Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1501: Internal attack

The Divine Decree Incarnation Technique...

A technique conceived in the forgotten dawn of the Jura Continents by sages who believed themselves to have reached the summit of creation. In their age, they declared the fortieth level of a Sage’s Domain to be the pinnacle of existence, the final gate of power—an ultimate truth beyond which nothing could be attained. Yet their ambition was restless.

They sought more, clawed at the walls of the heavens themselves. And so, they devised countless side paths, innumerable heresies of cultivation, desperate gambits to claw beyond their boundaries. Among all of these, one stood supreme. One became exalted in myth, and branded into history itself.

It was the Divine Decree Incarnation Technique— power given shape.

At its heart, the technique is a forbidden binding, a temporary stitching together of three sacred pillars of being: the energy center, the lifeline, and the soul domain.

The user drives their soul force violently into the energy core, igniting it until it begins to simulate the very law that defines its foundation. Whether that law is major or minor, fundamental or auxiliary, pristine or flawed—every detail is revealed within the simulation. Nothing is hidden, no imperfection excused.

Once the pattern is awakened, the soul force wrests control of the center’s energy, bending it to follow the simulation, shaping it into form. What emerges is not theory, not illusion, but a visible manifestation of the law itself—a law embodied, displayed in the rawest expression that mortal minds can grasp. That form drinks greedily from both the user’s soul force and the natural energy of the world, tethered to both streams as though the heavens themselves were its sustenance.

But the final step is the abyss. The soul force pierces even deeper, into the user’s lifeline, tearing free strands of pure vitality, feeding the manifestation with the essence of life itself. In the end, three rivers converge: soul force, natural energy, and life force.

As for its strength—there is no need to waste words. The technique does what no other dares: it fuses every source of power within a human being, save only their raw flesh. It was created as the path to absolute liberation, and that is precisely what it delivers.

Yet its true horror lies not in its power, but in its consequence. For when soul force and life force are bound together in a single vessel, that vessel does not remain a simple puppet. It awakens. It thinks. It gains awareness—a will of its own. A body. Though bound utterly to the user, it still possesses a mind, an instinct, a voice capable of choosing its own actions. It is, in truth, almost indistinguishable from a soul creature born of nature itself.

HUUUUUUUM!

The silence shattered. A torrent of soul force thundered out from Robin’s soul domain, surging into his energy center with the violence of a flood. Nearly five hundred thousand units—his last reserves, the dregs of his existence—poured forth in a single tidal rush. In less than a breath, the entirety of his energy gathering center was drowned.

But the second step—the simulation—never came. His soul force strained, pressed, clawed forward, but it was like a warhorse plated in steel, bogged waist-deep in a mire of suffocating mud. It thrashed, it roared, it yearned to act. Yet the law did not stir.

/As I feared.../ Robin exhaled, a sigh heavy as stone within the silence of his soul. Five hundred thousand units—too little. Not nearly enough to simulate the third stage of the Master Law of Truth, the law embedded within his energy foundation number thirty-one. In truth, even eight hundred and ten thousand units would have been inadequate.

He remembered. Long ago, when he had finished reshaping this forbidden technique, he had already learned of soul units and the scale of Royal Soul Force. He had realized, with bitter clarity, that even a million units might not suffice to fuel such a creation. And so, he had shelved it. Waited. Hoped for a time when the impossible might bend.

Later, as a Martial Emperor, another revelation crushed him: even Silver Soul Force, no matter its volume, could never sustain the simulation of the fourth stage of the Master Law of Truth. Again, he buried the dream. Again, he promised himself it would only be unearthed when he walked the path of a Royal Soul Lord.

But now... the time for patience was dead. His energy foundations bore only the third stage. He had grasped the secret of the Elastic Domain Trait. And on top of all, he is already standing at the edge of life and death.

Now... was the moment to attempt the impossible.

Within Robin’s Soul Domain—

”RAAAAAAAAAWR~!”

The spectral lion, its wounds still raw, its mind clouded by fury and confusion, erupted in violence the instant it realized where it had been dragged. Its claws shredded trees into splinters, its fangs tore at helpless soul creatures. Each thunderous step stained the ground with creeping blackness, spreading corruption that ate into the earth until whole patches sank into yawning pits.

In seconds, nearly a tenth of the domain lay in ruin. Then the lion’s blazing eyes fell upon the spectral prisons where his fellow specters writhed in chains. Its bellow shook the sky: ”RAAAWR~! Wait for me—I will free you!!”

BAAAM!

One headbutt, and Robin’s seals groaned, splintering. Dark energy bled out of the captives within.

BAAAM!

Another strike, and the spectral bars bent, shrieking under the force, threatening to collapse entirely.

”Damn it...” Pythor’s fists clenched until his knuckles creaked. His awareness held the knowledge of countless ways to slay the lion—but knowledge without units was nothing. Without the master’s assignment of power, he was a husk, no stronger than grass or insects in the domain, information without teeth. Powerless.

And outside, Robin poured every scrap of soul force into the battle. No unit could be spared. No authority could be granted.

At this pace, the prisons would break. And if the specters trapped within were unleashed into the soul domain, their sanctuary would be undone. Their paradise—obliterated.

Even EverGreen and Neri had withdrawn, cowering among the other soul creatures, powerless, their existence here scarcely above the weakest wisp.

HUUUUUUUUM!

Then the domain itself stirred. The ground convulsed. From its depths, monstrous drills shaped like dragon heads erupted, grinding as they rose. More burst from the walls, from the vaulted ceiling—until, in a single instant, the once-serene realm was drowned in nightmare.

Dozens, hundreds, of alien monsters that looks like Drill-headed dragons crawled forth.

”Haah?” The lion froze, eyes flashing with confusion as it scanned the storm of monsters. It snarled, then threw its head back in defiance, unleashing a roar that could shatter mountains: ”RAAAAAWR~!”

But the monsters did not waver.

WOOSHWOOSHWOOSH!

Drill-headed dragons launched like arrows, converging on the lion from every angle, their whirling maws screaming.

”RAAAAAWR~!!” The spectral lion’s defiant roar turned to anguish as the drills bored through its flesh, spinning, tearing, bursting out its other side. In that instant, it learned terror. For the first time, it understood the despair of being trapped within the soul domain of an enemy.

Its massive body was gutted from within, units of soul bursting outward like rivers of black blood, splattering the land. With each rotation, its essence shredded further, scattering like ash.

Finally—

”RAAAAAAAAA——” The lion gave one last cry, a cry that trembled through the heavens, and then its body ruptured.

BAAAAAAAAAAM!

The explosion tore through the domain, drowning the air in black mist and fragmented soul.