Chapter 211: War!

Chapter 211: War!

Delius remained silent for a very long time because of this answer.

Byrne looked at the clock once more, and as the hour struck, he reached out and tapped the desk twice, saying, "The time for shock is over."

Pausing for a moment,

Byrne continued, "Or rather, the time allowed for you to display your shock to the outside world has ended."

Delius licked his slightly parched lips, took a deep breath, and said, "Did you not say that to become the Hierarch, one must enter the Messenger Space to be imbued with the insights and memories of past generations? That I would no longer be myself? Then... what about the Hierarch?"

"The imbuement you imagined was absolute loyalty to Pamireth; but the actual imbuement is absolute loyalty to Order."

"..." Delius.

Byrne crossed his hands, a smile gracing his face. "I have said it before: Order's infiltration of the Church of Pamireth began far earlier than you imagine. A long time ago, the first undercover agent who successfully climbed to the peak of the Church of Pamireth had already altered the inheritance ritual of the Messenger Space.

Therefore, over all these years, although there were several times when the person becoming Hierarch was not arranged by our Church of Order, once they completed the imbuement within the Messenger Space, they... heh, became the people of our Order."

"This... how is that possible."

"Nothing is impossible, because the space-forging techniques possessed by the Church of Pamireth are simply too vital to our Order. We cannot allow the Church of Pamireth and the Messenger Space to fall into the hands of other orthodox churches.

And when Order casts its gaze upon a mid-sized church, it is only normal that it cannot resist; it would be an anomaly if it did.

I can tell you one more thing: the first successful undercover agent relied on the opportunity of Light's decline. At that time, the Church of Pamireth belonged to the faction of Light, just as their true god, Pamireth, ultimately defected to the side of the God of Light and won the final divine war.

Because of the demise of the Church of Light, the Church of Pamireth also suffered a severe blow at that time. Originally, there were at least two or three elder guardians within the Messenger Space, but during that period, all the elders inside the Messenger Space perished due to their involvement in the final struggles of Light.

Now, there should only be one elder remaining in the Messenger Space; you should know of him."

"That elder... has been in a deep slumber."

"Yes. Do you know the reason for his slumber? He was a true genius, having condensed a shard of the Pamireth divinity within his body. But he, too, underwent the imbuement when he became Hierarch.

He must have been deeply conflicted, and he must have been in immense pain. To him, consciousness was more akin to torture; thus, he used slumber as a way to exile himself."

"So, what exactly is the Church of Pamireth in the eyes of Order?"

Byrne looked at his son, shaking his head with a touch of helplessness, and said, "I can only assume your current emotions are far too chaotic, which is why you have asked such an idiotic question."

As he spoke, Byrne stood up, stepped out from behind the desk, and walked over to stand before Delius, continuing:

"In the world of churches, only the Great Churches can maintain a certain degree of autonomy, but even they are constrained in many aspects. As for the mid-sized and smaller churches beneath them...

Their existence is inherently a form of rich diversity, much like the green grass in a forest, ensuring that the surroundings of the towering trees do not appear overly monotonous.

On the surface, everything seems beautiful, and even those blades of grass absorb the dew and enjoy the sunlight. But in reality, the grass beside every great tree has long had its destiny fixed.

When the great tree requires it, it can instantly drain all of their nutrients.

That previous lush greenness, that swaying in the wind—you thought that was freedom? You thought that was freshness?

It was nothing more than a few flecks of light and shadow filtering down through the branches of the great tree, happening to spill upon them, yet you truly mistook it for dignity?"

Byrne reached out, pinching his son's chin:

"This is the second time you have made me feel that your words are foolish. I do not wish for there to be a third time; otherwise, I will discuss with your grandfather whether or not to choose you to be the next generation's Hierarch of the Church of Pamireth."

"You could have told me everything in advance!"

"Then you would have lost the opportunity to be tempered and grow. Imagine, in an unfamiliar environment, you are different from all of them. You need to hide yourself, to conceal yourself, just to gain the possibility of survival. This kind of sharpening is something others could never beg for.

Most importantly, that transformation of one's own faith, that painful choice, that despairing suffocation—how many nights have you spent questioning yourself, roaring and raging at your own soul?

This, too, is an excellent shaping.

If I had told you in advance, none of this would exist. This is an opportunity that cannot be bought, no matter how many vouchers you spend."

"You... all of you, simply wished for me to change my faith?"

Delius suddenly realized something. Because during his twenty-odd years in the Church of Pamireth, for the first ten years, he had remained steadfast in his original self, loyally believing in Order.

But as his position continuously rose and he began to enter the view of the Hierarch, it was that kind, magnanimous old man who brought him the warmth he had lost, unfolding before him the true scenery of the Church of Pamireth.

It was he who had made him infatuated with Pamireth; it was he who had led him out of his painful wandering; it was he who had made him resolutely become the Divine Son of the Church of Pamireth, cutting ties with his past self.

Yet he was his grandfather... and most importantly, the father before him seemed to have always held a precise grasp over his inner heart.

"Yes," Byrne nodded in admission. "For a very long time, our Church has always walked the old path of Light."

Byrne began to pace back and forth in front of his son:

"What Light preferred was that after anything gathered by its side, it would become dim, leaving only the blooming of Light. But this was also the reason for Light's demise. For the sake of the eternal prosperity of its own light, it bore too heavy a price and assumed excessive risks. Compared to these, the benefits reaped by the Church of Light were, instead, not worth mentioning.

The path our Order wishes to walk now is not annexation, nor is it integration; rather, as long as everything exists under the running rules of Order, then it may exist.

Over the past two centuries, the decline of the Church of Pamireth has been very obvious, which has also led to a noticeable drop in the success rate and even the forging capability of many high-tier spatial sacred artifacts.

Order does not wish to merely obtain an empty shell or a massive storehouse filled with books and notes. The result of such an annexation would mean that our Church would still need to expend energy internally to cultivate another Church of Pamireth...

This price is truly too great, and the effect would likely be very poor.

Therefore,

The Church of Order wishes to see a healthily developing Church of Pamireth. We will no longer strangle or constrain the development of the upper echelons of the Church of Pamireth; we only need to control one or two key points to ensure that the Church of Pamireth will never deviate from Order."

Byrne bent down, looking intently into his son's eyes:

"This is the reason we nurtured you in this manner. You will not deviate from Order, yet you appreciate the scenery that Pamireth brings to you. This is very good. I believe that under your future leadership, the Church of Pamireth should be able to halt its decline and recreate its former glory.

And you will no longer need to be conflicted, no longer need to suffer, and no longer have to choose, will you?

Just as the phrase once spoken by the God Pamireth goes:

Though I hold a letter in my hand, what I enjoy is the scenery along the journey of delivery."

"Do I have any other choice?" Delius countered.

"No."

"Very well, I choose to accept."

"Yes, this is precisely the feeling that my masterpiece ought to display. Maintain it."

"When will the shackles on my body be unlocked?"

"Do you mean the ones on you now, or the ones in the future?

The ones now, I can have someone unlock for you immediately. The ones in the future—I am sorry, but you will wear them for a lifetime.

After this matter concludes, your grandfather, which is to say the Lord Hierarch, will arrange a political marriage for you.

Your child,

My grandson or granddaughter,

Will take over my position within the Church of Order."

Hearing this arrangement, Delius looked at his father and asked:

"I want to know, when you faced this kind of choice in the past, what kind of feeling did you experience?"

"Was it when my father parted from me, or when my son parted from me?"

"Either will do."

"I have wept, I have raged, I have felt aggrieved, and I have been numb. Every emotion you can imagine, and those you cannot yet conceive, I have felt them all."

In the end,

I came to understand.

Perhaps, this must be the destiny of our family; our house is fated to stand with one foot on the side of Order and the other on the side of Pamires.

A Regional Bishop,

A Grand Preceptor,

Both are positions of supreme loftiness.

Look at it from another angle,

Do you truly believe this is a form of suffering?

I imagine this is the very arrangement and outcome that every father, every grandfather, every elder would most rejoice to see for their descendants, is it not?"

"Is that so?"

Upon hearing this question, Bourn threw his arms wide and laughed aloud:

"Hahaha, of course.

After all,

What elder would willingly renounce the seat of 'Grand Preceptor' or 'Bishop', choosing to forsake everything, merely to grant his offspring... to grant him, the so-called warmth of a family and the freedom of life?"

...

The administrative building of the Church of Samsara was situated in the Narrag community, in the southwestern part of York City.

It was an old-fashioned building, occupying a vast expanse of ground but rising to no great height, completely incomparable to Sycamore Street where the administrative building of the Church of Order once stood; as far as the eye could see, the landscape was a dense, suffocating sprawl of slums pieced together from cheap panel houses.

In truth, this area had not originally belonged to the territory of York City, having once been a settlement for the Chaser people, but with the ceaseless expansion of the city, it had been swallowed within its borders, gradually devolving into a sanctuary for the bankrupt and ruined.

Several successive municipal governments of York City had failed to produce a proper scheme to redevelop the area, listing instead a multitude of seemingly plausible justifications to appease the demands of upcoming elections.

Yet the former mayor, in a state of inebriation at a dinner table, had once remarked of the Narrag community: a city is just like a house, it always requires a latrine.

"The administrative building of the Church of Samsara is quite understated, isn't it?" Karen said, his gaze fixed on the structure across the street.

"They favor places such as this, and they favor the numb, despairing souls who dwell here, for those who have already despaired of their present existence are far more willing to believe that the next life offers a more beautiful chance. It aligns perfectly with their doctrine, and suits their efforts to cultivate believers."

"It is, in fact, a matter of mutual need, a reciprocal calling," Karen observed. "At least it allows their lives to be infused with some modicum of hope."

Neo nodded in agreement and said, "Mm, that is true enough, yet it also serves to make one's spirit even more withered and decadent."

"Captain, do you hold a poor opinion of the Church of Samsara?"

"Of all the orthodox churches, it is the one I detest most, likely because a man like me, even if he knows not why he lives at present, will still strive to go on living, rather than lying down to accept his fate and anticipating some next life.

If one cannot live with clarity in this life, how could one expect to be awakened in the next?"

Neo drew a bottle of red wine from behind him and took a draught directly from its mouth: "To strive to live better, who knows, perhaps one day I shall discover the very purpose of my existence, eh?"

"Yes, Captain. I believe that at any given moment, to live one's life with earnest devotion can never be an error."

"If you do not drink wine, there are beverages in the back, help yourself."

"Captain, does this carriage not need to be returned?"

"The mission is merely suspended, not concluded. This vehicle still qualifies as a mission asset for now, so it matters not."

"Ah, I see."

"Barring any unforeseen circumstances, we shall resume that security detail in a few days, though the next round of negotiations should proceed far more swiftly. Perhaps half a day, or rather, we might just go through the motions, sign the papers, and be done with it."

"That is well, the mission rewards can still be claimed then."

Neo tapped the steering wheel and remarked, "I have long desired to fashion a replica of this; with it in hand, many endeavors would become vastly more convenient."

"Indeed they would."

"During past missions, I thoroughly mapped out its internal architecture. Other aspects are easily managed, but the array implements within are rather exorbitant."

"Once the profits from the short-selling manifest, you will have the merit points to craft your replica, Captain."

"Mm, I truly intend to do so."

Just then, Neo glanced toward the opposite side of the highway, where a throng of individuals clad in divine robes embroidered with array runes gradually manifested. They chanted in low, muted tones as they walked; could one look down from the heavens, one would see their figures encompassing every side of the administrative building.

With a trace of helplessness, Neo shook his head, ignited the engine, turned the carriage, and drove a short distance outward.

"This administrative building is about to be sealed by the 'Throne of Order' array, which implies that, barring any surprises, we shall no longer possess the opportunity to reap advantages amidst the chaos."

This very array had once appeared above a small church on Mink Street, conjured merely in an attempt to confine a single soul, yet in the end, by virtue of a single sentence uttered by that individual, it had been willingly dismantled.

Bringing the carriage to a halt, Neo glanced toward a towering structure nearby and inquired, "The Walk of Black Mist, have you mastered it?"

"I have," Karen replied.

"When did you study it?"

"These past days, whenever time permitted, I have been pondering and practicing it. It proved exceedingly difficult, but it has finally yielded some effect."

"Oh, then I shall ascend first."

Neo’s form dissolved into a shroud of black mist, drifting upward toward the high building.

Karen gathered the sword box containing the Sword of Arius, and his form likewise transformed into a wreath of black mist, floating toward the heights.

When Karen touched down upon the rooftop, his footing faltered slightly, and he instinctively braced himself against the ground with one hand.

Standing at the precipice of the roof, Neo turned his head to glance at Karen and remarked, "It seems you have indeed only just mastered it."

"Yes, I am still somewhat unpracticed."

Cradling the sword box, Karen approached Neo’s side, set the box down at his feet, and then drew himself up to join his captain in gazing out toward the administrative building of the Church of Samsara opposite them.

Neo produced a half-section of a spyglass, and seeing this, Karen retrieved the other half from his pocket; standing side by side, the two peered through their lenses together.

"Captain, are we targeting only this administrative building?"

"Mm, Wien does not belong to the traditional proselytizing domain of the Church of Samsara; their influence here was never potent to begin with. Once this administrative building is sealed, they will scarcely be capable of stirring up any significant ripples.

The outcome depends primarily upon the progression of the frontal battlefield;

With three mobile knight regiments as a baseline, and the Third Knight Regiment from Wien having also deployed, it is a conservative estimate that the Knights of Order from other regions must have mobilized at least two more. Thus, no fewer than six regiments of the

A colossal black throne manifested out of thin air, bringing with it a vast and boundless aura of majesty.

It began its descent, and as it plummeted, a crimson curtain of light flared to life around the perimeter of the Reincarnation Cult's administrative building—the structure's defensive array, which was instantly pulverized beneath the throne's weight.

Finally, the administrative building was completely swallowed by the shadow of the seat, and the throne's four legs struck the earth.

"Boom!"

...

"Boom!"

A massive blue portal crashed down upon the southern tip of Maima Island, forcing the surrounding sea to recede and exposing the waterlogged sand and stone beneath.

"Clack... clack... clack..."

A legion clad in uniform black armor, radiating an aura of grim and solemn slaughter, marched out from the blue portal in lockstep.

"Roar!!!"

A winged black panther soared out from above the blue portal, bearing a young man upon its back—the youngest knight commander in the entire history of the Order Cult.

The Commander of the Seventh Knights—Baro!

The silhouette of a woman appeared at his side; it was none other than Elder Xidi, yet strangely, the highly revered and perpetually arrogant Elder Xidi chose to stand exactly level with him.

"Commander Baro, ahead lies Maima Island, rumored to be the birthplace of the God of Reincarnation, and currently one of the core holy lands of the Reincarnation Cult."

"Is that so? I understand."

The young legion commander urged the black panther beneath him toward the front of the army's phalanx, drawing his longsword and raising it high as he shouted:

"We are the awakened ones from the abyss; we are the defenders of the Supreme Order.

We are the sturdiest shield before the God of Order; we are the most resolute spear beneath the Divine Will!

Reincarnation has issued a challenge to Order, and now, it is our turn to grant them the response of Order!

The island before you is the birthplace of the God of Reincarnation.

Now,

I command you,

Stuff him,

Back in!"

———

The gap between us and the front of the monthly ticket rankings is actually not that wide, everyone lend a hand, let's charge upward once more!