Chapter 126: Divine Shepherd!

Chapter 126: Divine Shepherd!

Pushing open the door to his home, Karen did not see Puer and Kevin.

Walking up to the second floor, they were still nowhere to be seen, but he noticed that the clothes he had changed out of today, which had been left in the bathroom, were gone.

He walked out onto the rooftop terrace and saw Kevin gripping a clothes pole with his jaws, hoisting the garments upward, while Puer lay crouched at one end of the clothesline, biting down on a hanger to suspend the clothes.

Karen crossed his arms, watching this scene of his two household pets diligently performing domestic chores.

As the final piece was hung, the golden retriever turned its head and spotted Karen.

"Woof!"

Puer noticed Karen as well and leapt down from the clothes pole.

"How did you wash them?" Karen inquired.

Emulating Puer's manner, Kevin placed his forepaws forward, pressing them down repeatedly in a kneading motion.

"Thank you for your hard work."

Karen leaned down and spoke to them.

"Meow~"

Feeling somewhat self-conscious, Puer dashed down from the terrace ahead of the dog; in her two hundred years of existence as both human and feline, this was the very first time she had ever laundered clothes for someone else—and a man, at that!

"Woof!"

The golden retriever followed closely at her heels.

Karen looked at the clothes suspended from the line, which were still dripping with water; evidently, the animals had lacked the capacity to wring the laundered garments completely dry.

Dusk was falling now, and given the current temperature, these clothes would likely be frozen stiff by tomorrow morning.

Nevertheless, Karen did not retrieve the garments to rearrange them; instead, he nodded and walked down from the terrace.

For dinner, Karen boiled dumplings that had been wrapped a few days prior but had remained stored in the refrigerator.

Three plates of dumplings were served: one for the man, one for the cat, and one for the dog.

The sole distinction Karen made to favor his human status was that he prepared a small dish of dipping sauce for himself.

After finishing the meal, Karen gathered the plates into the kitchen sink, initially intending to leave them to accumulate before washing, but he suddenly recalled how Puer had shattered a plate earlier today while trying to wash the dishes upon his return.

With a sigh, he washed and set aside all the bowls and plates after all.

Shaking the water from his hands, Karen went into the bathroom to wash his face.

Afterward, instead of returning to his bedroom, he poured a glass of ice water and entered the study, opening the document bag he had brought back from Ava's pastry shop to begin reviewing its contents.

Inside were original notes, presumably recorded by Mr. Pavaro as his investigation progressed. Within these notes were Mr. Pavaro's "soliloquies," resembling a journal; herein, he referred to the woman from the pastry shop whom Karen had encountered today as "Annie."

There was also intelligence gathered by "Annie" through the Church of Mills—which could otherwise be called the circle of prostitutes.

The progression of each phase of the inquiry and the findings of every stage were organized in a detailed and lucid manner.

Judging by the handwriting, the compilation and summary had likely been executed by Annie.

Karen bypassed the initial investigative segments for the time being, focusing first on the summaries of the various stages.

The first stage involved Mr. Pavaro, who had wished to source materials personally to attempt making blood spirit powder for his two daughters, discovering a glaring imbalance between the importation of raw materials on the market and the volume of blood spirit powder being shipped out.

Karen took a sip of water.

A specialized material like blood spirit powder would never suffer a plunge in price due to supply exceeding demand; the so-called "market economy" was entirely nonfunctional here because a direct supply relationship existed between the workshops and the churches. Given the sheer scale of the major churches, they could absorb and store any volume of output, no matter how large; even if they could not utilize it all themselves, they could directly assign a price in credit vouchers to circulate it.

Moreover, recalling the scene at the Allen Manor where Alfred practiced formation arrays—the manor had prepared a substantial quantity of array materials for him—if one truly wished to proceed in a luxurious manner, these raw materials would perpetually remain in short supply.

Inquisitors of the Church of Order favored operating funeral parlors; one reason pertained to their system, while the other was to facilitate monitoring the "dynamics" of the city, allowing them to detect individuals with abnormal causes of death in a timely fashion.

Mr. Pavaro's detection of this output imbalance within the York City region actually fell within the "scope of observation" for an Inquisitor.

The second stage.

Mr. Pavaro began an investigation into the Raphael family, the largest supplier of blood spirit powder in the York City area, confirming that the source of the imbalance lay precisely there.

The third stage.

Mr. Pavaro analyzed the efficacy of blood spirit powder and researched substitutes for the raw materials...

Karen took another sip of water. The investigation written for this segment was not particularly extensive, as Mr. Pavaro had originally intended to compound blood spirit powder himself and had undoubtedly conducted prior research.

At the conclusion, however, Mr. Pavaro obtained confirmation from Professor Lovren of the Physics Department at the Dasco Academy of Sciences that a certain raw material could serve as a much cheaper substitute for blood spirit powder: menstrual blood.

Evidently, this Professor Lovren was a follower of the Church of Principle.

"Every Inquisitor of the Church of Order will know a believer of the Church of Principle."

The figure of Mr. Hoffen surfaced in Karen's mind.

This was only natural, as the Church of Principle did not possess overly formidable military might yet had managed to sustain, endure, and develop precisely by relying on this sharing of "information" and "research."

Against a church that posed no major threat, loved to conduct research, and delighted in sharing its findings, what other church would ever seek to target them?

Karen produced his own paper and pen, writing down the name "Professor Lovren."

The first stage was the discovery of an anomaly, the second stage was a targeted investigation to identify the source of the anomaly, and the third stage was uncovering the most probable factor behind the anomaly.

Having investigated up to this point, Mr. Pavaro had directly submitted an "anomaly report" to the regional headquarters.

It could be said that he had fulfilled the responsibility expected of a qualified Inquisitor of the Church of Order.

And then,

Karen flipped through the preceding notes,

And found it.

Mr. Pavaro wrote:

"The regional headquarters did not provide me with a receipt, which surprised me. After waiting for a while, I assumed the report had become stuck in some administrative process or had been misplaced, though I was well aware the likelihood of that was slim.

Therefore, I submitted a second 'anomaly report,' yet there was still no reply.

Then, Inquisitor Cavendish from the neighboring district paid me a visit at my home. He mentioned he had heard that my two daughters' illnesses required blood spirit powder for alleviation, so he delivered a bag of blood spirit powder to me, adding that he could deliver such a bag every month hereafter.

The Raphael family, who owns the blood spirit powder manufacturing workshop, resides precisely within Cavendish's jurisdiction.

I was agitated,

Because I discovered that my hypothesis was likely correct; this was hush money, meant to make me turn a blind eye.

I was terrified,

Because how did Cavendish, who holds the same rank as I do, manage to see my 'anomaly report'?

I was deeply conflicted,

Unsure whether I should disclose this matter to my dear wife."

Reading up to this point, Karen took another sip of water. He could comprehend Mr. Pavaro's state of mind at that moment, and he believed that Mr. Pavaro had not disclosed this matter to Mrs. Leck; otherwise, Mrs. Leck would certainly have shouted it out to him today.

Karen shifted his gaze away and continued reading the stage summaries, while writing "Inquisitor Cavendish" on the paper.

Mr. Pavaro had certainly not been bought off by the hush money; otherwise, the subsequent investigative stages would not exist.

The fourth stage of the investigation. Because of Inquisitor Cavendish's appearance, Mr. Pavaro became even more convinced of his own judgment, and thus he began to focus his investigation on how such a vast quantity of menstrual blood was being collected.

(Here, Mr. Pavaro found Annie in Ava's Pastry Shop, pleading for her to leverage her connections and aid him in the investigation.)

Cullen frowned slightly, noting that the summary of this particular phase was penned with a certain brevity, or rather, there was no summary to speak of at all.

This implied the investigation had been grueling and protracted, and that Mr. Pavaro had likely faced mounting pressure from other quarters.

The precise intricacies would undoubtedly unveil themselves once he delved into the detailed investigation notes, yet out of habit, Cullen flipped open Mr. Pavaro's notebook—which could by now be justly deemed a "journal."

"Inquisitor Ruke has dispatched an official memorandum to me, claiming he received a report regarding my professional malfeasance.

Am I to interpret this as a veiled warning?

A warning, specifically tailored, to halt my investigation?

Annie's network of information is formidable indeed, and her perception and analytical prowess are truly astounding; she actually discovered that in recent years, the number of girls entering the pastry shop to eke out a living as illegal immigrants has been dwindling year by year.

Alas,

illegal immigrants,

only a demographic such as this would escape notice, remaining entirely uncounted, for even the government remains ignorant of how many illegal immigrants beach themselves upon our shores each year, or how many among them step into the embrace of death annually for want of sustenance and medicine.

They are a forgotten congregation,

yet ironically,

the sole entity that remembers them,

is the demonic claw."

Cullen scribbled "Inquisitor Ruke" upon the paper and continued to leaf through the "journal."

"Captain Tiers of the Whip of Order has forwarded an official memorandum to initiate an inquiry, intending to conduct a formal investigation into the allegations of my malfeasance.

Farcically, to this very day, I have not been informed of the specific nature of this alleged misconduct.

Have I neglected my duties? Have I been remiss in my labors? Have I engaged in nepotism and fraud?

Not a single reason has been disclosed to me,

yet the investigation has already commenced.

This is a further warning,

and should I dare to press onward with this investigation, the subsequent warning shall undoubtedly manifest as my suspension."

Cullen penned "Captain Tiers of the Order Squad" upon the parchment and turned another page.

"Through my own door-to-door inquiries, synthesized with the intelligence from Annie's quarters, I have discovered that a vast multitude of illegal immigrant women, particularly young maidens, have been recruited under the pretense of employment in recent years, never to contact their kindred again.

Yet each month, their families still receive a remittance of approximately eight hundred Reals, the duration of which fluctuates wildly; the longest spans over a year, while the briefest may endure for a mere month, which is to say, a solitary transaction.

Damnation,

a sinister premonition takes root in my mind!"

"I went to scrutinize the remittance accounts, and as expected... nothing was gleaned. Even though I employed some exceptional connections, the accounts and methods utilized by the counterparty for these remittances were inherently cloaked and forged, leaving me entirely powerless to extract any useful clues from this avenue."

He turned the page.

"I have been suspended, forbidden from exercising my status as a Justiciar of the Church of Order during this interim, and ordered to remain confined at home to reflect upon my actions.

You might at least inform me where precisely I have erred, otherwise, what am I to reflect upon?"

He turned the page.

"Annie urged me to exercise caution, even suggesting that I might temporarily abandon the investigation, for she senses that my very life may be in jeopardy; she understands my predicament, and she knows intimately that my repeated reports to the higher authorities have yielded nothing but successive warnings, culminating in this current suspension.

She claims that the upper echelons of the Church of Order have rotted through, surely entangled in this sordid affair, and she fears that even if I were to unearth the truth, no resolution would follow.

No, my dearest friend, my companion, my revered Annie, it is not so!

To directly slay a Justiciar, for a Justiciar to suddenly perish a violent death—no matter how natural it might appear—would inevitably trigger the formal investigative protocols of the Church of Order.

Why did they eschew the most direct method of silencing me forever?

Why must they repeatedly issue warnings, follow procedures, and then sentence me to suspension?

Because they dare not slay me outright!

And why do they dare not slay me outright?

Because they are afraid! They fear an investigation descending from the absolute zenith, they fear that my demise would cause their darkness to breach a fracture!

Therefore, I remain among the living, and my suspension merely demonstrates, precisely so, that there are things they dread; it proves that although putrid flesh has festered within the Church of Order, the Church of Order remains the Church of Order!

I shall not recoil,

I shall not fear,

I shall press on with this investigation,

not merely for those pitiable, captive maidens,

but for the faith that resides within my breast,

for the supreme and sovereign Order, and for the great, most high God of Order in my heart!

No matter what manner of suppression I encounter,

regardless of what treatment I am subjected to,

even if they were to shackle my hands with their own devices, I would still proclaim with utmost sincerity:

'Praise be to Order,'

for I firmly believe,

the God of Order shall hear my prayer!"

Beholding this, Cullen paused, lifting his water goblet only to find it entirely depleted.

Bearing the vessel, he stepped out of the study, replenished it with a fresh draught, and retrieved ice cubes from the refrigerator to cast within.

As he retraced his steps to the study, he espied Purr lingering by the bedroom threshold.

"Cullen, are you not going to rest?"

"Did any telephone calls arrive this afternoon?" Cullen inquired.

"None," Purr replied, shaking her head.

"Then it signifies there are no appointments; I need not even venture to work tomorrow."

"Oh, my little Cullen, you truly have secured a vocation that knows not how many souls might envy it."

"Heh, I shall peruse some matters tonight, and it may well be quite late. You and Kevin are exhausted today as well, so seek your rest early. Furthermore, the documents upon my desk, the two of you should examine them tomorrow."

With Purr washing dishes and doing laundry today, she was bound to be weary.

"What matters?" Purr inquired with curiosity.

"I wish to finish reading them alone first; you may look tomorrow."

"Very well," Purr assented with a nod, "but do not read until it is excessively late."

"Mm."

Cullen stepped back into the study, seated himself, and resumed turning the pages of Mr. Pavaro's "journal":

"A definitive clue has been found. Annie found a woman who had gone mad; she reeked of a foul stench, her face deathly pale from severe anemia. Tragically, by the time I rushed to the scene, she was already dead.

Annie said that when she discovered her, she was lying by the roadside, covered in filth. Yet when the municipal workers saw her, they simply acted as if she weren't there all because her hair was purple. Alas..."

Karen silently pinched the bridge of his nose, then continued reading downward:

"I used 'Awakening' on her, and she sat up.

But unfortunately, because she had likely suffered prolonged torture before her death, her consciousness was utterly chaotic upon awakening. Soon after, she fell into a state of violent frenzy, and I was forced to suppress her once again.

Mercifully, even amidst her chaotic consciousness, she managed to cry out a few words:

Blood;

Blue;

Bridge;"

Karen’s fingertips twitched slightly. Blue Bridge?

"The Blue Bridge community... heavens, that demonic swamp might actually be right inside the very community where I currently reside!

I must investigate this entire community, place by place. I believe that the moment I find the location of that demonic swamp is fast approaching!"

The "diary" stopped right here.

Because the primary focus of his subsequent work was to find this location, Mr. Pavaro had made no further entries.

It was glaringly obvious that before he could actually find the exact location of that place, he had been taken into custody; otherwise, there was no reason for Annie not to tell him the outcome.

To put it another way, the higher-ups had moved to detain him just before he could truly find it.

Blue Bridge,

It was indeed in the Blue Bridge community,

Which was also the community where he lived now.

Karen glanced at the names he had recorded on that piece of paper. Aside from that professor from the Church of Principles, the rest were, at the very least, Inquisitors, along with Adjudicators and captains of the Whip of Order.

They could not be everyone, nor would they be everyone.

Karen did not know what kind of treatment the detained Mr. Pavaro would face, or whether he possessed the right to defend himself. Would the opposing party even give him such a right?

So, during the process of his detention, what kind of end awaited Mr. Pavaro?

Karen leaned his back against the chair and closed his eyes. He wanted to doze for a brief moment, and he also wanted some quiet.

So the interior of the Church of Order was actually this dark as well.

Having accepted this file folder, was he now to continue the investigation that Mr. Pavaro had failed to complete, and find the demonic swamp located in the Blue Bridge community?

If so,

What would be waiting for him?

Karen’s brow furrowed tightly.

He felt somewhat cold.

In this brief interval of dozing off,

He murmured:

Order... oh, Order...

All of a sudden,

Three black walls manifested on their own without Karen clearly chanting the summoning incantation, slowly floating around his body as if to provide him protection and grant him peace of mind.

At the same time,

A faint white halo lit up within the study. Subsequently, an old man, likewise holding a book and sitting in a chair, appeared right beside Karen.

Karen seemed to sense something and ended his nap. As he awoke, the black walls that had been surrounding him dissipated on their own.

He turned his head and looked at the old man who had appeared before him, showing no fear and no panic, but rather a touch of impatience.

"Do not be impatient; this time, it was you who chose to sit inside my study." The old man said with a smile.

"This is my study." Karen corrected.

"A study is actually the easiest place to leave behind the scent of its master, even more so than a kitchen." The old man said. "Are you hesitating?"

"It is not exactly hesitation."

"Oh? Because you have already made up your mind?"

"I suppose so, but I still feel that I am not being rational enough." Karen said. "Because the most rational course of action, just like a seed newly planted in the soil, would be to silently absorb moisture, accept the sunlight, and grow up slowly."

"I do not think so."

"Oh?"

"I think I understand what you mean. It amounts to drinking only as much water as your cup can currently hold, is that it?"

"I suppose so."

"You want to leave the problems to be solved after you have grown up and become powerful, believing that this is the most rational approach, correct?"

"Yes."

"But then, why did you make the opposite decision?"

"You are very annoying."

"I wager it is likely because while some things can be put off for later, there are other things that your inner self simply refuses to let go of or choose to shelve.

Such is life; it is human instinct to avoid the boulders on the road of life.

First bypass it, leap over it, evade it,

Thinking to oneself that later on, when I am grown and my strength is greater, I will return to move it away.

But the problem is,

By the time you have grown up, you have already walked very, very far along this road, and you can no longer turn back to move that stone which once blocked your path so far behind you.

Most importantly, your body may have bypassed it and traveled far, but your soul has remained trapped by it at that very spot."

Hearing the old man's words, Karen changed his tone and said;

"You are quite right."

"Hehehe, from your previous attitude toward me, did you assume I was going to preach to you?"

"Yes."

"In truth, I am here precisely to preach to you. Imprinted within this study are the thoughts I had while reading. The longer you converse with me, the easier it becomes for my preaching to succeed upon you."

"I am not afraid of your preaching succeeding; I am just afraid of trouble."

Karen could reject even the divine revelations given to him by the God of Order, so he did not believe he could be deluded by something left behind by a remnant of the Church of Light.

"Oh, is that so? Yet I would still like to try once more, if I may?"

"You may do as you please now."

"Young man, let me ask you a question. What does God signify to those who are powerful and hold lofty status?"

Karen pursed his lips,

and said:

"An embellishment, a decoration."

"A most piercing metaphor, and one I quite like. Because they are powerful, because their status is exalted, the difficulties they must face are fewer, and the dilemmas they must resolve are fewer still—one could even say... they have almost none.

So then,

what does a god mean to those who are weak and of lowly status?"

Karen pondered for a moment,

then replied:

"Courage, hope."

"Indeed. For to the strong and the highly exalted, what is a single snowflake or a drop of dew in their eyes becomes an avalanche, a tsunami, in the sight of the weak and those at the very bottom.

At times like these,

they need a god,

because a god can grant them courage, and bring them hope!

Right now, you are actually facing the very same dilemma;

you could, of course, choose to set it aside, but your heart will not allow it. You have already decided to raise your pickaxe against that stone.

Therefore,

at a time like this,

you need more courage, and your eyes need to behold more hope!"

"You speak the truth. Since I have already made my choice, I should no longer harbor any misgivings, nor any hesitation. Even though I am still weak and small right now, I should still stand before it upright and proud, to face it."

"Yes, young man, you finally understand. Therefore, you must now place a god before you; a god will grant you guidance, and bless you with hope and courage!

The Great One will bring you light, for it is the great Light of..."

"No."

Karen shook his head.

"Uh..." The old man, having built up his grand speech with such effort, found himself suddenly choked up at the very height of his passion.

Karen closed his eyes,

and spoke with profound solemnity and earnestness:

"Before me, there is no god."

"Without the guidance of a god, how can you walk this path well?" the old man asked at once, his voice tight with anxiety.

"Because on this path, I myself walk at the very front."

The moment those words fell,

a dark mark manifested at the center of Karen's brow,

and beneath him,

chains of deep black began to revolve around him, spinning in an arrangement imbued with absolute order;

his demeanor,

and his very aura,

began to cohere and solidify at that precise instant.

The old man's eyes widened, and he cried out in sheer disbelief:

"Heavens, how can this be!

You clearly just committed sacrilege against a god, yet now you are actually beginning a divine shepherdship?"