Lord of the Truth

Twenty years later—Year 430 after the Coronation.

Shhhhhh

After long minutes of heavy silence, Robin finally lifted his hand away from Jabba's chest. His eyes opened slowly, then a clap followed with a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Well then, it's done. His life artery has been completely replenished, not a single drop left unattended. This part of the process is fully complete," he said, tapping his own cheek as his gaze roamed over Jabba's frail, aged body. "But now we still need to deal with his appearance. He's still a young man at heart, someone who deserves the chance to find a wife and start a family. Looking like this, though? Hah, this face won't help him in the slightest on that mission!"

In truth, the outer appearance of cultivators—whether in their energy, physical bodies, or even their very souls—never truly reflected their real age. More often than not, what people saw was the age at which the expert had reached their current power or the moment when they refined their Planet Soul and sealed that stage into eternity.

For example… one might encounter a woman like Althera, who looked like she was in her early twenties, full of youth and elegance, when in reality she was close to a million years old. That was only because she attained immense strength very early in her path, and when she crowned her achievements, she preserved that youthful appearance forever by refining a Planet Spirit, locking her growth in age.

On the opposite end, there were individuals like Kristan. He looked to be in his fifties when he is extremely young for his power level. During his early life, he spent too much time as a Saint, recklessly draining a large portion of his life force. By the time he ascended to the Martial Emperor Realm, three-quarters of his vitality had already burned away, leaving him stuck with an old man's appearance. Even if he later refined a Planet Spirit, that refinement would only preserve the state he was already in—an aged body with dwindling vitality.

Someone like Kristan didn't care much for the smoothness of his face or the color of his hair. But not everyone shared his mindset. Many could not accept living thousands of years with wrinkled skin, gray hair, and bent spines. For them, tools and pills for temporary beauty became indispensable.

These were among the most purchased items across the cosmos—only slightly less popular than affinity boosters or injury-healing medicines.

But of course, such products came with flaws. They were temporary by nature, consuming a person's energy continuously as long as they were active. The side effects were nasty: mood swings, volatile temperaments, and the constant need for higher doses as tolerance built up over centuries. In the end, they were less like beauty aids and more like addictive drugs dressed up in a shiny bottle.

"Heh~ Don't worry," Robin chuckled, lightly slapping Jabba's thigh. "I won't let you embarrass yourself with those superficial pills or gimmicky tools. I'll reshape you in a way that's safe and permanent. I've done it once before—for Morgana. Back then, I combined my own power with the strength of my two guardians, Wade and Malek. By fusing the Laws of Life and Reshaping, I forced her body to advance ten years in mortal terms."

His grin widened. "For you, though, I'll reverse the process. You'll need to shed about forty years, maybe even fifty, to restore the prime of your youth. Hmmm… that would take at least ten levels of power, minimum." He rubbed his chin, muttering to himself. "Tsk… Thinking about it again…"

Suddenly, he slapped his thigh, his face breaking into decision. Rising to his feet, he strode toward the chamber's entrance with firm steps.

"Alright then, it's decided! Time for me to step back into the Eleventh Level!"

With a snap of his fingers, three soul creatures materialized at his side, their translucent bodies flickering with faint light. Robin pointed casually toward Jabba.

"Go on. Continue what you were doing with him."

"Yes, owner." The soul creatures bowed low, their voices echoing with layered tones. Without hesitation, they bypassed Robin, surrounding Jabba from three sides as the air rippled faintly with their gathered energy.

One of them carefully lifted a spoon and began feeding him bit by bit, making sure not to let even a single drop fall. The second gently combed his hair, smoothing out the tangles with patience, while also trimming his nails so he would remain neat and clean. As for the third, he pressed his palms along the old man's body, massaging each limb thoroughly so the muscles would not stiffen and his joints would stay supple, almost as if keeping him preserved for the long years yet to come.

(Stop.) Neri's voice erupted sharply inside Robin's mind, carrying a mix of frustration and disbelief. (Don't tell me you're about to go all the way back to the beginning again—starting from scratch, wasting endless hours, scribbling those random runes that break your pens and ruin your canvases every single time!)

"That's exactly what I was planning to do." Robin leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed as he sat cross-legged by the entrance, his wide grin stretching as though he had been caught red-handed yet felt no guilt at all. "To be honest, I don't even know if what I'm attempting will have any tangible effect, but it stirs something in me. It excites me. I want to try regardless, even if the result ends up being useless. Curiosity is reason enough."

(And what, precisely, do you think you're doing this time?) Neri's tone turned sharp and demanding.

"I'm attempting to trace the Truth Patterns." Robin's eyes lifted to the boundless sky above, as if searching for faint outlines hidden in its depths. "Fascinating, isn't it?"

(Wait—what? The Truth Patterns?! Can you even see them at all?) Neri's voice cracked in pure shock, as though she could hardly believe her ears.

"More or less…" Robin exhaled slowly. "I've noticed that each time I break myself down and rebuild my foundations, I can perceive the patterns with slightly more clarity than before. Or maybe it's simply because I've stared at them obsessively, over and over, that my mind starts piecing together fragments into a clearer image. Think of it like this: imagine you have a blurred, indistinct picture. You then lay another identical blur over it, then a third, a fourth, and continue layering. Slowly, faint patterns begin to emerge. Eventually, you can make out enough to trace lines over the blur, following them until a proper image reveals itself underneath."

"That's how it feels to me, at least~." He shrugged with an easy smile. "The patterns are enormous, dense, overflowing with detail. So far, I've managed to extract around five percent of thirteen distinct patterns, about eight percent of six others, and the rest remain hidden beyond my reach. And even those percentages cost me dearly—every bit was carved out of countless failed strokes. Each time a pen shattered in my hand, or a canvas collapsed from strain, I knew I was forcing a wrong path and had to stop immediately."

(You… you've already identified nineteen separate Truth Patterns?) Neri's voice trembled with disbelief. (Do you realize what that even means? Even a single completed pattern is enough to mark someone as a Truth Chosen! Three could elevate you to a second or third-stage Chosen! And yet you—nineteen? And still more left undiscovered?)

For a moment she went utterly silent, unable to find the right words. Then, softly but firmly, she asked: (...Do you have even the slightest idea what these patterns are for—what happens if you ever manage to complete them?)

Robin chuckled under his breath. "I just want to see them whole. Even completing a single one would make unraveling the rest infinitely easier. As for their true purpose… well, that's something I'll only know once I hold them finished in my hands." His grin sharpened, carrying both excitement and danger. "Until then, the mystery itself is reward enough."

(Tch! No, I won't be swayed by that foolish answer of yours!) Neri suddenly shouted, her tone switching to outright scolding. (You need to concentrate on building your actual strength first—then you can return to these obsessive studies you call research!)

"Isn't this also building strength?" Robin retorted smoothly, his words calm but edged with confidence. "Haven't you seen what happens to the pens with every stroke? The canvases themselves warp and tear under the pressure, though more slowly. Without reinforcing them constantly with the Law of Creation, I wouldn't even be able to draw a single line."

(You must become a Royal Soul Lord first, and only then are you allowed to bury yourself in your experiments again!) Neri's voice thundered through his head with unusual severity. (Have you forgotten? You nearly died collecting the soul units you needed, and now you leave your entire spiritual domain bloated, unstable, and wasted without proper use!)

"…Tsk." Robin finally sighed, lowering his shoulders. He straightened his posture, then crossed his legs and slipped naturally into a meditative pose. "Fine. I'll yield for now. But after I complete the formation of the First Star, I want fifty years—fifty years of uninterrupted solitude. No distractions, no demands, no meddling. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal!" Neri answered instantly, her voice ringing with relief.