Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God-Novel

Zaltarish’s eyebrows furrowed along with everyone else’s. What Dyon was saying was ridiculous.

“The way you speak, people would assume a no name like you had a dao formation expert for a master.”

Dyon chuckled. In fact, he did. But, with how his truth telling had gone so far during this meeting, he didn’t even think this was worth confirming. Would they believe him anyway?

So, Dyon didn’t respond to Zaltarish’s digs directly, “you’re so lost in your own bubble that you believe everything revolves around an Elvin way of thinking.

“You must think that because your manifestations already constitute as your souls gaining bodies, that it would be redundant for it to once again do so once reaching dao formation. But, you’d be wrong, as you’ve been all this time.”

Zaltarish’s serious expression just continued to harden. It seemed as though every time Dyon spoke, he cut right to the source of the problem. Leaving no room for Zaltarish to lead him on in circles, or even to at least use pseudo-logic to sway the crowd his way.

“The truth is, that your current manifestations are only a pre-cursor to what happens during dao formation. For you, manifestations boost will and gift you understanding. However, dao formation experts form their own wills and forge their own manifestations. To reach dao formation means to take fate into your own hands. To change worlds on a whim. To bend even reality itself to achieve your own goals.

“Did you think that such an expert would rely on chance to hand them whatever manifestation they may receive? How ridiculous does that sound to you?”

Dyon’s voice was growing more domineering and unyielding. His words were beginning to become irrefutable. Almost as though his word was law.

“When you reach that level. Your wills have transcended intents, to become daos. You’ve understood auras and domains. You’ve cultivated. You’ve won. You’ve failed.

“Imagine such a transcendent existence being boiled down to simply being ‘the soul becoming one with the body’.”

Dyon didn’t seem to have any intent on laying off of Zaltarish. Dao formation was a realm that should be esteemed. He didn’t like the idea of the goal his master worked centuries for being boiled down so simply by this fool.

“Dao formation solidifies wills and intents using your soul to then form manifestation bodies to create daos. I don’t know what cheap book you read that taught you it was the soul becoming the body, but throw it away. It’s not good for such an esteemed young master to have such faults in his knowledge.”

The geniuses were stunned. They hadn’t been able to pick out a single flaw in Zaltarish’s speech. But, right now, they got the strange feeling that everything Dyon said was the unequivocal fact.

“Continuing on with the rest of your logical flaws, we can go back to the idea of the soul being held back, and the soul holding us back not being mutually exclusive. Although to me that statement was as clear as could be, it’s been brought to my attention that your knowledge is a bit lacking,” Dyon’s smile was like a poison in Zaltarish’s eyes. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of this boy.

“You claim that we hold the soul back, when that is only part of the equation. Because you’re so caught up in what you can’t do, you’ve completely missed what you can do. The level your will reaches is of no consequence.”

Discussion erupted. What did Dyon mean by that? How is the level you will reaches of no consequence?

Dyon raised his hand. Soon, a small condensed bit of sword qi appeared.

The crowd erupted into laughter.

“First level sword will?”

The disdain was practically palpable.

The geniuses below the terrace sneered, looking at Dyon with undisguised derision. This caused Zaltarish to finally calm down. Although Dyon’s word made sense, debating was also about swaying the crowd. Him revealing his pitiful sword will was essentially shooting himself in the foot.

However, Dyon didn’t seem to notice. The sword qi in his hand suddenly warped.

Level 2….

Level 3…

Level 5… 7… 8…. 9….

Level 1… it was almost as though it hadn’t changed at all.

The crowd was stunned.

Ri could only shake her head bitterly. ‘Level 9 music will and level 9 sword will? You’re almost as exaggerated as me,’ she thought grinning to herself.

But, what Ri brushed off, sent the elders staggering. They all were thinking of one thing: ‘It’s possible to control the level your will is at?’

“You’re all ignorant.”

Dyon’s voice was like a dagger, slicing through the pride of everyone in attendance.

“If you haven’t reached a level of understanding to be able to decide what level your will is at any given time, can you really say you understand it at all? Ridiculous!

“Do you know why I spent months learning how to control my wills in such a way? Because of another mistake you made. In fact, it was because I made the same mistake myself that I tried so hard to fix it.”

The crowd listened intently as Dyon spoke. It seemed they had no will to oppose this boy anymore. Every time they did so, everything would change against their expectations.

“No need to ask,” looking at Zaltarish’s struggling features, “I was about to tell you anyway. I owe it to Uncle Acacia to win this debate, no?”

Zaltarish could only grit his teeth in silence as the geniuses around him felt their very foundations shaking.

“I used to also think that every will had its own pure path. That one path would transcend all,” Dyon thought back to his talks with Madeleine. It seemed Madeleine had realized the flaw in his logic. In fact, if it wasn’t for her messages about it, Dyon may very well have stuck to those thoughts.

The crowd could only look on in confusion, watching a genuine smile spread across Dyon’s face… a smile only he and Jade knew the root of.

“However, is that really the case? Who’s to say that a sword’s will should be more emperor-like or more flower-like? Maybe it should be the rising sun, or like the falling rain? Should it be more like a dance between lovers? Or like the spar between friends?

“I once thought that the purest form of music will was the voice…” Suddenly, Dyon’s every words carried a domineering will.