Chapter 179: Karen's Background

Chapter 179: Karen’s Lineage

The formal conference between Dark Moon Island and the Order of Light began.

The previous evening, members of the Dark Moon Island delegation had already communicated and confirmed specific structural clauses with the relevant officials from the Order of Light; in truth, grand-scale communications between both parties had been underway for a considerable time before Ophelia ever arrived in York City.

Thus, Ophelia’s presence on this journey resembled a trip to sign a contract on behalf of the Dark Moon clan now that a fundamental consensus had been reached.

Yet this did not mean it was a mere formality, for there remained several rather sensitive, detailed matters that required Ophelia to sit down and deliberate with a Lord Bishop of the York City region who was specifically in charge of this affair.

The closer one came to the final hour, the more attention these thorny details demanded; after all, whatever was left for the end was bound to be an issue of grave importance to both sides.

For Dark Moon Island, dealing with the Order of Light was a matter of a small power serving a great one, but viewed from another angle, even a minor concession from the Order of Light on certain points represented vast interests for Dark Moon Island.

The conference room was vast; Karen, Peggy, and Fanny sat in the front row, while somewhat further down the same row sat the female warrior Panmir and the new maidservant.

Further back were the grassroots personnel of the Dark Moon Island delegation and the handling staff from the relevant departments of the Order of Light, who were summoned from time to time by those in the talks to clarify specific data and circumstances.

Yet this did not mean Karen and the others were qualified to overhear the meeting, for a black barrier completely enveloped the oval conference table where the formal negotiations took place.

Within the barrier, Ophelia and Bishop Fix each led roughly ten core personnel through the final deliberations.

Seated outside the barrier, Karen could only discern the colors of the garments worn by the various figures within; he lacked even the opportunity to read their lips.

Sitting for so long, a sense of boredom inevitably crept in.

Karen turned his head to see Fanny reading a newspaper, though a faint ripple of spiritual power vibrated across its pages.

Fanny noticed Karen’s gaze, divided the newspaper in half, and handed a portion to him; taking it, Karen discovered that the photographs upon the paper were actually moving images.

Furthermore, the contents within certain text boxes could scroll.

To think such a newspaper existed.

Karen looked at the upper margin of the page—The Order Weekly.

As the name implied, this was an internal publication of the Order of Light.

"Never seen it before?" Fanny inquired.

Karen nodded.

"Normal. Thirty Order coupons a copy, monthly subscriptions carry no discount."

A newspaper with a monthly subscription fee of one hundred and fifty Order coupons; no wonder Karen had never seen it at the Pavarotti Funeral Home, given that a divine servant’s monthly stipend was a mere one hundred coupons—insufficient even to subscribe—and Mr. Pavarotti would certainly never waste his precious coupons on such a luxury.

"Did you subscribe?" Karen asked.

"No, I have no time for such things. It is on the rack by the conference room door, free for the reading. If you wish to subscribe, just send someone to the education building on Sycamore Street to pay the fee."

"Very well, I understand."

Karen intended to subscribe to this paper; he had always maintained a habit of reading the news, and now that he had joined Neo's squad, his coupon income was no longer a major concern, leaving him well able to afford the expense.

The newspaper's contents fundamentally concerned events involving the Order of Light, along with articles by high-ranking figures sharing their insights and realizations, besides various interpretations of spell applications; it was dense with practical substance.

Yet to Karen's surprise, a portion of the pages reported on secular society news; one page, for instance, was split clean in half from top to bottom.

The upper half carried news of John Rodini’s successful mayoral election in Manral City, accompanied by the new mayor’s campaign platform, which called for freedom and democracy.

The lower half featured Mr. Koma Luther's grand assembly, where he called upon all purple-haired peoples to unite in peaceful protest and demonstration against violence and lawlessness.

An internal publication of a divine order spending so much space reporting on two "secular citizens";

Karen found this intriguing; there had to be some deeper significance within it.

The morning session concluded, and as the barrier dissolved, the representatives of both sides could be seen greeting each other with smiles before retiring to rest and prepare for the afternoon session.

"Do you think the talks are succeeding?" Fanny asked Karen.

"I do not know," Karen replied.

While the conference was underway, both parties avoided communal dining to avert any unnecessary complications, eating their meals separately instead.

At two in the afternoon, the conference resumed.

The circumstances remained identical to the morning; this time, Peggy also lifted a newspaper before her face, then gently nudged Karen with her elbow, saying:

"If I fall asleep and snore in a moment, remember to pinch my thigh."

"Very well," Karen nodded.

Peggy shielded her face with the newspaper, closed her eyes, and began her afternoon nap.

A brief moment later, Fanny did the same, drifting into sleep.

Karen, meanwhile, produced a copy of The Light of Order and began to read.

Before long, the sound of snoring arose—not from Peggy, but from Fanny.

Karen reached out and naturally gave Fanny’s thigh a gentle pinch.

Fanny opened her eyes, smiled at Karen to show she understood, then shifted her posture and returned to sleep.

A short while later, Peggy also began to snore.

Karen pinched Peggy’s thigh as well; Peggy woke, smiled at Karen, changed her posture, and continued her slumber.

Throughout the remainder of the afternoon session, Karen pinched Fanny three times and Peggy six times.

When the meeting adjourned and they filed out, both women stretched themselves with deep satisfaction.

"I am usually never this somnolent, but whenever I encounter such solemn occasions, I simply cannot resist the drowsiness," Fanny remarked.

"The same is true for me," Peggy yawned.

Karen spoke up: "The meeting could not have been entirely successful, for an extra session has been added for this evening."

The conference, originally scheduled for only morning and afternoon sessions, had an evening session tacked on, which did not conclude until late into the night.

After escorting Miss Ophelia back to her chambers, the two women unceremoniously claimed the grand bed, flanking it on either side; though they had slept through the meetings, they remained exhausted, a weariness far exceeding that of the battle two nights prior.

Just as Karen was preparing to rest on the sofa, the doorbell rang; Miss Ophelia was summoning him.

This was the first time they had met so late within the hotel.

Exquisite midnight refreshments were laid out upon the coffee table before Miss Ophelia, but Karen possessed little appetite now.

"The talks are not going very smoothly," Ophelia said.

"Mhm."

Karen gave a soft assent, took the ice water offered by the maid, and drank a deep draft.

The maid paused for a moment, then silently delivered a cup of hot black tea before her own mistress.

"So exhausting," Ophelia lamented, stretching her legs across the sofa; she wore the traditional attire of Dark Moon Island, a dress somewhat resembling a cheongsam in style but without the high slits.

Even so, in such a posture, the smooth skin of her lower legs and a portion above her knees was revealed.

"Mr. Karen, I truly despise these occasions and these procedures. I would far rather seek out those reckless pirates and sirens upon the vast seas beyond Dark Moon Island to practice my swordplay."

"My two colleagues happen to share that sentiment."

"Heh, perhaps they and I belong to the same breed."

To Karen's slight surprise, even though she saw he had no desire to partake of the midnight snack, Ophelia still drew him into another brief conversation regarding literature.

Yet Karen could clearly perceive that she, too, was utterly weary.

The late-night "reading session" lasted for nearly an hour, and Ophelia still wished for more. It was only when Karen remarked on the lateness of the hour, urging the young lady to conserve her energy for tomorrow's meeting, that he was able to take his leave and return to the room opposite.

Closing the door, Karen pressed his back against it, his brow furrowing slightly.

Miss Ophelia's actions tonight were somewhat deliberate; he would not naively assume she had simply taken a fancy to him.

Had she sensed something?

Karen subconsciously touched his wrist. Was it because of the "Blade of the Dark Moon"?

...

Ophelia sipped her ice water, her gaze fixed intently.

Pamir approached and asked in a low voice, "Miss, is it him?"

"The previous few nights I only sensed it faintly once or twice, but on the night of the attack, though we were separated by some distance, I truly felt it.

Moreover, he, who has always been so proper in his speech and conduct, did not conceal or refuse the sword I gifted him.

Pamir, even you were not qualified to receive its inheritance. I find it hard to comprehend how he possesses it."

"There are few things the Church of Order desires that it cannot obtain. Perhaps he was arranged to be your personal security for this trip by the directive of the Church's high echelon."

"I agree with the first half, but the second half... I am already considering a marriage alliance with Mr. Leon. Why would the Church of Order be so eager to make arrangements now? It makes no sense."

"But what makes even less sense to your subordinate is the strength Mr. Karen has displayed. To think he is within this elite team of the Whip of Order—he must have hidden his strength."

Hearing this, Ophelia recalled the series of overlapping defensive barriers Karen had deployed that night.

"No rush, let us observe further. If all else fails, I intend to approach and ask him directly after the meeting concludes."

"Is that wise, Miss?"

"Sometimes when one harbors too many misgivings and conjectures, looking back, one only ends up feeling quite foolish."

...

The second day almost entirely mirrored the schedule of the first: a morning session, an afternoon session, with an additional evening session tacked on.

As usual, Karen read the *Light of Order* while reaching out to pinch the two older women sitting on either side of him awake whenever they began to snore.

By the time they returned to the room, Pegg and Vanni were even more exhausted than the previous night, crashing onto their beds the moment they stepped inside.

As for Karen, he was once again summoned by Miss Ophelia.

Tonight, Miss Ophelia kept Karen engaged for another hour chatting about music, though Karen was not particularly well-versed in the music of this world; he usually just liked having Alfred play songs on the radio.

Yet, Karen discovered that Ophelia, who had initiated the topic, was even less knowledgeable about music than he was, and as the conversation went on, it turned into him introducing it to her instead.

At half past one in the morning, Karen returned to his room and used the telephone inside to call the funeral parlor. Alfred answered, and after inquiring about the progress of the renovation, Karen hung up.

...

The third day followed the exact same routine as the previous two.

Come evening, Karen could clearly see the haggard states of both Pegg and Vanni; they did not even collapse onto their beds to sleep tonight upon returning.

Vanni sat on the sofa, mindlessly playing with her hair.

Pegg hugged her knees, sitting on the carpet with hollow, vacant eyes.

The two women looked as though they had just been violated.

Karen knew this was likely the effect of "mental devastation"; deep down, they must utterly despise such venues, instinctively feeling ill at ease in that environment, as if a spell had been cast over them.

Then, Karen was summoned to the opposite room again, and tonight's theme was "cinema."

It was not about discussing movies, but watching one. Ophelia brought Karen to a screening room on a lower floor of the hotel, where the two sat separated by a single empty seat, watching an entire black-and-white romance film, *York Holiday*.

It was already two in the morning by the time the screening ended. Ophelia and Karen walked out of the screening room together, encountering three men and three women emerging from the opposite theater along the way. They proactively greeted Ophelia, and Ophelia responded to them politely.

They must have met at the welcome banquet on the first day.

However, they did not pay much attention to Karen, as he was walking side by side with Pamir. According to the regulations, even if the protected individual remained within the hotel, whenever she left her room, she had to be accompanied by personal security personnel.

Therefore, there was no need to worry about any gossip reaching the ears of the Chief Bishop's grandson, namely Mr. Leon.

...

The fourth day and the fifth day followed the exact same pattern.

Finally, during the morning session of the sixth day, Pegg and Vanni slept as usual, and Karen was also yawning continuously.

A week of continuous work, compounded by being dragged over every evening by Ophelia for nearly two hours of tea parties where even she seemed not to know what to talk about or do, had finally pushed Karen's mental stamina to its limit.

Just as Karen intended to use a newspaper to cover his face and fall asleep, applause rang out.

Karen immediately pinched Pegg and Vanni awake, prompting them to stand up and applaud together.

The conference had finally concluded; in the words of the representatives from both sides, the meeting had achieved complete success.

For the remainder of the day, no activities were scheduled, and even the celebratory banquet was set for tomorrow evening, because the members of both negotiating teams were thoroughly exhausted and desperately needed to rest and recuperate.

Karen grabbed a casual bite for lunch, returned to his room to shower, and went to bed.

Pegg and Vanni, resembling prisoners just released from jail, suddenly felt a renewed passion for life. The two women began chattering away by the French windows, discussing clothes, bags, and shoes.

They used to have no interest in such things, but this was to celebrate that they had come "alive" again.

Karen slept until evening before waking up. Upon waking, he saw a room service dining cart placed in the room, with Pegg and Vanni currently eating.

"You're awake?" Vanni smiled.

"Yes."

"The lady opposite wants you to go over to her place once you're awake," Vanni said.

"Alright."

After washing up, Karen walked over to the dining cart, preparing to take some food, when Pegg spoke up, "We've already packed and arranged the food to bring to the Captain and the others later. You should just head opposite; there's bound to be better food there."

"Exactly, exactly," Vanni chimed in.

Karen sighed, set down his plate, and stepped out.

"How many days has it been now? Going opposite every single night," Pegg remarked.

Vanni replied, "So, back at the pier, we thought he was making a fool of himself, but it turns out those of us who mocked him are the real joke."

...

Karen arrived at Ophelia's room. When he entered, he found that Pamir and the maidservant had already left on their own initiative.

"Mr. Karen, the conference has finally concluded successfully. You have worked hard."

"It is you who has worked hard, Miss."

"I have some matters I wish to discuss quite candidly with you, Mr. Karen."

"Very well."

Karen sat down, then scanned his surroundings, noticing with some surprise that there was no dining cart here; the coffee table held only tea and ice cubes, with no food whatsoever.

"Mr. Karen is indeed very cautious."

Ophelia produced a blue pebble from her hand and placed it on the coffee table. The next moment, the pebble emitted a light that enveloped the living area of the suite; it was a barrier.

Karen nodded, not asking why there was no food, because he truly felt too embarrassed to inquire about it after his companions had already intercepted a whole cart of food.

"Mr. Cullen, what is your last name?"

"Silva."

"Silva... is that truly your real name, Mr. Cullen?"

"Why do you ask, milady?"

Cullen remained calm and smiling on the surface, but in his heart, a quiet vigilance arose.

So, those awkward late-night chats from the previous days were all just a prelude to this moment?

But what kind of strategy was this?

A war of attrition?

"During my first two nights in this hotel, while meditating, I sensed a power nearby that shared a certain resonance with my own."

Oh? She had felt it too?

"But I didn't think much of it then. The people staying at the Ankara Hotel are certainly no ordinary crowd, and it is only natural for different powers to produce a subtle resonance.

It wasn't until the night of the attack, despite the considerable distance, that I clearly sensed a call coming from the bloodline itself."

Was it because he had used the Blade of the Dark Moon to kill that dwarf?

To think she could sense it from so far away.

Ophelia reached out and touched the longsword resting on the coffee table. "My perception might falter, but it was undoubtedly summoned at that moment. It does not err.

Weren't you quite interested in it, Mr. Cullen? Coincidentally, it seems quite interested in you as well."

"I am not entirely sure what you mean by that, milady."

"My meaning is simple." Ophelia opened her palm, and a blood-red whip materialized in her hand, swaying gently as it exuded an intimidating aura. "You are no stranger to this, are you, Mr. Cullen?"

"Is this your ability, milady?"

"Yes, it is a blessing from the Dark Moon, a power granted to the bloodline of my clan. You should possess it too, Mr. Cullen."

"You jest, milady. My faith belongs to Order, and I am a man of the Church. How could I possess the power of a family belief system?"

Just as Mr. Bedd could no longer awaken the bloodline power of the Progenitor Allen after devoting his faith to the God of Walls.

"No, it is different, Mr. Cullen. Do you know why our clan and those of the blood-sucking aberrants are called special family belief systems?

Because our bloodline power is dominant. Unlike other family belief systems, even if we do not worship our respective progenitors, we still stand a certain chance of acquiring the corresponding abilities.

It is much like how athletes usually pass down an excellent physique to their children.

Therefore, unlike other family systems, we do not lose access to the progenitor's blessing the moment we stop believing in them.

So, in theory, there is no conflict between you possessing it and you believing in the God of Order."

Cullen could not help but think of Neo, who had also acquired the regenerative abilities of the blood-sucking aberrants.

Was this kind of bloodline inheritance truly so formidable—so potent that it required no excavation, manifesting directly as a dominant trait?

Like a flying divine beast; no matter how mediocre its descendants might be, even if they degenerated into mere moths, they would at least possess a pair of small wings to fly.

Was this the reason why special family factions like the blood-sucking aberrants and Dark Moon Island were heavily guarded against and restricted by the orthodox Church?

Relying on this unique trait, they could actually infiltrate and contaminate the Church's system through non-military means. If a family of blood-sucking aberrants or the Dark Moon clan who worshipped the main god ever emerged within the Church, it would be an absolute nightmare.

Of course, there had to be some sort of constraint or limitation. For instance, once one embarked on the path of believing in a god, their own bloodline abilities could no longer be further developed or enhanced, otherwise a conflict would ensue. Though, perhaps a few geniuses could manage both.

Even so, a cleric who possessed such dominant baseline conditions would undoubtedly gain a head start on the track from the very beginning.

Thus, the Church of Order's plan to open a missionary post on Dark Moon Island was actually a massive concession. It was equivalent to opening a small gateway. It wasn't that the people of Dark Moon Island couldn't worship the God of Order without this post, but rather that it granted them an official recognition of status.

"Acknowledge it, Mr. Cullen. You must feel it too—I have always admired you and held a certain fondness for you. Though it is not the romance between a man and a woman, I believe we should be considered friends.

Most importantly, why would I harm a fellow clansman who shares the same Dark Moon bloodline as I do?"

Dark Moon bloodline?

Clansman?

The problem was, I don't have it.

On this point, Cullen was absolute, because his last name was Inmerais, and the Inmerais family was a long-standing lineage of Inquisitors within the Church of Order.

There was definitely no tampering in his bloodline. Even if there had been, his grandfather would have surely explained it to him. Furthermore, during his progression from Holy Servant to Holy Inspired and then to Holy Pastor, he had examined himself time and again; there was simply no such thing as a Dark Moon bloodline.

What Cullen knew even better was that the only reason he could use the [Blade of the Dark Moon] was that the power of Light within him could be utilized as a converter.

"In truth, it is not as though other conditions for its use do not exist. For example, the family might bestow the Dark Moon bloodline upon certain loyal servants, allowing them to cultivate the power of the Dark Moon. However, this kind of bloodline bestowal cannot be inherited; it can only be used by the recipient themselves and cannot be passed down to their descendants.

You have never been to Dark Moon Island, have you, Mr. Cullen?"

"No."

"Then that is it. Your bloodline, Mr. Cullen, is an inheritance passed down from an ancestor."

Cullen fell silent.

Seeing that Cullen was still reluctant to admit it, Ophelia smiled and said:

"Of course, there is one other possibility. That is, I know the power of Light can perform conversions to mimic the power of other faiths. But the consumption of such a process is immense; even the clerics of Light back then would not do such a thing, because after the conversion of ten parts of power, less than half might remain.

Most importantly, how could I possibly believe that a remnant of Light would appear here and become my security personnel? Wouldn't that be the greatest joke in the world?"

Cullen smiled as well, nodding along in agreement.

"Now that we have spoken to this point, could you show a little sincerity, Mr. Cullen?"

Cullen took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and looked at Ophelia as he opened his palm. In the next instant, a blood-red energy surged up from his hand, identical to the one in Ophelia's palm.

Ophelia nodded and said, "No wonder I have always felt a fondness for you, to the point I worried whether I had fallen in love with you. It turns out it was truly because we are of the same clan."

Immediately following her words, the blood-red whip in Ophelia's hand lashed out violently toward Cullen, transforming into a sharp sword in mid-air.

The red whip in Cullen's hand instantaneously morphed into a scimitars.

"Clang!"

Powers of the identical attribute locked against each other in a stalemate.

Ophelia retracted her hand at once, and the red glow in her palm dissipated.

"What is the meaning of this, milady?" Cullen looked at her with a grave expression.

"I merely wished to verify. It appears you have indeed mastered the [Blade of the Dark Moon], Mr. Cullen. You possess not only the Dark Moon bloodline, but the spell of the [Blade of the Dark Moon] as well."

"You may finish what you were saying, milady."

"Very well. Dark Moon Island possesses many kinds of spells, but the [Blade of the Dark Moon] is the highest tier capable of mobilizing the power of the Dark Moon to its greatest extent. Even among our own clan, many are not qualified to cultivate this spell, nor can they comprehend its intricacies."

Hearing this, Cullen recalled what Purr had once said. Thanks to its dismantling and breaking down of the spell, Cullen had been spared the tedious process of gazing at the bloody moon every night to gain comprehension.

Because Purr was a genius, it had broken the difficult problem down into formulas, requiring Cullen only to follow the steps one by one.

"The Dark Moon bloodline, and the [Blade of the Dark Moon] spell—you possess them both, Mr. Cullen. That leaves only one explanation."

What explanation?

Cullen was now quite interested in this "explanation," because he himself had not yet figured out how to explain it.

"When I asked you about the Allen family in the carriage, you said you had heard of them. At the time, I only thought it was because you read widely and possessed vast knowledge. It seems my understanding was mistaken."

To express his affection, the ancestor had once gifted the Dark Moon Blade technique to Miss Puer Allen. In his autobiography, the ancestor explained:

Though she could never wield this spell, in his heart, only this gift could truly represent the depth of his devotion.

Karen felt that had the man gifted something actually useful, Puer might not have been so heartless back then. After all, the black cat at home had become remarkably agreeable the moment she devoured his sweet and sour squirrel fish; even she knew the virtue of being soft-handed toward one's provider.

That young clan leader had given a useless gift merely to move his own soul, and he fully deserved to be forgotten across the vast ocean.

"So, everything our ancestor said back then was a lie—a falsehood meant to deceive us.

He did not gift the Dark Moon Blade technique to Miss Puer. He gave it to the child in Miss Puer's womb!"

Ophelia stood up, looking at Karen, her voice ringing with absolute certainty:

"Mr. Karen, you are Miss Puer's descendant!"

"..." Karen.

———

Only one chapter tonight. I need to pause and organize my thoughts for what comes next. Holding you all close, goodnight!