Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1022: The most insolent subordinate



"King of the North, Hulak, you're alive?!"

"Impossible!"

One by one, the marshals rose in shock and disbelief. The hundred princes standing at the back all furrowed their brows, abandoning their disciplined stances. Even Pythor widened his eyes to their fullest and stood up, utterly stunned, as though he had seen a ghost.

Most of those present had witnessed The End of the World Day. They had seen firsthand what happened to Hulak and Morin through Jabba's live surveillance array. Those who hadn't been there had heard the tale from those who had.

They clearly remembered seeing Hulak take a direct blow from the Supreme Lord's Shadow, watching his arm disintegrate. They had seen him near his end, only for a massive wyvern to descend and begin incinerating his body. At that moment, Jabba cut off the feed, stating that he respected his ancestor too much to watch further.

Clank, clank.

Yet no one was more shocked and terrified than the special forces of the marshals standing on the rooftops. All of them abandoned their posts in disbelief; some stepped closer to get a better look at the newcomer, while others recoiled in fear.

They had been there on The End of the World Day. They had felt the overwhelming power of the Dark Shadow, and had seen Hulak turn to ash before them, like a dry leaf set aflame. Just the sight of the Shadow had stopped their hearts and sent them fleeing eastward without a single backward glance.

Since that day, they had never ventured beyond the eastern region. Some of them still suffered nightmares from that moment. How could the man who faced the Shadow still be alive? How could he now stand before them without a scratch?

"Haha, calm down, everyone! I don't like messy atmospheres. If you want my autograph, line up!" Hulak laughed boisterously, motioning for the crowd to quiet down.

"You...!!" Pythor finally realized his standing position was inappropriate and grasped the edge of his violet cloak to compose himself before sitting down. With a forceful wave, he ordered the marshals to do the same.

Then, he fixed Hulak with a steely gaze. "... How are you still alive, you wretch? Everyone saw you take a direct hit from the Supreme Lord's Manifestation. We saw his power consume your arm. Such an attack shouldn't stop without an equal force countering it. That's a power someone from the Young Planetary Belt like you couldn't possibly possess."

"Oh, you mean that Shadow? It couldn't kill a fly, let alone harm the great Hulak!" Hulak thumped his chest, laughing. "Secondly, aren't you from the Young Planetary Belt too, huh?" Pythor opened his mouth to retort that he couldn't be compared to someone as lowly as Hulak!

But he stopped as he watched Hulak casually disregard him and make his way to the table. Hulak seated himself beside Richard and turned toward Robin with an exaggerated frown.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Hey! Why didn't you wait for me? I know my charisma is overwhelming, and I'd probably steal the spotlight from you if we walked in together. But leaving me to enter alone like this? Damn, that's low even from you! What if I caught a cold from the concentrated chilly air?"

"..." Pythor's icy composure began to boil. He was being ignored as though he were nothing.

"You're late. Were you doing warm-ups on the other side? I don't wait for anyone." Robin waved dismissively.

"You waited for Sakaar, though! That bastard crossed right before me." Hulak gestured toward the towering crimson-horned giant.

"You're not Sakaar." Robin turned slightly and locked eyes with Hulak. "Now, keep your tongue in your mouth."

"Tsk- That's the response of someone who's got no good argument!" Hulak crossed his arms and leaned back, propping his feet on another seat in front of him-right in Marshal Celebos' line of sight. He then raised his brows repeatedly and blew him a mocking kiss, "Hey there, sweetheart. Remember me?"

"You!! Don't you have any respect, you savage?!" The first marshal slammed the table but refrained from attacking Hulak... partly because of the ongoing negotiations, and partly because, truthfully, he didn't dare.

When Pythor saw what was happening, a strained smile stretched across his face, barely masking the mix of irritation and frustration brewing beneath the surface. He adjusted his posture slightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as if attempting to regain composure. Then, with deliberate precision, he turned back to face Robin, his voice laced with a sharp edge of sarcasm.

"Even a mighty planetary emperor cannot control his subordinates? Or are you so desperate for followers that you brought the first person you thought might prove useful? You came here to discuss the fate of planets, billions over billions of creatures' lives are hanged on a word here, and yet you bring along a subordinate who disrespects you so openly. Truly, this is beyond pathetic."

His words cut through the tense atmosphere like a blade, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Pythor's tone was calm, yet the sting of his mockery was unmistakable.

As the words reached Caesar, Richard, and Sakaar, their expressions darkened. The tension in their bodies became palpable, and their gazes turned toward Holak, radiating a fierce intensity. Caesar's knuckles whitened as his hands clenched into fists, while Sakar's crimson eyes narrowed, barely concealing his simmering anger. Richard, typically composed, let out a low, audible sigh, his glare sharp enough to pierce steel. It was evident that once this meeting concluded, Holak would face a beating.

Yet, in the midst of this storm, Robin remained unfazed. His serene smile was held firm, his demeanor was unshakable and calm, and he responded with measured grace.

"Unfortunately," Robin began, his tone as smooth as still water, "that's just how Nihari giants are provocative and notoriously difficult to control. Even when they're on your side, they have a way of rebelling against authority, ignoring commands as they see fit. But," he added with a faint shrug, "their power makes them indispensable, forcing you to tolerate their antics."

As he spoke, Robin's gaze shifted, his hand gesturing casually toward a spot behind Pythor. His voice carried an undercurrent of amusement as he asked, "Don't you have one of them as well? From what I hear, your relationship hasn't been the most harmonious of late."

Turn, turn.

Every eye in the present followed Robin's gesture. Robin was pointing at someone lounging in a chair that resembled a beach lounger, the figure sat with an air of detachment. His eyes were fixed on the sky above, as though the heated discussion unfolding around him was of no consequence. His relaxed demeanor was almost comical in contrast to the tension around

him.

"Do you mean the Fourth Truth Chosen?" Pythor's smile widened into something sharper, almost predatory, as he turned his eyes toward the figure. A glimmer of satisfaction flickered across his face as he responded, "He was your disciple all this time, yet you failed to distinguish between a human and a Nehari giant? No wonder he abandoned you. You truly are a terrible master."

Robin's eyebrows arched slightly at the statement, but his expression remained composed. He turned his attention to Jabba, his voice calm but carrying a subtle weight. "You didn't inform your new master that you were once a Nihari Giant yourself?"

Jabba, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, steady and unbothered. Without even glancing at the table, "I didn't think it was necessary. This is common knowledge across Nihari. I assumed their intelligence system would have conveyed such a basic fact."

"You!!" The word burst from Pythor like an explosion, his composure shattering for a brief moment. Jabba's words were not only a direct insult to him but also a scathing critique of the intelligence system Pythor prided himself on.

Robin chuckled, "Haha! See? They're all the same," he remarked, his gaze shifting back to Pythor. Though his laughter was genuine, a faint flicker of something passed through his

eyes.

Meanwhile, the four others accompanying Robin exchanged subtle glances, their focus briefly settling on Jabba. The implications of Robin's earlier question lingered in the air: had Jabba truly pledged himself to Pythor? Robin's question to him carried another hidden inquiry about his current stance, but his lack of denial left the matter hanging.

Pythor's frustration was evident as he waved a hand, dismissing the side conversations. His voice rose slightly, tinged with irritation. "Enough of this nonsense! We came here to discuss ending the war, not to hold a contest to determine who has the most insolent subordinate!" Robin nodded in agreement, his tone light but firm. "Agreed. So, what do you propose?"