Chapter 135: My Face, Given to You!

Chapter 135 My Face, For You!

The tremors racking Pavarotti’s corpse grew increasingly pronounced, and Karen lowered his gaze, watching the chains beneath his feet begin to turn from black to red.

This precise scene had unfolded when he awakened Count Rekar; Karen had assumed there must be other colors lying beyond, corresponding to other abilities, yet this time the chains once more ceased their transformation upon turning red, yielding no further change.

He had already advanced from a Divine Servant to a Divine Shepherd, yet the color of the chains still failed to develop any further; was it because his realm was still insufficient, or because the issue did not lie solely within the realm itself?

Just then, Karen sensed the spiritual energy gathering upon Pavarotti’s corpse, like a pot of water beginning to send up a constant stream of rising bubbles, on the verge of boiling.

Within Karen’s field of vision, a phantom scene manifested, slipping into misalignment with the actual setting of the washroom;

Slowly, Karen closed his eyes.

The moment his eyes closed, the world "before him" instantly became clear.

And as Karen closed his eyes, standing there inside the washroom, his entire aura underwent a profound shift in the "eyes" of Purr, Kevin, and Alfred, who were stationed at the doorway.

A shift in aura was understandable enough, for any believer with a modicum of piety or any actor with a passable standard of performance could achieve as much.

But this time, Karen did not merely exhibit a change in aura; a transformation had also emerged within his physical posture.

He stood there, his body remarkably relaxed, hands lifted and making subtle plucking gestures before him, his frame swaying ever so slightly as if he were listening to music, or perhaps conducting an orchestra.

This was a phenomenon that had never occurred before.

Alfred crouched down, making himself appear as much of a "peer" to Purr and Kevin as possible.

He asked in a low whisper:

"What is the Young Master doing?"

Purr guessed:

"Listening to a song?"

Alfred muttered in confusion, "But I can't hear any sound."

Promptly, Alfred and Purr looked together at Kevin, who was lying flat on the bath towel.

Among the three of them, even Purr had to admit that this stupid dog had actually seen the most of the world; he was, after all, an evil god.

Alfred picked up the bath towel and proactively began to wipe Kevin down.

Kevin cast another look at Karen inside the washroom,

And said:

"Woof~ Woof~ Woof~ Woof~ Woof~ Woof~"

Alfred immediately looked at Purr; judging from their past interactions, Kevin had quite a lot to say this time.

Purr translated:

"He is listening to a song, but in this world, songs are not defined solely by those with sheet music and lyrics, nor are human-manipulated instruments the only things capable of playing pleasant melodies;

Indeed, it is not just the sounds of nature, the wind blowing through valleys, or the rain striking the streets;

The song Karen is listening to right now is of a higher order than all of the above; he is listening to... prayers."

"So that's how it is."

A wave of realization washed over Alfred upon hearing this, yet his expression betrayed not the slightest hint of shock; the Young Master listening to prayers—was that not a perfectly normal thing?

Purr turned her head to look at Kevin and asked, "Is it innate?"

If it were innate, it would mean Karen was the reincarnation of some once-great existence; such instances were not unprecedented in the past, and there were plenty of records of them, as the orthodox grand churches had essentially all hosted the descent of a "god" at one point or another.

Those gods who originally sat high above, due to their own needs or other reasons, had no choice but to choose to be reborn into the mortal realm; prior to their rebirth, they would provide a "prophecy" to the church through divine revelations or the reactions of the church’s divine artifacts.

Essentially, before the birth, a crowd of the holy church’s high elders would already be standing outside the delivery room alongside the father.

The moment the child emerged, they would be carried away, and the biological family would receive immense compensation, both secular and non-secular;

Coupled with the social customs of the time, this was considered a matter of great honor, so within these stories, one rarely encountered the kind of "grief" and "reluctance" parents usually felt upon losing a newborn child; this was not deliberately erased, but rather a difference in emotional inclination.

However, the "descending god" here was usually not the "primary god" of the respective holy church, but rather a subordinate deity, equivalent to those standing behind the primary god in the first mural.

As for whether the rebirth of a true "primary god" had ever actually occurred, there were simply no records of it anyway; even if it had, it would not be recorded, because no holy church would ever want the outside world to know that their own primary god had descended to be reborn, as this was tantamount to announcing that the church’s greatest reliance temporarily ceased to exist, which could easily bring about a genuine crisis of survival for that church.

"Woof," Kevin answered.

"You're saying it could also be imitation?" Purr asked in puzzlement, "Then who could he possibly be imitating?"

A smile crept onto the dog’s snout, though whether it was because he felt comfortable being wiped down by Alfred or because he truly just felt like laughing at this moment remained unclear:

"Woof."

"Who else could it be, you say?" Purr fixed her gaze back upon Karen, "Could it be that, in his current state, he is imitating the God of Order?"

Karen had no idea what the family pets and servant were discussing at the washroom door, because he had now entered a very peculiar state; he felt as though he were floating in the sky, yet simultaneously growing out of the soil;

This was a highly wondrous shift in perspective, incredibly fluid, exceptionally subtle, and completely all-encompassing.

Karen saw that inside the small partition of Ava's Pastry Shop, Mr. Pavarotti was handing a new set of notes to Madam Annie;

Subsequently, Mr. Pavarotti took forty reles from his pocket and placed them before Madam Annie.

"Twenty."

"No, forty."

"I'm getting old; I don't command the same price as them anymore."

"Skill is the accumulation of time."

Madam Annie rolled her eyes at Pavarotti and said, "It's already been tracked down to the Blue Bridge community; I feel it's coming soon—the day of your death."

"How could it be that exaggerated? Right now it's just a suspension pending investigation; the next step should be detention to await trial, and the one judging me will inevitably be a magistrate. I am actually quite looking forward to the arrival of that moment."

"What is the point of deceiving yourself?" Annie smiled.

"Man does not live for a point; if one could not live without a point, then not many people would be left in this world. A point is merely an embellishment to life."

"Don't you find it sorrowful, Pavarotti? As an Inquisitor of the Church of Order, what you are facing now is likewise the Church of Order."

"From the moment they turned their backs on order, they ceased to be counted among the people of the Church of Order."

"It doesn't matter if you say they don't count; it takes the God of Order to say it for it to matter. Only, it seems the ears and eyes of the God are not quite working so well."

"No, I am the ears of God; I am the eyes of God."

Pavarotti said in a solemn voice:

"Praise Order!"

Just then, a woman's teasing voice drifted in from outside:

"Sister Annie, are you finished yet?

Mr. Pavarotti's boys have driven up to the door to pick him up."

"Annie’s skill is excellent; I was finished long ago, and she even gave me an extra round for free."

Mr. Pavarotti smiled as he pushed open the partition door and walked out, lighting a cigarette before pushing open the door of the pastry shop to step outside, spitting a glob of phlegm onto the ground.

"Boss."

"Boss, we've come to pick you up."

"What is the rush?" Mr. Pavaro cursed. "It is not even over yet, and here you come rushing me."

Cullen adjusted his line of sight and spotted a blue, second-hand Ponce sedan parked behind the hearse—it was Alaye’s car, which he had borrowed.

Just as Cullen prepared to go over and take a look at himself, he discovered that his surroundings had altered.

He saw Mr. Pavaro standing beside a second-hand black Ponce sedan, smoking a cigarette.

This time, Cullen saw himself; he was sitting inside the car, a cigarette between his fingers that Mr. Pavaro had helped him light.

Mr. Pavaro tossed the half-smoked cigarette onto the ground, spat on it, and then stamped on it viciously with his foot before raising both hands in front of the two black-robed men.

As the handcuffs clicked shut, Pavaro’s body began to tremble and twitch uncontrollably, yet he still forced his head up and shouted:

"Praise Order!"

The imagery began to shift once more.

This time, Cullen found that his vision was completely pitch-black; he heard the sound of wind and the rushing of water, yet he could not open his eyes to look.

At that moment, Mr. Pavaro’s voice came from ahead of him:

"With my absolute loyalty, I chant Your great name, praying that You will open Your eyes at this very moment, and let Your gaze descend upon this world;

Forbidden—Eye of Order!"

Cullen felt as though the darkness before him had been partially wiped away, but the remaining thick black sludge still firmly blocked his view; he wanted to open his eyes, but he still could not manage it.

"Pavaro, you really are an idiot!"

This was Ms. Anne’s scathing scold.

"I just wanted to extravagantly hope for a miracle, and while I am at it, leave behind no regrets."

Immediately afterward, Cullen heard the chanting of Ms. Anne, and the sound of water on both sides instantly grew violent, but then, the even more terrifying sound of a sharp sword tearing through the air rang out, suppressing all other ambient noise around them.

"Thud."

"Thud."

The sound of two bodies collapsing to the ground drifted over,

And then,

It was the sound of river water falling and washing over the bridge deck.

……

"Whew..."

Cullen opened his eyes; he was standing inside the washroom. He turned his head, glanced toward the doorway, and found that Alfred, Kevin the pug, and the others were all staring at him.

Right then,

Mr. Pavaro's corpse opened its eyes and looked toward Cullen.

"You are awake, Mr. Pavaro."

Pavaro did not speak; he wanted to climb up, but he failed to do so because the degree of damage to his corpse was simply too severe, and the washroom tiles were very slippery, so he could only wriggle continuously on the floor.

Alfred took the initiative to walk over at this moment, extending his arms to lift Mr. Pavaro and placing him into the bathtub, so that Mr. Pavaro could sit propped against the bathtub wall.

Pavaro first sized up the surroundings with some confusion,

Then he began to examine his own body,

Finally, his gaze landed on Ms. Anne's corpse, which still lay motionless on the floor.

"Is this... 'Awakening'?"

"Yes," Cullen answered.

Pavaro looked at Cullen: "I knew you were no ordinary person, but I truly did not expect that you, too, faith in Order. By the way, should I be calling you... My Lord right now?"

This was committing the same mistake of established perception as Count Recar back then; of course, Pavaro’s misjudgment of Cullen's strength would be much lower than Count Recar’s, because the price and difficulty of "awakening" him were vastly different from the price and difficulty of "awakening" Count Recar.

"No need, I am merely a Divine Priest. If anyone should be calling names, it is I who should call you My Lord."

"You are not joking?"

"Why would I deceive a... dead man."

"Makes a lot of sense." Mr. Pavaro accepted this explanation; he even immediately dropped the matter of Cullen's strength and realm, pointing instead at Ms. Anne and asking, "She, cannot awaken?"

"I have tried. The degree of damage to the corpse is too high, and she suffered the damage of the Sword of Judgment; her spirituality has been basically erased, so she can no longer awaken."

"Then what about me?"

"Perhaps due to a matter of faith, the damage of the Sword of Judgment spared you a margin, which allowed me to awaken you."

"Alright." Pavaro turned his face slightly. "That is fine too, I can hold a funeral for her."

"We do not possess the conditions for that right now, because the matter is not over."

"You intend to continue investigating, Divine Priest?"

"Yes."

"Do you have the confidence?"

"If I did, I would not have sneakily brought your corpses here to perform the Awakening. I am merely relatively adept at Awakening spells; in other aspects, I am just a Divine Priest.

Besides, I have finished reading your notebook."

"Anne told me that she gave the notebook to you because you are handsome."

"That is slander. Ms. Anne was moved by my justice and responsibility."

"Heh."

"We will go to Mr. Tadel's textile mill to investigate; he is the link responsible for recruiting illegal immigrant female workers. I believe we should be able to find clues there."

"And after finding them?" Pavaro asked. "Do you have a channel to report to the higher-ups?"

"No, to not hide it from you, my own identity is somewhat special; the ones I least want to face are the people of the Church of Order."

"Then after finding them, what method do you have?"

"Find them first before speaking of it. Once found, then we think of a way."

Pavaro pointed at Anne on the floor:

"Anne has already died for this matter, well, I have already died too. I feel that this awakening can only last for three days, perhaps not even three days.

Therefore, I do not wish for you to walk into our current ending as well."

"Are you dissuading me?"

"I suppose so."

"It is quite surprising that you would say such words to me."

"You said it yourself just now, your identity least wants to face the Church of Order, which means you do not belong to the sequence of the Church of Order, right? So, why bother?"

"Then what about Ms. Anne? Did she not belong even less to the sequence of the Church of Order?"

Pavaro fell silent.

"Although I indeed do not belong to the sequence of the Church of Order right now, I, faith in Order."

Pavarotti glanced at Karen with a flicker of something unusual in his eyes; he had caught the underlying meaning.

Karen looked at Madam Annie and said, "I will help clean up her remains. Alfred, is there an embalming formation in Mr. Hoffen's notes?"

"There is, Young Master. A simple formation from the Berry Cult that maintains body vitality. Usually, female believers of the Berry Cult use it for their own cosmetic maintenance."

"Help me wipe down my body first," Pavarotti spoke up.

"Alright," Karen nodded.

"Just a simple wipe, and a change into looser clothes will do. This washroom should be left for you and Annie; it is a matter of respect for her."

"I understand. My family runs a funeral parlor, so I have helped out quite a bit at home. Alfred, prepare a set of loose clothing."

"Yes, Young Master."

Pu'er and Kevin now left the doorway of the washroom and returned to the bedroom.

"Only three days, huh," Pu'er said.

"Woof."

"Insufficient strength? Pavarotti's, or Karen's?"

"Woof, woof."

"It is Karen's. True, I wish for it too. If Recar could have followed us all the way, many things would have become much simpler."

A sudden smile appeared on Kevin's face as he uttered:

"Woof."

"A little quail under the wings can never grow up. Fair enough, I suggest Karen note that line of yours down in that black notebook."

Kevin walked to his own dog bed, lay down, wagged his tail, and closed his eyes; he was truly exhausted.

Pu'er also hopped onto the bed and lay down.

On the other side, inside the washroom, Karen was helping Mr. Pavarotti, who sat in the bathtub, clean his body, primarily washing away the bloodstains and grime.

Mr. Pavarotti looked at the various holes on his body and said with a touch of helplessness:

"It looks really unfamiliar. I wonder if I stand outside in the wind, it will make a sound like a flute."

"Unlikely, unless a few more holes are opened to form a high and low pitch range."

"Heh, you mentioned earlier that your family also runs a funeral parlor. So, are your family members part of the Cult?"

"My grandfather was an Inquisitor, just like you."

"Is that so? No wonder."

"Young Master, the clothes."

"Alright, put them over there."

"Yes, Young Master."

Karen assisted Mr. Pavarotti out of the bathtub and sat him on a nearby chair, then picked up a dry towel to wipe him down, dressing him once he was dry.

The entire process felt entirely natural; Aunt Mary would also do mortuary makeup for male clients, and what he was doing now was the exact same thing.

"There is something I only discovered earlier, which is not in the notes."

"Please speak."

"If it were merely the profits of the Blood Soul Powder, it could not possibly involve a Spellcaster, and even Judicator Ruke would unlikely look at it. I think that place might be for satisfying some more peculiar demands."

"What kind of demands do you think they are?"

"Confining a large group of women and subjecting them to constant torment... I think it might be to absorb or refine something. The menstrual blood and Blood Soul Powder were perhaps added unauthorized by subordinates to seek benefits for themselves."

"The Lord Spellcaster?"

"I think that Lord Spellcaster might have already lost himself."

"The nature of the matter has changed completely all of a sudden."

"Yes, it has become much more severe," Pavarotti said. "This is no longer a simple profit chain of points. So, do you still decide to continue the investigation?"

"Of course," Karen smiled. "The cold wind can already freeze me to death, so why would I bother worrying about an avalanche?"

"Will you enter the Church of Order?" Pavarotti suddenly asked.

"Most likely, but I will come in under a different identity. My actual self cannot enter directly."

"I have a suggestion."

"Please speak."

"If this matter can conclude smoothly in the end, I will give my position to you."

"Are you telling a joke?"

"I am serious. I believe your not entering the Church of Order is a loss for Order. I do not know what happened to you that makes your identity sensitive and unacceptable to the Church.

But I think you should walk the path of the Church of Order. In any case, I will be completely dead in two or three days; this position might as well be left to you."

"Setting aside the feasibility of this, are you certain I am a good person?"

"Certain," Pavarotti said. "When you awakened me, I could feel it. This is more useful than a thousand words of explanation and embellishment."

"I have never experienced it, so I do not know," Karen said.

"As for the feasibility, it exists. You can cut off the skin of my face and make it into a mask."

"Heh," Karen laughed. "Sorry, I did not mean to laugh, but I truly could not help it."

"You also walk the path of Order. Putting on my face skin and taking my place, no one except my family will notice. As for the outside world, I actually have no friends, and not many people are willing to be friends with me.

Moreover, I have my own selfish motives. You should know that I have two daughters who are severely ill. I am also doing this for them, because in my heart, I have always felt guilt toward them."

"Yes, I know," Karen helped Mr. Pavarotti dress. "Shall I support you to the study to sit for a while?"

"I am not joking with you. Of course, wanting to make a perfect disguise is definitely not as simple as a mask made from a single face skin;

But in York City, there is a person who is very skilled at doing this. The face skins he makes are enough to pass off as genuine, and even the aura can be mimicked perfectly.

I only came to know him previously because of an incident—or rather, not know, just had contact with him. He has a very strange temper, and at the same time, he seems to strongly dislike our Church of Order.

Most importantly, helping an outsider create the 'mask' of a Church of Order Inquisitor carries unimaginable consequences once exposed, which amounts to taking a massive risk.

You can try to go meet him. If he is willing to help you, you can take over my identity and will not have to take other routes to advance slowly."

"No," Karen looked at Mr. Pavarotti, asking curiously, "You seem to be a bit too good to me."

Too trusting, so trusting that Karen found it somewhat unfathomable.

"When awakening me, did you see something?" Pavarotti asked.

Karen nodded.

"I also... saw some things. I saw the scene of your Divine Revelation, and I also saw the scene of your Divine Shepherding."

Karen's expression turned solemn.

If Mr. Pavarotti had not informed him voluntarily, he would probably never have known that during an "awakening," the other party could actually see some things within his own heart as well.

This meant that in the future, "awakening" would need to be used with greater caution, because some of his things, if brought to light, would be considered outright treasonous, even more heretical than an evil god!

Mr. Pavarotti continued:

"Some of your ideas, I cannot agree with, but I acknowledge your sincerity and respect toward order;

Compared to that lot from the Church of Order I ran into last night, you, more than them, are fitter to cry out 'praise be to order'!"

"Thank you," Karen said.

"It is I who should say thank you to you," Pavarotti said with a slight smile, "just as Annie said before her death, you allowed us to see hope once more. Think of it as a gift between friends.

Fortunately, I didn't end up like Annie, with a hole pierced right through my face; heh, this skin is perfectly intact and still usable."

"You said it yourself, they probably wouldn't be too willing to help with this."

"How would you know without trying? Just like that day when I was carted off in handcuffs after lighting my cigarette, when I shouted those words to you, didn't you go look for Annie anyway?"

"You make a very good point."

"You should be asking me now where you can find that person."

"Alright. May I ask, where can I find that person?"

"In the city center, right on Second Street of Kings Avenue, he opened a pottery studio. The Lemar Pottery Studio."