Defiance of the Fall Chapter 1393: Nine Suns and Six Paths

The period of tranquility had reached its end.

As the five-element domain began to crumble, a wall of living flesh surged forward. The sudden emergence of a spiritual spring near the outpost had drawn at least a hundred Beast Kings, accompanied by a nameless multitude of their offspring. The basin was so densely packed with monsters that the ground itself was hidden beneath a shifting carpet of trampled beasts.

Under normal circumstances, such a sight wouldn't have troubled Carl. While he wouldn't necessarily describe Iz Tayn as "dependable," her presence usually meant that a higher density of enemies simply resulted in a more spectacular inferno. This time, however, Carl was left to confront the onslaught alone. The situation was dire; he had no frontline soldiers to provide cover, and the volleys he had fired earlier had already painted a target on his back the moment the elemental shield failed.

“Guess I have no choice,” Carl muttered, his jaw set tight as he produced a quiver of arrows forged from Spiritual Gold.

Each shaft was etched with runes that, despite their rough craftsmanship, were perfectly aligned with his class's energy pathways. He had managed to craft only twenty-six of these specialized projectiles during their scattered moments of rest. It was a meager supply, particularly since activating [Empyrean Suns of Yi] required a minimum of eight. Yet, the loss of resources was far less concerning than the physical toll the technique would exact.

Taking a deep, centering breath, Carl planted the arrows in a straight line in the dirt before him. As he tapped into the solar flames of his path, the wood began to hum with vibration, and the distant cries of celestial crows resonated in his mind. A heavy silence hung in the air for a heartbeat. Then, Carl’s essence merged with the sun.

He drew and fired with a rhythmic, enigmatic flow that eluded his conscious mind, guided instead by the instincts of his Earthly Dao. Each projectile transformed into a streak of searing heat, draped in golden-red plumes of manifested fire. Rather than aiming at specific targets, Carl launched the arrows toward the sky above the swarming masses.

His standard energy constructs could typically fly for a dozen miles. These physical arrows should have possessed even greater range, yet they detonated into violent firestorms the moment they cleared the perimeter. Below, the monsters merely glanced upward in brief confusion before resuming their frantic assault on the fading five-element barrier.

Carl couldn't afford to focus on their reaction. Only three arrows had been loosed, yet smoke was already curling from his nostrils. Agonizing heat was incinerating his internal organs, and the pain intensified exponentially with every shot. By the fifth arrow, his focus shattered under the torment. By the seventh, his entire being felt as though it were being unmade by the sun.

Through a feat of pure willpower, Carl located the eighth arrow amidst the blinding heat and drew back his glowing bowstring, which miraculously held firm. As the final arrow flew, the sudden release of tension brought tears to his eyes, and he collapsed to the earth. The internal fires that threatened to consume him finally leveled off just before reaching a fatal threshold, though the damage to his scorched pathways would necessitate weeks of recovery.

His depleted Cosmic Core pulsed with a desperate craving for energy, drawing his gaze toward the spiritual spring like a man dying of thirst. He considered taking a sip—but he shook the thought away to focus. The residual flames within him had coalesced into eight tiny suns circling his heart, a formation mirrored perfectly on the field of battle.

The chaotic detonations above had stabilized into true solar spheres, fueled by Carl’s entire cultivation and months of stored power. Dozens of three-legged crows circled each orb, radiating a heat that surpassed the suns themselves. The beasts realized the danger far too late.

With a suicidal intensity, the crows dove, their forms stretching into fiery bolts as they gained velocity. They struck the ground like arrows of living flame, and the valley groaned under the weight of thunderous explosions that turned thousands of creatures to soot. Even after impact, the fire refused to die.

The blazes clung to fur and skin, spreading with a ferocity that Carl could no longer govern. The terrain itself fueled the disaster; a massive fire-aligned Spirit Vein lay dormant beneath the basin. While the sudden appearance of the five-element spring had disrupted the local energy, it provided more than enough fuel for the conflagration.

As soon as one flock of crows perished, the suns birthed another generation, controlled by the miniature orbs in Carl's chest. He had enough power for two more cycles, but time was running out. A dozen Beast Kings had already been incinerated, and many more were desperately fighting the flames on their own bodies, but the survivors wouldn't sit idly by while Carl turned the basin into a crematorium.

He decided it was better to detonate the remaining energy as a final strike than to let the suns be extinguished by the enemy. There was a more desperate path—using his heart as tinder and soul as the shaft to become a ninth sun in a final act of mutually assured destruction. Even the powerful Late D-grade Beast King watching from the rear would have to fear such a blast.

But Carl had no intention of choosing martyrdom unless it was to save his family. He wasn't a battle-crazed zealot. With a mental command, he crushed the internal suns, causing the celestial spheres above to shatter into a rain of infernal sparks upon the struggling tide.

Though these fragments were less powerful than the crows, their sheer numbers turned the valley into a sea of fire. Carl watched the destruction with a pained smile. It was a waste of potential Kill Energy, he realized. Struggling to his feet, he swallowed several healing pellets and limped toward the spiritual spring.

Carl knew he lacked the overwhelming power of Emperor Atwood. At least seventy Beast Kings remained, and he had only managed to cull the weakest. However, the lingering flames carried the authentic aura of the three-legged crow—a gift from Iz—which was enough to make the surviving monsters hesitate.

The pressure on the base's defenses had vanished, allowing the barrier to begin its recovery. Carl estimated his gambit had secured twenty minutes of peace. By the time the beasts realized the trick, the defenses would be revitalized.

Potent but chaotic spiritual energy drifted from the clear spring. Carl found the situation baffling. Usually, a spring appearing so conveniently would be a miracle, especially one so well-aligned with the outpost's elemental defenses. Yet, this was tied to the problematic road.

The Imperial Workshop had mandated a fire-aligned node for this sector, and the natural emergence of five-element energy threatened to unbalance the entire road network. He and Iz had been sent to fix the discrepancy while the garrison held back the beasts. That plan had clearly gone sideways.

Carl plunged his head into the water, drinking deeply. The liquid provided immediate relief to his damaged meridians and refilled his energy faster than any crystal could. Because the spring had manifested directly on the Imperial Road, it was devoid of the corruptive elements common in the Left Imperial Expanse.

He found himself envying his leader's digestive capabilities. Zachary Atwood could have consumed an entire mountain's worth of energy even at E-grade. This spring would have been a light snack for him, and drinking it dry would have removed the beasts' reason for staying. Carl, however, felt stuffed to the point of bursting after only a few moments. He sat back on the bank, his immediate exhaustion fading.

What was the next step?

He looked back at the smoke rising from the base. The sounds of combat still echoed from within. Carl had fled to the front lines as much to avoid Iz's temper as to fight the beasts. She had suddenly turned violent, attacking the very people they were supposed to be helping. Now, the smell of charred flesh from the fortress was even more pungent than the stench from the battlefield.

This was a disaster of epic proportions. He had no idea how they would explain this to the Farsee Court.

“I was a fool to think things would go smoothly while doing the Emperor's work,” Carl sighed.

With Iz Tayn leading the way, they had cleared multiple Memory Domains on their journey into the inner region. The progress had been significant; Iz had already manifested a halo from her flames and was working on a second since they arrived at the Farsee Court.

The Farsee Court was linked to the peaks of Elements, Nature, and Order. Their purpose was to civilize the wilderness and harness the elements to build the Empire's massive, world-spanning formations. While other courts contributed, it was the Farsee Court that imposed the Empire's vision of Order upon the Expanse.

The project was so vast that additional labor was always welcome, and they had been assigned tasks immediately. As Sealbearers, they were deployed through the Earthgate—a shortcut for the Workshop—to address various disruptions along the road network.

Their current mission involved the spring's energy interference. Previous assignments had dealt with incompetent mages or stolen supplies. Carl had tackled these enthusiastically, believing each success brought him closer to the court's inner circle, where he could fulfill Emperor Atwood's objectives.

He had assumed Iz shared those goals. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Until this incident, Iz had been a beneficial, if eccentric, partner. Traveling with someone of her status had filled Carl's bags with treasures she deemed beneath her. She had even provided the [Empyrean Suns of Yi] and used her own blood to empower his arrows as a gesture of cooperation.

Iz didn't seem to care about the loot or the deeper mysteries of fate they encountered. Her interests appeared limited to arson and cryptic ramblings. She possessed the appearance of a celestial being but the temperament of a fire-demon.

Her reckless approach to obstacles made the most aggressive rulers of Earth look cautious. Carl was the one who handled the detective work and smoothed over the social friction—especially after Iz nearly attacked a group of Imperial engineers. He realized now that this catastrophe had been inevitable.

Killing Imperial Workshop staff was an unpardonable offense, and their only escape was the Earthgate located inside the burning fort. Leaving by any other means would strand them in a random part of the continent, wasting months of effort.

As the fires outside died down, Carl tried to rationalize her actions. Iz was volatile, but she wasn't mindless. There had to be a reason. It seemed unlikely she had found traitors, as she had started the massacre the moment they arrived.

Could it be related to the Clan of Pomul?

While the Workshop ran the Farsee Court, the road's design incorporated the knowledge of the Pomul, an ancient race thought to be extinct. Iz was aware of them through their ruins, which were often raided by seekers of ancient treasures.

Though their empire was gone, the Pomul's mastery of Order was unparalleled. The Workshop had pressed the survivors into service for the road project. Beneath the surface of their partnership, however, lay deep-seated animosity. Carl recalled that Iz had held a secret meeting with the four-armed race just days prior.

“Worrying won't solve anything,” Carl whispered, standing up to head back toward the fortress.

The fighting had stopped. In the central plaza, Carl found Iz standing over a scorched body. The victim was charred beyond recognition; Carl only identified him as the militia captain because of the distinctive mallet nearby.

“Is the situation under control?” Carl asked, eyeing the remains.

“It is now,” Iz replied, sending another burst of fire into the corpse.

“Isn't that a bit unnecessary?” Carl started to say, then stopped in shock. As the outer layer of burnt skin fell away, a golden gleam appeared. “What? Another one? They're everywhere.”

The man beneath the disguise was a Buddhist monk. The lack of hair wasn't from the fire; he bore the six ritual scars on his brow and radiated the distinct energy of Karma. It was a sensation Carl remembered vividly from his encounter with a high-level monk at the Imperial Graveyard.

This monk wasn't as powerful as that one, likely around the Early C-grade level of the captain he had replaced. He was dying, his internal world destroyed by Iz's flames, held together only by sheer tenacity.

“Must you destroy every path of hope?” the monk whispered, looking at Iz. “Your hands are already stained with sin. This will only darken your Karma. You can still seek redemption.”

Iz responded by incinerating him completely.

“Another monk... was he a trialtaker?” Carl asked.

“No,” Iz said. “He was an operative who had spent years infecting the base with Dharma. This entire outpost had secretly become a Buddhist cell.”

“A little warning would have been nice,” Carl grumbled. “I thought you'd finally lost it.”

“They were waiting for us. They tried to influence our Dao Hearts the moment we arrived. I had to use my path to break their hold,” Iz explained, looking at him curiously. “You felt nothing?”

“I just felt a bit homesick,” Carl admitted. “Was that it?”

“The power of belief,” Iz noted with a sigh.

“So the monks were meddling even back then,” Carl remarked. “I didn't think they'd care about a road.”

“They didn't,” Iz countered. “The spring was an accident they tried to hide. When they couldn't, they knew the Court would investigate.”

“Then why stay?”

Iz paused to choose her words carefully.

“The universe is a closed system with finite resources and ideas. To rise in cultivation, you must displace others. For one truth to be accepted, another must be proven false.”

“I don't follow. Truth is just... the truth, right?” Carl asked.

“Truth can be shaped. The battle for its definition is the core of the Multiverse's conflicts,” Iz said. “The Buddhists are close to finalizing their Six Paths of Reincarnation. Once they do, the Wheel of Samsara becomes the absolute law of reality, governed by their rules.”

“But what does that have to do with these guards?”

“You know the Empire's goal by now,” Iz said.

“They want to come back to life.”

“Essentially,” Iz agreed. “Didn't you find it odd how easily we found the clues to their plan?”

Carl thought about it. It had seemed a bit too easy, though he'd credited Iz's insight. But the Empire was powerful enough to hide anything if they truly wanted to. If they were letting the truth out, it was intentional.

Carl felt a chill as Iz looked at him with a knowing smile.

“Belief has power. By letting us know, they plant a seed in our minds. Our very actions, even our resistance, give their plan weight and credibility. You wouldn't fight something you didn't believe was possible.”

Carl nodded, though he was mostly just memorizing the conversation to analyze later. Seeing his confusion, Iz tried a different explanation.

“Even in ruin, the Limitless Empire...”

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