Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1142 1142: Thoughts of the Second Heavenʼs Chosen

[”…I do not know in which era you stand, nor whether I succeeded in uniting the planet or not… Just know that everything you see around you is merely a tool to help you grasp the truth of the world. Our great ancestor left only a few hundred of these books, and it took us tens of thousands of years before the Second Chosen appeared—me. So, here I am, having spread these books to hundreds of thousands, hoping that the next Chosen will emerge more quickly.”]

[”…I will try to unite the planet and spread this knowledge to those who deserve it, but deep down, I do not believe the world is ready for unification yet. Even now, I can see the signs of my impending failure, like storm clouds gathering before the downpour. But I will still push forward… step by step, inch by inch, no matter how many years —or even millennia— it takes. However, if I fail, then let this library serve as a bridge for you to follow in my footsteps. Continue from where I fell. Men may perish, but dreams must endure. If one of us falls, another must rise.”]

Robin lifted an eyebrow as he read, feeling a strange mix of emotions. The thought process of the Second Heavenʼs Chosen was completely flawed. He was under the impression that simply increasing the amount of research material would raise the likelihood of a new Chosen appearing. But reality did not work that way. Such things could not be forced, no matter how much one wished it.

Take Jabba, for example—Robin had given him only a few keys to certain Laws, telling him how he had reached those realizations rather than handing him complete answers. He had simply guided him by saying, [”I comprehended this Law in the cave by meditating on that certain phenomenon,”] or [”I discovered this key after witnessing this particular event.”] He never gave Jabba fully developed patterns to stare at mindlessly.

And yet, Jabba had struggled for nearly twenty five years before anything came of it. Robin never felt the need to flood him with additional teachings because he knew that Truth itself was the one that chose its wielder. In the end, Truth did choose Jabba, but only when he sought it through the mysteries of blood.

And then there was the second issue—even with all his lofty ideals, the Second Heavenʼs Chosen had clung to the tradition of passing down knowledge solely within his own bloodline. That much was clear from his use of the phrase ”our ancestor.” He truly believed that everyone who reached this place would be his direct descendant!

[”…Heh, it seems it was a distant dream after all. As I expected, the world did not embrace me—it turned against me. My heir, everything you see around you is merely a legacy meant to assist you, but it is not something I take pride in. I did not create any of it. I merely observed and recorded what was already there. Even those so-called offensive tattoos you see scattered across my works… they were nothing but distractions, methods I developed to strengthen my army in pursuit of my ultimate goal. But they are not my true legacy. I did not craft something revolutionary, something that I can proudly call mine. I was merely placing more bricks atop the foundations that my great ancestor —the true genius— had built. As for me, I have yet to contribute something truly original… This book, however, is my last hope.”]

Robin remained silent for a moment, staring at the words before him. He could understand the manʼs emotions to some extent. The Second Heavenʼs Chosen had not introduced anything groundbreaking into the world. His era could be described as one of prolific documentation and expansion, but that very expansion had been buried away, hidden beneath layers of stone and dust.

In truth, the only tangible innovations the Second Heavenʼs Chosen had brought forth —the only ones that had truly added something to the planet— were the fourth-stage body-strengthening divine tattoo and the method of inscribing energy tattoos onto weapons to convert them into energy-infused armaments.

Yet, there was something else that caught Robinʼs attention. The letter was odd. The parchment itself was ancient, yet the ink used in certain segments differed in tone. Not only that, but the handwriting varied slightly, as if the message had been written at different times, in different states of mind. It was as if the Second Heavenʼs Chosen had not written this all at once, but had instead returned to it over time, adding more thoughts as his journey progressed.

[”…The war against the North has intensified. I have yet to complete this book, and I do not know if I will be able to return here again without being tracked. If I do manage to return, I will remain in the cave until this book is finished. But if I do not return… then I ask of you, whoever you are, to give this book a portion of your time and complete it. And if you succeed in doing so, I have only one request—tell the world that the Second Heavenʼs Chosen aided you… No, tell them that Dragan, son of Morka, stood by your side!”ʼ

”…” Robin flipped the paper back and forth, even checking underneath it, but found no further words. It was clear that this was the last passage ever written.

”Sigh~ He died before finishing his work. From his final words, itʼs obvious that he placed all his pride in this book. He never knew, as he wrote those last lines, that he would soon be betrayed by the very family he entrusted with all this legacy… Thatʼs depressing.”

(The ancients existed so that we may learn from their mistakes,) Evergreen reminded him.

Robin didnʼt respond immediately. He stared at the massive pile of papers, his golden eyes deep in thought. After a few seconds, he took a step forward, bent down, and lifted the entire stack with some effort. He carried it over to the nearest desk and let it drop.

Thud!

The so-called book—a chaotic collection of tens of thousands of scattered pages—now towered higher than the desk itself. Robin sat down and took a deep breath.

”Hoo~” He exhaled slowly, trying to focus. His fingers reached for the very first page of the collection, and as soon as he read the title, his eyes widened in shock.

”WHAT— this is possible?!” Robin muttered in disbelief, his grip tightening on the page.

One of the many inherent flaws of the Body Strengthening Divine Tattoo was its automatic energy absorption. Users had absolutely no control over the process. Regardless of individual talent or physique, the tattoo absorbed energy at a fixed rate. Even though stronger individuals—like Holak—could utilize the absorbed energy more efficiently than the average giant, they were still bound by the same intake limit.

For this reason, the tattooʼs absorption rate had been deliberately set low to accommodate all users. When Robin modified it for human use, he reduced the absorption rate even further to match their weaker bodies.

But what about those exceptionally gifted in body cultivation?

Take Jabba, for instance—he had already reached the status of a Saint in the body path while still under sixty. And Holak? There was no need to even mention his monstrous talent!

For such individuals, being shackled by a passive and limited energy intake was a severe bottleneck. If someone like Holak had been able to freely control the amount of energy absorbed, he could have broken through to level 50 thousands of years ago!

Robin quickly flipped through the pages, searching for the end of Volume One. The sheer number of pages dedicated to this topic alone spoke volumes about the effort that had gone into it.

As he separated the volume from the rest of the pile, he scanned through the contents, noting the handwritten explanations, sketches of energy patterns, and scattered footnotes. Some pages contained rough drafts, others were filled with scribbles, and in certain places, the Second Heavenʼs Chosen had even insulted himself for forgetting a key idea.

After sifting through nearly two thousand pages, Robin finally came across a peculiar sheet. Unlike the others, this one had only a few written words—the rest of the page was covered in stray notes, aimless doodles, and erratic lines. There was even a crude, ugly drawing of a duck scrawled onto the corner.

”…So he stopped here. He mustʼve run out of ideas or hit a dead end.” Robin tapped his fingers against the desk. ”This volume is truly incomplete. And yet…” He glanced at the massive stack of pages in his hands, eyes gleaming with interest.

”He accomplished so much. I donʼt think Iʼll need to invest too much time in finishing it!”

As Robin examined the volume with his golden eyes wide open, something caught his attention from the corner of his vision. The next page in the colossal stack was a thick divider sheet with bold lettering across it:

Robin blinked, then let out a short, incredulous laugh, ”Are you joking right now?”