Lord of the Truth - Chapter 1276

Chapter 1276: Farewell
“Father… I’m sorry, but it really doesn’t sound like you understand what you’re saying,” Richard said, his voice tight with disbelief, almost trembling. “That man—he despises you. Not just dislikes you or resents you—he despises every letter of your name with the kind of hatred that scorches the soul. He would rather see all of Jura—the cities, the rivers, the people, the dreams—consumed in fire and ruin, just to cause you the mildest discomfort. Just to watch you wince. That’s how deep it goes.”

Richard’s boots echoed against the marble floor as he took two slow, deliberate steps closer to his father, closing the gap between them until the tension was almost palpable. His eyes were wide, raw with disbelief, as though trying to make sense of a cruel joke.

“And now you’re seriously telling me… that man—the man who would rather consort with off-world marauders than even acknowledge your existence—you want him to sit on a throne? To run your empire?”

Robin didn’t flinch. In fact, he chuckled—softly, knowingly—and stepped forward, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders like a teacher schooling an unruly student.

“And why not?” he said, voice calm, almost amused. “In this world, interests reconcile all things, even hatred that burns hotter than the suns.”

He leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a low, steady murmur.

“Listen to me, Richard. Let me tell you something that many never understand: geniuses—true, transcendent, god-defying minds like his—don’t kneel. Not to emperors. Not even to fate. They carry wounds so deep they begin to mistake them for identity. They feed their hatred like a sacred flame. They need it to survive.”

Robin’s eyes grew distant for a moment, memories dancing behind them like ghosts.

“I would know. When your mother died, I didn’t grieve—I raged. I summoned the Demons, unleashed nightmares from realms that should not exist for the people of Jura. I waged war on everything under the sun.”

He squeezed Richard’s shoulder with quiet intensity.

“You did the same. Remember the Azil Tribe? You reduced their civilization to cinders. You didn’t just kill—you made an entire tripe vanish. Tens of millions… gone. Entire histories, cultures, bloodlines, obliterated, because your heart burned too loud to be ignored.”

Robin’s voice thickened, heavy with weight.

“And Helen… reckless, sweet Helen—she cast everything aside. Her status, her future, her peace. Just to try and kill me. And she knew the cost. She knew karma would hunt her down like a beast, but she did it anyway.”

He sighed and released Richard’s shoulder, letting his hand fall.

“That’s what we are. That’s what people like us do. Every being who ever carved their name into the bones of time carries that madness. That fury. And so I ask you again—should we execute Kristan because he failed to overthrow us? No. I say he’s already paid with interest.”

Richard’s jaw tensed. He looked away, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring.

“I don’t see it that way,” he muttered. “You saw how he looked at you. Like you were filth. Like he’d spit fire just to scald your name. That wasn’t rebellion. That was hatred. And it’s still there. He hasn’t changed. Not one bit.”

He shook his head slowly.

“And if you’re trying to compare what he went through to what I endured… then let me make one thing clear: even if the Azil Tribe rose from the dead and tortured me for a thousand years, I’d never break, I would still hate them with every cell in my body until my final breath. That’s how deep some wounds go. That’s why I can’t let him walk free.”

Robin sighed again, slower this time, and gave Richard a few thoughtful pats on the shoulder.

“Oh, but your situations are not the same, son. Not even close.”

He stepped away, turning slightly as he spoke.

“Kristan’s mother’s bloodline—the Burtons—they are the heart of the empire now. They are not just nobles; they are its foundation. They receive the best methods, the best advisors, the highest honors. If he chooses to serve the empire… then in a very real sense, he’s serving them. He’s honoring.”

Richard furrowed his brow, clearly unconvinced.

“…I don’t think he sees it that way.”

Robin turned back to him, a glint of strategy in his eye.

“Which is why you must make him see it.”

He tapped Richard’s chest twice, firmly.

“Here’s the plan. Over the next few decades—yes, decades—you stop torturing him. No blades, no beatings, nothing with your own hands. Let him sit in silence. Let the silence gnaw at him. Let his mind echo with the weight of his failure. Then, one day, you walk in. And you talk. Not as a warden, but as a man. Tell him you feel conflicted. Say your heart hurts because he’s your cousin, and you’ve done this to him.”

He raised a finger.

“Then leave. Don’t explain. Don’t justify. Let him think. Let that conversation haunt him. After a few more years, come back again. This time, bring stories. Talk about how well the Burton family is doing—how their children are laughing in academies, how the youth are training in beautiful new halls, how the empire is thriving.”

Robin’s voice softened to a whisper.

“Show him what peace looks like. What healing looks like. What a future looks like.”

He smiled faintly.

“Then disappear again. Just long enough for him to ache for your return. And when you come back… he will beg. He will need to speak with you. He’ll long for the warmth of those stories. He will ask for a chance to participate.”

Richard blinked at him in disbelief.

“You honestly think… that kind of emotional manipulation will work on someone like him? He’s a mass murderer! On the day of the uprising, he knew he was condemning hundreds of millions to death. He saw the numbers, and he did it anyway. He didn’t hesitate.”

Robin’s eyes darkened, voice cutting like a blade.

“And you broke him already, you cold-hearted bastard,” he snapped, swatting the back of Richard’s head. “Who the hell tortures a man like that for a hundred years and expects him to remain human? If he weren’t a Child of Fate, he would’ve gone mad within days. Days, Richard.”

Robin exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders.

“What’s left of him now… is nothing but a shell. A withered, broken thing hiding behind defiance. He clings to pride because it’s all he has left. But offer him even a thread of hope—one thread—and he will latch onto it like a dying man gasping for air. No one wants to stay in hell, Richard. Not even him.”

Richard scratched the back of his head, frowning deeply.

“…Couldn’t you just slap a Slave Seal on him and be done with it?”

“And what am I supposed to do with him afterward?” Richard snapped, his voice low but tight with frustration. “A Slave Seal doesn’t just compel obedience—it reshapes the very way a man thinks. Even the weakest of seals creates a dependency, a need to return to his master for every decision, every moment of uncertainty, every flicker of crisis. That’s not what I want. I need someone who can solve problems, not a puppet waiting for orders. I need a mind that moves on its own—not one bound by strings.”

Robin gave a slow nod, his expression calm.

“I understand, and that’s why I’m telling you… just follow the plan I gave you. Do it step by step. When the day comes—and it will come—when he himself asks you for a chance to cooperate, make him swear an oath. But not just any oath—use a reinforced Oath Tablet, something powerful and binding. Have Zara create it personally for you. And when that moment arrives, bring him back into the light. Announce his return as the new Prime Minister of the empire. Place him in the public eye, dress him with authority. Just be sure to keep him under your close watch at all times, and I promise you… everything will unfold as it should.”

“…”

Richard let out a heavy breath, then brought a hand to his forehead, fingers pressing hard into his skin as if trying to crush the very thoughts swirling in his mind. His jaw clenched so tightly that it seemed his teeth might shatter. But after a few seconds of silence, he let the tension drop from his shoulders. His voice, when it came, was flat—devoid of warmth, void of anger.

“…As you wish.”

Robin smiled faintly and gave his son’s shoulder a reassuring pat.

“Holding on to hatred… it won’t give you anything of real value, my son. Trust me—I’ve lived longer than you, and I’ve walked down that same path more times than I care to count. Even when I sought vengeance for your mother, when I unleashed my wrath upon the people of Jura, I didn’t destroy them all. I stopped after I had eliminated everyone ranked Knight and above. I ended the bloodshed at that point. Then, I turned my thoughts toward rebuilding. Toward peace. Toward restoration.”

His tone softened.

“You must learn when to stop fighting… and when to forget. Only then will your heart begin to heal, and your mind find clarity. Only then will you discover who you are beyond your rage.”

He lifted his hand from Richard’s shoulder.

“Well then… I leave it all in your hands now. Everything—our people, our empire, our legacy. It’s time for me to go.”

“Go?” Richard blinked, momentarily stunned. “Go where?!”

“To the Mid-Belt.” Robin sighed deeply, as if a great weight pressed on his chest. “I don’t know for how long. It might be a few decades… or it might be centuries. But I suspect I’ll be gone for quite some time.”

Richard’s eyes widened again, this time in disbelief.

“But why?! We have everything we need right here! Even if you cut ties with the Nine Paths Empire, we’ve become self-sufficient. We can stand on our own now. And you—you—with just a few more secluded cultivation sessions, you could ascend to any realm or state you desire. I heard about what you distributed to Sister Zara and the others. In just a single century, you’ve multiplied the power of this empire several times over. Why stop now? Why not keep going for a few more centuries?”

Robin looked at him with a sad, almost distant smile.

“It’s not about what we can achieve anymore, Richard. It’s about when we must achieve it. Timing is everything in this realm, and beyond it.” He paused, then added, “To speak plainly… within the next nine hundred years, we must ascend to the Mid-Belt. And when we do, we won’t be facing rogue sects or scattered armies—we’ll be going to war against World Calamities. Against forces that threaten entire planets. Maybe even against entities who’ve touched the threshold of Arrival. Tell me… what good will my inventions do against them?”

“What…?” Richard took a step back, stunned. His voice was barely a whisper. “Why nine hundred years? Why that number specifically? What’s coming?”

“I can’t tell you that. But I know it’s coming,” Robin said, his eyes fixed on the horizon like he was watching something no one else could see.

“Everything I’ve given you all these days—the knowledge, the power, the cultivation methods, the technologies—they were just to prepare you for conventional warfare. So you could defend yourselves against the armies of this sector. So you could become unshakable, untouchable… even if the full military strength of every major empire came crashing down on you.”

His voice was laced with pride, but his next words were tinged with concern.

“But that level of strength won’t help us against the giants. Against the ones who walk like myths and burn like stars. Against the ones whose very presence warps the laws of nature.”

Richard stared at him for a long moment.

“…So what are you planning to do?”

Robin took a breath. The weight on his shoulders was almost visible now.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quieter. Then he looked back at his son with a small, weary laugh. “But I’ve got to start somewhere… right?”

“I’m coming with you,” Richard said without hesitation, his brows furrowed, his voice resolute.

“Not yet.” Robin placed a hand gently on his arm.

“When the Stabilization Movement no longer needs your constant presence… when Kristan Burton is no longer a problem… then come find me. If you can.” He smirked.

“And when your siblings and the other commanders hear of this, they’ll all want to come too. Tell them what I’m telling you now—if any of them believes their role has become meaningless… if they truly think their subordinates can handle everything in their absence… then they’re free to follow me. But I doubt that day will come any time soon.”

He laughed again—this time a little louder, a little sadder.

Robin knew the truth: this answer wasn’t just about planning. It was about soothing. Calming Richard. And later, the others. Because each and every one of his children, every general he raised, was buried in responsibility. Even Hulak—the most carefree, the most indifferent among them—was now busy training the Imperial Guards with rare seriousness.

This journey, Robin knew deep down… was destined to be long.

And it would be walked alone.