Emperor of the Source

Across the vast expanse of the headquarters and echoing throughout the entire Virelith Galaxy, the millions of cultivators who had collapsed unconscious slowly began to stir. One by one, they pushed themselves up from the ground, their movements sluggish and uncertain, as though awakening from a nightmare that had lasted for a million years.

As their eyes opened, the first thing they noticed was the absence of something they had forgotten how to describe. For a million years, there had been a suffocating pressure buried deep within their minds, a constant invisible force pressing against their thoughts, their instincts, and their very sense of self. Now, that pressure was gone. The strange invasive energy that had always lingered from the chip within their skull no longer pressed upon them. It did not feel active anymore. It felt dormant, silent, like a dead thing that had finally lost its power.

A woman in tattered robes lifted her hand to her temple, fingers trembling. Her breath caught.

"It's… gone?"

Beside her, a grizzled warrior with scars covering half his face blinked, then again, as if testing whether his vision was real. He summoned a thread of essence, and nothing stopped him.

"I can… I can feel myself again." 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

At first, only low murmurs spread through the crowds. Confused whispers passed between cultivators as they touched their heads, checked their divine essence, and cautiously tested their own thoughts. Then realization began to spread. It moved like a wave through the headquarters, building from disbelief into overwhelming certainty. They summoned their divine essence and found no lethal backlash waiting for them. They directed their authority toward the chips within their skulls and nothing happened.

A man dropped to his knees, his face twisting. He covered his mouth with both hands, but the sob tore free anyway.

"We're… we're free…"

Some fell to their knees and wept openly, tears running down faces that had forgotten what true emotion felt like. Others stared upward into the void, completely paralyzed by shock, unable to process the reality of what had just happened. Some, in almost violent desperation, reached into their own skulls with authority and forcibly tore the chips out with their own hands. Blood flowed freely, pain tore through them, but none of them cared. They threw the chips to the ground and crushed them beneath their feet, stamping upon them like they were crushing the final remains of a nightmare.

A younger cultivator staggered backward, clutching the bloodied chip in his palm. He stared at it, eyes wide, then hurled it against the wall with a scream that carried a million years of rage.

"Never again!"

For the first time in a million years, they felt entirely unbound.

Above the headquarters, Adrian floated silently in the void, observing the awakening masses below. Beside him stood the two former leaders of the galaxy, watching their people rise from enslavement. They could feel it just as clearly. The invisible chains were gone. The slave artifacts embedded within the minds of their people had become nothing more than useless, inert fragments. The impossible had happened.

One of the two leaders slowly turned his gaze toward Adrian. Reverence filled his eyes so deeply that it almost looked like worship. He stepped forward and raised his voice, amplifying it with the full force of his Peak Rule Stage cultivation so that it echoed across the entire headquarters and beyond.

"Look upon him!" he declared, his voice trembling with emotion as he pointed directly toward Adrian. "He is the one who shattered our chains! He challenged the heavens themselves and tore down the prison that bound us for a million years! He is our benefactor… our savior!"

For the briefest moment, silence fell. Thousands upon thousands of eyes turned upward, fixing themselves upon the young man floating alone in the void.

Then the silence broke. A roar of gratitude erupted across the headquarters, so powerful that it shook the void itself. It was not merely applause or praise. It was the sound of souls returning to life. Cultivators of every rank dropped to their knees. Some pressed their foreheads to the ground. Others raised trembling hands toward the void. Some could not even form words, only broken sobs escaping from their throats.

"Thank you!"

"Benefactor!"

"We owe you everything!"

The voices crashed together into a single tide of desperate, overwhelming gratitude.

To them, Adrian was no longer simply a powerful cultivator. He was the one who had given them back themselves.

Adrian looked down at the sea of kneeling figures in silence. Through his perception, he could see the damage far more clearly than their gratitude showed. A million years of forced submission had left scars deeper than physical wounds. Their minds were fractured, their sense of self unstable, and many were struggling to even comprehend the sudden return of freedom. Liberation alone was not enough. They would need guidance before they could truly stand again.

He turned toward the two leaders beside him.

"Take care of your people first," Adrian said calmly. "Many of them are struggling to process this. Their minds are too fragile right now. Guide them. Help them remember how to live again. I will take care of Morka."

Both leaders bowed deeply, their voices filled with respect.

"As you command, Lord."

Leaving them to stabilize the chaos outside, Adrian turned and returned to the throne room.

Inside, the chamber was completely silent. Morka still sat slumped upon his throne, his massive frame motionless, his three eyes blank and unfocused. After witnessing everything Adrian had done, his mind had simply broken. There was no rage left, no arrogance, no resistance. He had become little more than a living shell, breathing shallowly, staring into nothing.

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Adrian approached the throne and stopped before him.

Morka's third eye twitched faintly, but no recognition surfaced.

Usually, Adrian only used his Devour concept to extract Rule Cores, taking the comprehension of a cultivator while leaving the rest behind. But standing here now, he wanted to test something else. He wanted to know whether devouring an entire physical body would allow him to absorb not only comprehension, but also the cultivator's Mana Sea itself. Before, he had never attempted such a thing because if an enormous amount of foreign mana entered him during battle or a critical situation, even he would need time to stabilize his own Mana Sea. That would create unnecessary danger. But now, there was no immediate threat. He had time to test it properly.

Adrian extended his hand.

"Devour."

Dark crimson tendrils erupted from his palm and surged forward, wrapping around Morka completely. His body offered no resistance. Flesh, bone, Rule Core, and even the structure of his body itself began to dissolve as the Devour essence broke him apart layer by layer, pulling the entirety of Morka's existence into Adrian's palm.

The grotesque form shrank. The throne sat empty, not even ash remained.

As the body disappeared, Adrian closed his eyes and turned his perception inward, carefully monitoring the process. He waited for the immense Mana Sea of a Peak Rule Stage cultivator to flood into his own reserves.

But it never happened.

A slight frown appeared on Adrian's face. Through his Source Eyes, he observed the truth clearly. The moment Morka's life force fully extinguished, the sub-dimensional space within his body that housed his Mana Sea destabilized violently. It did not transfer to Adrian; rather, it collapsed inward on itself, its structure breaking apart and dissolving back into reality. The gathered mana did not become his. It simply returned to the universe.

"The universe reclaims its energy…" Adrian murmured in realization.

It seemed the laws of reality itself dictated that once the vessel died, the internal dimension sustaining the Mana Sea could no longer exist. It collapsed automatically, returning its contents to the greater fabric of existence. He could not steal raw mana reserves by devouring a corpse.

But while the mana was lost, the memories remained. A vast flood of information poured into Adrian's consciousness. Chaotic fragments of Morka's life surged through him, and Adrian rapidly filtered through them, discarding useless noise and extracting only what mattered.

Images flickered past: a younger Morka standing before a towering man, receiving resources he had never earned.

Adrian learned the truth about the Major Sect Morka had boasted about. Morka was not some genius who had risen through overwhelming talent. He was simply the son of an Elder from a sect known as the Starfall Sect, located within the Zephyrian Galaxy.

More importantly, he learned that the Starfall Sect was a Lesser Major Sect.

Even among Major Sects, there existed strict classifications: Lesser Major Sects and Upper Major Sects. But even a "lesser" Major Sect possessed power so overwhelming that it could never be underestimated. Adrian continued searching through the memories and found the most important truth of all.

The Sect Leader of the Starfall Sect was an Astral Stage existence.

Adrian slowly opened his eyes as the dark crimson essence faded from his hand.

He now understood the true scale of what would follow. There was a high possibility that Morka's father would eventually come to the Virelith Galaxy to inspect his son's conquest. When that happened, he would find his son erased, the control system shattered, and an entire galaxy liberated. At that moment, the full wrath of a Major Sect would inevitably descend upon this place.

Adrian's expression did not change. He did not care.

He had already calculated that possibility long before he shattered the Master-Control chip. The moment he had seen the lifeless eyes of the enslaved cultivators in those endless corridors, the decision had already been made. A tyrant backed by a Major Sect was still a tyrant. If the Starfall Sect came seeking revenge, then he would face them when that time arrived.

At that moment, soft footsteps echoed from the entrance of the throne room.

Adrian turned and saw the two former leaders entering. Having stabilized the situation outside, they approached the throne and immediately dropped to one knee, bowing their heads in perfect unison.

"My Lord," one of them spoke first, his voice steady with deep respect. "I am Octaven, the original leader of the Void Fang Sect."

The second man bowed even deeper. "And I am Kaelar, leader of the Obsidian Rift Sect."

Octaven lifted his head, his eyes burning with unwavering loyalty.

"We officially surrender the Void Fang Sect, the Obsidian Rift Sect, and the entirety of the Virelith Galaxy to you. From this day forward, we recognize you as our only Lord."

Adrian remained silent for a moment, studying them carefully.

"You were enslaved for a million years," he said quietly. "Your minds, your pride, and your wills were under someone else's control. Today, those chains are finally gone. And yet… do you not desire freedom? Why are you so eager to submit yourselves to another master?"

Octaven smiled, but it was a bitter smile, one carrying the weight of a million years of humiliation.

"My Lord," he said, his voice echoing softly through the throne room, "freedom is a beautiful concept. But in this universe, freedom without backing is only an illusion. If we stand alone, then we are merely waiting for the next Morka to arrive. The strong devour the weak. That is the only absolute law."

Kaelar nodded slowly. "But you… You are different. There was no reason for you to free us, yet you did. When you spoke with Morka, we saw your character. To serve a petty tyrant who relies on artifacts is slavery."

His gaze met Adrian's directly, reverence shining within it.

"But you possess goodwill. You spared our minds when you could have destroyed us. You cared for strangers who had no connection to you. To serve you is not slavery."

Adrian listened quietly. Their reasoning was not blind worship. It was born from brutal reality and tempered by gratitude. They understood power, and they had chosen to stand beside someone who valued life.

"I accept your loyalty," Adrian said calmly. "But you do not need to surrender yourselves completely."

Both leaders looked up in confusion.

"The Void Fang Sect and the Obsidian Rift Sect will remain," Adrian continued. "You will retain your identities and continue leading your people. But from this day forward, you will not stand alone. You will become subsidiary sects under my Origin Sect."

"Subsidiary sects…" Octaven repeated softly. "We would be honored, my lord. We are happy to serve the Origin Sect."

Neither of them knew what the Origin Sect truly was. They did not know its scale, its power, or its foundation. But none of that mattered to them.

Kaelar quickly reached into his spatial ring, "My Lord, we will draft a UNI-Contract immediately. We will bind our lives and our sects to you and prove our absolute loyalty—"

"No." Adrian's voice cut through the chamber.

Both men froze.

He stepped down from the dais and stopped directly before them, his white-grey eyes carrying a pressure that made even their Rule Cores tremble.

"Octaven. Kaelar. Remember one thing. Do not ever treat such sects as the governance of the universe. Our Origin Sect will one day surpass the UNI-Sect. Never use a UNI-Contract for matters concerning the Origin Sect."

Silence filled the room. For a moment, neither of them could even breathe.

To surpass the UNI-Sect, the very infrastructure that connected the known universe itself, was an ambition so impossibly vast that it bordered on madness. But as they looked at the man standing before them, they did not feel doubt.

Because they had already seen what stood before them. They had seen transcendence itself.

The UNI-Sect, the Great Sects, the Major Sects… they sounded like heavens beyond reach. But had they achieved transcendence? Could they truly compare to the being standing before them?

Their answer was clear.

"As you command, Lord," Octaven whispered, lowering his head until it touched the polished floor. "We shall follow the Origin Sect… to the very apex of the universe."

Kaelar mirrored him, pressing his forehead down, "To the apex."