Chapter 183: The Goal of Order

Chapter 183 The Purpose of Order

It was already the early hours of the morning when he returned home, and as he walked into the front shop, he saw Pick curled up in a blanket in the corner, whose turn it was to snore tonight.

In fact, there was no longer any need to arrange a night watch because Cullen's side had already moved here, but when Cullen returned, this tradition was naturally picked up again by the two shop hands.

Cullen saw Xili walking out of the communal bathroom, her eyes heavy with sleep as she looked at Cullen and said:

"Master, do you need a late-night snack prepared?"

"No need, you should rest."

"Alright, Master."

Xili walked into a small room.

So, the maid of the household had become a live-in as well?

Cullen returned to his own bedroom, where Kevin climbed up from his dog bed and shook his body.

Purr, meanwhile, was perched beside the nightstand with the desk lamp on, paws curled up tightly in front of her breast, her face filled with solemn gravity.

"What are you doing?"

"In the middle of composition."

"Hmm?"

"I cannot permit others to blacken my name like this," Purr said, "Therefore, I am writing an autobiography."

"Oh, alright, who is helping you write it?"

"Little John, I've already recruited him."

"You can let me take a look after the first draft is finished."

"Of course, I permit you to be among the first readers of my great work."

"I'm just worried you'll write in some things that shouldn't be written."

"How could that be? I have always been very prudent. By the way, your dinner gathering went on so late, what fresh activities did you add?"

Purr turned herself around as she spoke, continuing:

"I have heard that after a working dinner among men concludes, there is a tradition, which is to go to a pastry shop for pastries."

"There is a very formidable man in the team named Geri, who excels at close combat, and I went to learn from him."

"You fought?"

"Yes."

"Oh, let me guess, the sequence must be that you couldn't beat him but your progress was meteoric."

"How did you know?"

"Well, you must understand, I watched Dis grow up after all. When I watch the exact same movie for the second time, I can certainly be clear about the plot, right?"

"Haha, I'm going to take a bath first. I'm tired and want to rest early."

"Of course, I have already warmed the bed for you."

"Then I might as well use a hot water bottle."

"It's not the same, the temperature of water and body heat are different!"

"Why so attentive all of a sudden, what are you after?"

"I want some coupon tickets. You know, Kevin and I like to procure some materials to do some research and rubbings or something."

"Go ask Alfred for them."

"Oh, that damned radio fairy is exceedingly stingy. I asked him a few days ago and he actually told me that household expenses were very tight."

"I brought back quite a few coupon tickets this time, so if you ask him again, he should have them."

"Is that so? Truly wonderful, our little Cullen has grown up and can earn coupon tickets from the outside to bring home. Great-grandmother is very gratified."

Cullen did not banter any further with Purr. After entering the bathroom to wash up and change his clothes, he returned to bed and lay down.

Purr nudged closer again, asking, "Is this funeral parlor no longer taking orders?"

"Yes, by my command, we are temporarily no longer taking orders from ordinary people."

"Then your ambition is quite grand indeed."

"It's not ambition, just an aversion to trouble. Alright, time to sleep, there's still practice tomorrow."

"Goodnight, meow."

...

Cullen slept until noon before waking. After washing up, he entered the study through the door in his bedroom and saw Purr dictating while Little John held a fountain pen taking notes.

Seeing Cullen come in, Little John immediately said:

"Today is the weekend."

"Yes."

Cullen gave an acknowledging response and walked out of the study.

"Master, I have already prepared your lunch."

"Alright."

What Xili had prepared for Cullen was a noodle dish, somewhat like fried noodles, with rich side ingredients; she was indeed intent on catering to Cullen's tastes.

While eating, Cullen asked, "Xili, are you a live-in now?"

"Yes, master, I can go home once a week, and usually if there is an issue I can also go back to take a look. This was arranged by Mr. Alfred."

"This is good too, it is unsafe to return at night."

"Because another household of my relatives has come to York City, the small room where I originally slept has already been occupied. It was only because I begged Mr. Alfred that I obtained the conditions to be a live-in. Thank you to Mr. Alfred, and I must also thank Master for taking me in."

"You earn so much money, yet you don't even have a single bed left at home?"

"It's not that, Master. Those are relatives, and although I haven't seen much of them before, relatives must certainly help one another, that is how I feel, right, Master?"

"Yes," Cullen responded.

But he noticed that Xili had avoided his question about "earning so much money," so Cullen did not continue to press further.

This girl was very industrious. When first met, her skin tone was somewhat dark, but after working as a maid for a while, her complexion was noticeably much fairer than before. Furthermore, based on those two patches of pale white seen in the bathroom yesterday...

It meant that her originally darker complexion was likely caused by frequently working outside in the sun over the past few years; she herself was supposed to be quite fair.

"By the way, Xili, help me prepare some food this afternoon. I want to bring it to share with friends tonight."

"No problem, Master."

After finishing his lunch, Cullen stood up and walked into the courtyard.

A bench was placed beside the courtyard flowerbed, with a swing next to it, and at this moment Dora and Doreen were playing on the swing.

Cullen walked over to the bench and sat down.

Dora and Doreen immediately walked before Cullen politely and greeted him.

Cullen smiled faintly and murmured, “Carry on with your games.”

“Go back inside and review your studies; do not disturb Mr. Cullen,” Mrs. Lake commanded as she stepped into the courtyard.

The two sisters bowed politely to Cullen before scurrying back toward their chambers.

“There is no harm in letting the children play a while,” Cullen said with a gentle smile. “I rather enjoy watching them.”

In a way, it felt like an offering to the memory of Mr. Pavaro, seeing the joy that now filled their lives.

Mrs. Lake seated herself upon the bench beside him and sighed, “I had intended to send them to school, but given their age, finding a suitable academy has proven quite difficult.”

“That is easily resolved. A private tutor will suffice. I shall have Alfred make the arrangements; you need not worry.”

“You have my deepest gratitude, Mr. Cullen.”

“My dear lady, there is no need for such formality between us.”

A sudden realization seemed to strike Mrs. Lake; a delicate flush touched her cheeks, and she nodded in silent consent.

Just then, Pick entered holding a sheaf of papers and announced, “The newspapers, Boss.”

Cullen reached out to take them.

There were two ordinary gazettes, the kind Cullen frequently read in bed before retiring, along with a copy of the *Order Weekly*, to which he held a subscription.

“I shall leave you to your business, sir. Should you require anything, please do not hesitate to call,” Mrs. Lake said, taking her leave.

“Very well, Madam,” Cullen replied with a nod.

Presently, bathed in the somewhat languid warmth of the afternoon sun, Cullen leaned back against the bench and began to scan the pages.

He was to return to last night's rendezvous for further training with Gray this evening, meaning this brief afternoon could be passed in leisure.

Cullen opened the *Order Weekly* first, bypassing the dense, doctrinal treatises on faith and spellcraft to seek out the gossip and news surrounding the ecclesiastical circles.

Sure enough, upon one of the broadsheets, he discovered a scathing denunciation aimed squarely at a particular sect: the Church of Pamireth.

According to the journals left by Mr. Hoffen, the Church of Pamireth boasted a history spanning two entire eras, making its lineage older even than that of the God of Order.

The deity revered by this church was Pamireth, a figure shrouded in legendary lore, whose divine office was... the delivery of messages.

In the mythological narratives of many orthodox and grand churches, whenever tales of the gods were told—particularly those involving conflict, declarations of war, armistices, or the forging of alliances—a singular record invariably appeared: a certain deity commanded Pamireth to bear their missives.

Consequently, it was whispered that Pamireth possessed a singular, innate mastery over spatial manipulation, an attribute that allowed him to effortlessly breach the spatial barriers erected by other gods to deliver his letters with unmatched celerity.

Naturally, a darker conspiracy theory suggested that during the frequent divine wars of the previous era, it was highly probable that Pamireth, acting as messenger, had played the factions against one another.

Yet without fail, Pamireth always emerged on the side of the victors; following the conclusion of some great celestial conflict, the representative of the triumphant pantheon would invariably employ Pamireth to proclaim the gospel of peace to the mortal realm.

In the waking world, the contemporary Church of Pamireth remained a mid-sized denomination, renowned primarily for its unmatched expertise in crafting spatial artifacts.

Though their secular influence was modest, none dared underestimate them, for the depth of their ancient heritage was undeniable.

The grievance leveled by the *Order Weekly* claimed that they were covertly harboring and protecting the remnants of the Light, offering a litany of evidence to support the accusation

As the two of them ate, Geri walked inside.

"Geri, have you eaten? These pies taste quite wonderful."

"I have. Take your time, there is no rush."

Silently, Geri retrieved a fresh lance and stepped onto the arena stage. This time, however, he left the tip uncovered; the wrappings from yesterday had split open almost immediately.

Karen instantly wiped his hands with the cloth Xili had prepared, ran to the weapon rack to seize his longsword, and leapt up onto the platform.

"I am in no hurry," Geri remarked, holding Karen's gaze.

"It is unseemly for a student to keep his master waiting."

Though the feline and canine masters at home possessed vast stores of experience, they could hardly brandish blades with their paws to spar with him. Geri was, without a doubt, the most fitting mentor Karen had encountered so far, and he treasured this opportunity to learn.

"Well then, let us begin."

"Very well, Mr. Geri."

Tonight's lesson lasted for three full hours.

Though Geri still could not entirely unleash his full strength, he was far more at ease than he had been the previous day, no longer burdened by absolute caution.

Time and again, Karen's Armor of the Sea God was shattered. Yet, the duration of each clash and the tactical insights gained from their exchanges left him deeply satisfied.

Then, mirroring yesterday's pattern, Geri began to flag during the final hour. Karen, despite having endured two hours of rigorous instruction, only grew more ferocious as the battle pressed on.

In that final hour, they clashed four times in total. Karen claimed victory twice, and on both occasions, he managed to sheathe his blade with perfect composure.

"Enough, let us call it a night."

Geri was the first to call a halt, unwilling to exhaust himself to the point of collapse as he had the night before.

Karen stepped forward once more, bowing deeply to express his gratitude for the guidance.

"There is really no need to be so solemn—in your attitude, I mean," Geri said with a hint of helplessness. "Treating me this way makes me feel as though I must throw away my life to protect you on our next mission. It is a rather uncomfortable sensation."

"My apologies. I did not realize."

"We continue tomorrow."

"Very well, Mr. Geri."

"Fanny, I shall take my leave now. Enjoy yourselves."

"Mhm, fine. Now get lost."

Fanny turned her gaze to Karen, inquiring, "Are you tired?"

"I am alright."

"Heh, that fellow Geri is certainly more exhausted. So, what are your plans now? Care to find a place for a drink with me, or would you prefer an early return home?"

"I would like to go home early."

"Fair enough. You may head back then."

Reaching the doorway, Karen paused and turned back to face Fanny.

"I believe you knew I would decline."

"Uh-huh."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because today marks the anniversary of the day an incredibly ugly fellow died to protect me."

Hearing this, Karen asked, "Is there a place here where I might take a bath?"

"Do you regret asking that follow-up question?" Fanny teased with a smile.

"No. But you should have told me sooner."

……

"Oh dear, I must call Karen from the Pavarotti Funeral Home soon. The food they brought last time is almost gone," Old Saman noted, pointing toward the pot.

Yet, this did not slow the speed of Neo's plunging fork in the slightest.

"You have been visiting her every single day lately. Don't you think it is a bit too frequent?"

"I have nothing else to do these days, so I wished to keep her company more often," Neo replied.

"Do you know what kind of people visit graves frequently?"

Neo shook his head.

Old Saman answered, "The elderly. Because they are close to death, they feel compelled to visit often. Do you think they are looking at the person lying beneath the soil? No, they are merely familiarizing themselves ahead of time with the environment they will soon occupy."

"Are you speaking of me?" Neo inquired.

"Of course. I simply feel that this deathly gloom of yours is unhealthy. Take that boy Karen—I find him rather delightful. Though he is level-headed, he can still take a joke. One can tell he truly loves life; he merely lacks respect for his elders and dislikes listening to me play the flageolet.

You ought to learn from him. No matter the hour, you must love life."

"I cannot learn that."

"How would you know without trying? Ah, wait, wait, wait! That large fish ball is mine! Mine!!!"

Once they had finished their midnight meal, Old Saman surveyed the mess upon the small table before them and asked:

"You won't be coming tomorrow, will you?"

"I told you, I wish to keep her company more often."

"Tomorrow as well? And the day after?"

"Yes. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I shall come to see her every day until I am busy once more."

"Next time, bring Karen along. You never bring any food, but he is a well-mannered lad."

"Very well. Farewell."

"I prefer not to see you again."

As Neo's figure gradually vanished into the distance, Old Saman made no haste to clear the table. Instead, he sat there, mocking himself softly:

"Every single day... I won't run away. And even if I wanted to, where could I possibly go?"

Old Saman picked up the flageolet resting beside him and began to play. His performance was not particularly pleasing to the ear, yet he himself was completely entranced.

As the tune drew to a close,

Old Saman began to pant. His melodies were measured not by the musical notation, but by his own lung capacity; when he felt his chest could no longer sustain the continuous playing, it signified the end of the piece.

"Alas, growing shorter and shorter."

Old Saman swept his gaze across the pitch-black cemetery.

Then,

He cradled the flageolet against his chest as if holding a child, murmuring softly:

"Praise be to Pamireth."