Lord of the Truth

One hour later—at the official space gate of Specter Valley Planet.

The checkpoint was as noisy as ever, filled with guards lounging on chairs, weapons leaning lazily against the walls, while others dozed with their arms crossed. The atmosphere was one of practiced boredom; after all, who would dare cause trouble under the Syndicate's nose?

"Hey," one of the guards muttered, a World Cataclysm cultivator with a scar across his cheek, shaking his crossed leg impatiently. "Don't you think killing her was a little hasty? I mean, that little shepherdess girl..." He tilted his head back, speaking in a tone of idle curiosity rather than concern. "I meaaaan~ she was still hiding a large number of planets cultivated into specter farms. Wouldn't it have been wiser to squeeze her for answers first?"

Another guard, sprawled with his hands behind his head, gave a derisive snort and waved dismissively. "Does it matter? Tell me, has there ever been a time when you asked the Syndicate for resources and they didn't provide? We're drowning in supply. To waste energy over something we already have plenty of... now that's foolishness~"

The first guard grunted and nodded slightly, though a glint of greed flashed in his eyes. They all knew the truth—if those hidden planets were found, they would go straight to the higher-ups. The grunts here wouldn't taste even a crumb. The only way it could've been different was if one of them had managed to catch that shepherdess alone, to pry the secrets directly from her lips. Then, perhaps, the bounty could have been enjoyed in secret. But in this situation? Under so many watchful eyes, with reports always ready to be sent up the chain? No—eliminating her was cleaner, safer, and far less risky.

Step.

A crisp sound echoed across the stone stairs leading up to the gate.

"Hmm?" Several guards lazily opened their eyes and turned their heads toward the source. A group of newcomers was approaching.

At the front walked a young man, a casual smile plastered across his face as if he owned the stars themselves. Behind him came three others—two men and one woman.

But the moment that woman stepped into view, the entire guard post seemed to change.

All the slouched postures vanished. The dozing eyes snapped open. Every guard straightened where he sat, as if struck by a sudden current of energy.

Expressions that had been filled with boredom a moment earlier shifted instantly: some broke into hungry, wolfish grins, their eyes gleaming with a raw, animalistic hunger; others' gazes softened into admiration and reverence, like worshippers beholding a goddess descending to the mortal plane. And then there was the lone female guard—her lips curled downward, her face twisting with anger and jealousy so sharp it could cut stone.

The woman they stared at wore a crimson gown that seemed to burn against the dull colors of the spaceport. Her lips were painted the same vivid shade, her hair long and flowing like a river of midnight silk. Her stride carried a weight of nobility, every step measured and confident.

But it wasn't just elegance that surrounded her—no, she radiated the maturity of a woman in her prime, a figure like an hourglass sculpted by divine hands. Her gown revealed nothing beneath, but it didn't need to. She didn't have to reveal anything—her presence alone was enough to ensnare their senses.

"Tsk." Morgana, beneath the weight of those stares, felt her irritation flare. For a heartbeat, her expression twisted, and she dropped her gaze to the floor.

Robin's hands came together in a cheerful clap, breaking the spell and redirecting all eyes toward him. "Haha, greetings, everyone! A fine day to you. Our six-day allowance has ended, and we'd like to return to Dawn light Academy. I really can't afford to linger any longer—I am a professor there, after all."

"Hmm?" A guard leaned forward, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Robin. Recognition sparked in his expression. "Yes, I remember you. You arrived with three companions, that's true..." His eyes flicked to Morgana, lingering on her face. "But I don't recall this lady being among them."

"The girl who accompanied them left two days ago, along with two others," another guard interjected casually.

"Oh?" The first man's lips curved into a sly smile. He rose to his feet and began walking toward Morgana, each step deliberate, predatory. "Then who is this lady, I wonder? I don't recall seeing such beauty, such magnificence, in all these years. A woman like this—trust me, I would have remembered."

"Tsk~" The lone female guard looked away sharply, her nails digging into her palm as annoyance twisted deeper into jealousy.

"...!!" For an instant, Morgana's eyes flashed with hostility, her aura slipping free before she could rein it back. She recognized him. That man—this high-level World Cataclysm cultivator—had been one of those who surrounded her less than half a day ago. In fact, more than half the guards at this gate had fought against her in that brutal clash!

"Hmm?" The man halted mid-step, brows furrowing as his instincts screamed. He had felt that intent, sharp as a blade, before it vanished.

"Ahaha," Robin's laugh broke the tension, light and natural. "In truth, sir, we stumbled across her by sheer chance in a cave on the edge of the mid-zone. She was trapped by a herd of specters, unable to escape." He shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. "The poor girl—clearly she's suffered for many years in that place. She's traumatized, broken. I think she's even lost her ability to speak."

"Hmm, trauma, is it..." The high-level World Cataclysm cultivator narrowed his eyes, his tone skeptical. "I don't see it at all."

"Haha! You mean she's simply insane?" The female guard threw her head back, clapping her hands together with an obnoxiously loud laugh that echoed around the checkpoint.

"Tsk~." The high-level cultivator exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed by her interruption. He turned his gaze back toward Robin, his eyes cold and assessing. "Listen. You can't just walk out of here with people who failed to pay their dues. Staying here for years means she's racked up tens of thousands of Pearls in fines—even if we didn't catch her personally hunting or trading anything."

"I don't want any trouble," Robin replied with calmness that contrasted the tension in the air. He lifted both hands slightly in a placating gesture. With a casual flick, a ring slipped from his left hand, spinning in the air. He caught it neatly, then held it out toward the cultivator with an easy smile. "This is her ring, containing all the emeralds we found on her. Will this be enough as compensation?"

Then Robin leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering to something almost conspiratorial—but loud enough for those nearby to catch his meaning. "Come now, my friend. Don't fight me over her. I'm the one who rescued her, after all. Let me claim this prize, just this once."

"Hmm..." The World Cataclysm took the ring and sent his spiritual sense sweeping inside. He saw delicate feminine belongings neatly arranged—clothes, trinkets, cosmetics, several Pearls, a few weapons, and most importantly, about twenty-seven thousand soul emeralds glimmering like jewels in the void. Everything inside was consistent with what a woman of her bearing would carry. Nothing looked fake. Everything was undeniably real.

And yet... his interest barely lingered on the wealth. His eyes slid back toward Morgana, narrowing as his lips curved faintly. "Hey," he called, his voice carrying over the crowd. "Do you really want to go with him? You could stay here—with me."

"Hey, do you have no shame at all?! We're all standing right here!!" the female guard snapped, her jealousy boiling over. She spat on the ground beside her boot, glaring daggers at both Morgana and Robin.

"Yeah, yeah! Stay with us instead, haha!" another guard jeered.

A sharp whistle cut the air

"They're all ugly—stay with me, gorgeous!!" someone else shouted, his laughter crude and shameless.

"Hahaha!" A wave of laughter spread among the guards, mocking, taunting, their eyes devouring Morgana as though she were prey.

Underneath that sea of hungry stares, Morgana's skin prickled violently. Goosebumps raced up her arms, and a chill coursed down her spine. A dark wave of killing intent began to surge from her, raw and suffocating. Her instincts screamed at her to slaughter every single one of them where they stood. But she bit it back, clenched her fists, and forced her breathing steady. She remembered Robin's lesson—control, restraint, silence.

Taking a trembling breath, she stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor. Without a word, she reached for Robin, clutching his arm tightly with both hands. The gesture was silent, but clear: a declaration of where she stood, and a plea for him to take her away from this den of jackals.

"Tsk, fine then. Get out of my sight." The high-level World Cataclysm waved his hand dismissively, though his eyes lingered on Morgana one last time. "Open the portal to Dawn light Stellar Academy!"

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Dawnlight Stellar Academy—

Bzzzzt!

The shimmering light of the space portal flared, parting like a curtain, and the four of them stepped through. The shift in air was immediate—the oppressive, stinking weight of Ghost Valley's aura was gone, replaced by the cleaner, brighter flow of the academy's world.

The stationed guards straightened at once. Recognizing Robin, they lowered their heads in a respectful bow. "We greet Teacher Ro—"

Whoosh!! A blur of crimson streaked past them before they could finish. It was Morgana.

She rushed straight to the edge of the grand staircase, her steps uneven, her body trembling as though she had been holding herself together by sheer will alone. She fell to her knees, her hands clutching the railing as her shoulders heaved—

"Oooouugh!!" The sound of retching tore from her throat as she vomited violently, unable to contain herself any longer.