Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1276 1276: Farewell

”Father... Iʼm sorry, but it really doesnʼt sound like you understand what youʼre saying,” Richard said, his voice tight with disbelief, almost trembling. ”That man—he despises you. Not just dislikes you or resents you—he despises every letter of your name with the kind of hatred that scorches the soul. He would rather see all of Jura—the cities, the rivers, the people, the dreams—consumed in fire and ruin, just to cause you the mildest discomfort. Just to watch you wince. Thatʼs how deep it goes.”

Richardʼs boots echoed against the marble floor as he took two slow, deliberate steps closer to his father, closing the gap between them until the tension was almost palpable. His eyes were wide, raw with disbelief, as though trying to make sense of a cruel joke.

”And now youʼre seriously telling me... that man—the man who would rather consort with off-world marauders than even acknowledge your existence—you want him to sit on a throne? To run your empire?”

Robin didnʼt flinch. In fact, he chuckled—softly, knowingly—and stepped forward, wrapping an arm around his sonʼs shoulders like a teacher schooling an unruly student.

”And why not?” he said, voice calm, almost amused. ”In this world, interests reconcile all things, even hatred that burns hotter than the suns.”

He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a low, steady murmur.

”Listen to me, Richard. Let me tell you something that many never understand: geniuses—true, transcendent, god-defying minds like his—donʼt kneel. Not to emperors. Not even to fate. They carry wounds so deep they begin to mistake them for identity. They feed their hatred like a sacred flame. They need it to survive.”

Robinʼs eyes grew distant for a moment, memories dancing behind them like ghosts.

”I would know. When your mother died, I didnʼt grieve—I raged. I summoned the Demons, unleashed nightmares from realms that should not exist for the people of Jura. I waged war on everything under the sun.”

He squeezed Richardʼs shoulder with quiet intensity.

”You did the same. Remember the Azil Tribe? You reduced their civilization to cinders. You didnʼt just kill—you made an entire tripe vanish. Tens of millions... gone. Entire histories, cultures, bloodlines, obliterated, because your heart burned too loud to be ignored.”

Robinʼs voice thickened, heavy with weight.

”And Helen... reckless, sweet Helen—she cast everything aside. Her status, her future, her peace. Just to try and kill me. And she knew the cost. She knew karma would hunt her down like a beast, but she did it anyway.”

He sighed and released Richardʼs shoulder, letting his hand fall.

”Thatʼs what we are. Thatʼs what people like us do. Every being who ever carved their name into the bones of time carries that madness. That fury. And so I ask you again—should we execute Kristan because he failed to overthrow us? No. I say heʼs already paid with interest.”

Richardʼs jaw tensed. He looked away, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring.

”I donʼt see it that way,” he muttered. ”You saw how he looked at you. Like you were filth. Like heʼd spit fire just to scald your name. That wasnʼt rebellion. That was hatred. And itʼs still there. He hasnʼt changed. Not one bit.”

He shook his head slowly.

”And if youʼre trying to compare what he went through to what I endured… then let me make one thing clear: even if the Azil Tribe rose from the dead and tortured me for a thousand years, Iʼd never break, I would still hate them with every cell in my body until my final breath. Thatʼs how deep some wounds go. Thatʼs why I canʼt let him walk free.”

Robin sighed again, slower this time, and gave Richard a few thoughtful pats on the shoulder.

”Oh, but your situations are not the same, son. Not even close.”

He stepped away, turning slightly as he spoke.

”Kristanʼs motherʼs bloodline—the Burtons—they are the heart of the empire now. They are not just nobles; they are its foundation. They receive the best methods, the best advisors, the highest honors. If he chooses to serve the empire... then in a very real sense, heʼs serving them. Heʼs honoring.”

Richard furrowed his brow, clearly unconvinced.

”...I donʼt think he sees it that way.”

Robin turned back to him, a glint of strategy in his eye.

”Which is why you must make him see it.”

He tapped Richardʼs chest twice, firmly.

”Hereʼs the plan. Over the next few decades—yes, decades—you stop torturing him. No blades, no beatings, nothing with your own hands. Let him sit in silence. Let the silence gnaw at him. Let his mind echo with the weight of his failure. Then, one day, you walk in. And you talk. Not as a warden, but as a man. Tell him you feel conflicted. Say your heart hurts because heʼs your cousin, and youʼve done this to him.”

He raised a finger.

”Then leave. Donʼt explain. Donʼt justify. Let him think. Let that conversation haunt him. After a few more years, come back again. This time, bring stories. Talk about how well the Burton family is doing—how their children are laughing in academies, how the youth are training in beautiful new halls, how the empire is thriving.”

Robinʼs voice softened to a whisper.

”Show him what peace looks like. What healing looks like. What a future looks like.”

He smiled faintly.

”Then disappear again. Just long enough for him to ache for your return. And when you come back... he will beg. He will need to speak with you. Heʼll long for the warmth of those stories. He will ask for a chance to participate.”

Richard blinked at him in disbelief.

”You honestly think... that kind of emotional manipulation will work on someone like him? Heʼs a mass murderer! On the day of the uprising, he knew he was condemning hundreds of millions to death. He saw the numbers, and he did it anyway. He didnʼt hesitate.”

Robinʼs eyes darkened, voice cutting like a blade.

”And you broke him already, you cold-hearted bastard,” he snapped, swatting the back of Richardʼs head. ”Who the hell tortures a man like that for a hundred years and expects him to remain human? If he werenʼt a Child of Fate, he wouldʼve gone mad within days. Days, Richard.”

Robin exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders.

”Whatʼs left of him now... is nothing but a shell. A withered, broken thing hiding behind defiance. He clings to pride because itʼs all he has left. But offer him even a thread of hope—one thread—and he will latch onto it like a dying man gasping for air. No one wants to stay in hell, Richard. Not even him.”

Richard scratched the back of his head, frowning deeply.

”...Couldnʼt you just slap a Slave Seal on him and be done with it?”

”And what am I supposed to do with him afterward?” Richard snapped, his voice low but tight with frustration. ”A Slave Seal doesnʼt just compel obedience—it reshapes the very way a man thinks. Even the weakest of seals creates a dependency, a need to return to his master for every decision, every moment of uncertainty, every flicker of crisis. Thatʼs not what I want. I need someone who can solve problems, not a puppet waiting for orders. I need a mind that moves on its own—not one bound by strings.”

Robin gave a slow nod, his expression calm.

”I understand, and thatʼs why Iʼm telling you... just follow the plan I gave you. Do it step by step. When the day comes—and it will come—when he himself asks you for a chance to cooperate, make him swear an oath. But not just any oath—use a reinforced Oath Tablet, something powerful and binding. Have Zara create it personally for you. And when that moment arrives, bring him back into the light. Announce his return as the new Prime Minister of the empire. Place him in the public eye, dress him with authority. Just be sure to keep him under your close watch at all times, and I promise you... everything will unfold as it should.”

”...”

Richard let out a heavy breath, then brought a hand to his forehead, fingers pressing hard into his skin as if trying to crush the very thoughts swirling in his mind. His jaw clenched so tightly that it seemed his teeth might shatter. But after a few seconds of silence, he let the tension drop from his shoulders. His voice, when it came, was flat—devoid of warmth, void of anger.

”...As you wish.”

Robin smiled faintly and gave his sonʼs shoulder a reassuring pat.

”Holding on to hatred... it wonʼt give you anything of real value, my son. Trust me—Iʼve lived longer than you, and Iʼve walked down that same path more times than I care to count. Even when I sought vengeance for your mother, when I unleashed my wrath upon the people of Jura, I didnʼt destroy them all. I stopped after I had eliminated everyone ranked Knight and above. I ended the bloodshed at that point. Then, I turned my thoughts toward rebuilding. Toward peace. Toward restoration.”

His tone softened.

”You must learn when to stop fighting... and when to forget. Only then will your heart begin to heal, and your mind find clarity. Only then will you discover who you are beyond your rage.”

He lifted his hand from Richardʼs shoulder.

”Well then... I leave it all in your hands now. Everything—our people, our empire, our legacy. Itʼs time for me to go.”

”Go?” Richard blinked, momentarily stunned. ”Go where?!”

”To the Mid-Belt.” Robin sighed deeply, as if a great weight pressed on his chest. ”I donʼt know for how long. It might be a few decades... or it might be centuries. But I suspect Iʼll be gone for quite some time.”

Richardʼs eyes widened again, this time in disbelief.

”But why?! We have everything we need right here! Even if you cut ties with the Nine Paths Empire, weʼve become self-sufficient. We can stand on our own now. And you—you—with just a few more secluded cultivation sessions, you could ascend to any realm or state you desire. I heard about what you distributed to Sister Zara and the others. In just a single century, youʼve multiplied the power of this empire several times over. Why stop now? Why not keep going for a few more centuries?”

Robin looked at him with a sad, almost distant smile.

”Itʼs not about what we can achieve anymore, Richard. Itʼs about when we must achieve it. Timing is everything in this realm, and beyond it.” He paused, then added, ”To speak plainly... within the next nine hundred years, we must ascend to the Mid-Belt. And when we do, we wonʼt be facing rogue sects or scattered armies—weʼll be going to war against World Calamities. Against forces that threaten entire planets. Maybe even against entities whoʼve touched the threshold of Arrival. Tell me... what good will my inventions do against them?”

”What...?” Richard took a step back, stunned. His voice was barely a whisper. ”Why nine hundred years? Why that number specifically? Whatʼs coming?”

”I canʼt tell you that. But I know itʼs coming,” Robin said, his eyes fixed on the horizon like he was watching something no one else could see.

”Everything Iʼve given you all these days—the knowledge, the power, the cultivation methods, the technologies—they were just to prepare you for conventional warfare. So you could defend yourselves against the armies of this sector. So you could become unshakable, untouchable... even if the full military strength of every major empire came crashing down on you.”

His voice was laced with pride, but his next words were tinged with concern.

”But that level of strength wonʼt help us against the giants. Against the ones who walk like myths and burn like stars. Against the ones whose very presence warps the laws of nature.”

Richard stared at him for a long moment.

”...So what are you planning to do?”

Robin took a breath. The weight on his shoulders was almost visible now.

”I donʼt know,” he admitted, his voice quieter. Then he looked back at his son with a small, weary laugh. ”But Iʼve got to start somewhere... right?”

”Iʼm coming with you,” Richard said without hesitation, his brows furrowed, his voice resolute.

”Not yet.” Robin placed a hand gently on his arm.

”When the Stabilization Movement no longer needs your constant presence... when Kristan Burton is no longer a problem... then come find me. If you can.” He smirked.

”And when your siblings and the other commanders hear of this, theyʼll all want to come too. Tell them what Iʼm telling you now—if any of them believes their role has become meaningless... if they truly think their subordinates can handle everything in their absence... then theyʼre free to follow me. But I doubt that day will come any time soon.”

He laughed again—this time a little louder, a little sadder.

Robin knew the truth: this answer wasnʼt just about planning. It was about soothing. Calming Richard. And later, the others. Because each and every one of his children, every general he raised, was buried in responsibility. Even Hulak—the most carefree, the most indifferent among them—was now busy training the Imperial Guards with rare seriousness.

This journey, Robin knew deep down... was destined to be long.

And it would be walked alone.