Chapter 226: A Dog-like Life

Chapter 226: A Dog’s Life

Alfred tucked his notebook away and sat up straight. Ever since he had accompanied his young master in leaving the Allen estate, his attire was no longer so exquisite and magnificent; he would deliberately choose some ordinary clothes to wear. Yet his physique and temperament were inherently superb, so that even ordinary clothes took on an air of style upon him, and the contrast became all the more striking when compared to Pick and Dinkum sitting opposite.

Shifting his gaze from old Saman lying within the coffin, it came to rest upon his young master who was currently driving the hearse, and Alfred lamented in his heart:

"All destiny has already had its price secretly marked by God."

It was just that he had not written this sentence into his notebook.

Although he had always treated his young master as a god, he knew clearly that the core ideology within his young master’s black notebook was a critique of god.

He treated his young master as a god because, for the time being, he did not know what specific title to use for an existence above god.

Of course, it was also after following his young master that he gradually completed the transformation of "god" from a noun into an adjective.

Passing the intersection ahead, they would arrive at the Ivy Cemetery, but at the intersection stood a crowd of figures clad in blue divine robes; what was bound to come, always would.

Karen stopped the hearse and turned on the headlights; that crowd of Pamires believers was currently bowing to the hearse in a posture of utmost piety.

"Is your prestige within the Pamires Church really this high?" Karen asked toward the back.

"What prestige could there be? It is nothing more than having slightly better craftsmanship, being able to forge a few things that others could not;

Aside from that, firstly, I have made no remarkable contributions to the church, and secondly, I have left no heroic or moving stories within the church.

Otherwise, it would have been impossible to work as a caretaker in the cemetery for thirty years without a single 'relative' ever visiting."

Karen pointed toward the front and said, "This scene before us hardly corresponds with what you just said."

"I reckon it must be some things I left behind in the Messenger Space back then. Because of this great war, the Messenger Space was fully put into operation, so those things were revealed. Only then did they realize, oh, it turns out a true genius once appeared in our church."

"I feel that the word genius is generally used for young people, or people who look young."

"That is your prejudice. In the long river of history, the existence of every one of us appears very young." Old Saman raised his hand, and Alfred, sitting beside him, handed him a cigarette and helped him light it. The old man took a drag, and while exhaling the smoke, he said, "Step on the gas, charge through. The older one gets, the less one can bear to see or hear these things."

"Afraid your heart will soften?"

"Afraid of being disgusted by myself. After all, I have eaten my fill."

"You are truly difficult to please," Karen shook his head. "Clearly, you have always kept the Holy Church in your heart, yet now that the Holy Church offers you its passion, you adopt this posture instead."

"What I treasure is my past, because within my past, there was Pamires.

But if you want me to re-accept it and reintegrate into it—putting aside the fact that they cannot represent the Pamires in my heart now, even if it were exactly the same without the slightest change—then what have I been doing these past thirty years?

There is no way to start over. It is better to preserve a few more memories of the past. I dare not even live a few days longer, for fear that if I do, I will discover that the beautiful memories of my past were actually laced with falsehood."

"I understand. You are treating the Holy Church as your ex-wife."

"Heh, hahahaha."

Old Saman laughed very happily.

Karen restarted the hearse and continued driving forward. The crowd of Pamires clergymen ahead slowly parted ways, and no such situation as blocking the road to the death occurred. Finally, at the main gate of the Ivy Cemetery, the figure of Delius appeared.

Upon his forehead, the scar remained distinct, but he did not lean on a cane, still standing there perfectly well. It seemed that the treatment methods of the Church Hospital were indeed miraculous; an ordinary person suffering such a severe injury yesterday would not be able to get out of bed without lying down for more than half a month.

The hearse continued forward, and Delius still stood there without moving.

Karen felt that this Lord Son of God truly did not know how to beg people, nor was he good at handling social relationships. In truth, old Saman was a very easy old man to coax; instead of coming up to kowtow and profess your faith, it would have been better to bring a bottle of wine and a bag of side dishes, change into casual clothes, and come find him for a midnight snack.

After all, to old Saman, Delius was like the child of an ex-wife, surely carrying some affection, well, even if this child shared no blood relation with him.

Without any surprise, the Lord Son of God was knocked down by the front of the car, and the hearse drove over him. However, the chassis of the hearse was high enough. After driving past, Karen deliberately cast a glance at the rearview mirror; the Lord Son of God was climbing up from the ground.

The cemetery gate was unlocked, and Karen did not stop the car again, but drove the hearse straight through, using the front of the car to push the gate open.

"That is going too far," old Saman complained.

Karen patted the steering wheel and said, "I intend to change to a new hearse."

The Captain said he wanted to use points to exchange for a "VIP car." He did not have as high a pursuit as the Captain, but changing to a high-grade hearse was no problem.

"What I care about is my gate," old Saman said.

"You are someone about to enter the earth, yet you still care about these things." Karen thought nothing of it, and while driving along the small path inside the cemetery, he asked, "Where is the grave?"

"Turn right, in the northwest corner."

"So fond of quiet seclusion?"

"Mainly because I am too familiar with the residents here, and I fear everyone will be too enthusiastic after I move in. A bit of seclusion is good; when I want quiet, I can lie in my own spot, and when I am bored, I can come out to visit and clear my mind."

Karen glanced at the rearview mirror and found that the people of the Pamires Church were all standing at the entrance of the cemetery, none of them following inside. It was probably because they themselves knew clearly that if they followed into the cemetery, they would have to enjoy the same treatment as their Son of God yesterday.

The grave site arrived, Karen got out of the car, and old Saman also stood before Karen.

It was very empty here, surrounded by vacant grave sites. Standing at Karen's side, old Saman stretched his back repeatedly, probably knowing how cramped the space would be after lying inside the coffin.

Karen suggested, "Do you want to go to the restroom first?"

"That is a good suggestion, but it is too far. You should have stopped at the gate to let me settle it back in the house."

Karen pointed ahead and said, "Just find a place in the grass, we will turn our backs."

"This is the place where I am to sleep eternally. Who would relieve themselves in their own bedroom? Even your family dog would understand this truth."

"My family dog? You have seen it?"

"Yes, a very clever golden retriever, just that its forehead is a bit bald."

"Apart from being very clever, there are no other words to describe it?"

"How else do you want me to describe it? Say that it is as clever as a human? After all, it is just a dog."

"Mm, right, after all, it is just a dog."

Alfred helped Pick and Dinkum transport old Saman's coffin down, placing it into the grave pit that had been dug in advance.

Old Saman began to pace around the coffin, signaling Alfred and the others from time to time to adjust its angle. Probably, very few people could make demands on these details at their own burial.

However, old Saman did not deliberately waste time, because within his heart, he possessed enough courage to face death.

"We can begin..."

Speaking up to this point, old Saman suddenly turned his head to look back,

"I did not expect that an uninvited guest has arrived."

"Outside the cemetery?" Karen asked.

"Yes, outside the cemetery. He dares not come in."

"Bishop Bourne?"

"Mm, it is him."

"Are you going to see him?"

"Let's go see him. I cannot show cowardice right before dying, and furthermore, I have many words I want to curse at him."

"Then we will wait here for you to return."

"Rest assured, it will not be a long wait."

Old Saman took a step forward, his form twisting for a moment, and then disappeared.

At the cemetery entrance, the crowd of the Pamires Church had already been arranged to go far away. Originally, only Delius remained standing there stubbornly, until a black circle of light appeared at his side, and his father stepped out from within.

Bishop Bourne wore no vestments today, but rather a grey sweater, leaning upon a brown cane.

Looking at his son who stood there like a fool, Bishop Bourne let out a sigh:

"What you are doing is not enough."

"But I feel that only in this way can I represent my faith and respect."

"Faith in whom, and respect for whom?"

"The God Pamires," Delius answered with great conviction.

"Heh," Bishop Bourne smiled, "but the man you are facing may have long since corrupted his faith and respect. To some extent, he could even be called an apostate, except that he merely chose to flee rather than choose a violent rupture."

"I can feel that his piety is still there."

"Of course it is, but it is certainly no longer the only thing, and that is where you need to improve;

Perhaps your initial environment made you suspicious and distrustful, a state in which you matured rapidly, but at the same time, it made you weary and naive, longing to embrace a pure spiritual world and social relations, which is simply unrealistic.

Even the way you think is right will instead arouse the other party's aversion, which is exactly why you were beaten yesterday."

"Then what should I... do?"

"Sweep the floor, cook the meals, have a chat."

Delius turned his head to look at his father, his expression asking: Are you serious?

Bishop Bourne smiled slightly and said, "When dealing with the elderly, these things are actually the most useful."

"Who are you calling elderly?"

Old Saman's figure appeared at the main gate, glaring at Bishop Bourne.

Bishop Bourne reached out to pat Delius's head and said, "Just teaching the child how to filialize his elders."

"If the heart isn't in it, putting on a show is useless."

Bishop Bourne shook his head and said, "Many old people in the world know perfectly well that their children treat them well for the family estate, yet they are all willing to pretend not to know."

"I am not like them."

"But I don't think there is any difference. You and I, we will both grow old."

"I have grown old, but you don't seem to have changed at all, still the same as before—sinister, cunning, and shameless."

"I am glad to hear you say that." Bishop Bourne pushed Delius forward a little, "In any case, he is the current Son of God for your Pamires Order, and barring any accident, he will also be the future Pontiff. I think you should leave something for him."

"The Hive City has already been occupied by you, yet you are still yearning for the few things left by a bird that long ago flew from the flock. You father and son really share the same thick skin."

Delius said sincerely, "Mr. Saman, it was the elders of the Church who discovered some things you left behind in the Messenger Space years ago. You know well that over these many years, much of our Order's inheritance has been broken. Since you have mastered them, I hope you can pass them down again."

"I have no such obligation."

"This is for the Pamires Order."

"The Pamires Order is already yours."

"You should not question my piety to the God Pamires."

Hearing his son say this, Bishop Bourne could not help but close his eyes.

"If God truly sees this scene, your body and soul, along with your father's, will be swept into the stationery, forever sealed!"

"Mr. Saman, I am here on behalf of the Pamires Order to make a request of you. I hope you can consider the Sacred Order, consider the future of the Sacred Order..."

"Buzz!"

Old Saman appeared right in front of Delius, launching a kick toward him.

Bishop Bourne's figure also appeared in front of his son, blocking Old Saman's kick with his cane. Blue and black shadows collided rapidly at that moment, finally dissipating entirely.

Old Saman stared at Bishop Bourne's face, saying word by word, "Your son is very clever, but your son is also very foolish."

"He is young, after all."

"Being young is no mistake, but since he is young, he should stay properly in the back, rather than coming to the front to rely on his youth to spout so much annoying nonsense!"

Delius drew a scroll inlaid with sapphires from the sleeve of his divine robe and said, "I have here the handwritten decree of the Pontiff."

"Ha."

Old Saman laughed, looking at Delius,

"Are you sure you want to open the Pontiff's handwritten decree? Are you sure you want me to start doubting the Pontiff's identity right now?"

Delius froze.

Seeing the change in his expression, Old Saman's eyes began to turn red.

Bishop Bourne reached out to grab Delius's shoulder, pulling him backward at a rapid pace.

"Heh... heh heh..."

Old Saman looked at the retreating Bishop Bourne and asked,

"What, not coming in to sit down?"

"I didn't plan on going in. After all, facing a dying man, there are simply too many uncertainties."

"Did you think I would drag you down with me? You think too highly of yourself; I have no wish to have something filthier than a toilet lying in the place where I rest after death."

"Who knows." Bishop Bourne smiled faintly, "But you ought to leave something behind."

"The things that should be left behind, I have already left in the Messenger Space. Just spend a few decades slowly figuring out how to crack them. I owe nothing to the Pamires Order, let alone the Order of Order. I only wish to die now. If you are unwilling to grant me even the peace of going to my death, then I look forward to what happens next.

So, take your disgusting son and get out of my sight. Do not disturb the atmosphere of my quiet death."

Bishop Bourne nodded and said, "Farewell."

"Scram!"

Old Saman's figure vanished.

Delius spoke up, "The things he left in the Messenger Space are indeed as he said; it will take several decades to crack and master them. He was a spatial genius who has always been hidden."

"Your Eminence the Son of God, I am curious about one thing."

"Lord Bishop, please speak."

"The content of this handwritten decree of the Pontiff in your hand, have you read it yourself?"

"The Lord Pontiff required that it be opened by Mr. Saman personally. I have not read it."

Hearing this, Bishop Bourne's brow furrowed slightly as he said, "Open it now."

"But..."

"It is already impossible for you to see him again."

Delius bit his lip, opening the decree. As the scroll unfurled, it projected the figure of the Pontiff.

Yet the figure of the Pontiff did not persuade or comfort,

Uttering only a single, brief sentence before immediately dissipating:

"Farewell."

...

Garen saw Old Saman return, noting that his back was now more stooped than before.

"I imagine you don't feel any better after that tirade," Garen remarked.

Old Saman nodded slightly, replying, "But if I hadn't let it out, I'd feel a dull ache in my back even lying in my coffin."

Garen checked the time and asked, "Can we begin now?"

"You even have the nerve to rush your own death?"

"I just want to go back to sleep early."

"Fine, let's begin."

Old Saman walked over to his own coffin and started the ritual; it was a simple rite, seemingly resembling a "spatial exile," which was a traditional procedure of the Pamireth faith.

Once the ritual was complete, Old Saman began to recite his own eulogy:

"I once thought the first half of my life was brilliant enough to endure the monotony of the latter half, but in the end, I realized that everything was completely inverted.

I do not know how to summarize my existence; it has been like a dream where I thought I had let go, yet I carried the weight on my shoulders all along, believing I saw clearly, when in truth my vision was always obscured, and by my own hands at that.

If I could do it all over again,

I wouldn't want to think, I wouldn't want to wander, I wouldn't want to hesitate;

I would want to be carefree, I would want to be free, I would want to