Lord of the Truth - Chapter 1823

Chapter 1823: Unwelcome guest
Planet Originus—

This planet was once fiercely contested between the Nine Paths Empire and the Iron Boar Empire, a battleground where both factions poured countless soldiers and resources in an attempt to secure even the slightest advantage. It stood among the very first planets to be seized by General Raiden and his elite squad during their early campaigns.

It isn’t particularly large in the strict, technical sense, nor does it contain rare materials that would make it ridiculously precious. It was simply an ordinary world—one with a modest share of wealth, a handful of natural challenges, and the usual mix of settlers and problems… or at least, that was its nature in the past.

Because Caesar needed a location from which he could unmistakably display his authority to the universe, he had to pick one planet under his control at the time to host his palace, construct the first stellar ports, establish administrative headquarters, and set up a branch of Sky Opening City along with the rest of the foundational infrastructure.

He randomly chose this planet—an act that instantly and permanently altered its destiny.

Now, the planet has a clear master. It is filled with towering palaces, elite troops, and expansive gardens after having once been on the brink of annihilation during the war. And without the slightest doubt, it has become one of the most recognizable and celebrated worlds in the entire sector!

At this moment, inside the imperial palace—specifically beside a small space portal elegantly embedded among the breathtaking, meticulously maintained gardens—several individuals were gathered.

“Hmm hmm~” At that moment, a figure wearing an oversized black cloak stood before the control panel of the portal, humming softly to himself. He examined every detail with extreme calmness, almost unnatural serenity, and precision so sharp it felt as though he was dissecting reality itself. Nothing, absolutely nothing, seemed capable of escaping his attention.

The seconds of his silent inspection passed like hours—no, like slow-rolling years. Behind him stood several officers, sparks of anger blazing openly in their eyes, yet not one of them dared move or utter a single complaint.

“Ohh, this one here—excellent!” The cloaked man tapped a section on the panel and laughed lightly. “Tell me, who among you has visited planet RSQ-970? Are the beaches as spectacular as the rumors make them sound?”

“Are those kinds of questions part of your jurisdiction as well?” Peon’s eyes flashed with a hostility that was impossible to hide.

That man was a member of the Interstellar Portals Inspection Team—a group that came to the Empire on a strict schedule, whether Caesar was present or absent, whether the planets were engulfed in war or enjoying peace. Their delegation would descend every single year and carry out their duties without fail.

Of course… their timely arrival was the only guaranteed part. Their departure, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

“Hmm, take it easy for a moment… General Peon, was it? Yes, relax.” The man in the black cloak chuckled, then abruptly stopped. He pulled out a small notebook and began jotting things down with exaggerated slowness: “Oh? It seems you recently received a visit from a registered Centennial Empire. That must have been quite an interesting event given the current circumstances. How did that go?”

“…” Peon’s eyelids twitched uncontrollably, but naturally—he did not answer.

This was how visits from those delegations always went—an exhausting ritual that every imperial official had come to dread. They would enter the Empire as if they owned every grain of soil beneath their feet, then scatter across its territories with an arrogance so thick it felt like a physical weight.

They would pry into the records of every single portal, flip through documents as though browsing a market stall, leave comments whenever the mood struck them, and scribble away endlessly in their little notebooks whenever something caught their attention.

And although they were nothing more than inconsequential workers—mere clerks who held no true relation to the Interas bloodline—the arrogance embedded in every one of them was astonishingly deep. Each of them walked with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew, without a shred of doubt, that they were untouchable.

No one had the authority to stop them—not from roaming freely, not from speaking their mind, not even from recording the most sensitive of details. Trying to snatch that cursed notebook from the hands of even one of them was an act of pure stupidity, the sort of decision that would spark an endless chain of problems no one in their right mind would want to face.

“Are we finished here yet?! The palace’s private portal hardly ever receives significant traffic to begin with. Why drag this out so much?”

Peon forced his voice to stay level, squeezing every drop of restraint he had.

“True, true… but this is where all the important transfers happen.”

The man in the black cloak continued his slow, almost leisurely writing—minute after minute—stretching time like an unending torture.

“Do you not realize how unbelievably rude you are being right now?”

One of the headquarters managers standing beside Peon finally exploded. “Are you here to evaluate gate traffic and collect the rent, or to spy on our movements?! Which one is it?”

“Both, hehe.”

The cloaked man chuckled, shoulders rising as if amused by a child’s tantrum.

“There’s no point hiding what everyone already knows. Of course we gather information from something like this—why pretend otherwise?” He twirled his pen lightly. “But don’t worry, our notes won’t be passed to your enemies. That’s all you care about, right? If we leaked portals information, no one in the upper class would dare use a portal ever again, that would be bad for the business.”

“But all that information will reach the Tyrant Galaxy! He’ll have a perfect, uninterrupted view of everything happening across the entire universe while sitting comfortably on his throne—won’t he?!”

The manager’s voice cracked from the sheer frustration.

Before he could say anything else, Peon lifted a hand and placed it gently but firmly against the man’s chest, ordering him to stay silent.

“….”

Then he turned his gaze back to the visitor, eyes cold and hard.

“Yes,” the inspector said without hesitation, his smile widening, “that is exactly what will happen.”

He laughed again—openly, shamelessly—before finally tucking the notebook into his spatial ring. He reset the control panel with calm, practiced movements, then turned to face Peon and the rest of the staff.

“Well then, I’m done here. The portal didn’t see much traffic this year, so I’ll charge the usual rate—1,000 Pearls for a year.”

“…..”

The man was human—completely bald, clean-shaven, slightly overweight, with a sticky, smug smile plastered across his face like oil.

Peon stared at him for several long seconds, jaw tightening as he tried to convince himself not to smash the man’s entire upper row of teeth with a single punch.

In the end, he exhaled slowly and pinched the space between his eyebrows. He had dealt with these envoys many times before, and he knew all too well that this wouldn’t be the last.

“What’s the total rental cost for this year?” he asked, voice strained but controlled.

“All right, all right~”

The bald man produced yet another notebook—a different one, filled with numbers and scribbles.

“I see you’ve started construction on 15 new space portals across your new planets. Those require permits—150,000 Pearls to start with.” He flipped another page. “You also have 130 portals that were lightly used this year. We’ll charge the minimum for each—another 130,000 pearls.”

Then he lifted his head with a grin that stretched a little too wide.

“And let’s see… ah, here. There were 25 portals that appear to have been unusually active. For those, we’ll take 20% of the total energy cost used for all travel through them… bringing the final sum to… only 77.5 million Pearls.”

“………”

Peon’s eyelids twitched violently—once, twice—before settling into a steady tremble of pure, boiling fury.