Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1570: Means

”I would rather see the empire—and everyone within it—utterly vanish into dust!” Renara struck the massive table before her with a force that made the chamber echo. ”My great-grandfather did not abase himself and toil for centuries to lay the foundation of some sordid nightclub! My father did not bleed and die upon the battlefield to preserve a brothel masked in imperial robes! And I—Renara, rightful Empress—will never allow myself to be seated upon a throne that rules nothing more than a den of shame. Our exalted, proud blood does not surge through our veins simply to be treated as cheap, open stock for others to indulge in!”

The practice of duel-training— or the so-called ”blood activation meetings”... that was the name given to those who yearned to stir the latent power in their blood and pry open new horizons of cultivation through coupling with another: sometimes one of the same bloodline but of higher density, sometimes a bearer of an entirely different lineage that resonated compatibly with their own.

This practice was anything but rare; in truth it coursed like a hidden river throughout the entire cosmos, especially among the followers of the Second Cultivation Path—the Path of Blood Mutation. Every empire across the Mid and Young Belts scoured the stars for suitable spouses for their princes, princesses, and heirs.

They did so not for love or companionship, but for survival, for the promise of more powerful descendants. Indeed, this was one of the greatest reasons why so many of the Mutated Empires bound themselves to one another in intricate webs of political marriage and alliance.

Yet even in these alliances, the glowing vows and official decrees were only half the story. There was always another side, a shadowed, unspoken counterpart. Across the vast Mid Belt, entire clans and lesser empires made this practice their very livelihood. Their survival did not rest on armies or resources, but on selling the potential of their bloodlines. Such powers were outwardly strong, bristling with talent and influence, but when viewed against the wider cosmos they had no lasting weight.

Without formal marriages or sacred treaties, none of their ”clients” were bound to rush to their aid when peril fell upon them, nor were they compelled to vote in their favor when matters of the starfields arose. In whispers and mocking tavern tales, these forces earned two infamous titles: the Clans of Permissible Blood, or more cruelly, the heavily-guarded nightclubs of the Mid Belt.

...Caesar observed the storm of rage trembling in Renara’s features, and for the first time his lips curved into a smile not born of derision or mockery. It was a gentler, purer smile, tinged with something resembling respect. He inclined his head slightly. ”Perhaps, at long last, we have found something worth discussing.”

”Discuss?” Renara’s proud brow furrowed in confusion, then her shoulders slumped and she looked aside, voice faint. ”Oh... I nearly forgot what you had truly come for.”

”That is not something that should ever be forgotten, Your Majesty.” Caesar’s voice grew deeper, steadier. The sharpness in his tone softened, though the gravity increased. ”It is your duty to safeguard your empire. This is not only your right—it is also the sacred right of your ancestors, whose bones paved the road for your throne. But beyond mere protection, you must now choose with unwavering clarity the path upon which your Nine Paths Empire will walk.”

He leaned back, clasping his hands as if weighing the very stars. ”As for the Twilight Spectrum Empire... they are both the closest patrons to one half of your people, and the bitterest foes to the other half. For millennia they never sought your absolute extermination, despite having the strength to do so, yet they never permitted you peace either. They pressed upon you, squeezing the room you needed to breathe, to grow, to rise. It is those same Twilight Spectrum who now reach out their hands to meddle with us.”

He paused only briefly, then pressed on. ”My intelligence confirms they already have the Merged Law of Permanence Frost in their grasp —handed to them by the treachery or folly of your loyalists— yet still they came, bold enough to request to purchase it officially. They even came bearing a colossal sum: four hundred million Pearls, and beyond that, a promise to replace you as Empress of the Nine Paths Empire with another more... ’suitable’ candidate. Why do you think that is?”

”...To draw you into their orbit, After I lost you.” Renara released a long, weary sigh.

Her mind churned as she pieced it together...

Was it not her sister who poisoned the relationship in the first place? Were not those four venerable hall-chiefs the ones who bent the council’s will whenever the matter concerned obstructing the human armies?

Yet even knowing this, her own responsibility could not be erased. Crack. Her nails dug into the armrest; she nearly broke into sobs once more, but she clenched her jaw and restrained herself.

For them to weave their schemes and manipulate her since the death of her father was one thing... but to cast aside an excellent ally, to barter her throne away to curry favor with the Twilight Phantoms—that was submission beyond shame. That was degradation beneath even despair.

What, in the name of her ancestors, had she spent her life enduring, building, and suffering for if it was to end in this pitiful farce?!

”You say they want to win us over, perhaps—” Caesar gestured toward her with a dismissive flick, then turned his hand toward himself, ”—but I call it a veiled threat, nothing more, nothing less.”

His voice hardened, his expression tightening into grim seriousness. ”Their so-called offer came only after we repelled the massive, orchestrated assault launched against us, after we turned the tide with our counteroffensive, and after we began seizing victories that no one thought possible. And when we rejected them, they made no further attempt to negotiate, no second envoy, no subtle words. To me, that silence speaks louder than any messenger: We know your captives. We know your secrets. Accept us as allies— or keep your distance and stay out of our path.”

Renara fell into silence, her lips pressed tightly together. After a long breath, she asked quietly, almost hesitantly, ”And what is your judgment then? Will you truly consider them allies?”

”Give me a single convincing reason to refuse them.” Caesar tilted his head ever so slightly, a mocking half-smile on his lips. ”They stand as a formidable empire, commanding not mere dozens, but hundreds of thriving worlds. They wield three Nexus States, and beyond that, a Royal Soul Master sits in their court. It is plain they are ready to soothe us with every concession imaginable, or at the very least to deflect the storm of destruction they know we can unleash upon them. That alone shows the cunning and alert brilliance of their sovereign. Imagine this — they hold the merged law of Permanence Frost in their arsenal, and yet they have not dared to establish a single regiment trained to wield it. They hide it, protect it, wait in silence. That is restraint, intelligence, foresight. Tell me then, why should I spurn such pragmatism? I see no obstacle to cooperation.”

He spread his hands theatrically, and his tone shifted with sharp contrast. ”Now, on the other hand, what do you offer me?” His gaze sharpened as he leaned forward. ”A ruler who falters —pardon my bluntness— one who cannot even recognize that her empire is sliding inexorably toward becoming nothing more than a Permissible Blood Power. You tore up your accords with us because some whisperer filled your ear with poison, convincing you we were villains. And now you appear before me, your first words nothing but a demand: I demand. What the fuck do you have to demand any way?” His palms opened wide in feigned helplessness. ”Tell me, who am I truly meant to choose?”

”Do not be deceived by their polished masks!” Renara burst out, her voice rising with sharp urgency. ”The Twilight Spectrum are foxes clothed in shadows. They know no friendship, no loyalty, no sacred bond— only shifting interests. The instant fortune favors them, they will coil behind you and drive a blade into your spine! That is their way, and you know it!”

Caesar’s brow arched, his amusement cold. ”And you? Were you not the one who abandoned us after we seized thirteen planets, leaving us to face the fury of the world alone? Tell me, where was your loyalty then?”

”I was—!!” The words leapt to her lips, desperate to defend herself, to explain that she had been misled, manipulated, overwhelmed by influences pressing down upon her. Yet the explanation froze in her throat. She was no child, no naïve fledgling to cast off responsibility. She was a sovereign in her own right, seasoned in age and in power. To admit weakness would be disgrace. Her lips trembled before finally forcing a hushed whisper: ”...Is there any path to repair what was broken between us? Or have you come only to strip me bare, to remind me of how blind and foolish I have been?”

The truth gnawed at her heart. She had come not from her own conviction but under the relentless urging of the elders — their pressure forced her hand. Deep down, she had believed her empire could weather this storm alone, but she had bowed to their demands, choosing to silence them, to appease them, to prove she could restore the aid and resources once promised to her people.

Yet reality struck her like the broadside of a warship, merciless and deafening.

”There is indeed a way.” Caesar’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and deliberate. He nodded slowly, more than once, savoring each word. ”As you can see with your own eyes, the expansion of the Cradle Empire is no dream — it is a living fact, unstoppable, irreversible, and no power will halt its march. We no longer crave partners or fragile alliances; those days are dead. What we require now are followers, subjects, vassals who understand their place.” He leaned forward, his gaze piercing like a blade through the air. ”So I will ask you only once: are you interested?”