would struggle to grasp, let alone master through repetition.

His movements, his transitions between laws, the unpredictability of his sequences… they were uniquely his.

Even if he transcended the threshold into World Cataclysm Realm, the laws woven into his body wouldn't constrain him the way they did others.

But the moment that realization settled, a voice cut through it like a blade.

"Foundations? Cores?"

The blind old man's voice rose slightly, his brows knitting with sudden annoyance.

"Do you truly think so little of me?! Do you dare speak to me as if I'm some ignorant fool?!"

"…I don't understand you," Robin replied, his eyes narrowing as confusion crept into his voice.

"Then what were you talking about?

Are you seriously suggesting I just stop using the Law of Truth?

Should I gouge out my eye like you did and continue breathing as if nothing happened?

What else can you mean?"

The old man took in a slow breath, and when he exhaled, the weight of centuries seemed to hang in the air.

"Robin Burton…"

He spoke the name like a judge reading out a verdict.

"I have the power to erase your foundations entirely. Not just suppress them — erase them.

I can reduce you to absolute zero.

I can strip your body and soul of every last trace of the Master Law of Truth.

To put it in terms you can grasp:

I can make you a blank slate.

Like a child who has never once stepped onto the path of cultivation."

Robin's breath caught in his throat.

"W-What…?"

He staggered backward a step, eyes wide.

"That's… That's not possible! Someone — he — once told me is impossible!!"

His voice cut off.

He realized too late that he was about to let something slip — something he wasn't supposed to say.

He clenched his jaw shut.

He remembered.

Back when he had asked the Seer to turn Caesar back to age twelve — to start his life over — the Seer had told him it was pointless.

Even if Caesar's age were reversed and his body remade, his core and energy gathering center had long since aligned themselves to the Path of Fire.

No matter how many chances he was given, Caesar would be forced to walk that path again.

Robin had still asked him to do it anyway.

But now…

Was this old man claiming he could do what even the All-Seeing could not?

"Said? Who said that?"

The old man cocked his head, frowning.

"…Never mind. It doesn't matter.

If I say I can do it — then believe me when I say I can.

But make no mistake, disciple…

What I'm offering comes at a price — a heavy one.

One that will tax me physically, mentally, soul-wise— and not me alone.

The process will shake the very roots of your soul. So again, I ask…

Are you ready?"

Robin stared at him in disbelief, heart pounding.

"Ready for what, exactly?"

He took a step to the side, circling slowly, as if keeping a predator in his sights.

"Why are you even suggesting I throw away everything I've trained for?

Is this your way of stopping a candidate without officially crossing the Al-Seeing?

Is this some backdoor scheme to block my path — without killing me?"

The old man didn't flinch.

"...I want an heir."

His voice was calm now, but beneath that calmness was a depth like still water hiding a leviathan beneath.

"That's all.

Someone to carry forward what I can no longer walk with.

But that will never happen — not as long as you carry even a trace of the Law of Truth inside you.

It will consume you…

Corrupt you…

Lead you toward an end you don't even see coming."

"…An heir?"

Robin froze, the word sinking in like a dagger.

"An heir to what, exactly?"

The old man slowly lifted his head — blind eyes gazing toward a sky he could no longer see.

"…An heir to the Master Law of Balance," he said.

"And not just its shadow or echo…

I speak of its true essence — all the way up to the sixth stage!"

A silence fell like thunder.

Then, without fanfare, he slowly lifted his hand.

Clatter. Crack. RUMBLE.

And in that moment… Robin saw the world change.

Before his very eyes — as though reality itself had been torn in two —

the sky and the sea split down the middle.