Poison God's Heritage

Chapter 933: Arguing Reality

Law. I almost laughed, thinking of the poor bastard sleeping somewhere on the ship. It was probably fortunate he wasn’t here to hear his name used in a profound discussion, or he would somehow make it unlucky for everyone involved.

But no, what the Dusking Sun was talking about was something much more profound.

I closed my eyes again and sank inward. The power inside me was no longer the same as before the tribulation. My domain rested in the depths of my soul like a dark pool reflecting a sky that had no stars. Delusions. It had once spread outward crudely, wrapping the world and dragging others into its falsehood. In the Enforcer’s domain, I had folded it inward and placed it over my own mind to survive a stronger delusion. Then I had layered it weakly over his domain, slow and almost imperceptible, until the needle in his shoulder became the truth that mattered. Those were applications. Clever ones, perhaps, but still applications.

What was the root?

A cultivator begins with a refusal. A mortal cannot fly, so he cultivates until he steps on air. A man cannot survive poison, so he refines poison until it becomes part of his blood. Time cannot be fooled, space cannot be bent, death cannot be argued with, and the heavens cannot be challenged. Every realm of cultivation was built upon someone hearing the word impossible and deciding it sounded like an invitation. In that sense, all cultivation had a thread of delusion in it. Every cultivator began as someone mad enough to believe that the world’s first answer was not the final one.

But my path was not merely refusal. Refusal alone was childish. A fool could deny a blade was sharp and still die when it cut his throat. True Delusion had to be stronger than denial. It had to begin in the self, pass through Qi, be paid for by will, and then press against the world with enough authority that reality hesitated before enforcing its answer. That hesitation, however brief, was where my domain lived.

The metal beneath my hand trembled faintly.

I did not release my domain outward. I held it close, bound it to my skin, my breath, my pulse, and the poison moving through me. For a fraction of a breath, the wound on my knuckles stopped being a wound. It did not heal. Healing would have been a different law. Instead, it was denied. The world looked at the torn flesh, at the dried blood, at the bruising and the damaged bone beneath, and for the smallest instant, it seemed unsure whether the injury had the right to remain.

Then pain returned, sharp enough that I almost hissed. The wound was still there, of course. I had not become a Sun by sitting down for a few breaths and thinking very hard, no matter how convenient that would have been. But something had moved. Something had answered.

The Dusking Sun’s eyes narrowed. “There. That was not your full domain. That was the beginning of an anchor.”

“It hurt,” I said.

“Good. Pain is usually the first sign that you haven’t died from your own stupidity.”

“Your standards are very inspiring.”

“They have kept me alive.”

“Debatable.”

He smiled, but said nothing more, and I returned my focus inward. The danger remained obvious. If I anchored Delusion as a spreading lie, I would harm everyone around me. If I anchored it as mere denial, it would be too weak to matter. If I anchored it as illusion, I would only create tricks unworthy of the path I had walked. The answer had to sit between poison and perception, between lie and law, between survival and blasphemy.

Delusion was the self insisting on a chosen truth before the world accepted it.

Delusion was poison believing it could nourish.

Delusion was a dying man believing he could stand.

Delusion was a falsehood refined until it gained enough weight to challenge reality.

For one breath, I felt it around me, not as a spreading domain but as a veil pressed tightly against my existence. The control chamber did not warp. The viewing wall did not lie. The Dusking Sun did not suddenly see stars as beasts or beasts as stars. Law, somewhere in the ship, did not wake up thinking he had become a turtle, which I considered a success. Instead, the veil remained close to me, making only the space immediately bound to my body soften in certainty. My injuries remained injuries, but they no longer felt absolute. My exhaustion remained exhaustion, but it no longer felt like a command. The world had not changed, not really, but it had briefly entertained the possibility that my interpretation might be allowed to speak.

I opened my eyes and let out a slow breath. “I think I understand the edge of it,” I said, looking at the last crimson stains of tribulation fading outside the ship. “Not enough to break through, but enough to know why I didn’t. The Sun Stage requires the domain to be anchored into the cultivator, and I have been treating Delusion too much like a technique.”

The Dusking Sun nodded, satisfied but not overly so. “That is a fair understanding. Do not rush it. A rushed anchor will cripple you worse than a failed tribulation. You need to decide what your domain means when you are not fighting, not scheming, and not actively trying to twist someone’s senses. What does Delusion mean when Shen Bao simply exists? Once you answer that without poisoning the ship, perhaps you will be ready.”

I gave him a tired look. “You say that as if poisoning the ship is something I would do accidentally.”

“With you, I prefer to leave room for possibilities.”

“Wise.”

“I try.”

The ship floated in the quiet void as the tribulation fully disappeared, leaving only the stars and a few celestial bodies around us. I sat in the control chamber, between Heaven and Sun, with my body aching, my Qi transformed, and my path still unfinished. The frustration had not vanished, but it had changed shape. It was no longer confusion gnawing at my ribs. It was a problem with a name, and problems with names could be studied, poisoned, dissected, and eventually made to regret standing in my way.

“To become a Sun,” I muttered, mostly to myself, “I don’t need to make everyone believe my lies. I need to become the point where reality begins to question whether its truth is final.”

The Dusking Sun’s smile sharpened at that, and the beast in his eyes looked almost approving. “Now that sounds closer to a domain worth fearing.”

I closed my eyes again, letting the ship’s formation hum settle around me while the poison in my veins moved with slow and deliberate patience. I had not become a Sun. Not yet. But now I knew why. I had crossed the tribulation, survived the Enforcer, and returned with the heavens no longer blocking my way, but the final step was mine to take. I had to anchor Delusion without becoming madness, express falsehood without losing command, and convince the world that what it called impossible was only the first answer of a very stubborn opponent.

Unfortunately for the world, I had always been rather good at arguing.