Chapter 21: Your Greatness!

Chapter 21 The Great You!

"Dear listeners, good evening to you all. Welcome to the 'Luojia Storytelling' program..."

In truth,

Karen had never set foot inside this house, but Jeff, who had once lain cold and lifeless before him, had long since "told" him of the danger and mystery that lurked within these walls.

There were many things Karen found inconvenient to ask, yet that did not stop him from pondering, from reflecting, and, indeed, from filling in the blanks.

Out of regard for his first love, Uncle Mason had once helped dispose of "Jeff's" corpse.

That afternoon, when Grandfather returned and beheld Jeff's body, he had immediately ordered Aunt Mary to call Uncle Mason back.

Then, Grandfather went out.

Later, on the way back from escorting Mr. Hoffen to the hospital, Karen had personally tended to Grandfather's wounds.

Clearly, Grandfather had gone out to fight;

to put it more temperately, Grandfather had gone to resolve a matter, a matter most likely entwined with Jeff's death—and, by extension, entwined with this very house—the best evidence being Uncle Mason, who was unable to leave his bed that day due to a "fall."

And later still, when passing by the house, Karen had spotted that leg at the second-floor window, a red high heel swaying from the tips of the toes.

Grandfather had gone to handle the matter,

yet those legs and those red high heels remained,

which meant only one thing: this matter was incredibly difficult to resolve, so much so that even Grandfather failed to clean it up entirely.

Moreover, given they were on the same street, separated by a mere five or six hundred meters, the fact that both sides could continue to coexist at such close proximity was proof enough of just how troublesome this house truly was.

Furthermore, when facing Jeff, Karen had been dragged into a terrifying dreamscape, a dream where, besides that woman, Karen had also heard several rather peculiar sounds.

Static, magnetic, and deep—it was the sound emanating from a radio.

Of course, all of this had originally been mere speculation and conjecture on Karen's part, but when he stepped into the master bedroom and saw that the bed held nothing but a wooden frame with even the mattress cleared away, while the radio upon the cabinet by the door remained in place...

He understood,

that object,

was the true switch.

In the "name of art," bidding Mrs. Hughes to turn on the radio was Karen's final act of self-preservation.

He was not particularly worried that Mrs. Hughes would decline the suggestion,

because,

she was truly foolish.

Even though he was currently held at gunpoint by the killer and about to be hacked to pieces with a knife,

Karen still stubbornly maintained that

the killer

was foolish!

Now,

the radio was turned on.

Karen let out a long sigh of relief in his heart, that sense of a heavy "burden" instantly lifting away.

When the worst possible outcome is being chopped into mincemeat, a mutual destruction seems exceptionally beautiful.

However,

what Karen did not know was that

that radio was by no means a "switch."

Whether you pressed that power button or not, whether it was loaded with batteries, plugged into an outlet, or even if it were a mere empty shell with nothing inside, it would not hinder the radio from broadcasting a voice when it desired to "air."

...

[Rewinding time to ten minutes ago.]

The moment Karen drove Mrs. Hughes's red "Cayman" sedan and parked it before the gates of No. 128 Mink Street,

the second floor of this house

had already reacted.

A pair of beautiful legs adorned in high heels stood behind the curtains, the heels gently tapping against the floorboards.

"What is it?"

Alfred's voice came from the radio.

"He has arrived?"

"Who has arrived?"

"Who is he?"

"What, it's him!!!"

Within Alfred's voice, there was a tremor of clear, profound terror.

Some things seem terrifying upon first glance, but with the passage of time, they fade and become ordinary, much like a nightmare; no matter how immersive a nightmare is, the fear dissipates by seventy or eighty percent the instant one wakes, leaving only a lingering trace of trepidation, and after half a day or a day, it feels like nothing at all, even something to be told as a joke.

But,

there are other things that grow richer and deeper with time, like aged wine, leaving a long-lasting aftertaste, continually etched, painted, and deepened within the mind.

Alfred belonged to the latter category.

The connection between him and Lady Molly was a bridge forged upon their spirits; that terrifying existence had descended directly between them, a display of might that was indeed sufficient to make his heart tremble with fear;

yet what truly dealt him lasting damage, with an effect that grew increasingly pronounced and expansive, was the mysterious "holy hymn" chanted by that existence.

That holy hymn had effortlessly shattered the boundaries and barriers of Lady Molly, while leaving a deeply etched psychological shadow upon Alfred, who had stood by to "witness" it.

Thereafter, he had frantically leafed through all manner of documents and ancient texts, yet failed to find the slightest trace of that "holy hymn."

It was as though it had appeared out of thin air, never once manifesting within the long river of history.

One must realize, this was practically an impossibility!

The formation of a religion requires a "god," whether a singular deity or a pantheon; in short, above the heads of the believers, the silhouette of a divinity must reside;

once a god exists, there will be doctrines to expound upon the god's thoughts, while simultaneously aiding the believers to understand and abide by those divine thoughts;

with the god and the doctrines established, the next step is the most crucial, a step that cycles endlessly and breathes life into the faith, and that is... proselytization.

More and more believers will continuously use their thoughts and wisdom to revise and enrich the doctrines, making the silhouette of the god clearer, while narrowing the distance between the god and mortals, thereby making it easier to attract new believers, like a rolling snowball.

This is the objective law of development for any religion;

and yet, would you believe that even though such a terrifyingly formed "holy hymn" had appeared, the religion behind it left absolutely no trace?

This was like bending down to pick up a fresh sea fish from the ground, only to look around for thousands of miles and see nothing but desert.

What terrified Alfred even more, and more, and more, was that

the language of the "holy hymn" also possessed no origin whatsoever.

He had unearthed numerous linguistic frameworks, tracing his way back to the alphabet pairings of ancient tongues from primordial civilizations, yet he simply could not align them with the language of the sacred hymn.

Yet, when the "Sacred Hymn" was chanted, one could clearly perceive that this was a fluid, rhythmic, and exceedingly mature language!

Its allure far surpassed most of the contemporary, prevalent languages known to Alfred.

He felt a pang of regret for possessing that flawless, unforgettable auditory memory, which caused the cadence of the hymn to echo in his ears from time to time over these past days, unfailingly causing his heart to palpitate.

It was as though within this singing, his flesh, his soul, and everything he relied upon would be trampled underfoot, and subsequently smashed to pieces!

A religion with no traceable footprint,

A language with no found origin,

This forced Alfred to come to terms with a certain reality:

He,

Was witnessing the... birth of a brand-new religion!

In this world, there were many churches whose heritages spanned a millennium or even longer; some could even be traced back to the previous epoch, and their architects, their creators, were in some cases simply the incarnations of the religious gods themselves, while others styled themselves as the servants of god;

But without exception, every single creator was a terrifying entity, known as... a divine envoy.

They had violently torn open a rift in the world, carving out a space for the inheritance and development of their own religion.

Therefore,

This was a great entity,

An entity commanding profound reverence,

Perhaps looking ahead a hundred, five hundred, or a thousand years from now,

The stories he recounted would become myths, and his own tale would become legend.

At the mere thought that such a terrifying entity had actually descended upon the bridge of his own mind, Alfred was overcome with a deep, lingering dread.

He had appeared,

He had appeared in Ruilan,

Appeared in Luojia,

Appeared on Mink Street,

So,

Had he chosen this place to sow his very first seed?

Yet beneath this boundless terror,

Within Alfred’s heart,

There surged another emotion known as "hope,"

While it was still a seed,

Could he perhaps draw closer to its side?

Upon the trajectory of a god's growth and that of his religion,

Even a stray dog that happened into the frame would be remembered and extolled by future generations alongside him!

But this thought was one Alfred only dared to harbor with the utmost caution and discretion, for in the stories of gods, there were not only the caressing and tutoring of stray dogs encountered by the wayside, but far more often, the tales of slaying demons.

And yet,

Tonight,

He had come to the door.

...

"He has stepped out of the carriage. He brings a woman with him? Is she his divine consort or perhaps an attendant?"

"Hmm? She looks like his mother?"

"This... could it be that he is a deity descended, and that woman is his maternal vessel?"

The gods of certain religions used the wombs of human women to descend into the world;

And in religious lore, the maternal vessel that gave birth to a god would also attain an exalted status, forever enshrined and revered by future believers.

"They are coming in?"

"They are already coming up the stairs?"

"Heading straight for the bedroom?"

"Madam Molly, please hide yourself well. Your initial presumption could be dismissed by him as mere amusement, shrugged off, but if an ant dares to provoke him a second time, it will inevitably suffer divine retribution!"

The red high heels bent her form and crawled beneath the bed.

The space beneath the bed was very low for others, but for her, it was quite fitting.

...

"This woman is holding a gun? Hehehe, what a foolish woman, to actually harbor the delusion of using a gun to threaten a divine envoy walking the mortal realm."

"Madam Molly, look, the divine envoy does exactly what the woman says, because in the eyes of a divine envoy, everything, absolutely everything, is merely a jest—it is his amusement for tonight."

"Just like you were last time, you too were simply one of his amusements."

"The Church of Order? Ankara? The Light of Order?"

"This woman is truly far too foolish. Does she believe the divine envoy is actually instructing her? No, the divine envoy is dispensing punishment upon her."

"Madam Molly, please do not move. This place is the playground chosen by the divine envoy himself, one of his pleasures for tonight. We only need to watch silently without interrupting, unless the divine envoy summons us.

Perhaps tonight we are merely the 'audience' chosen by the divine envoy; we must fulfill the duty of an audience well, remaining quiet during the performance, and applauding vigorously when required."

"Hmm? This woman has been possessed; she must have come into contact with a corrupted magical artifact, her soul suffering defilement."

"Oh, what a pitiful woman. She has no idea what she is currently facing, and neither does the aberrant demon defiling and controlling her."

"There are always insignificant figures who love to court death, because their horizon utterly prevents them from seeing the truth and the disparity clearly."

"Madam Molly, you say you wish to take action to atone for your sins?"

"Rest assured, the divine envoy will not care about your transgressions; the eyes of a god will not spare you so much as a second glance."

"Please do not act on impulse, Madam Molly."

"Hmm? You say you wish to beseech this Lord Divine Envoy to help restore your body?

No, no, no, do you not know what that signifies? Reshaping the body of any aberrant demon to grant it a humanoid form is a supreme taboo among a multitude of churches, spearheaded by the Church of Order!"

"Madam Molly, I know how profound your obsession is, but please control yourself, for your presumption could very well drag me into an unfathomable vortex as well."

"Very well, my physical form has already arrived at Mink Street. I am almost there."

"I have already reached the street outside the door, but... I dare not enter."

"Heavens, when I know that he is inside, standing out here, even my breathing has subconsciously slowed, as though a fraction more weight would disturb this magnificent entity."

"He must have already discovered me. Even though I have exhausted every means to isolate my aura and hide myself, everything in the surroundings must be completely exposed, with nowhere to hide beneath his wise eyes."

...

"Ah, the Lord Envoy has made this demon possessing a human turn on the radio."

"Miss Molly, you see, what did I just tell you? He really noticed me long ago. My proud ability to hide is nothing but a joke before him."

"I am merely an insect, a wretched, inferior insect."

"The insect obeys your summons!"

...

At the courtyard gate of 128 Mink Street.

A man dressed in a red suit silently nudged the brim of his hat upward, revealing eyes that resembled a blood moon.

At the same time,

his lips began to move,

yet the sound,

emanated from the radio inside the master bedroom on the second floor:

"Good evening, dear listeners. Welcome to 'The Roger Story Hour'. I am your host, the humble Alfred."

Having spoken these words,

the man in the red suit outside stopped moving his lips, and the voice from the radio ceased accordingly.

But this voice, to Karen's ears, sounded like heavenly music.

Yes, in that nightmare, this voice had appeared; it was this exact voice.

Previously, Karen had been somewhat worried—what if the "ghost" in this house had moved away with the previous owners?

Now, there was no need to worry at all. The living had moved, but they were still here.

Karen was not entirely sure how the "filthy things" in this house ought to be addressed. Were they ghosts, or were they called... demons?

But they were existences that even Dis could not eliminate immediately, existences capable of living as neighbors right under Dis's nose!

Clearly,

Mrs. Hughes knew nothing of these intricate secrets.

She merely frowned,

and said with a touch of regret:

"I don't want to listen to stories, I want to listen to a song. But if there are no songs, I can only consider it a flaw, and a flaw is, in itself, a form of artistic beauty.

I can wait no longer, my dear Karen."

Mrs. Hughes held the gun in her left hand,

and raised the knife in her right,

"Karen, you are so handsome that I—no, that both of us are salivating over you. Would you like to take a bullet first, or the blade?

I suggest you choose the blade, because once the gun goes off, I will have to chop you up very quickly to make a hasty escape, and I might leave many pieces of you behind.

If you choose to be quietly hacked to death by me, I will mince you finely, and not a single shred of your flesh will go to waste.

Well?

Why haven't you chosen yet?

What are you waiting for?"

Mrs. Hughes walked toward Karen, her expression hideous.

Seated by the edge of the bed, Karen kept casting his gaze toward that radio.

What the hell?

Haven't you already responded? Why did you go silent after reciting just one line?

Damn it,

could it be that demons don't fight demons?

But...

Am I not a demon too? Why does Mrs. Hughes want to kill me?

...

Outside the courtyard gate,

the sleeves of the red suit swayed gently in the evening breeze;

beneath Alfred's handsome, solemn face was a pair of calm, blood-colored eyes.

He dared not speak another word, fearing he might disturb the Lord Envoy's refined mood;

he dared not take matters into his own hands, fearing he might disrupt the Lord Envoy's rhythm;

he was exceedingly cautious.

At the same time,

he ignored a series of entreaties from Miss Molly.

...

Mrs. Hughes had already come right before Karen,

her head tilted,

a smile blooming,

as she said softly:

"What are you... still waiting for?"

With that,

facing Karen,

she raised the butcher's knife!

Spurred by this sight,

Karen shouted directly:

"What are you still waiting for!"

...

Outside the courtyard gate,

the wind stirred.

Alfred's red silhouette vanished from the street.

In the next instant,

the French window shattered soundlessly. The glass did not splatter in all directions; instead, it drifted gently to the floor like cotton candy blown apart.

All of this,

It all happened all too fast;

Madam Hughes’s blade was just about to cleave down upon Karen when she discovered, to her utter astonishment, that a figure had suddenly materialized between them.

He was kneeling there on one knee,

"Alfred, at your bidding."

"What on earth!" Madam Hughes let out a screech bordering on manic, while her blade continued its descent, shifting its trajectory to strike the man in the red suit.

Alfred turned his head back, casting his gaze upon Madam Hughes behind him,

And at that precise instant,

Alfred’s crimson eyes unleashed an eerie, sinister gleam.

In a flash,

Madam Hughes’s body froze completely in place, locked in her mid-swing, utterly incapable of motion.

Alfred turned his head back around,

Remaining knelt on one knee,

Not even daring to lock eyes with the "great" existence seated upon the edge of the bed before him.

His right hand rested over his heart,

Boundlessly humble:

"Forgive my audacious inquiry, but is it the will of Your Greatness to chasten the defiler before us through the Radiance of Order?"

I...

Karen’s eyes widened.

He had envisioned numerous scenarios; the very first, which he had already ruled out, was that the "ghost" of this house wasn't home, leaving him to be hacked to pieces.

Then there was the prospect of the two ghostly factions warring with each other, like dogs tearing at dogs.

Ultimately, he would probably be slain by the victor.

Yet, no matter how wild his imaginings had been, he never could have anticipated a scene like this!

Who is he,

And why is he kneeling before me?

Who am I?

Where am I?

And what am I even doing?

Nevertheless,

Though his mind was entirely blank, trapped in a state of absolute system failure, it did not prevent Karen from following the stranger's lead and letting out a single syllable of sound:

"Mm..."

Mercifully it was only a single syllable, otherwise the chattering of his teeth could never have been concealed; Karen was certain that he could not even utter a single coherent sentence smoothly right now.

"Alfred obeys your command."

With that,

Alfred, still kneeling with his head bowed in a posture of profound humility, called out:

"Madam Molly."

"Eeek... Yaaah!!!!!"

An ear-splitting, ghostly shriek erupted from beneath the bed, so terrifying that Karen, perched on the edge, nearly leaped out of his skin.

Fortunately,

His knees had long since turned to jelly from fright, so though his feet remained planted on the floor, he failed to stand up, ultimately remaining seated on the edge of the bed.

A pair of legs, a face,

Karen was once more looking upon the dreadful woman from his nightmares, only this time, it was in reality.

He watched as the woman opened her mouth,

A mouth that had seemed normal at first was now expanding limitlessly, stretching to an incredible degree until it grew as large as the height of a grown man;

While the "bound" Madam Hughes could only display an expression of sheer terror in her eyes as her form was continuously dragged toward that colossal maw.

It was plain to see,

She was struggling,

She was terrified,

But her struggles were entirely futile.

Karen had tasted the horror of "Madam Molly" in his dreams; he knew how dreadful her chewing and swallowing truly were.

Madam Hughes’s struggling body began to fracture;

Her hands, her feet, her neck, every part of her form began to trace lines of blood, while an even finer dissection proceeded relentlessly;

She began to flake away.

Like a piece of bread being kneaded, the intact slice began to dissolve into handfuls of crumbs.

A mass of black radiance detached itself from her body, seemingly desperate to flee, but in the next instant, it was swallowed directly into Madam Molly's gaping maw.

Once the black light vanished,

The dark blemishes on Madam Hughes’s face vanished as well,

And an expression of liberation dawned upon her countenance,

Her gaze fell upon Karen sitting on the edge of the bed, filled with gentleness, a faint smile gracing the corners of her lips.

Karen believed that at this moment, Madam Hughes, the true Madam Hughes, had returned.

Karen’s heart trembled; he instinctively raised his hand, wanting to call out for it to stop.

If Madam Hughes had only killed because she was possessed by a "ghost," then Madam Hughes herself ought to be innocent, especially now that the "ghost" had been annihilated.

But before Karen could make a sound,

Madam Hughes’s body shattered completely, dissolving into a mist of blood that was sucked entirely into Madam Molly’s mouth.

Where she had stood,

Nothing remained but a heap of Madam Hughes’s garments; Madam Hughes herself was gone.

Madam Molly, possessing only a pair of legs and a face, knelt on one knee toward Karen sitting on the edge of the bed after swallowing Madam Hughes.

As for Karen,

Staring at Madam Hughes’s dress, underwear, and black lace on the floor,

He fell into silence.

A faint, melancholy sorrow rippled through the depths of his heart.

The God of Order forged the laws of absolute discipline, yet the very first to transgress against them was his own daughter. In the end, to defend the sacred dignity of his laws, the God of Order chose to cast his daughter, Ankara, into the ravenous jaws of the ferocious beasts.

This is,

The Light of Order.

—

More to come tonight.