Lord of the Truth - Chapter 1264

Chapter 1264: Scar-2
SMAAAACK!

The sound of the slap echoed sharply across the grand hall as Robin’s hand struck Peon cheek with brutal force. The room fell silent for a moment, broken only by Robin’s voice, cutting through the air like a blade:

“…I made a mistake the day I bought you.”

“…..”

Peon’s eyes flew open, wide and stunned. The tears he thought had long dried and vanished returned with a vengeance, rising to the surface and spilling over as he looked up at the furious face of the man he called father.

“When I saw you on that auction platform, beaten, broken, discarded like trash, I didn’t pick you because of a few basic cultivation levels. No—I didn’t choose you because you had only one fuckin’ arm either!”

Robin’s voice rose, and with it, his anger. He reached forward and yanked peon’s remaining ear harshly, his grip merciless.

“I chose you because I saw something more—because I noticed the immense pain carved into your soul. I saw suffering etched into your very being, yet despite it all, there was a fire in your eyes. A spark. A glimmer of something unyielding. You refused to give up. I saw a fighter. I saw a survivor. I saw someone who, no matter what fate threw at him, still looked forward with determination, with purpose. I thought, this… this is the kind of spirit I want beside me!”

Then, without warning, he released his grip—only to slap him again. SMAAACK!

“But I was wrong! I chose a fool! A coward! An utter disappointment!”

“Coward?!”

Peon’s voice exploded from his throat, trembling with rage and disbelief.

“I am no coward!”

He flung his arm out in protest, breath ragged. In the vast stretch of the empire, was there a single person reckless enough to call him that? He had faced death time and time again—diving headfirst into the jaws of danger with no hesitation.

“Yes, a coward!”

Robin’s voice thundered back, unrelenting.

“A coward who hides from life by chasing death! A coward who avoids all responsibility, who drifts aimlessly from one battle to the next hoping that, one day, he simply won’t wake up!”

He twisted Peon’s ear tighter, his knuckles white from the force.

“Look around you—look at your siblings! One is the Supreme General of a fleet that conquers worlds with ease. The second has built an intelligence network so vast and so precise it made entire civilizations kneel. Zara—she’s reshaping the empire itself from the Sky Opening City. And Richard? He unified the empire under one banner without a single internal rebellion. And you? You? What have you done?!”

Robin’s hand struck the top of Peon’s head.

“You’ve never once applied for a position of worth. Never once sought to create your own power or establish a path of your own. All you’ve ever done is fling yourself into meaningless battles, hoping the next one would finally kill you. And now I learn that you’ve been doing this deliberately—to avoid forming real bonds, to stay detached from everyone around you? If that isn’t cowardice, then tell me—what is it?!”

“…You didn’t see what I saw.”

Peon’s voice dropped low, trembling. His lips tightened, trying to hold back emotion, pain, memories.

“And what makes you think you’re the only one who’s suffered, huh?”

Robin’s voice dropped with a cold fury.

“You think I haven’t seen darkness? That I haven’t bled? You think my life was a dream of roses and soft winds?”

He struck him again, this time with more force.

“You think you’re still a boy? Still a sulking adolescent? You’re a man over a hundred and seventy years old! And you’re telling me that one night, one moment in your past, was enough to define your entire life forever? Are we supposed to feel sorry for you because you were skinned alive as a child? Do you think that gives you the right to waste everything that came after?! Grow the fuck up!”

Pfft!

Peon spat out a mouthful of blood, the red liquid staining the polished floor as his eyes grew bloodshot from the burst of internal pressure. Not once had he lifted a defense against his father’s blows.

“I never asked for pity… not from you, not from anyone,” he muttered. “I never stood in anyone’s way… So why can’t you all just leave me behind and forget I exist?”

“Oh, now you’re playing the martyr?”

Robin’s voice turned cold.

“Now you think you don’t matter? Let’s talk about your siblings again, shall we? Do you really believe they’ve moved on without a second thought about you? Every step they take forward—they glance back. And what do they see? You. Struggling, crawling, dangling between life and death in some war-torn corner of the universe.”

Robin looked down at him, face twisted in rage and disappointment.

“Each one of them has come to me about you. All four. They’ve pleaded, they’ve worried, they’ve asked me what’s wrong with their brother. And every single time, I told them the same thing: ‘He’s finding his own path. When he finds it, he’ll shine brighter than all of you combined.’ But you’ve proven me wrong—again and again. You’re nothing but a stubborn beast!”

Peon lowered his head, blood dripping from his mouth. His voice came out hoarse, barely audible.

“…No one should look back. I’m just a soldier, waiting for the moment my time ends. Just a slave… and apparently an ungrateful one, too.”

“…Yes. Yes, you are ungrateful,”

Robin said, placing both hands firmly on the arms of his throne, leaning forward as his voice shifted into something colder, heavier—final.

“I summoned you here today to grant you a new merged law… one I personally developed for you. A law that could have elevated you among your peers. I was ready to promote you, to give you a new beginning. But now? Now I see that would be a waste. I’m not handing over a rare, priceless law to someone who’ll just throw it away the next day.”

“Huh…?”

Peon’s voice came out low, hoarse, disbelieving. He raised his head slowly, as if it weighed a thousand tons, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Robin’s figure.

“You are hereby discharged from your duties in the First Army.”

Robin’s tone was cold—icy, in fact. There was no hint of emotion, no warmth, no trace of hesitation. He delivered the sentence as if it were a mere formality.

“I have enough soldiers. What I don’t need is a man with a death wish serving among them.”

For a moment, silence gripped the hall. Then came the eruption.

“What did you just say?!”

Peon stood up so abruptly his chair scraped loudly against the floor, his whole body trembling with a mix of rage, confusion, and disbelief.

“What is this nonsense?! What kind of twisted game are you playing?! The battlefield is my life! It’s the only place I breathe! The only place I feel real!”

His voice rose in intensity, echoing off the ancient stone walls. His chest was heaving, his pulse surging.

Robin remained calm, his expression unreadable.

“That’s not my concern,” he said with a lazy shrug, leaning back slightly in his throne.

“Find something else to do. Plant a field of crops. Open a restaurant. Or better yet, establish an interstellar freight company—I hear shipping across the planets is booming these days. You might be surprisingly good at logistics.”

Peon’s mouth hung open for a moment, stunned. Then he shouted,

“Is this a joke to you?! A pathetic attempt to humiliate me?! If Alexander is Caesar’s right hand, then I’m the left! I am the sword that cuts through enemy lines! I command fleets and direct strategies across three planets! You can’t just take a general—a warrior—who has spent one and a half centuries steeped in war and battles and tell him to go grow carrots or deliver packages!”

“Oh, but I can,” Robin replied, a wide grin spreading across his face, more mocking than joyful.

“I just did. And if you’re not deaf, you heard me loud and clear.”

Then he raised one finger—slowly, deliberately.

“But… there’s one thing you can do. One thing, and only one, that might make me consider reversing this decision.”

Peon’s eyes widened, wild with desperation.

“What is it?!” he asked sharply, his voice cracking under pressure. His pupils were dilated, like a trapped beast looking for the tiniest sliver of escape. His entire soul clung to that ‘one thing.’

“Get married,” Robin said simply, his finger lowering like a judge’s gavel. His smile had vanished. His tone was grave.

There was a pause.

Peon blinked.

“…What?”

He sounded as though the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“What the hell do you mean, get married?! Since when do you involve yourself in this kind of thing?”

He gestured wildly toward the great hall’s massive gate, his voice thick with protest.

“Caesar and Theo are older than me! If you’re so eager to play matchmaker, start with them! Force them to settle down!”

Robin shook his head, expression hardening.

“They’re different. Both of them have their eyes locked on their goals. They’re focused. They’re stable. You? You’re not. You’re drifting. Crumbling. Self-destructing. That’s why I’m imposing this on you—not them.”

Then, with a commanding gesture, he pointed directly at Peon.

“A wife. Two children. That’s the requirement. Once you have that, you may return. Until then, consider yourself on indefinite leave—grounded. This isn’t a discussion. It’s a decree. You are dismissed until further notice.”

Peon stood there frozen, fists clenched at his sides. The muscles in his jaw twitched as his teeth ground together, the audible creeeak of his molars scraping one another filling the silence. His face was a storm—of humiliation, fury, confusion, and something deeper… something broken.

“…Can I leave now?”

His voice was quiet. Dead.

“Of course.”

Robin smiled again, as if nothing had happened.

WHOOSH.

Peon turned on his heel and marched toward the massive exit, his cloak whipping behind him. The tension in his shoulders, the pace of his stride—it was clear he was headed somewhere to unleash all the fire building inside him.

Just before he reached the door, Robin’s voice followed him, not loud, but piercing:

“During your leave… find the Peon you lost on that night. Or if he’s truly gone, then discover a new one—forge him, build him. And one more thing…”

Robin’s tone softened, just a touch.

“Don’t think about taking your own life… Your sister would be sad.”

Peon didn’t stop walking.

He didn’t look back.

He didn’t say a word.

But for a few seconds, blood trickled slowly from the corner of his lips—his body responding to the emotional war raging inside. He tightened his fists so hard his knuckles cracked. And then… he disappeared through the gate, leaving only silence in his wake.