Chapter 511: Mental Illness

Chapter 511: Mental Illness

Though he knew Neo was merely "performing," Karen could not shake the lingering sensation of being subtly mocked. It was difficult not to suspect that a trace of targeted resentment lay buried within Neo's words—likely a lingering regret that Karen had failed to tie his protruding intestines into an elegant, decorative bow.

Seeing Neo’s feigned fury, the captains of the two Whip of Order squads immediately ordered their men to resume the search, despite having only just converged on this spot from the outer perimeter.

As Karen supported Neo and guided him outward, they encountered several more squads from the Whip of Order, alongside clerical contingents from other departments. Even priests from rival churches with established missions in the York City Archdiocese had begun to surface. To avoid any dangerous misunderstandings, these foreign clergymen refrained from joining the search. Instead, they adopted the posture of casual strollers along the margins of the scene, virtually broadcasting the words "I am merely a spectator" across their brows.

A short while later, several dark silhouettes of falcons cut through the sky above, followed by a mounted troop of armored knights galloping past. This was no holy order of knights, but rather the local garrison—the highest echelon of armed force available to a regional archdiocese.

The colossal divine manifestation still towered in the distance, its form yet to dissipate as its gaze swept tirelessly across the ground below.

More and more forces were converging on the area, drawn by the profound gravity of the incident. When Madam Cidra had previously targeted low- and mid-tier priests for assassination, it had already severely grated on the nerves of the Church of Order. This time, however, a department head of the Whip of Order lay dead, and the remnants of the Light had nearly erased the estate of a bishop from existence.

In terms of sheer severity, this matter would be laid directly upon the desk of the Cardinal in charge of internal affairs. In all likelihood, it would eventually find its way to the High Priest himself. Of course, anyone familiar with the current High Priest’s notoriously meticulous and exhaustive work ethic could rest assured that a report of this magnitude would inevitably reach him.

The atmosphere among the search parties grew increasingly heavy as the words bellowed by the remnant of the Light during his assault on the Bishop’s estate began to circulate through the ranks. Although it was a glaringly obvious frame-up, the ongoing friction between the local regional faction and the Whip of Order faction in York City made it impossible for onlookers not to let their thoughts drift in that direction.

As the crowd swelled and the search yielded no further results, minds gradually wandered from the task at hand toward other implications. Captains from rival Whip of Order squads began whispering in private, while high-ranking priests from the same departments walked side by side, hands cupped over their mouths in hushed conversation. With the arrival of higher-ranking dignitaries, successive rounds of briefings commenced immediately. For a time, the vast expanse surrounding the Baton family villa transformed into a sprawling, open-air salon of political gossip.

By the side of a narrow path, Karen helped Neo sit down before taking a seat himself. His eyes drifted occasionally toward the towering divine manifestation. By now, the entity seemed to realize that further searching was futile. Its immense form began to dissolve, though in its final moments of consciousness, it continued to sweep the terrain below—a scan that bore all the hallmark indifference of an employee going through the motions just before clocking out.

"Envious?" Neo asked.

Wiping the blood from his palms with the sleeve of his clerical robe, Karen replied, "Something that massive, occupying so much of the horizon... it is hard not to stare."

"You will have one of your own in the future," Neo said. "Aren't you close to becoming a Judicator now? Once you reach the zenith of the Spell-Utterer realm, you should be able to nurture that initial sprout. You have always been fast anyway."

Karen cast a sidelong glance at him.

Neo chuckled. "Ah, my mistake. You are actually trying to slow down, deliberately breaking your own rhythm and distracting yourself just to stall, aren't you? Hahaha."

As he laughed, a few more inches of intestine slipped from his wound. Neo could only stuff them back inside, though a portion refused to stay, forcing him to keep it cradled against his torso for the time being.

Karen understood perfectly what Neo meant by "that sprout." Within the internal hierarchy of the Church of Order, the progression from Divine Servant to Spell-Utterer served as both spiritual realms and official ranks; during the Judicator and Spell-Utterer phases in particular, one could hold the office without necessarily possessing the corresponding spiritual depth.

Beyond that point, however, titles and spiritual realms decoupled entirely; there were only administrative positions, devoid of corresponding standardized realms.

The threshold crossed after breaking through the Spell-Utterer realm involved birthing the sprout of one's own faith within the soul—much like a seed breaking through the soil. The primary method of achieving this stage was a form of artificial acceleration, using one's internal spiritual energy paired with the irrigation of faith, which could also be understood as a profound baptism of one's existing power.

Once the sprout of faith emerged, an individual's capacity to absorb and utilize the power of faith received a pronounced elevate. Following this came the growth of the seedling—a complex and protracted process. The subsequent stages were the spreading of branches, the unfurling of leaves, the blossoming of flowers, and finally, the bearing of fruit.

To "bear fruit" was the ultimate dream of the vast majority of priests in this world, an achievement many dared not even imagine in their lifetimes: the condensation of a divinity fragment. Achieving this meant receiving the summons from the gates of the pantheon, granting entry into the Temple of Order as a supreme Temple Elder.

In truth, this entire sequence from germination to fruiting was merely a repetition of the earliest stages—Divine Servant, Divine Inspired, and Divine Shepherd—on a grander scale. The appearance of the sprout of faith marked a new beginning on the path of belief, carrying the same significance as purification. The growth of the stem was a renewed exploration, akin to receiving divine revelation during inspiration. The spreading of branches indicated that one was prepared to bear their own weight, mirroring the theoretical interpretations of the Divine Shepherd stage; furthermore, upon reaching the branching stage, a priest could generally manifest a phantom silhouette behind themselves, though this was not yet a true divine manifestation.

The form assumed after growing leaves was the massive divine manifestation currently towering before them. The leaf was an external manifestation, signifying that one had acquired a new vessel of projection. Blossoming represented a tier higher than leaves, yielding a divine manifestation that possessed far greater vitality. If the former—the manifestation currently fading from view—resembled a somewhat rigid puppet, a blossomed manifestation was practically synonymous with an alter-ego existing in a new state of being.

As for bearing fruit—the condensation of a divinity fragment...

That would bring forth a colossal pillar of light, from which a towering figure would step, its form swirling with golden runes and radiating an aura of absolute holiness.

During the sealing of Ranyedal in the cemetery near Mink Street, Dis had briefly attempted to condense a divinity fragment, summoning his own massive divine manifestation to confront three Temple Elders of the Church of Order and four equivalents from other orthodox faiths. In that singular moment, eight pillars of holy light had pierced the skies above Lorgia City.

Lord Tessen’s realm resided at the "blossoming" stage, though he had only managed to cultivate a tiny, fragile flower just as his body and soul began their decline, after which his path turned permanently downward. This meant he would never possess the chance to bear fruit in this lifetime—a reality he understood all too well. If the transition from blossoming to fruiting was a grueling racetrack, he had already exhausted himself just standing at the starting line.

The reason no standardized system of realms existed after the Spell-Utterer stage was because, prior to that point, there was a clear and objective frame of reference. Beyond it, priests completely "liberated their own nature."

Was someone who had nurtured a sprout of faith truly stronger than a standard Spell-Utterer?

Not necessarily.

Some individuals exhausted their entire accumulation, even resorting to external methods to forcefully induce growth like a loan on their future. Even if they successfully forced the sprout of faith to emerge, their actual combat strength might end up weaker than before. Furthermore, the development of the stem varied wildly from person to person. Some stems were short, frail, and malnourished, yet they chose that precise moment to sprout branches. Others spent a long time without ever branching, yet their stems grew exceptionally robust. In such cases, it was perfectly normal for the latter to utterly crush the former in combat.

Even among those who had grown leaves or blossomed, if the entire plant was sickly despite its advanced stage, it was entirely natural for them to be defeated by someone possessing nothing but a powerful stem.

Only upon reaching the stage of "bearing fruit" and condensing a divinity fragment did a truly subversive transformation occur. That was an entire leap in the tier of life itself, a qualitative mutation that transcended the human boundary.

Consequently, while spiritual changes occurred throughout the grand span from Spell-Utterer to Temple Elder, there were no distinct titles to demarcate them, as combat capability and raw power could no longer be measured by a uniform yardstick. A family-based faith system could only benchmark strength within the confines of a single bloodline, because the ceiling of power varied according to different ancestors; lacking a unified weights-and-measures system, one could not claim that a tier-five practitioner from one family was stronger than a tier-four from another. The orthodox church system at this advanced stage offered even less standardization than a family system, for it no longer operated on the scale of clans, but rather on the idiosyncrasies of the individual.

Take Lord Tessen, for instance. The reason he had risked the remainder of his lifespan to manifest his divine form and borrow Mavaloch’s Scythe of War for a clash was not out of a desire for a final burst of madness before death; it was simply because, without doing so, he could not control the situation on the Volcano Island at all. In his ordinary human form, and leaving aside the protection of sacred artifacts, Philomena could have easily assassinated him, leaving him with an exalted realm that he could not leverage in practice.

Thus, the further one advanced, the more one’s "resume" mattered. To use an imperfect analogy, it was much like the auxiliary branches of the Vienne Imperial Military outside the frontline combat units. Compelling them to engage in individual, close-quarters combat would generally yield poor results, yet such clergymen were by no means a minority; they constituted the vast majority. A church was not an army. Within the clerical population, non-combatants formed the greater bulk. After all, maintaining the operation of an orthodox church required martial might, but relying solely on force was impossible; without first building such a massive framework, a martial system could never be sustained in the first place.

However, due to Dis’s preemptive influence on his perspective, Karen harbored a deep-seated aversion and resistance toward this entire progression.

The Deity plants a seed, which eventually grows to bear fruit.

In the end, who is that fruit meant to feed?

The reason Dis had continuously restrained his own progress toward condensing a divinity fragment was precisely because he refused to become sustenance for the Deity. To a man of Dis’s immense pride, such an end was an insult.

"It is still early for me," Karen murmured.

"It will be quick. I believe in you," Neo countered.

"You should be close yourself, Director."

"I am still far off."

Karen raised his hand and constructed a simple isolation array. It was neither unusual nor conspicuous; within their line of sight, numerous small cliques had done the same while conferring. The matter at hand was far too sensitive, and beneath the two major factions lay countless minor sub-factions, making open discussion inconvenient for everyone.

"You aren't worried that you'll accidentally nurture a sprout with light-attribute traits, are you?"

"Do not speak nonsense."

"I think it is highly probable, for I cannot bring myself to believe that a desert could ever breed fish."

"Heh. Do not think you can change the subject. Did you not do that on purpose just now? I mean, why did you snap my ribs, and snap them inward at that? Right now, never mind speaking, even breathing is an absolute agony."

"I told you, you should not have used an inversion."

"I thought you seemed rather pleased with yourself when you were adding to my injuries."

"I was not."

"Do not deny it, you absolutely were."

"Most certainly not."

"Had I known, I would not have run this way; I should have stayed back there and had a proper fight with you."

Karen spread his hands, remarking, "You see, it is you who are changing the subject."

"You cannot question my loyalty to Order."

"I hope that one day in the future, when you hold a fragment of a Light-attributed godhead in your hands, you will still be able to say those exact words."

Neo froze for a moment,

And then, torn between tears and laughter, said:

"For a moment there, I truly could not tell whether that was a blessing or a piece of sarcasm."

Just then, Terrison arrived with a squad of men, those behind him belonging to the Enforcement Department.

Karen reached out and dispelled the isolation array.

"Was it you two who pursued that remnant of Light all the way here?" Terrison asked, looking down at Neo and Karen seated on the ground.

"Yes, Lord Terrison," Neo replied.

However, though he used the suffix of "Lord," Neo showed not the slightest inclination to stand and salute. It was not merely because he was currently cradling his own intestines in his hands; primarily, the Whip of Order possessed its own independence, and now that both sides had thoroughly torn away their polite facades, he could acknowledge that Terrison held a higher rank, but there was truly no longer any need to bow and scrape.

"What exactly happened here?" Terrison demanded.

Neo answered, "Our Head of the Enforcement Department, Lord Enzo, was ambushed and assassinated by a band of men on his way to the Order Prison. When our reinforcements arrived, we pursued the leader of that assassination—that very remnant of Light—all the way to this spot, right outside your family's estate.

And then, we heard that remnant of Light shout toward your manor: 'You set me up!'"

Hearing this, Terrison frowned and asked, "So, you suspect that my Naton family is connected to this matter?"

The moment Terrison asked this, the row of Enforcement Department clerics behind him immediately closed in, surrounding Neo and Karen.

"Heh," Neo let out a low laugh. "My Lord, I believe that by any normal person's logic, anyone would harbor such a suspicion first. I can now speak with my hand on my conscience..."

Neo raised his hand, only to realize he was still cradling his own intestines,

And could only alter his phrasing:

"I speak now with my hand on my intestines,

I precisely suspect that the Naton family is connected to this assassination targeted at the Head of our Enforcement Department of the Whip of Order."

"Heh." Terrison let out a cold sneer. "It seems some people truly do not understand the rules, and it is high time they were taught a lesson."

"Oh, who might that be?"

Bernie's voice materialized.

Without even turning his head, Terrison snapped directly, "Bernie, how do you manage your men? They are like mad dogs, biting people left and right!"

Bernie remained silent.

"Well now, since when does the Whip of Order need to report to you or seek your guidance on how to manage its own people?"

Harry's voice carried over.

Looking at Harry, Terrison reluctantly uttered, "My Lord."

Theoretically speaking, the Wiper of a region's Whip of Order held a status equivalent to that of a Regional Bishop. In the distant past, during the most glorious era of the Whip of Order, the Wiper even stood on equal footing with the Chief Bishop.

"I now suspect that the Naton family is heavily implicated in this matter, and the Whip of Order will initiate an investigation."

Terrison offered a thin smile. "My Lord, such a transparent frame-up, surely you can see through it?"

"Whether it is a frame-up or not is something we will only know once the investigation concludes."

"Very well. The Naton family is willing to cooperate with the Whip of Order, and we hope to clear the Naton family name at an early date."

With that, Terrison turned and departed, his gaze turning exceedingly dark. As the mastermind behind the scenes, even he was beginning to find the situation difficult to read.

Bernie walked over to Neo and Karen, knelt down, and extended both hands, placing them upon their respective shoulders to begin channeling healing arts.

Neo could not help but remark with emotion, "I truly did not expect you to be so proficient in healing arts, Lord Head."

Bernie replied very calmly, "My former profession was that of a priest."

Neo: "Ah..."

"Do you find that disappointing?"

"Not at all," Neo replied. "As your subordinate, it actually gives me a far greater sense of security."

Harry spoke up, asking, "Are the injuries severe?"

Bernie replied, "Very severe, but not difficult to manage."

"Enzo is dead. You shall temporarily assume his position to conduct the investigation here. They have called an extraordinary council of bishops, which I must attend."

"Understood, Regional Director."

Once Harry had departed, Bernie spoke, "What is the story with that remnant of Light?"

Bernie was aware of the entire plan; of course, what he knew was merely the plan as it stood before events unfolded. Neo, however, had taken it upon himself to modify the plan—or rather, he was the plan itself, a plan in dynamic motion.

Neo sighed and replied, "The problem lies precisely with him. The Naton family hired him, but he turned into an unstable variable; he actually went ahead and killed Lord Enzo."

"Mm," Bernie assented. "I inspected the scene of Enzo's death when I arrived. He appears to have been killed in a sneak attack when his guard was completely down, dying a most miserable death. So, did that remnant of Light learn of the Naton family's true designs, realize he had been deceived, and deliberately exact this vengeance? Or did he simply appear to sow chaos, which would also align with the behavioral patterns of the remnants of Light?"

Karen spoke up, "My Lord, I believe we can entirely decouple the influence of this remnant of Light from the grand scheme of things. As the situation unfolds, it remains highly advantageous to us. We can entirely leverage this incident to allow our higher-ups a better vantage to intervene in the affairs of this region, while simultaneously compressing the Naton family's room to react, and leaving the regional bishops with their hands tied. I imagine Director Harry is currently on his way to vent his fury upon those bishops.

Furthermore, until we apprehend him, all our conjectures are likely meaningless, because... that remnant of Light is very probably a lunatic, someone whose mind is severely deranged."

Bernie nodded and said, "You speak rightly."

Neo: "..."

---

The next chapter will be posted tomorrow morning. Recently, certain matters have affected my writing condition, which, combined with an irregular sleep schedule, has caused the updates to become erratic once more.

This cannot be helped, as "Mink Street" is approaching three million words. At this stage, while the writing difficulty increases, the accumulated mental and physical fatigue begins to take its toll, making it easy for problems to arise. I will strive to adjust as quickly as possible.

As for any missed updates due to my schedule, please rest assured that I keep them in mind. On the 1st of every month, I summarize the word count of the previous month's updates. The volume of updates is guaranteed, so do not panic—holding you all close!