CHAPTER 1439: THE TRUTH

In the cultivator world where fear already ruled in every corner, the name of ’Long Ming could still fill a room and silence even the boldest of tongues. People feared him not just because of his overwhelming power, or the brutal efficiency with which he destroyed his enemies.

What they truly feared was his deep and unfathomable mind—his cold detachment, his unreadable thoughts, and the eerie calm that always preceded his wrath.

His existence soon became a phantom of war, a shadow lurking just beyond the veil of certainty. He was known as an omniscient, ruthless force, terrifyingly precise in every move he made.

Zhao Li Xin never hesitated to take risks. He did not fear defeat or loss; to him, it was all just a game. He welcomed ruin and chaos, then forged them into weapons.

If he hadn’t dared to take a risk, why else would he dare to pick up people like Jin Hao, Bei Li Yan, Wu San Bo, and Jiang Jin Wei?A bunch of people who had been discarded by their clans, hunted by their own kingdom, and shunned by society as worthless and pitiful?

Yet Zhao Li Xin not only took them in, he forged them, piece by piece, until they became sharp weapons no one dared to challenge.

Under his ruthless guidance, they rose to become the Four Palace Kings of the infamous Hei Shen Sect, and each of them became a nightmare in his own right.

But what made Zhao Li Xin even more maddening to his enemies was his complete apathy toward worldly desires. He could not be bribed, tempted, or threatened. He wanted nothing. He needed nothing, and that made him untouchable.

A man like Zhao Li Xin owed loyalty to no one—neither blood, nor crown, nor creed. No family, no kingdom, no power on this earth could command him.

It was said that with Zhao Li Xin’s strength and intellect, he could dismantle empires before breakfast. Rulers trembled at the thought, yet one thin thread of hope remained: he simply did not care for power or politics.

Many tried to win his favor, many kings, generals, noble families, but still he remained unmoved, unreachable.

The world had long accepted one absolute truth: if Zhao Li Xin ever chose to support a nation, that nation would inevitably rise. Just like the Liang Zu Kingdom, despite receiving only a fraction of its resources, it flourished under his distant aid. That alone was enough to elevate Ming Yue Yin as the first Empress ever to rule the kingdom in her own right.

[Master, if you intend to open the Gate to Oblivion, it’s best to do it under the full moon, when the power of Yin is at its peak,] a boyish voice suddenly echoed in his mind, reminding him.

His brush paused mid-stroke. For a moment, Zhao Li Xin lifted his gaze to the sky, thoughtful. Then he spoke again, his tone calm but edged with tension.

[Still no news from Girsha?]

The fire spirit responded dejectedly, [No, Master.]

Zhao Li Xin took a deep breath, worry faintly clouding his usually impassive face. After a long silence, he finally said, [Prepare everything. The full moon is in two days. We’ll open the gate then.]

[Are you sure, Master? If you fail, the backlash will be very severe. Your cultivation could drop by several stages, even a few levels or worse...you lost all your cultivation] the fire spirit warned, anxiety creeping into his voice.

[It’s fine,] Zhao Li Xin replied, his voice steady as stone. [I won’t fail.]

The fire spirit hesitated; he knew he was not supposed to do this, but he braced himself to speak further. [Would you... Tell Madam about the risk?]

[No,] he answered firmly, without a moment’s pause.

[But Master—]

[Crimson Lightning.] His voice turned sharp, cold as frost. [Never question my decision.]

A long silence followed, then the fire spirit answered weakly [...Yes, Master.]

And with that, Zhao Li Xin returned to his painting, the brush gliding smoothly across the canvas. His expression remained placid, like the surface of a winter lake, cold, still, and unwavering.

____________________________________________

The door to the King’s study suddenly slammed open, startling Fargo, Fredhardt, and Lucas.

Lory strode in, completely ignoring their surprised expressions.

"Hey! My sexy husband just gave me a great insight about our new case!"

"You’re sexy, what?" Lucas blinked, still trying to process her words.

Lory brushed past him, already moving on. "Hey, Fargy, if I’m not wrong, about twenty-something years ago, didn’t we receive a report about a string of mysterious deaths in a small, remote town near the south border?"

Fargo furrowed his brow, trying to remember. "Uh... which one? That was a long time ago..."

"Wait," Fredhardt muttered, pinching his chin in thought. "Was it the one where half the town’s population died under strange circumstances?"

"Yes!" Lory snapped her fingers. "If I’m not mistaken, Uncle Stephan and Uncle Reynald were assigned to investigate it, right?"

Fredhardt nodded slowly, then pulled out his phone. After a few rings, he spoke into it, "Hey, old man. Do you remember that case—those weird deaths in the small town? Yeah, the one you thought was a plague... Uh-huh... Lory’s asking about it. Yeah, she needs it...alright—okay, ookayy..."

Fredhardt ended the call with a long, weary sigh and turned to Lory, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and resignation.

"Your Uncle Stevie will gather everything that’s left and send it to you... In a minute," he said, a faint, helpless smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Fargo blinked in disbelief. "That fast? Seriously?" He threw his hands in the air. "Whenever I ask for his help, it takes days—days!"

Fredhardt shrugged nonchalantly, already expecting the reaction.

Fargo continued, lips curling with mock offense, "What kind of favoritism is that? I bend over backwards to be respectful and still get put on the waiting list."

Lucas, still reviewing his notes, replied casually without even lifting his gaze. "Really? Uncle Stevie always sends me things before I even ask, though."

Fargo snapped his head toward him, scandalized. "That’s right!"

He turned toward Fredhardt, his glare sharp. "I’m starting to think he doesn’t like me."

Fredhardt waved him off, still smiling. "He likes you fine...He is just like Lory and Luc, more."

Lucas and Lory give Fargo triumphant smiles that reply with a quiet growl. from Fargo "Of course he is"

"Anyway," Fredhardt said, steering the conversation back, "Why are you suddenly asking about this, Lory?"

"Oh—right," Lory said, her tone shifting as her eyes lit up with a mix of urgency and excitement. "It’s something Li Xin mentioned earlier. He pointed out that we’ve been too focused on Zalchana—even though we actually have no idea what that thing is truly capable of, besides turning beasts into Baels. So he suggested we look at the case from other angles. See if there are alternative explanations we’ve overlooked."

She crosses her arms on her chest as she appears more serious now. "And then I remembered something. Years ago, there was this case in a remote area, I can’t recall the name exactly, but a strange incident happened there. A lot of people died under really bizarre circumstances. No clear cause of death, and the corpses... looked weird. It never made the major reports, but I read about it in the archives when we were studying mysterious cases."

Lucas set his pen down, eyes narrowing as he processed her words. "Now that you mention it... this might not even be caused by a creature. What if this is the work of humans? Someone with a Gift power?"

"It’s possible," Fargo said slowly, rubbing his chin. "But for it to cause this level of destruction? This scale of death?"

He shook his head. "Even among the Gifted, that would require an amount of mana pool to do this, or perhaps...it’s more than one person."

Before anyone could respond, a notification tone echoed from Fredhardt’s phone. He checked the screen, brows rising slightly at first—but then his expression shifted. His mouth pressed into a thin line. His brow furrowed, and his whole demeanor tensed as he silently read through the content.

Everyone noticed immediately.

"What is it?" Lory asked, rising slightly from her seat, alert.

Fredhardt didn’t answer right away. Instead, he lifted his hand and, with a smooth swipe across the phone, projected the contents onto the wall in front of him.

A soft pulse of light filled the room as maps, sensor data, old forensic photos, encrypted files, and fragmented reports appeared on the wall in a holographic layout. Soon after, all eyes turned to the display.

Lory stepped closer, eyes scanning each section rapidly. Lucas stood without a word, his notebook forgotten. Fargo’s earlier irritation was gone and replaced with a tense focus.

It was said that in a small town called Sweetville, a child was born who many believed to be the incarnation of a god—a little girl named Maya Summer.

According to local reports and early testimonies, Maya possessed the miraculous ability to heal people—completely, even to the point of regenerating missing limbs.

As soon as the words appeared on the screen, everyone in the room exchanged knowing glances.

Fargo muttered under his breath, "Sounds familiar..."

"So there is someone like the Saintess, before..." Fredhardt’s voice became icy.