Chapter 100: Divine Revelation!

Chapter 100: Divine Revelation!

"The young master's body is perfectly fine, very healthy."

Madame Lisa spoke with a smile after finishing her examination of Karen.

"Thank you, Madame."

"You are too polite, young master."

Karen looked at Mike, who sat in his wheelchair and had accompanied his wife for the checkup. "Mr. Mike, please stay behind for a moment. I have something I would like to discuss with you."

Slightly surprised, Mike nevertheless nodded. "Of course, young master."

Madame Lisa cast a glance at her husband, took her leave of Karen, and closed the study door behind her.

Karen turned his gaze toward Alfred, who sat at the adjacent secretary's desk, and the black cat sprawled upon it, as well as the golden retriever resting at the foot of the desk, and laughed:

"I told you all, there was nothing wrong."

Ever since he had practiced spells that day—particularly after manifesting the "Spear of Punishment"—Karen had spent an entire morning every day for a whole week out in the manor's open clearing to continue his training.

Everything else was merely "supplementary"; only the "Spear of Punishment" was something he forced himself to hurl out once each day.

Though his head would throb and his nose would bleed every single time he cast this spell, Karen still persevered. Finally, yesterday, his head throbbed just the same, but the nosebleed had stopped—this was counted as a monumental improvement!

Karen’s own perception of himself was that his reservoir was vast, storing a tremendous amount of water within, yet when he needed to use it externally, he could only draw it out slowly through a very narrow pipe. Consequently, once the required volume of water became too rapid, this slender pipe would bear immense pressure.

The fact that he felt severe pain yet never fainted was likely due to this exact reason. His foundation was far too solid, yet his realm was too low, giving rise to this kind of... blissful tribulation.

Purr and Alfred had advised him not to rush, but Karen remained steadfast in his choice.

In truth, Judiya's sudden appearance last time had cast too great a psychological shadow over him.

The mere thought of that moment, where he possessed not a single shred of ability to resist, filled his heart with a profound sense of helplessness and rage.

Attempting to communicate with her on equal terms by treating her as a psychiatric patient, feeling as though he were walking a tightrope with every interaction—this kind of experience yielded not a single ounce of achievement, but was instead an agonizing ordeal.

If only he had known the "Spear of Punishment" back then, how wonderful that would have been. Even if it failed to blast Judiya to death, at least it could have obliterated himself.

However, to alleviate everyone's concerns, Karen had still invited Madame Lisa today to examine his body. She was trained in medicine, and due to her family's belief system, she could perceive certain anomalous issues; an examination conducted by her carried high credibility.

Alfred let out a long sigh of relief, a smile finally gracing his face.

The golden retriever, upon whose face the cat scratch marks had not yet fully faded, joyfully wagged its tail. Last time, because its clumsy dog-writing had omitted the words "Beginner Level," Purr had directly picked a fight with it.

Purr, somewhat helplessly, rested her head upon the desk, her feline paws toying with the cap of a fountain pen in front of her.

A body remodeled by an evil god,

The sole heir to the Inmeles bloodline,

A purification ritual completed by the God of Order,

Dis's grandson;

When all these conditions were added together, the fact that he could unleash a spell with such massive offensive attributes while still a divine servant seemed to make sense after all?

Yet Purr's attitude toward Karen was that he could completely afford to develop steadily and securely, because his ceiling was destined to be incredibly high. She simply did not wish to see Karen take risks and suffer any accidents.

This could be considered... the mindset of an elder.

"Mr. Mike." Karen walked out from behind the desk and came to a stop before Mike.

"Yes, young master."

"I intend to resolve your physical ailment now."

"Really, young master?" Mike asked, profoundly agitated.

In fact, Karen had mentioned this matter to him before; it was the method provided by Lord Dis, and Mike had been waiting for it for a long time.

Watching Karen complete his purification, he had actually been suppressing the inner urge to remind Karen. However, the almost punctual sound of explosions every morning this past week had left his heart feeling as though it were being scratched by a cat each time.

He knew that was Karen practicing, and he had even gone to observe it together with his father and younger brother.

His father had watched with tears streaming down his face. If a mere divine servant could unleash an offensive attribute spell of such intensity, then by the time he truly grew up, the Allen family would truly no longer need to fear the Raphael family.

Mike possessed a layer of secret joy beyond that of his father, because the more extraordinary Master Karen appeared, the greater the certainty of success for the treatment of his own body would be!

Humans always harbor stronger confidence in things that transcend their established cognitions.

"Yes, though it will require a bit of cooperation on your part."

"No problem at all, young master. Please do as you wish, there is no need to consider my feelings."

Mike understood clearly that this sort of treatment was definitely not prescribing medicine. The two chaotic elements currently within his body were locked in a daily stalemate; trying to untangle them would inevitably bring immense agony, but he was willing to endure it, because he truly did not want to continue living as a useless burden to his family.

"Alfred."

"Yes, young master."

Alfred rose, walked over to Mike, and extended both hands:

"Sir, I am going to carry you onto the desk."

"Very well, sorry to trouble you."

Karen then picked up his water glass, walked over to the window, and looked outside.

The view from the window was no longer as good as before, because under Karen’s orders, the members of the Allen family had installed sturdy anti-theft bars outside both the study and bedroom windows.

Although Old Anderson had explained to Karen that these two locations, the study and the bedroom, were protected by formations left behind by their ancestors when the castle was built, Karen had still insisted on his command.

Therefore, if Judiya wanted to scale the wall and come up next time, she would have to perform the feat of cutting steel plates with water first.

At the same time, within the two drawers beneath Karen’s desk lay two pistols respectively.

Behind him,

Alfred's voice drifted over:

"Sir, I need to help you remove your clothing."

"Very well, sorry to trouble you."

"Sir, these are disposable underwear, I will help you put them on."

"Uh... alright, it really is too much trouble for you."

"Sir, your chest hair is quite abundant. Let me prepare the skin for you first, you won't mind, will you?"

"Uh... alright, of course not."

"Young master, everything is ready."

"Good."

Karen turned around and looked at Mike lying upon the desk; his chest was now completely clean.

In truth, whether he shaved the hair or not did not affect the treatment; it was mainly that Karen’s fingers would be performing guidance upon his chest.

Karen cast a glance at Alfred, who stood there cleaning the razor. Alfred merely continued to pack the items away with utmost seriousness, pretending not to see his young master's approving gaze.

Mike raised his head: "Master Karen, is there anything else that needs to be prepared?"

Cullen walked over to the desk, reaching out to press the call bell.

Standing outside, Borge opened the study door, stepped inside, and approached the desk.

"Mr. Mike, I have a matter of regret to inform you. You cannot continue the path of coexistence between water and fire. I need to extract one of your elemental powers from your body, and I suggest extracting fire, as the certainty of success is higher that way."

"Alright, fire, let's extract the fire then," Mike said. "My elder brother is fire, so I will steadfastly walk the path of water. Thank you, Young Master Cullen."

"Mm."

Cullen snapped his fingers at Borge. After Cullen extracted the fire-attributed energy, this portion of energy could not be wasted; it had to be transferred into Borge's body.

Borge immediately stripped off his clothes, only to realize after undressing that he had actually put on disposable underwear long beforehand.

Alfred glanced at him, and a bashful smile appeared on Borge's face.

"Prepare yourselves, it is about to begin."

Cullen placed the five fingers of his left hand upon Mr. Mike's chest. The lack of chest hair beneath his touch certainly made him feel much more grounded.

Close your eyes;

In the next moment,

Cullen's left hand began to move back and forth across Mike's chest, maintaining a perfectly uniform speed throughout.

"Mike, circulate your system of faith."

"Yes."

Gradually, a red and blue luster manifested upon Mike's body, the two colors chaotically intertwining, while a look of agony surfaced upon Mike's face.

Alfred brought over a fountain pen, gesturing that he could bite down on it.

Mike gritted his teeth and shook his head.

Cullen, meanwhile, continued to trace circles upon Mike's chest, following the operational diagram given by Purr which he had memorized.

In truth, during this entire process, Cullen did not exert any special power at all. He was merely using the tactile sensation of his fingertips to guide Mike to circulate the internal energy according to his path;

In other words, even if an ordinary person were to mimic this movement, it could still be accomplished. It was just that an unpurified Cullen would not know when to proceed to the next step.

This was much like acupuncture; inserting a needle was not difficult, the difficulty lay in... knowing where to insert it and how deep to go.

Purr had already resolved the greatest challenge for him, so the task required of Cullen was naturally much lighter.

Finally,

Upon Mr. Mike's chest, the red and blue gradually separated into two distinct clusters. Though they remained as incompatible as water and fire, at least for the moment, they were parted from one another.

On the other side, because Borge had already studied the operational diagram belonging to him, he had already commenced his circulation. However, the red upon his chest was not as deep as Mr. Mike's; this was the gap in their realms, and furthermore, Borge only circulated the red.

This was also why Cullen had previously suggested that Mike choose to abandon the fire-attributed power, because in the family faith system records, Borge was recorded as a tier-one fire attribute.

In truth, the ultimate difficulty in solving this problem was that you needed to design this operational trajectory based on each individual's distinct family faith system situation and bodily condition.

Thus, at this stage, truly only Purr, who had once reached the ninth tier of the family faith system, could accomplish this. Others, even if they were exceptionally strong, could not do it if they were not of the Allen family.

"Borge, place your hand on it."

"Yes, Young Master."

Borge stepped forward, placing his palm upon Mr. Mike's chest.

The two operational trajectories, like two formations attracting one another, produced a reaction the instant they made contact.

The red upon Mike's body began to rapidly transfer to Borge, while Borge was swiftly absorbing the fire-attributed power accumulated within Mike.

Cullen released his hand at this moment, taking two steps back.

Because this was a transmission of fire-attributed power, in the next instant, fire "ignited" upon both of their bodies.

Mr. Mike's hair was set ablaze, and Borge's hair was also set ablaze;

Immediately following that, the disposable underwear of both parties burned along with it.

The purpose of the disposable underwear was firstly to cover their modesty, and secondly, it could burn away very quickly, ensuring no burns were left behind.

Mike's face gradually shifted from agony to tranquility,

While Borge's face gradually shifted from tranquility to agony, yet he kept his teeth gritted, enduring it solely through the forceful, heavy breathing of his nose.

Cullen looked at Borge. To speak from the heart, this youth hailed from a brothel, yet he had seized the opportunity to return to the Allen family and escape his original destiny. He had excellent foresight, and at critical moments, he was highly decisive and capable of grasping opportunities...

Such a youth, on a theatrical stage, would undoubtedly hold the script of a protagonist.

Last night, before sleeping, while lying in bed, Cullen had intentionally discussed this topic with Purr, who slept at the foot of the bed, because transitioning the fire-attributed power that Mike was prepared to abandon over to Borge had been Purr's own proposal.

It felt that this "youth" inherently possessed the traits of an ungrateful wolf, yet at the same time, it highly valued him as the future hope of the family.

However, when Cullen jokingly remarked that Borge had the "protagonist's script,"

Purr merely let out a laugh,

And asked in return:

"Then what about you, Young Master?"

"Ah!"

"Ah!"

Accompanied by a cry of exclamation from both Mike and Borge, the transmission ritual concluded.

Mr. Mike's eyes were completely engulfed by a translucent blue, and subsequently, a layer of water mist appeared upon his body. After it gradually solidified, it was as though he had donned a suit of armor.

In the next moment,

Mike stood up from the desk. Beneath the armor, it seemed as though two legs had been propped up for him, entirely unhindered in his movement, though such a state could naturally not be sustained for long.

"Thud!"

Mike knelt heavily before Cullen,

Saying earnestly:

"Thank you, Young Master. It is you who has given me a new life!"

On the other side, the skin of Borge's body began to turn a deep red, but soon, he raised both arms, the deep red began to recede, and his skin tone gradually reverted to a normal color.

Within his right eye, a crimson flame flashed and vanished. This color signified the second tier of the family faith system!

Relying on the fire-attributed power extracted from Mike's body, he had advanced.

Promptly, Borge also knelt down toward Cullen:

"Young Master!"

Borge spoke no other words, merely striking his own chest fiercely with his fist.

Cullen looked at the two kneeling on the floor,

And smiled faintly:

"You may put your clothes on first."

...

"Young Master Cullen, I am incomparably grateful to you for healing Mike, truly." Old Anderson spoke while wiping away tears as he followed behind Cullen.

Cullen believed that the acting of this old man was, at this very moment, a product of heartfelt emotion.

"It is only what I ought to do," Cullen said, quite plainly.

"No, this is your benevolence toward the Allen family. Henceforth, the Allen family shall be your warhorse, your hunting falcon. Your will shall be the very direction of our house!"

"You speak too heavily of it."

If he were to wash his hands of this and leave now, within a short while, the Allen Estate would likely cease to exist entirely.

However, Pu'er had been quite right about one thing: when it came to gathering materials and running errands, one truly required the sustenance of a noble family.

Cullen had never anticipated that when he began his research into arrays, even a single rudimentary matrix would demand the preparation of such intricate and tedious materials.

By then, Cullen and Anderson had already arrived at the castle gates. The distant performance hall had been remodeled into a massive hall of mourning, and Prince Henry’s funeral was set for three days hence.

The remaining portions of Prince Henry's corpse simply could not be found, so silver had been specially used to forge a body anew for him. When the time came, they would only need to clothe it and leave his head exposed.

If Aunt Mary were here, she would surely have taken a great liking to such an exceedingly trouble-free task.

Just then, Cullen spotted a group of people dressed in the courtly attire of the royal family quarreling with the workers of the Allen family near the performance hall;

a middle-aged man in official robes was shouting something at Mr. Bed.

"What is happening?" Cullen asked.

Old Anderson replied, "Young Master, it is like this. We made our preparations according to your design requirements and procedures, but the palace master of ceremonies feels that certain parts violate royal etiquette and has been demanding that we rectify them."

"Then tell them that if they wish to hold it here, they must abide by our rules; otherwise, please have them take the Prince's head back to the palace to hold it there.

Rest assured, the palace will certainly back down in the end."

For that old lady of a Queen was still planning to lodge here on the day of the funeral.

Old Anderson froze for a moment, but immediately nodded nonetheless. "Yes, I shall go and speak to them personally at once."

Cullen simply sat down upon the steps, watching Old Anderson go to reprimand that palace master of ceremonies, even ordering his men to drive out the entire flock of royal ritual officials brought along with him.

Alfred and Borg stood behind Cullen;

the wind outside was rather fierce, particularly at this spot by the entrance where a draft whistled through, prompting Cullen to silently pull his collar up higher.

His gaze turned toward the performance hall, which had resumed its preparatory stage, watching groups of maids carrying various required supplies to set them in place, watching the menservants repair the stretch of road leading from the estate entrance to the hall;

in his ears, he heard the sounds of a grand cleaning underway within the manor behind him.

In truth, many of his designs did not conform to the true noble etiquette of Wien, let alone the royal etiquette of the Wien crown.

Because the Inmerces Funeral Home was merely a mid-tier establishment in Luojia City; if one forced its ways onto this, many aspects would naturally seem ill-fitted.

Yet Cullen simply wished to be willful for once,

partly because he knew the Queen would agree no matter what, and partly because Cullen felt he might be... homesick.

Aunt would be in the basement, humming a song, rejoicing over this task that brought plenty of coin with little trouble;

Uncle would be busy out front, rushing back and forth to arrange the decor;

Ron would be slacking off, dozing away;

Aunt Winnie would be cross-referencing the vast list of dignitaries bound to attend;

Mina, Rent, and Chris would act as servers, preparing the drinks;

upstairs in the third-floor study... Cullen subconsciously raised his head, only to slowly lower it once more; Grandfather was still asleep.

"Cough, cough..."

Cullen began to cough, instinctively covering his mouth with his hand. Alfred stepped forward and helped drape a coat over Cullen’s shoulders.

At that moment,

Madame Jenny and Eunice walked over from the direction of the performance hall. Seeing Cullen sitting on the steps by the entrance, Madame Jenny smiled and said to him:

"Young Master, the layout of this funeral truly agrees with the customs of our Rueland."

Madame Jenny was a native of Luojia City herself, so she could naturally discern exactly where the details of this funeral originated,

"That palace master of ceremonies noticed it too, repeatedly claiming it defied tradition, but Father shouted him away."

At this point, Madame Jenny could not help but add a touch of personal grievance with a sense of gratification:

"The people of Wien have always looked down upon the customs and habits of us Rueland folks, always thinking of us as country bumpkins."

Clearly, ever since marrying into the Allen family, Madame Jenny had suffered no shortage of that "regional discrimination" from the Wien nobility in social circles.

Cullen smiled and said:

"Since the funeral is designed by me, a Rueland man, it must naturally follow our own rules..."

As he spoke to this point,

Cullen suddenly froze,

for a deep and unfamiliar voice abruptly echoed within his mind;

as if from a great distance,

yet also very, very close,

like someone shouting to you from the far side of a mountain forest, yet also like a whisper pressed right against your ear;

this was

the murmur from a god:

[Order is: that which I decree, and that which you must obey.]

———

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