THE REAL PROTEGE-Chapter 519: ECLIPSE OF THE ETERNAL NAME

The Adjudication

The garden hall appeared smaller now.

Not because of its size.

But because of the force of the name echoing inside it.

"You’re the most persistent," the Azure Dragon replied to Lily, a trace of amusement softening the ancient authority in his utterance.

Lily grinned unabashedly, leaning forward on her elbows like a child being told ghost stories at midnight.

"The technique is called ’Silent Immortal Adjudication.’"

The words rolled through the hall, akin to far-off thunder.

Even the koi pond beyond the carved railings looked to quiver once, though no gust stirred it.

The Azure Dragon’s gaze wandered slightly, as if watching a memory unfold in the mist.

However, only Otako knew the real name. ’Eclipse of the Eternal Name.’

For ages, hushed rumors lingered that to speak the true name aloud wasn’t merely idle knowledge. The words themselves held a weight, a reverberation that could call the attention of the technique’s originator, or even unfold the veil that protects living souls from oblivion.

In softly whispered stories, the elders recounted the day when the technique was first revealed. Legend has it that Otako heard its true name sung by unseen spirits beneath the Black Mulberry tree, located at the edge of the world. To protect its power from other immortals, he stitched this name into silence.

Some chroniclers suggested that the name was once engraved on the moon itself, only to be erased by Otako’s will, leaving it lost to all except his own memory. It was said that knowing the name created a connection to Otako’s authority — perhaps a blessing, possibly a curse, and always a risk. None dared to test whether uttering it would grant power or merely mark their spirit as a target.

The Azure Dragon continued.

"Otako created the technique himself."

There was no boasting in his tone — only acknowledgment.

"When Otako uses this technique, his finger flick determines life or death. Damage is erased, or existence is eradicated."

The air appeared to compress slightly.

"No one knows how it works. No aura. No chant. No hand seals."

Fatty swallowed audibly.

"To mortals—"

The Dragon’s sapphire eyes gleamed faintly.

"The masked immortal passes judgment."

When Death Is Rejected

The words dangled there.

Judgment.

Not a battle.

Not mercy.

Not rescue.

Judgment.

Red’s eyes shifted subtly toward Ling Li again. Ling Li remained serene, though her posture was straighter now, her back a resolute line of control. Yet for the briefest instant, her fingers clenched imperceptibly on the armrest, as though she were bracing against an old memory. A trace of emotion crossed her stare — too faint to name, though unmistakable to anyone paying close attention.

Few knew that Red had once stood facing Otako during a judgment long ago, the memory sealed beneath her usual composure. That was why she was very surprised when Ling Li came for her heart blood and was introduced to her by her husband as Otako.

"’Silent Immortal Adjudication’ is not recorded anywhere," the Azure Dragon continued. "It is not written in any manual. It is not inscribed on stone. It exists only because Otako refined it over decades."

He rubbed his chin reflectively, as though reconstructing a scene only he could see.

"And it works like this..."

The hall leaned in without physically moving.

"When someone dies, three things disperse."

His vocal tone became quieter — and heavier.

"Flesh returns to earth.

Qi dissipates.

And soul fragments scatter into the river of reincarnation."

Even the younger ones knew the doctrine of separation. It proved foundational. Immutable.

"Otako cannot heal death," the Azure Dragon said plainly.

Ren experienced a strange relief at that line — only for it to vanish with the next words.

"Instead..."

The Azureure Dragon lifted his gaze slowly.

"He does something significantly more terrifying."

The wind outside died completely.

“OTAKO REJECTS IT.”

The words slammed through the hall, sending a visible vibration through those gathered.

Fatty flinched, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. Shi Min’s eyes widened, pupils widening as if seeing death in a new light.

Ling Li drew in a careful breath, her composure brittle — her throat tense as if she were swallowing glass.

Even Lily, bold as she was, lost some of her lively bravado, her grin turning into uneasy awe. The statement was simple.

Absolute.

"Otako uses his perfected immortal body as an anchor."

Shun sensed a chill trace through his spine.

"For a brief moment..."

The Azure Dragon’s voice lowered further.

"Otako would force reality to recognize the dead person as still belonging to him."

Ling Li’s heartbeat did not change.

But her breath did.

Subtle.

Barely noticeable.

"He calls their scattered soul fragments back."

Lily said quietly, "Calls them?"

"Not by summoning," the Azure Dragon noted gently.

"But by authority."

Shi Min’s eyes sharpened.

"His immortal constitution suppresses the laws of separation."

The bamboo outside ceased whispering.

"The earth halts."

Even Fatty stopped breathing for a moment.

"And what has dispersed... gathers."

The pause after that statement was oppressive.

Mushu was the first to speak, while his voice was lower than usual.

"Why can’t other immortals do the same?"

For an instant, the hush in the garden appeared to intensify, as if the actual air were waiting for an answer that might unravel something holy. Every immortal in the hall perceived an unspoken pressure pulsing at the edge of knowing — a sense that there were consequences older and graver than pride or rivalry.

Tale suggested that any lesser being daring to invoke the true authority at the heart of Otako’s technique risked far more than personal destruction. If the celestial balance was strained, reality alone could fracture. Some said that failed attempts might tear open wounds in the world that would call the gaze of ancient entities, or unravel destinies already written. The air seemed to undulate, memory and myth flickering together for a blink, before the discussion continued.

Mushus wasn’t asking out of disbelief.

He was asking because he had seen Otako many times.

Stood near him.

Felt that quiet suffocating pressure.

And yet even then, he hadn’t fully understood.

He Who Refuses Samsara

The Azure Dragon exhaled slowly.

A deep, ancient sigh.

"Even with my power," he admitted evenly, "I cannot compare to Otako."

That confession alone sent a shockwave through the room.

The Azure Dragon was not one to diminish himself.

"To answer your question — why can’t others do it?"

His sapphire eyes tensed slightly.

"Because Otako’s internal cultivation has refined his soul to near-immutable status."

Shi Min’s fingers bent up slightly at his side. He muttered, just loud enough for those closest to hear, "Internal cultivation... that’s about perfecting the soul, isn’t it? Making your spirit so resilient that nothing can corrupt it."

Fatty nodded, peeking sideways at him. "My father used to say internal arts make the mind firm as a mountain — immovable in storm or sun." For a short moment, Fatty’s gaze paused on a distant spot, as though seeking that unshakeable tranquility within himself. "But I always skipped meditation sessions and just ran laps around the courtyard, chasing wind and dust instead of quietness."