Chapter 198: I Am a Cowardly Person

Chapter 198: I am a Cowardly Man

The Pamires Cult merging into the Church of Order?

If this news were leaked, it would break across the land like a thunderbolt.

This was not destruction; it was annexation!

Within ecclesiastical circles, annexation was a fate far more intolerable than utter ruin.

When a church was destroyed, the embers of its faith still held the potential to flare anew—otherwise, the world would not harbor so many cultists lurking in the shadows, continuing to proselytize and gather strength, waiting for the precise moment of their resurgence.

But if a church were "annexed," the very god they worshiped would be reduced to a mere tributary deity within another system, which effectively severed their foundations at the level of divine law.

Even in the past epoch, an era defined by the brutal wars of the gods, such an occurrence was exceedingly rare, let alone in this current age where the gods remained unseen.

Karen could not help but marvel in his heart; the architect of this grand design possessed an extraordinarily brilliant mind, backed by a formidable sense of the larger picture and absolute control. Once this enterprise reached a successful conclusion, every single cleric of the Pamires Cult, upon offering praise to Pamires, would first have to utter the words: "Praise Order."

The Church of Order could then use this method—one far more shocking than outright annihilation—to declare to the entire ecclesiastical world:

They remained as powerful as ever!

The deeper, more ominous warning implied was this: if you dare continue to provoke the majesty of Order, then Order will not hesitate to march forward with its strides of annexation.

Did this mean, then, that old Saman would not have to die?

A sense of relief stirred within Karen; it was fortunate that he had instructed Alfred to transport the refrigerator back home today.

Neo waited for the members of his squad to fully digest the revelation before continuing:

"This mission will be far more hazardous than our previous security details, and the risk factor is significantly higher. Not only are the other orthodox churches unwilling to see our Church of Order successfully complete this annexation, but there is bound to be a powerful faction of opposition within the Pamires Cult itself.

The former may orchestrate disruptions to sever the progress of this process;

the latter, driven by their devotion to the god Pamires, might choose a suicidal path to manifest their absolute loyalty.

We shall face tremendous pressure. Therefore, everyone must be fully prepared mentally for the hardships of this mission; not a shred of carelessness will be tolerated.

You had best remember that we now have two auxiliary members waiting in the wings, just biding their time until a vacancy opens up."

"Yes, Captain."

"Yes, Captain."

Neo struck his fist against his chest, a gesture mirrored instantly by the rest of the crew, which Richard scrambled to imitate.

"Remember, we are a pack of hunting hounds!

And between hounds..."

The crowd shouted in unison:

"No evasion, no abandonment, no betrayal!"

The meeting adjourned. Because the mission was set to commence tomorrow evening, the dinner gathering originally scheduled for tonight had to be canceled; after all, everyone needed to assemble and prepare by tomorrow morning.

Richard consciously drew close to Karen, asking in a hushed whisper:

"So, you've been in this squad for a while now?"

"Only slightly longer than you."

"Um, I have a question... that matter about getting the princess of Dark Moon Island pregnant..."

"That was mere rumor. Miss Ophelia and I simply found each other congenial; there was nothing else to it."

"It really was you?!"

"It's him, it's him, it's definitely him!"

Peggy sauntered over, even going so far as to thrust out her stomach with her hands to mimic a pregnancy. "I saw with my own eyes how that princess walked onto the cruise ship for her return journey."

Having finished her jest, Peggy leaned directly against Karen, wantonly rubbing her hips—quite voluptuous from her fitness routine—against his waist.

"Fanny asked me earlier if I felt any regret."

"Regret for what?"

"Regret that I didn't just force myself on you back then. I'm afraid there won't be another chance now, alas. If I had listened to the Captain at the time and dragged you into the grove, would it have been a done deal?

As things stand now, if I dared to try, would you just tie me up in the grove, clap your hands, and walk away on your own?"

Fanny approached at that moment as well, leaning against Karen from the other side while her fingertips traced slow circles on his chest.

"Tomorrow night, the three of us will be sleeping in the same bed again."

Standing nearby, Richard watched the scene with wide eyes—not out of envy, but sheer shock!

While he was still contemplating how to blend into the squad's atmosphere, the man before him had already become the very creator of that atmosphere.

In truth, through the eyes of any ordinary person, both Peggy and Fanny were stunning beauties.

Peggy's style of dress might be considered excessively avant-garde, but to those who appreciated such aesthetics, she was exquisite;

as for Fanny, she embodied the classic secretary style, carrying an aura of both rationality and allure;

the only catch was that they were roses with literal thorns—thorns that did not merely prick the hand, but pierced the heart.

"Yes, executing a mission together again. It's quite nice."

Karen reached out, gently pushing Peggy's hip away, and caught Fanny's hand to make her behave.

"Ah, he's starting to find us distasteful," Peggy lamented.

"Indeed, we're old, we're old. Even when offered on a silver platter, he doesn't want to partake, claiming it gets stuck in his teeth," Fanny chimed in.

"Alright, I'm heading back. I have to take out my nose ring and lip ring again."

"I think you could prepare some more provocative clothing. Before you consider entering the grove, you ought to know that even if you lay naked right beside him, he doesn't seem to have the slightest interest in you."

"You have a point. So next time I intend to wear your clothes to create a sense of contrast. You can lend me two of your bodycon skirts; I'll wear one and let Karen tear one up for fun."

With that, the two women offered Karen a parting gesture and walked up the stairs to leave, their bickering continuing unabated as they went.

"I feel that your status here is remarkably high," Richard noted, fully aware he was stating the obvious.

"Not long ago, my status was exactly the same as yours is now."

"Really?"

"Yes. You'll get there too after a while," Karen said, offering a word of comfort to his young cousin; he was habituated to giving people a sense of hope in life.

"But you told me before that you were just a divine servant."

"Just like you, it's merely what is written on the identification certificate."

"Which means my judgment of people is still quite accurate, isn't it? I yearned to join Neo's squad, and that's why I felt a sense of familiarity when I saw you. Phew... so that's how it is."

Richard looked immensely relieved, as though this realization had lifted a massive psychological burden from his shoulders.

"Oh, right. Can I participate in tomorrow's mission?"

"Wait for Fanny's notice. Generally, she is responsible for drafting the specific mission plan, and our squad executes according to that plan."

"Alright, alright. I'll go back and wait for the call."

Karen walked out of the factory building and sat inside his car. Then, Richard climbed into the passenger seat.

"Your car is that one over there, isn't it?"

Karen pointed toward the vehicle parked just ahead; the others had already departed, leaving only that one, which presumably belonged to Richard—a car that exuded an aura of quiet wealth.

"Drive me home, please. I'm too overwhelmed right now to drive myself."

In truth, Richard simply wanted to linger in Karen's presence a little longer.

"I have other matters to attend to, so it's not convenient. Drive yourself back. We'll be seeing each other tomorrow anyway. Since you're now a member of the squad, Fanny will certainly arrange an assignment for you."

It was only a matter of what post he would be given;

the close-protection team would undoubtedly remain the same as last time: himself, Paige, and Fanny.

Three was a perfect number; one more or one fewer would only disrupt the balance and render it awkward.

Yet if Richard were sent to join the Captain's group for peripheral surveillance, he likely lacked the necessary experience.

So, what position should be found for him? A hotel lift operator, perhaps?

"Well... alright then. See you tomorrow."

"Oh, by the way, keep my affairs a secret for me. It's not suitable for my identity to be exposed, because..."

"I know, I understand. I won't say a word to Father or Grandfather, rest assured."

Karen blinked. He hadn't even fabricated the reason yet, so what exactly did Richard understand?

Still, watching Richard's retreating figure as he stepped out of the car, Karen offered a faint smile, feeling a genuine sense of camaraderie, as if two cousins were conspiring to keep a secret.

Whatever the case, this cousin of his possessed a rather pleasant disposition.

Then, Karen started the engine and drove toward the Ivy Cemetery.

...

Dusk had deepened, and the cemetery gates were already locked. Karen pulled up to the entrance and sounded his horn a few times.

"Quiet out there, quiet! Are you trying to wake the dead resting inside?!"

Old Saiman emerged, huffing with irritation, and swung the cemetery gates open.

As Karen drove past him, Old Saiman added testily:

"I nearly forgot, you Order-believers actually possess the knack for summoning the dead."

Karen stepped out of the car and walked toward the stone steps, where a small, unlit coal stove had already been set up. Beside it sat a pot along with a selection of chopped vegetables.

"You've arrived a bit early; it isn't quite time for a midnight snack yet," Old Saiman remarked.

"Yes, I came straight after the meeting ended. However, I won't be able to visit for a while because of an upcoming assignment. Once it's over, I'll come back to prepare dinner for you."

"Heh, the moment you haul the refrigerator away, a mission suddenly appears. Could you be any more pragmatic, kid?"

Karen produced his lighter, first igniting a few wood shavings to place inside the small stove, then stacking thin kindling over them. Once the flames took hold, he nestled the honeycomb briquette inside.

"I have some good news for you."

"What good news?"

"You don't have to die." Karen looked at Old Saiman. "The Pamireth Cult will not be destroyed."

"Your Captain has already told me."

"Oh? When?"

"At noon, before you came to see me earlier today."

"Then why did you still let me cart your refrigerator away?"

"What was promised is promised; there is no need to go back on my word."

Old Saiman placed the pot upon the small coal stove, dropped in two blocks of hotpot seasoning that Karen had stir-fried himself, and then lifted a bucket to pour in some water.

"And yet you still went along with my funeral arrangements today?"

"At my age, a funeral ought to be arranged sooner or later anyway. Besides, the refrigerator is yours now, and the flute and pipe have already been taken home by that servant of yours. When my time comes, you'll be the one managing my final arrangements."

"No problem. It's only right."

The two sat facing each other, waiting for the pot to boil, though it promised to be a lengthy process.

Old Saiman suddenly sighed, leaning forward slightly as he murmured with deep feeling:

"From now on, the weather should begin to clear up."

"Yes." Karen used to think the winters in Ruilan were unpleasant, but in Wien, a nation surrounded by the sea, the winter was an absolute torment.

"For the elderly, surviving a winter means surviving another year," Old Saiman said with a gentle smile.

"Congratulations."

"When I first saw you, do you know what I beheld?"

"That I wasn't the real Pavaro?"

"No, I mean the first time I saw you in your true form—the time you and your Captain arrived in that hearse. Before heading back, you ate the macaroni I had prepared for myself."

"Oh? What about it?"

"At that moment, I discerned a certain attitude within you."

"A youthful attitude?"

Old Saiman let out a dry, dismissive chuckle. "I have never seen a youthful side to you. The more proper a person behaves, the further they are from youth."

"Then what did you see?"

"I saw your attitude toward living, your attitude toward life. I saw that you were striving quite deliberately, and quite eagerly, to savor existence."

"Did you?"

"Yes, indeed. True youth never understands how to cherish things, for they believe time is the one commodity they possess in abundance. Most things are only truly valued when one realizes they are on the verge of losing them.

Have you ever lost anything?"

"Lost what?" Karen shrugged. "It could hardly be that I have lost my life; that would be too ridiculous."

"And yet, that is exactly the impression I get." Old Saiman shifted his gaze toward the distant rows of tombstones. "I like talking to them. Though they never answer, I can envision their responses. Do you know, when you converse with me, I always feel as though I am speaking with them?

Death can be an end, but it can also be a quiet settling of things."

"What is the matter with you today?" Karen asked. "Is it because your emotions have been shaken too violently?"

"No, I am perfectly at peace."

The hotpot began to boil, and Karen started adding the vegetables. This time, he had asked Alfred to bring along a pair of chopsticks.

"What sort of utensils are these?"

Old Saiman took a pair as well, mimicking Karen's posture; his fingers proved surprisingly deft, mastering the movement in no time.

As the two shared the hotpot, a strange, heavy silence settled over them. Even Karen, who excelled at conversation, found himself unable to lift the atmosphere.

Yet Karen knew the fault did not lie with him; it could only be Old Saiman.

"I am full."

Old Saiman laid down his chopsticks, adding, "It was delicious, but it follows my dinner too closely, which leaves me with little appetite for a midnight snack."

"You could have spoken up sooner; we might have eaten later."

"Because I felt you hadn't eaten dinner."

"Yes, the dinner party scheduled for tonight was canceled at the last minute because of tomorrow's mission."

"Isn't that just how it goes? Sometimes you keep me company for a midnight snack, and other times, I keep you company."

"Alright."

Karen had finished eating as well. As he rose to clear the table, Old Saman stopped him: "Go back and rest first. Don't you have a mission tomorrow?"

"You are truly acting a bit strange today." Karen walked up to Old Saman, staring at him with deep sincerity.

"Go on back, and see your mission through to a proper end. Once it is over, come back to me without delay, otherwise I fear you won't make it in time. Or, perhaps have that manservant of yours wait upon me here in advance. He is a rather decent fellow, quite amusing, and meticulous in his duties. In short, I am greatly looking forward to my funeral."

"What do you mean by that?" Karen inquired. "It sounds as though you intend to begin holding your funeral on the very night I complete my mission."

"Mm, yes, precisely."

"Why? The Church of Pamires can clearly continue its lineage now. It is nothing more than an added formality. I originally thought you would be able to see past this."

Old Saman smiled faintly:

"Some will choose to acquiesce, believing that even after assimilation, they can still carry on their own faith and heritage;

Some will choose to rebel, believing that the deity they worship brooks not the slightest defilement, requiring a direct manifestation to express their loyalty to the divine;

Yet I, as it happens, belong to neither.

I cannot persuade myself to acquiesce, nor do I possess the drive to rise up in rebellion.

Much like time itself, which can never be brought to a standstill;

Therefore, I can only choose to pause this pendulum clock that belongs to me.

I am a craven soul, you see.

Because,

I only wish to remain forever frozen in the yesternight when I still possessed him, and shall never permit myself to step into the tomorrow morning where he is lost."

———

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