Chapter 346: Blurry Photo

Chapter 346: The Blurred Photograph

His own dog had once claimed that it had once helped the God of Samsara dump garbage into the Gates of Samsara.

At the time, Purr had mocked it, saying: "You helped this chief god with a chore, then you helped that chief god with another. No wonder you ended up being sealed away in the end."

So,

Were Gaetanbert and Funitas also thrown into the Gates of Samsara by Raniedal back then?

Karen decided to call home from his room after class to ask. The trainees' phones inside the base hotel shouldn't be tapped by anyone, right?

"You have three missions this time."

Bharat walked to the front of the podium, his lower back leaning against its edge.

"The first mission, which is also the least important one, is for you to seek your own opportunities within the Gates of Samsara, to find souls compatible with you, and to forge soul contracts with them. Of course, they will also be choosing you.

However, you can rest assured about one thing: once you come out, the Church will arrange for specialized personnel to examine you.

If the compatibility is high and the soul is obedient, all will be well, and you will mutually fulfill and develop one another.

If the compatibility is not high, the Church can help you seal that soul, allowing you to unseal it in layers later on as you gradually grow.

The Church can even help you negotiate with that soul. After all, you are currently qualified to enjoy this treatment, and once you emerge from the Gates of Samsara, your qualifications will be even higher.

In short, under normal circumstances, as long as you can bring the soul out, the Church can handle the follow-up matters for you.

As for abnormal circumstances...

Well,

If you truly forge a contract with a bizarre soul that causes you to have issues, and it cannot be resolved even after you come out, do not find it strange. No matter how low the probability, it still exists.

It is just like when you ride a teleportation array; theoretically, there is always a risk of something going wrong that could cause your body to disintegrate directly.

Even for us, the believers of Order, there is always the possibility of becoming lost, isn't there?"

Bharat picked up a glass of water, took a sip, and continued:

"The second mission is to make contact with and search for certain factions within the Gates of Samsara to gather intelligence.

Because there is one thing the Church has always suspected but lacked real evidence for: the origins of many prominent families within the Samsara Church today have always been a mystery. The Church suspects they might be connected to the Gates of Samsara."

Bharat spoke rather implicitly.

Karen understood what Bharat and the senior officials of the Church meant, because his dog had once said that the current royal Simonson family of the Samsara Church had originally originated from within the Gates of Samsara.

He had even lamented at the time: Was the Samsara Church counter-contaminated by the Gates of Samsara?

It was just that some things were inconvenient for Bharat to state clearly. Directly speculating about the origins of the royal family of the Samsara Church—the family of the contemporary Gatekeepers of Samsara—was still somewhat taboo.

But what was the purpose of investigating this?

Karen knew well that the Church of Order was not the Church of Principle. The core spirit of those people in the Church of Principle was doing everything for the sake of scientific research, whereas whatever the Church of Order did was always accompanied by a clear purpose.

So, was it that the Church had not yet given up on its further plans for the Samsara Church?

"The third mission: before you enter the Gates of Samsara, the stationed clergy who accompany you will give you tokens related to Gaetanbert and Funitas, which can be considered their relics. One per squad. After entering, try to resonate with them.

Before they 'disappeared' back then, they were executing a secret mission. The Church suspects that a portion of their achievements should still be in their hands, or at the very least, there should be some information regarding those achievements.

Alright, these are the three missions the Church has given you. The manuals and detailed notes will be distributed to you shortly.

Finally, I am pleased to inform you that you will not set out for the Valley of Samsara until three days from now, so you still have three days of rest. I hope you enjoy yourselves.

Class dismissed!"

Below, the trainees all stood up and saluted Bharat on the podium.

After Bharat walked out of the lecture hall, everyone began to relax.

This training session was over. Though brief, and though the instructor lacked teaching experience, everyone had benefited immensely.

Muri looked toward Karen and asked, "Should our two squads hold a meeting together? I think it's best not to take up the upcoming leisure time. Oh, that's right, tomorrow I'll take you all sightseeing around Saint Antis."

"Alright, thank you."

"Then let's head back to our rooms to rest for a bit. Shall I bring my members to your room in a while?"

"That works."

"Great, it's settled then."

Everyone left the lecture hall and returned to their respective rooms.

Ventura poured Karen a glass of ice water, knowing his captain had an unusual preference for it.

"I'll go take a shower first. Ventura, dial this number, and let me know when the transfer goes through."

"Understood, Captain."

Ventura walked over to the telephone and began making the call. Because the two grand districts were very far apart, this kind of telephone communication required a long time to transfer.

For such a long distance, it was actually more appropriate to send a telegram, but the timeliness was poor, and Karen had no way of deciphering a reply filled entirely with "woof, woof, woof."

There was a communication array available in the hotel, but that was a public environment with staff nearby, so it was also ruled out.

By the time Karen finished his shower and stepped out, Ventura had connected the line. Karen took the receiver, and Purr's voice came from the other end:

"Dear little Karen, how is the training going over there?"

"Very well," Karen replied to Purr. "There is something I need to ask Kevin."

"Woof!"

Kevin's bark came from the other end of the line.

Ventura walked up to the second floor at this moment.

"Kevin, do you remember Gaetanbert and Funitas?"

"Woof!"

"It says it doesn't remember."

"When dumping the garbage," Karen reminded.

"Woof!"

"It says who would rummage through the trash bags while helping to dump garbage."

"Fair enough." Karen nodded. "Then never mind."

"Woof! Woof!"

"The dumb dog is asking if some news has come out from inside?"

"Yes."

"Woof! Woof! Woof!"

"The dumb dog is asking if your Church wants you to bring those two out? The dumb dog wants you to be careful. Things might not be that simple; it could very likely be a trap."

"I know, I'll be careful. Alright, stay safe at home."

"You too, Karen."

After hanging up the phone, Karen sat on the sofa, leaning his body backward.

In truth, he was not overly concerned about the dangers awaiting them at the Gate of Samsara, nor what lay beyond it; conspiracies and shadowy agendas were things he had learned to accept with equanimity.

Furthermore, despite Ballard's advance briefing on the three objectives, Karen remained steadfast in his intention to execute only the first. The remaining two would depend entirely on the circumstances; he refused to gamble with his life or the lives of his team members, for he had yet to see any incentive compelling enough to justify such risks.

Ventura had just come downstairs after his bath when the doorbell chimed. He went to answer it, admitting Muri and his companions, who had arrived considerably earlier than anticipated.

The commotion in the hallway quickly drew their teammates from the adjacent rooms, and Bart and the others soon filtered into the space.

The small sitting room felt somewhat cramped now; with insufficient space on the sofas, most of them sat cross-legged upon the carpet.

"I truly did not foresee that third objective," Muri began, breaking the silence. "What is your take on it?"

"Prioritize the completion of the first objective, attend to the second as a secondary matter, and leave the third to mere chance," Karen replied directly.

"That is the exact inverse of Professor Ballard's instructions," Muri said with a light chuckle. "Yet, I find myself in agreement. Very well, Karen, perhaps you could share what you know regarding the interior of the Gate of Samsara. We have brought some records of our own, and once you have finished, I shall see if there is anything we can supplement."

"My knowledge is limited and rather general, but I shall begin nonetheless."

Karen recounted the intelligence he had gathered from the hound back home, carefully pruning away any superfluous details.

Following this, Muri shared the information he had obtained from his own sources.

When juxtaposed with Ballard's afternoon lecture, a rudimentary framework began to coalesce, though it remained frustratingly indistinct.

"I suspect," Passio remarked with a sigh, "that even the Church of Samsara itself lacks a precise understanding of the current state within the Gate."

"We shall take it one step at a time," Muri said. "I propose that upon entering the Gate of Samsara, our two squads remain united rather than separating, and act as one."

"Agreed," Karen nodded.

"And the command during our joint operations," Muri added, "shall be vested in you, Karen."

"Very well," Karen replied, raising no objection.

In an environment fraught with unknown perils, a clear and unhindered chain of command was of paramount importance. This was no time for false modesty; he had no desire to entrust his destiny to another.

The doorbell rang once more, and Ventura went to answer it, admitting a hotel dining cart. It was dinner hour.

The waiter began distributing the meals, which consisted of individual boxes of simple, packaged fare.

The quality was actually quite decent; as Karen opened his box, he noted a delicate balance of meat and vegetables.

Yet, compared to the coupon-funded delicacies they had enjoyed the previous day, it felt decidedly unpresentable.

"You are eating this?" Muri asked, looking perplexed.

"We are accustomed to eating quickly so we can convene for discussion and study," Aisley interjected.

"Indeed," Bart chimed in. "To squander precious time on the enjoyment of food is a crime against one's own life."

Muri nodded, then turned to the waiter. "Bring our meals here as well. We shall dine in this room."

"Right away, my lord."

The waiter departed, and before those in the room could converse much further, the doorbell rang yet again.

Upon opening the door, the waiter returned pushing a cart laden with the exact same simple packaged meals, distributing them to each member of Muri's squad. The group looked at one another in bemusement.

"Is this our dinner?" Muri asked, bewildered.

"Yes, my lord."

"Our dinner..."

Every member of Karen's squad lowered their heads to eat, feigning total ignorance.

"They must have misunderstood the order," Karen spoke up, "and assumed you desired the same fare as ours."

"It would seem so," Muri said with a smile.

"Let us eat first. Afterward, I shall share a few details concerning the Church of Samsara. I encountered them during my missions with the Whip of Order in the York City District."

"Very well, let us eat, everyone, and save time," Muri instructed.

The members of both squads dispatched their simple meals with remarkable speed.

Karen then recounted his experience engaging the brother and sister from the Simoson family of the Church of Samsara, though he omitted their specific identities, focusing his analysis primarily on their combat habits and weaknesses.

Everyone listened with rapt attention, for well they knew that danger lurked not only within the Gate of Samsara itself, but also among those entering alongside them.

No one could guarantee that the Church of Samsara, having been thoroughly humbled in the open field, would not attempt to salvage their pride within the confines of the Gate.

By eleven o'clock that evening, the exchange drew to a close.

Muri stood up, signaling to his teammates that it was time to depart, though he added with warm hospitality, "Let us go out together tomorrow. I shall take you to the most beautiful scenic spot in Saint Antis, which happens to be Passio's home."

"I only recalled it when I telephoned my family earlier," Passio added. "Tomorrow is my birthday. It coincides perfectly with the conclusion of our training, so please, everyone come and join the celebration."

"Very well," Karen agreed.

"There is no need to prepare gifts; your presence at my birthday feast is the greatest gift of all. Besides, no one has the time to prepare anything," Passio amended.

"Understood," Karen readily concurred.

After seeing Muri and his companions off, the remaining members of the squad retired to their respective quarters.

Ventura set up his makeshift bedding on the floor outside Karen's bedroom door as usual. In his mind, his revered captain seemed perpetually on the verge of sudden expiration in his sleep.

After his renewed offer to have Ventura sleep upstairs was rejected, Karen simply left him to his devices.

As Karen lay down in his bed, Ventura, lying upon the floor, suddenly thought of something and spoke up. "Captain, perhaps I ought to skip the banquet tomorrow."

"Why?"

"The banquet will surely run late, and we depart tomorrow morning. If I go, there will be no one left to order the cigarettes and liquor."

"Do not worry. The director will assist us with the ordering. He only needs to process the account; even the delivery protocol can be bypassed."

"Truly?"

"Indeed. Attending the banquet is also a means to foster relations between our two squads. After all, once we enter the Gate of Samsara, we must watch over and aid one another."

"Yes, I understand, Captain."

One aspect of Muri that brought Karen great satisfaction was their alignment on the broader strategy. For instance, Muri had first inquired about Karen's perspective on the three objectives that evening; only after confirming Karen's attitude toward them did he broach the matter of collective command.

In all likelihood, Muri worried that Karen, lacking a noble lineage, might be desperate to distinguish himself and garner merits to climb the ranks—a mindset that inevitably bred radicalism and reckless risk-taking.

Muri, by virtue of his family's backing, could afford to be far more composed in such matters.

What Muri did not realize, however, was that this "orphan" possessed a composure that far exceeded his own.

The following day.

The birthday banquet was scheduled for the evening, but early that morning, both squads set out for Amber Bay in Saint Antis.

The scenery here was magnificent; one could behold both the vast, boundless expanse of the great sea and its serene, intricate azure beauty up close. Terraced along the shoreline stood grand estates, one after the other, their perimeters fortified by magical barriers.

Needless to say, secular wealth alone was insufficient to secure property in such a domain.

Passio explained that the area was a retirement development project, open not only to the Church of Order but also frequented by elders from various other orthodox churches who chose to reside here.

Naturally, these elders were never lacking the company of their descendants.

During the morning, the group engaged in beach volleyball and football.

Karen abstained from these activities, choosing instead to recline silently upon a deckchair by the shore, a glass of coconut milk in hand, basking beneath a sun that was entirely devoid of any scorching heat.

Lunch consisted of a seaside barbecue, of which Karen partook sparingly. When afternoon arrived, he resumed his detached solitude, closing his eyes to enjoy a midday nap.

After a two-hour slumber, Karen caught the scent of smoke, opening his eyes to find Bart drawing from a cigar, striking a pose calculated to catch the slanting sun.

Karen observed him for a moment before speaking, "Bart, was your upbringing very strict?"

"Hmm? Apologies, Captain, for waking you." Bart smiled. "Uh, it was alright, I suppose. My parents were rather strict with me, but how did you know?"

"You don't inhale cigar smoke."

"Oh, really? I thought it was just like a regular cigarette."

Karen turned his gaze to their surroundings, noting that after a long day of recreation, almost everyone had begun to settle in and bask in the afternoon sun.

Aisley, holding a bottle of milky-white essence, strolled over with Blanche and asked, "Captain, would you like me to apply some for you? Paired with the sunlight, it does wonders to nourish the skin."

Hearing this, Bart glanced at his own bronze complexion, then at the captain's pale skin, remarking,

"I think the captain's skin is finer than yours anyway."

"I have eyes," Aisley snapped, shooting Bart a glare.

Bart laughed, "Look at Blanche over there. Aisley, you really ought to lose some weight."

Previously, shrouded in their clerical robes, no one could discern what lay beneath, but now that they wore truly light attire, their figures were laid bare.

In truth, Aisley possessed a rather fine figure, by no means plump, though voluptuous in all the right places.

Blanche, on the other hand, had the silhouette of a runway model, and it was abundantly clear that Bart favored that particular archetype.

"A pity, then, that Blanche prefers the captain's type. A build like yours would only find favor with grieving widows."

"Aisley..." Blanche's face flushed crimson at the remark.

Karen refrained from joining the banter; as captain, he had to maintain a proper distance from his female subordinates, for jokes carrying such suggestive undertones were often implicit attempts to test boundaries and foster intimacy.

Taking another sip of coconut milk, Karen looked off into the distance, noting that several members of Muri’s squad were accompanied by female companions, presumably their girlfriends.

It truly was a splendid place; if the opportunity arose, he might bring Eunice here for a holiday, splurging a little to take a teleportation array directly for convenience.

Muri walked over, asking with a smile, "How about a group photo?"

Karen felt a strong urge to tell Muri that snapping a group photograph before embarking on a perilous, far-flung mission was an exceedingly ill omen.

It too easily evoked the image of some lone survivor years down the line, pulling out a faded, yellowing photograph to recount the tales of fallen comrades.

Yet Bart had already summoned the professional photography crew, leaving Karen too embarrassed to decline; after all, the photographs they produced were animated, just like those in the Order Weekly.

The members of both squads gathered together, though when someone’s girlfriend attempted to join the frame, she was sternly glared back by her partner.

Karen and Muri sat in the front row, flanked and crowded by the members of both squads behind them, everyone wearing a smile.

"Click!"

"One more, milords, my apologies, the magical illumination wasn't quite perfect," the photographer said with a smile, glancing at the freshly developed print before casually tossing it onto the sand.

Obliging him, everyone maintained their poses.

"Click!"

The photographer cheered, "Haha, perfect!"

Pasio spoke up, "Everyone can change back into clothes for my birthday banquet now. My grandfather has invited quite a few of his old friends."

The crowd dispersed to change back into their clerical robes.

Karen, however, casually retrieved the discarded first photograph, only to discover that within the animated image, two figures had become distinctly blurred.

One was Muri, seated right by his side,

And the other was Ventura, standing just behind him.