The Origin Clan’s clan hall glowed with shifting holographic light. Projections cascaded store ledgers, market feeds, galactic headlines, all updating in real time.

Every second, new notifications flared across Varik’s node. He was nearly breathless as he rushed into the center of the chamber.

He bowed deeply, “My lord… it’s begun. The forums, the trade networks, the entire Net is flooded with it. The Origin name… it’s everywhere. Thousands of cultivators are already flocking to the stores!”

The hall erupted in murmurs.

Thomas stepped forward, eyes fixed on the data streams. “The response is beyond our projections. The numbers are doubling every few hours.”

Elara’s node chimed in her hand, notifications blinking nonstop. “We’re running low on inventory. Some locations are reporting hour-long queues.”

Draven leaned back in his seat, grinning. “Hah! Maybe I should start guarding the doors before they tear the place apart.”

Kael crossed his arms, expression calculating. “We need to expand production capacity. This demand won’t slow.”

Draven smirked. “We could charge to look at the spheres at this rate.”

Adrian sat in the throne of the hall, hands folded, watching as thousands of glowing threads of information pulsed before him.

Store after store. Feed after feed. Each report was another tremor shaking the galaxy.

The data told the truth, millennia of monopoly and silent control were collapsing in a matter of days.

Lexaria’s carefully constructed empire of knowledge, built on scarcity and licensing fees, faced its first real threat.

He had foreseen this, planned for it, yet even he felt the weight of it pressing against his chest.

The galaxy didn’t change easily. Empires that had stood for thousands of years didn’t crumble without resistance.

The galaxy was vast, ancient, and unchanging. But now, in the span of a single week, the Origin Clan had made it tremble.

…

In the Aethelian imperial palace, the throne hall of Aethelia blazed with radiant light.

The Emperor, draped in deep blue robes threaded with gold, sat in silence as ministers and generals debated before him. His fingers drummed once against the armrest, the only sign of his attention.

“Your Majesty, this changes everything,” one minister said, voice trembling. “If what the Origin Clan claims is true—”

“It’s already true,” another cut in sharply, pointing at a projection. “There are live reports, verified buyers. Cultivators across the Hub are confirming it.”

The holographic displays showed footage from Origin Stores. Cultivators weeping with revelation. Scholars demonstrating newfound mastery. The evidence was irrefutable.

Murmurs filled the chamber.

One scholar whispered, “It will destabilize Lexaria’s monopoly. Entire sectors depend on their licensing systems. If this continues—”

The Emperor raised a hand. The room went still.

He looked at the swirling data, holograms of cultivators clutching glowing spheres, recordings of their awestruck reactions, reports of booming sales. Each one represented a crack in the old order.

Slowly, a smile curved his lips. It was the expression of a man watching his enemies’ fortress crumble.

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“For thousands of years,” the Emperor said, “Lexaria has held knowledge in chains.”

His ministers exchanged nervous glances as his tone hardened.

“But now… the chains are breaking. And they broke here, on Aethelian soil.”

He rose from the throne, his robes flowing like molten gold under the light.

“The galaxy will remember this day as the dawn of a new era. And they will remember that it began under our banner.”

Ministers glanced at each other, realizing the Emperor was not merely pleased, he was claiming the revolution as his own.

This wasn’t just about supporting the Origin Clan. This was about positioning Aethelia as the empire that shattered the old order.

One advisor bowed low. “Your Majesty’s wisdom sees far beyond the present moment.”

He turned to his advisor, eyes gleaming. “The Origin Clan is already bound to our Empire through law and land. But I want more. Invite the Patriarch personally to the Imperial Palace.”

“Your Majesty?” A minister straightened, surprised by the directness.

“Tell them we wish to honor their achievements. A Grand Banquet will be held. Let the galaxy see us welcome them.”

The ministers bowed in unison, understanding the command’s true meaning. A public display of imperial favor would cement the Origin Clan’s legitimacy while warning rivals away.

He smiled faintly, turning back toward the throne. “Make it clear to all who watch, Adrian of Origin belongs to Aethelia.”

…

In the throne hall of the Empire of Lexaria, the Empress sat on a dais, surrounded by ministers, scholars, and generals.

“Reports from Solvaris Hub,” one minister said, voice trembling. “The Origin Clan’s ‘Knowledge Spheres’ have become a galactic phenomenon. Sales are exponential. Every major forum and network is broadcasting their success.”

Holoscreens flickered to life, cultivators clutching glowing orbs, eyes wide with revelation, the sigil of Origin pulsing behind them.

A young woman wept openly as fire bloomed from her palms, more vibrant than she’d ever managed.

An old scholar laughed, tears streaming down his face as he sketched lightning.

The chamber erupted in chaos.

“Impossible! Permanent knowledge? It violates every law of transference!”

“If this spreads, our revenue collapse will destroy half the empire’s economy!”

A robed elder slammed his fist against the table. “This is theft! We spent millennia developing the Language of Mana!”

“Ban it from the galactic net immediately!”

But all fell silent when the Empress raised her hand.

The gesture was minimal, almost lazy, yet every voice died as if severed.

Her gaze swept across her trembling court. “For millennia, we bore the burden of discovery. It was we who unearthed the Language of Mana, who gave structure to the chaos of concepts. Without Lexaria, these empires would still fumble in darkness.”

She gestured toward the projections, to the image of Adrian’s duel, his Source form frozen mid-strike, the white-grey essence consuming his frame.

The recording showed him cutting through Tharion’s fire domain like it was paper. No counter-affinity. No elemental suppression. Just absolute dominance.

“And now,” she continued, “one boy dares to offer a new language and the galaxy cheers.”

The ministers fell silent, some lowering their heads in shame, others shivering at her tone.

One scholar dared to speak. “Your Majesty… we analyzed the duel footage. That essence, it’s not space, not time, not any known element. It suppresses domains without displaying one.”

Another voice joined, quieter. “We’ve cross-referenced every recorded affinity in our archives. Nothing matches.”

She stared at the recording for a long moment.

Then asked quietly, “What essence is this?”

Silence.

Dozens of the brightest minds in the galaxy, wordless.

The Empress leaned back on her throne, her expression unreadable. For the first time, something flickered in her gaze, not anger, but unease.

“He dares to offer a new path. This is what Aethelia now wields against us.”

A general spoke cautiously, “We cannot act openly, Your Majesty. The Demon War still rages. Open conflict between empires would be suicidal.”

“And the Aethelian Emperor is no fool,” another minister added. “He’s already positioning himself as the patron of this revolution. Any direct action will be seen as aggression.”

“Indeed,” the Empress said softly. “Then we will not act openly.”

Her fingers tightened against the armrest, “Send agents to the Aethelian hub. Purchase the spheres discreetly, study them, dissect them. If they have found a path, we will walk it further and claim it as our own.”

One scholar bowed. “Shall we attempt reverse engineering, Your Majesty?”

“Do whatever is necessary. I want to know how these spheres function down to the last mana thread.”

She turned toward her diplomatic envoy. “Begin preparations. I will demand an audience with the Aethelian Emperor. If he means to flaunt this innovation as his triumph, Lexaria shall remind him who built the galaxy’s mind to begin with.”

The envoy hesitated. “Your Majesty, such a meeting will draw immense attention. The entire galaxy will watch.”

“Good.” Her smile was cold, “Let them watch.”

And as her ministers bowed and scurried to obey, the Empress sat back, her reflection shimmering in the crystal throne.

For the first time in millennia, the ruler of Lexaria, the empire of eternal knowledge, felt the faintest spark of fear.

Because she realized something the rest of the galaxy had yet to understand.

The Origin Clan had not just broken their monopoly.

They had rewritten the very foundation of how knowledge itself could exist.

And if Adrian Blackwood could do all these in mere months since he registered in the galactic net, what would he accomplish in a year? A decade?

She exhaled slowly, forcing her expression back to calm neutrality.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep