Lan gripped the hilt tightly.
At first glance, The Devil’s Lie looked nothing like the legendary weapon feared in stories and whispered by trembling cultivators. Its hilt was bound in plain grey cloth, weathered and frayed, as if it had once been part of a mourner’s robe. The blade itself was dull, spotted, and rust-stained—as if it had seen centuries of silence and rot.
No ominous hum of power.
No chilling whisper in the back of his mind.
No pull of fate.
Just stillness.
He braced himself for sothing—visions, screams, revelations. A surge of truth ant to split his soul in half.
But what he felt instead was... nothing.
His breath caught, and his brow furrowed.
"What... does this an?" he murmured.
Had he truly changed so much? Had he beco so hollowed out—so utterly detached from delusion—that even this blade had nothing to whisper?
Was he no longer lying to himself?
Had he severed that final thread of false virtue?
Then, the system’s translucent script scrolled before his eyes:
> [Devil’s Lie (Sealed)]
[Weapon Rank: C | Potential Rank: SSS]
[Current State: Dormant (0% Unlocked)]
"...Ah." Lan exhaled, annoyed. "So it’s just sealed."
So much for being a transcendent, lie-less god.
He’d hoped—foolishly—that his growth, his descent into ruthlessness, had perhaps left him immune to the sword’s terrifying truths. But the reality was more mundane:
The blade wasn’t dead.
Just dormant.
He scowled.
"It wasn’t so spiritual enlightennt i had reached," he muttered. "The damn thing just hasn’t woken up yet."
"That sword doesn’t awaken for the wielder," Xie’s voice echoed softly behind him. "It awakens for the cut."
Lan turned slightly. Xie Wuchen stood near the open window, arms crossed, the sun haloing the edges of his spectral silhouette.
"So how do I unlock it?"
Xie took a breath as if reliving mory.
"It feeds on dishonesty. It drinks the rot beneath painted truths. Each strike must carve through deception. And the deeper the lie—" his eyes narrowed, "—the sharper the cut. And the more it feeds."
Lan tilted his head. "Be more specific."
"A king," Xie began, "whose delusion threatens a kingdom. A beloved hero who believes himself righteous, yet hides a history of atrocities. Their lies are profound. Their deaths... nourishing. For you. For the blade."
Lan considered it, nodding. "So striking down a cheating husband wouldn’t feed the sword much."
"Barely a scratch," Xie said. "It’s not about morality. It’s about the depth of the illusion. The grander the deception, the louder the truth echoes when it’s broken."
"Got it." Lan returned the blade to his sub-space. "Then I’ll deal with that later."
He turned his gaze toward another glowing panel hovering nearby.
> [Learnable Skills Available]
• Qi Blades: Materialize multiple small Qi blades the size of a small dagger. Swift and sharp, they zip through the air at your command. Control range: 30 ters.
• Qi Shield: Creates a protective layer of condensed Qi around you.
———
Lan’s eyes scanned the text, nodding slightly.
"Not half bad," he murmured. "A little conventional. But useful."
Then his gaze dropped to the final line on the window:
[Bloodline: Solaris Royal]
His expression sharpened.
He tapped the floating text and whispered,
"What exactly are you?"
The panel shimred... but gave no response.
Yet in the back of his mind, sothing shifted. A buried instinct. A pull that whispered outside of cultivation—sothing of command. Of dominion written in the marrow of his blood.
Whatever it was, he would uncover it in ti.
He always did.
---
One Week Later
Lan stood at the palace courtyard.
The sun hung low on the horizon, the sandstone walls of the palace were left in hues of burnished gold. The air was crisp, charged with the tension of departure.
Horses stamped their hooves beside the waiting carriage, its silver trim catching the morning light. The banner of Solaris fluttered in the breeze.
Lan stood at the center of it all, his dark robes freshly pressed, his expression blank as usual.
The carriage was ready.
So was he.
A presence shifted behind him, and he turned slightly.
Lady Seraphine stood to his right, radiant as ever, her golden hair braided down her back like a silken rope. To his left, standing tall in his dull grey armor, was the Fourth Guard—his oldest remaining protector.
And high above them, from the eastern balcony, the King stood silently, watching.
No words. No fanfare.
Only that distant, royal gaze—colder than judgnt, heavier than stone.
Lan’s brothers were absent. Off on so diplomatic voyage, as always. Perhaps that was for the best.
He turned to his companions.
"This is your last chance," Lan said calmly. "You don’t have to follow into Ranevia. I won’t fault you if you stay."
The Fourth Guard straightened. "I will follow whatever order you give, Your Highness."
Lan blinked once. "Is he always this robotic?"
Seraphine chuckled. "Yes. Unfortunately."
She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Lan’s arm.
"But you already know my answer," she said softly. "Let’s go."
Lan nodded, his jaw tight.
Without another word, he climbed into the carriage. Seraphine followed, pulling the door shut behind her. The Fourth Guard stepped to the front and took the reins in silence.
With a crack of the whip and the grinding of wheels, the carriage lurched forward.
Lan didn’t look back. He felt no need to. He knew the court was watching. He knew the nobles whispered.
He knew the King, in all his power and cold-blooded calculation, stood silently from that high perch and wondered...
...What had his son beco?
---
Beyond the city gates, the road to Ranevia long and broken in it’s strech. The forests grew darker. The skies turned more grey with every mile. Here, civility began to rot, and the rule of kings faded into the law of survival.
Lan stared out the window of the carriage, his hand resting lightly on its fra.
His mind was elsewhere. The Devil’s Lie. Still dormant.
Still silent.
But not for long.
"Soon," he murmured.
"I’ll feed you a king."
Reviews
All reviews (0)