Truths That Cannot Be Undone

The Pen of Three Truths pulsed faintly in Lin Feng's hand.

It felt warm—not hot, but comforting. Like holding a memory that loved you back.

And yet, it also felt like weight.

The kind of weight that didn't bend the wrist—but the soul.

"You must be careful," the Scribe had said. "Each truth you write with this pen becomes real. Not even the Void can unmake it."

Night fell, and the trio had set up camp once more near the ruins of Kal Seran. Yue Lian sat with her arms folded, watching the flame flicker.

Ruoxi sharpened her sword, glancing occasionally at Lin Feng.

He hadn't spoken in hours.

Finally, Ruoxi broke the silence. "So? You going to tell us what that shiny cursed stick does?"

"It writes truths," Lin Feng said.

Yue Lian raised a brow. "Like... reality-truths?"

"Yes. But only three."

Ruoxi stopped sharpening. "So you could write, 'We never lose again,' and boom, problem solved?"

"No," Lin Feng replied. "Too vague. The truth must be precise. Targeted. Like a blade—it must cut only what you aim to sever."

Yue Lian leaned forward. "Then what will you write first?"

Lin Feng looked into the fire.

"I don't know yet."

The next day, they reached a burned village on the outskirts of the Iron Sun Basin.

Children's toys lay in ash. The smell of old blood still lingered. Survivors were few—most too broken to speak.

A little boy tugged at Lin Feng's sleeve.

"Can you bring my sister back?" he asked. "She died… because someone forgot to heal her."

Yue Lian knelt beside the boy. "We're sorry."

Lin Feng looked down at the Pen in his sleeve.

He could write: "Let this girl live again."

He almost did.

But the Scribe's warning echoed:

"To change the past is to fracture everything that stood upon it."

He closed his hand around the Pen—and didn't write.

Not yet.

That night, Ruoxi confronted him.

"You should've done it," she said. "Brought her back."

Lin Feng shook his head. "I don't know what that would've done. One life back might mean another erased."

"So you'll use it for yourself?" she asked bitterly.

"No," he said. "That's the point. I won't use it for anyone. I'll use it with everyone in mind."

She sighed. "You always talk like a Sovereign now."

"Maybe that's the price of surviving this long."

Two days later, they were ambushed by a powerful beast—The Scaled Woe, a creature said to devour entire sects.

Their battle was brutal:

Yue Lian was poisoned by its breath.

Ruoxi's blade shattered.

Lin Feng's Void Law was disrupted.

In a moment of desperation, Lin Feng drew the Pen and wrote:

"Ruoxi's blade never breaks."

The words glowed.

Time reversed—just slightly.

And when the beast struck again, Ruoxi's sword cut through its neck in one clean stroke.

It collapsed, lifeless.

They stared at the blade.

It shimmered with permanent resilience.

"You used one?" Yue Lian asked.

"Yes."

"Why that?"

Lin Feng looked at Ruoxi.

"Because she's always the one standing between me and death."

Ruoxi blinked. "That was… stupidly poetic."

Yue Lian grinned. "You're such a weirdo."

Later that evening, Lin Feng's head throbbed. Not from battle—but from the ripple.

The Pen had done more than just change the blade.

Somewhere, a smith who once forged that sword never became famous.

A rival sect that depended on his rise lost influence.

A general once saved by that sect died in a war.

A kingdom fell.

All from one truth.

Yue Lian saw him sweating.

"You okay?"

"I saw what changed," Lin Feng said. "All of it. Every thread."

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Then maybe next time, pick a smaller butterfly."

As they traveled eastward toward the Forsaken Pillar, Lin Feng was ambushed by a strange assassin.

The man said only one word: "Erasion."

And then he attacked.

He wielded a weapon that didn't cut flesh—but history. Lin Feng was wounded and for an instant, Yue Lian no longer remembered who he was.

Ruoxi faltered.

The void itself trembled.

With urgency, Lin Feng activated the Pen again.

"Lin Feng's history cannot be stolen."

A golden barrier exploded outward. The assassin screamed as his blade shattered. Memories surged back into his allies.

Lin Feng stood tall.

But he felt it.

Another ripple.

In a different plane, a monk who once impersonated Lin Feng for fame—ceased to exist.

In another, a painter who idolized him forgot why she ever held a brush.

Truths reshaped not only the present—but the emotional universe.

Yue Lian approached him after the battle.

"You can't keep doing this."

"I had to," Lin Feng said.

"But at what cost? You're not fixing problems—you're choosing which world gets to live."

"I never asked for this power," he replied. "But now I have it. And I'll wield it carefully."

Ruoxi added, "Then you'd better not mess up the last one."

They arrived at the edge of the Forgotten Plateau, where the sky itself bent.

A presence loomed—one of the Void's former champions, Mokar the Rewrite, a being who once held a Pen of his own.

Mokar smiled.

"You've written twice. I feel your ink on the world."

"What do you want?" Lin Feng asked.

"I want you to write a truth that frees me. You owe me that, Sovereign."

"I owe you nothing."

Mokar snarled. "Then I'll take your final truth as payment."

A colossal battle erupted.

Mokar was unkillable in story—because his own reality rejected death.

Lin Feng had only one option.

He raised the Pen.

And wrote:

"Mokar was never chosen by the Pen."

The sky cracked.

Mokar froze.

The power bled from his body. His title vanished. He looked down at his hands in horror.

"I… don't matter anymore?"

"No," Lin Feng whispered. "You never did."

Mokar collapsed into dust.

The Pen grew cold in Lin Feng's hand.

Its ink dried.

Its glow faded.

Three truths had been written.

And the world had changed.

Final Scene: Rest and Reflection

That night, Ruoxi sat beside Lin Feng.

"You alright?"

He nodded. "But I feel like I just wrote three tombstones."

"You wrote them for the right reasons."

Yue Lian added, "Now let's make sure we live lives that don't need rewriting."

They sat in silence.

Stars overhead reformed slowly, the constellation of Aeskar finally gone.

In its place, three new stars.

A blade that doesn't break.

A name that can't be stolen.

A pretender never chosen.

And beneath them all, one truth unspoken:

Lin Feng endures.

To be continue...