Chapter 41: When the Evil God Knocks on the Door

Chapter 41 When the Evil God Comes Knocking

"Knock... knock... knock..."

Listen,

how crisp, how pleasant the sound of this knocking is.

The door opened,

and Dis, clad in a long black robe, stood before Karen.

It closely resembled the style of the vestments Dis usually wore, yet while the priest's garments imparted a sense of kindness and warmth, the aura Dis exuded at this moment carried a breath of genuine gloom.

It felt as if everything had returned to that day, standing at the doorstep of his home, when Dis had asked him:

What lies ahead?

Fortuitously, the object of tonight's inquiry was not himself.

However, looking at Dis’s attire, Karen suddenly felt his own clothes were somewhat unworthy of his grandfather, and out of tune with the aesthetic of the night.

His clothes were all bought by his aunt and his cousin; the fabric and price were a notch above Ronte and the others, quite decent and fitting his temperament, but mixing and matching them casually proved rather difficult.

"Are you ready?" Dis asked.

"I am ready, Grandfather," Karen replied, handing over the list in his hand.

Dis did not look at it, walking straight toward the top of the stairs: "You arrange it. Which suspect's house shall we visit first?"

Karen followed behind,

In truth, Aunt Winnie had arranged the sequence precisely according to her perception of social status and position;

Ranked first was the mayoral candidate, Ford; in his aunt's eyes, he had a high probability of becoming the next mayor, so he naturally topped the list.

Ranked second was Morf; the Morf Syndicate possessed vast industries, seamlessly organizing everything from tobacco factories to hospitals into a neat, comprehensive pipeline;

Ranked third was the old councilman, Haggert.

Following them was a string of names Karen was not very familiar with, a discrepancy caused by the differing "perspectives" between himself and his aunt;

What Karen valued more was which factions could orchestrate the waves of this mayoral election—the hidden hands behind the "forced suicide" of the Sissot family.

Therefore, Karen had personally added two more names: one was Mr. Humir, the editor-in-chief of the Luojia Daily; the other was Mr. Orca, who had come to settle the bill at the very end today.

Because Mr. Orca was the person who ordered their funeral service, he was bound to be deeply entangled in the matter; as for the editor-in-chief, his stance was entirely compromised, and he had been dropping hints and paving the way from a very early stage, so if he knew absolutely nothing, Karen might as well find a truckload of canned herring to suffocate himself to death.

These five comprised the final list Karen had cordoned off;

As for the other celebrities, including the actress who had rubbed onions on her eyes to perform a crying scene today, Karen did not include her; they simply lacked the stature.

There was, however, another celebrity—if she could tentatively be called one—namely, the environmentalist girl, Delice;

By all rights, she should have been excluded as well, but the issue was that while Karen found the onion-rubbing actress quite amusing—simply earning an appearance fee, which was understandable—

This Delice had disgusted Karen for a long time; she wasn't stupid, she was genuinely malicious.

Thus, Karen still appended her name, placing her outside the list of those five, seated on the substitute bench.

The list was five plus one;

This was the result of Karen's observations while standing in the mourning hall on the first floor during the day, though many of the people passing to and fro at the time had ignored him or merely regarded him as a young waiter,

But they did not know,

The eyes of the "Evil God" had been watching them all along.

And when Dis asked him where they should go first;

Karen bypassed Mr. Ford, the mayoral candidate who bore the greatest suspicion and would undoubtedly yield answers in a single interrogation,

Ignored the editor-in-chief whose stance was utterly compromised and who had certainly received "manuscript fees,"

Ignored the old councilman Haggert, who had essentially played the role of the vanguard wolf today,

And completely overlooked this Mr. Orca, whose identity was mysterious but who was bound to be connected,

Answering instead:

"Grandfather, I suggest we head to Mr. Morf's house first to inquire about the situation."

With such an entertaining "game," wouldn't it be a pity to clear the level all at once?

Besides,

How amusing it was to strike at a syndicate.

Furthermore, who told him that a pack of Morf Gold-Frame cigarettes was still sitting in his pocket right now.

"Morf?"

Evidently, Dis knew the name; or rather, no one who had lived in Luojia City for a sufficient amount of time would find this surname unfamiliar.

"Very well."

Without the slightest hesitation, without a shred of contemplation, and entirely devoid of weighing pros and cons, Dis merely nodded and walked downstairs.

Karen followed behind;

"Meow~"

Purr’s voice drifted over, and with a single leap, it landed squarely on Karen’s shoulder.

Karen turned his head to glance at Purr, who immediately crouched down and closed its eyes.

Seeing that Dis showed no reaction, Karen refrained from speaking.

To a certain extent, aside from his utility in "reporting the list," he might actually be inferior to this household cat in other aspects.

Stepping out of the living room and into the courtyard, Karen retrieved the spare key to the family's new hearse from his pocket, only to discover at that moment a limited-edition "Santland" sedan parked at the courtyard gate.

Alfred, who had shed his work clothes to don a blue suit and tie, looking incomparably refined,

Saluted the grandfather and grandson as they emerged beyond the courtyard gate:

"Your loyal Alfred responds to your summons."

Even though you did not summon me,

A loyal and excellent servant remains capable of making preparations in advance.

As for that foolish Ms. Molly, she had returned to No. 128 to rest; Alfred, considering the health of her new body, had chosen not to wake her.

After all, a great existence is also easily fatigued, and focusing a gaze upon one person is far lighter than scattering it across two.

Dis looked toward Karen and asked:

"Did you call him here?"

"No."

"Young Master, I have already prepared the attire for you to wear to tonight's banquet."

Alfred opened the car door and produced three sets of clothing from within.

One was a black evening tuxedo; one was a burgundy, slim-fit suit.

There was also a black hoodie, originating from a brand endorsed by the Rielian royal family.

"Young master, which suite pleases you?"

Caren hesitated, pointing a finger toward the third set—the black hoodie. He felt he would be far more comfortable in that one, whereas the first two were a bit too... flamboyant.

Especially that wine-red suit; wearing it felt as though one would practically ooze extravagance.

"I choose—"

"The red one," Dis interrupted. "It looks more spirited."

"I choose the red one. Grandfather thinks exactly as I do, haha."

Alfred stepped forward proactively with the red suit, first bowing slightly to Dis.

"Master, I shall take the young master to change first. It will not take long."

Dis nodded.

Turning to Caren, Alfred made a welcoming gesture. "Young master, this outfit and its accessories require assistance to be fitted properly."

With Grandfather’s approval already given, what else could Caren say? He could only follow Alfred back into the living room.

Once changed, Caren stepped out and stood before Dis.

The clothes were a bit snug; once put on, one subconsciously stood straighter.

In truth, Caren rarely wore formal attire in his past life. When facing patients, overly formal clothing tended to create a sense of estrangement, which was counterproductive to psychological therapy.

"Not bad."

Such was the evaluation Dis offered.

Caren smiled. "Grandfather has excellent taste."

Just then, Dis pointed to the floor. Caren looked down; there, a circular constellation had been drawn.

"Step inside."

"Very well, Grandfather."

Caren did not hesitate and stepped into the circle.

"In the name of Order, unlock all shackles and restraints, grant freedom to the true heart, and etherealize the soul."

The ring beneath his feet released a faint red luster. Then, this dim light began to coat his clothes. Caren saw that his own hands were also covered in light and shadow, resembling red fireflies.

Following this, all kinds of emotions from the depths of his heart began to surge forth more concretely, and his senses became extremely acute at this moment.

This feeling was akin to eating toxic wild mushrooms in his past life—one would feel very floaty, very high, and even the most introverted person would find it hard to resist the urge to sing at the top of their lungs in public.

Almost instinctively, Caren began to suppress this surge of emotion within his heart, trying his best to "isolate" his consciousness from his current physical state, molding his awareness into a "void self."

To put it elegantly, it was like a master entering a state of zen; to put it vulgarly, it was like a bad student daydreaming in class—the goal was the same, pursuing a state of mind detached from worldly concerns.

The heat in his brain began to recede.

What brought relief to Caren’s heart was that the effect of this array was not continuous. It was more like lighting a fire for you, allowing you to burn yourself along with the spark, rather than constantly pouring gasoline on you.

As long as he could control the spark at the very beginning, the effect of the array would be neutralized.

"Grandfather, this is..."

Alfred spoke up. "Young master, this is the master's way of ensuring you can have fun tonight. What a truly touching, beautiful family dynamic."

Dis spoke. "I merely wished to see the presentation of your true heart. Do not carry a burden; it is just like buying you a cotton candy on the way to the amusement park when you were a child."

"Yes, Grandfather, I feel very happy now."

Did he want to see his "true face" clearly?

Or did he hope that his nature as an evil god would be revealed?

Caren was somewhat perplexed, but he believed it was not the latter, because Dis had once said that even if you were an evil god, you were still my family.

He had no reason and no need to conduct another "test." If he wanted to kill, he would have done so long ago, wouldn't he?

So, was it truly because he had looked melancholy these past two days, and fearing he would stifle himself into autism, he injected him with this "array morphine" to get him high and release pressure?

Caren felt that this seemingly absurd reason might truly be Dis's genuine intention; perhaps this was Dis’s way of showing affection?

Because the previous "Caren" had been autistic, he wanted this grandson to be more cheerful?

And due to the professional habits of his past life, he had actually failed to appreciate his grandfather’s kindness.

However,

if the goal was to make himself cheerful,

it was actually not difficult.

Who didn’t know how to be unrestrained? There was no need to act; he just had to let it go.

When he was frying spring rolls and eggplant cakes during the day, watching that bubbling oil, he had already replayed it many times in his mind.

"Which car are we taking?" Dis asked.

There was the limited-edition Santaland driven by Alfred, and the family hearse to choose from.

Caren jangled the spare key in his hand.

He said:

"Let’s take the hearse. I'm afraid the Santaland won't fit everything."

...

Morf Manor was located in the core downtown area of Luoja City. Since the Morf family had risen to prominence from Luoja City, this place was considered the Morf family's "ancestral home."

Caren drove the hearse outside the neighborhood and stopped.

Because the hearse was too large and too conspicuous, it would be better to walk the remaining distance.

The three of them got out of the car.

Puer was still perched on Caren’s shoulder, looking as though she were asleep.

"What a grand estate."

Caren sighed with emotion as he looked at the wall before him.

With such a large wall and such a large courtyard, if this were his own home, his uncle could easily take four or five orders a day without ever worrying about running out of space.

Perhaps influenced by the professional habits of this lifetime, Caren's first reaction upon seeing the large courtyard was that it was a pity not to hold a memorial service in such a spacious place.

Just then, a black "Cayman" sedan drove over. Alfred stepped forward, reaching out his hand to stop the car.

There was only a young driver inside, about the same age as Caren. He had likely been drinking, and there were even lingering traces on his face suggesting he might have consumed some illicit substances he shouldn't have touched.

The young man pointed a finger at Alfred.

He sneered:

"The next time you block my car, I will send you flying."

Alfred smiled and nodded:

"Very well, until next time."

Then,

Alfred's eyes began to flush with red as the succubus's gaze started to take effect, and the young man's eyes similarly reddened before growing somewhat vacant.

Alfred opened the car door and made a gesture of invitation:

"Sir, young master, please step inside; fortune is on our side. This is the younger son of Mr. Morff, a playboy whom I happen to know. Utilizing his carriage will afford a far more comfortable entrance into the manor.

I harbor no concern regarding the bodyguards and valets here, but the estate is simply vast, and I feared it might weary the feet of my master and the young lord."

Dis cast his gaze upon Alfred;

As if suddenly recollecting something, Alfred instantly bowed low before Dis, spreading his hands wide.

Dis drew forth a black envelope and placed it within Alfred's palm.

This was the "permit" granted by an Inquisitor whenever they required their own captive aberrant entities to perform tasks, signifying that the domesticated aberrant was acting "lawfully," thereby ensuring procedural righteousness.

Should this matter unravel into greater complications later on, prompting personnel from other churches to participate in the investigation and follow the trail back to Alfred, this very "permit" would allow Alfred to shift all accountability onto the Church of Order.

However, it was partly because Alfred had only recently transitioned from a wild state to a domesticated one, leaving him somewhat unfamiliar with the protocol;

And partly because the young master of the Morff family driving home was an entirely unexpected event, making the interception a split-second choice, which caused him to neglect the proper procedure.

Fortunately,

the procedure could be retroactively remedied.

After all, Dis was the Inquisitor of Roga City, holding the authority to interpret Order at this very moment, and the duration of Alfred's use of the succubus's eye on ordinary mortals could be subjectively certified by Dis.

Karen and his grandfather sat in the rear, Alfred took the passenger seat, and the young Master Morff began to drive.

"Young master, you have returned. Um, are these gentlemen your friends?"

"Get lost."

"Yes, of course, young master."

The bodyguards at the gates retreated, flinging the entrance open.

The vehicle continued its inward journey, coming to a halt before a grand structure.

"Young master, you have returned."

"Where is my father?"

"The master is in the second-floor study."

"Very well, you may get lost now."

"Young master, do you require me to assist in entertaining your guests?"

"Get the hell out, I shall attend to my own friends!"

"Yes, yes, understood."

Having dismissed the others, the young Master Morff led Karen and the rest up the stairs.

Within these halls, virtually no servants were to be seen, lending the space a profound quietude.

Upon reaching the study door, Alfred reached out and tapped the young Master Morff on the shoulder; the young man leaned against the wall, slid down to a seat, and sank into a deep slumber.

Immediately following this,

Alfred pushed open the door to the study.

The chamber was spacious, almost absurdly so, and Mr. Morff, whom they had observed earlier that day, was currently seated behind the desk clad in his nightshirt, poring over documents held in his hands.

Perceiving the entry of strangers, Mr. Morff did not cry out in terror, but instead removed the spectacles from the bridge of his nose, stood up, and opened his arms wide:

"Ah, friends, what business brings you to seek me out?"

Dis stepped before him,

producing a parchment bearing the seal of an Inquisitor of the Church of Order:

"Accusations have been levied against you for violating Order by employing aberrant entities for your own purposes. Pursuant to the Regulations of Order of the Church of Order, you are now subject to interrogation."

Karen stood to the side, thinking that Dis's manner of stamping his own "search warrant" was truly immensely satisfying.

"The Church of Order?"

A woman's voice emanated from beneath the desk, and subsequently, a woman attired in a revealing dance skirt rose beside Mr. Morff. Her tongue was exceedingly long, protruding outwards by a full two decimeters, and a brief moment passed after she stood before she finally retracted it back into her mouth, much like a serpent's flicking tongue.

The woman circumvented the desk and curtsied to Dis:

"Respected Lord Inquisitor, Renee, a devotee of the Faith of Miels, extends her greetings to you."

Alfred leaned close to Karen's ear, explaining in a whisper:

"An early faith that arose from the islands; its earliest adherents were the prostitutes of those shores. They conjured up a deity in their imaginations, a goddess who was the paramour of the Sea God, believed to shield such wretched women as themselves.

It is third-rate, with few believers and little influence, possessing virtually no organization within Ruilan.

One can only say that this Mr. Morff certainly knows how to amuse himself."

"Is she human?" Karen inquired.

"She is human," Alfred replied. "Certain specific beliefs can induce particular transformations within the human physique."

"Like Madam Molly?"

"In a strict sense, Madam Molly can no longer be considered human."

Renee smiled as she gestured toward Mr. Morff,

saying:

"Lord Inquisitor, Mr. Morff is my paramour, the master whom I serve.

I am certain he would never consort with those malevolent aberrants. I implore you to investigate the allegations thoroughly, lest you wrong a virtuous merchant who is deeply devoted to charity."

Dis fixed his gaze upon Mr. Morff;

Yet before Dis could speak,

Mr. Morff preempted him, saying:

"You appear remarkably familiar... are you the Father from earlier today?

The Church of Order?

I am well aware of the Church of Order; it is a magnificent church.

Father... ah, no, Lord Inquisitor;

I swear to you, I have absolutely never transgressed against the tenets of the Church of Order."

Karen spoke up to ask: "How did the four members of the Sissot family die?"

Mr. Morff looked bewildered: "Who are the Sissot family?"

But very quickly,

he seemed to arrive at a realization:

"Oh, do you mean the family of four from today's memorial service? So they were the Sissot family."

A faint smile graced the corner of Karen's mouth;

He believed that Mr. Morff was not putting on an act. The man truly had no inkling of who the Sissot family actually were, even though he had just attended their funeral that very afternoon.

To him, whether it was the Siso family, the Rothe family, or any other, it made no difference at all.

He had merely attended a funeral capable of igniting a wave of opposition against the old mayor; even if a swine lay within the coffin, he would still have offered his profound lamentations.

Karen began to walk toward Morfe,

Mr. Morfe, reacting swiftly, proved himself indeed a clever businessman:

"Lord Inquisitors, have you come to investigate the cause of death of the Siso family? I only went to the scene to mourn because I knew how pitiful their passing was; I truly sympathize with that family."

"Sympathize?"

Karen continued his advance toward Morfe.

"Yes, I sympathize with them deeply. What a wretched, innocent family. Their deaths were far from natural; I once overheard Chief Editor Humir conspiring with Mr. Oca, discussing the selection of a family to serve as a sacrifice for the protests.

Alas, I am but a businessman, and a cowardly man at that. I dared not interfere, nor did I dare report or resist them.

Thus, I could only attend the funeral of that poor family earlier today to grant my conscience a modicum of peace;

may that miserable family rest in peace in heaven.

Furthermore, I swear I have no connection whatsoever to their deaths. As for anomalous demons, I have never even seen one. The only truly extraordinary person around me is Renee, whom I met at a Viennese ball, the woman I love—she cannot be considered an anomalous demon, she is merely a devotee of the Church of Mills."

As he spoke, Mr. Morfe cast a look of tender affection toward Renee.

"I can vouch for that," Renee said.

Karen kept walking toward Morfe;

as he passed Renee, she extended her hand, barring his path, while addressing Dis, who stood behind Karen:

"Lord Inquisitor, I am aware that the Church of Order possesses the authority to judge the order of anomalous demons within society, yet my beloved has not violated this order. Therefore, the Church of Order has no right to commit any excesses against him.

As for the murder, you may choose to call the police; leave secular matters to be handled by secular means.

Moreover, while I respect the jurisdiction of the Church of Order, I truly never anticipated that a murder case bearing no obvious signs of anomalous demonic methods could prompt a Lord Inquisitor to trespass into the home of a local charitable businessman in the dead of night.

To my knowledge, Inquisitors of the Church of Order in other districts are hardly as responsible and meticulous as you are.

I greatly admire your dedication; consequently, I shall join my sponsor in sending a letter of commendation to the Rulan Grand District of the Church of Order to praise your conscientiousness."

The sponsor was the common designation for the person who had initiated one into the church, typically holding a rank one tier higher than one's own within the hierarchy.

Karen turned his head, glancing at the expressionless Dis standing behind him.

Grandfather,

did you hear that?

She is threatening you, saying she will lodge a complaint against you through church channels.

Dis offered not the slightest reaction.

Karen returned his gaze to Mr. Morfe behind the desk;

you really are quite clever,

even when facing a church world unfamiliar to you, you still display the decisiveness and precise judgment characteristic of an excellent businessman.

Wealth can elevate a man, broadening his vision, yet when raised too high, he begins to feel he is no longer human.

Who are the Siso family?

Heavens, this sincere question really makes one feel rather uncomfortable inside.

Then,

Karen took another step toward Mr. Morfe.

Renee's hand remained extended in front of Karen just as before, and Karen's chest made contact with her hand.

Then,

"Ah!"

*Thud...*

Karen's upper body recoiled backward, his legs thrusting forward,

and his entire person crashed to the floor, letting out a pitiful wail.

This scene left even Renee utterly stunned. She had exerted no force at all just now, because the handsome young man before her was nothing more than an ordinary person; the ones who truly struck terror into her were the elderly man in the black robe and the young man whose eyes held a bizarrely mesmerizing charm.

Dis directed his gaze toward Renee,

his voice deep and resonant:

"Employing the power of church faith to harm an ordinary person—violating Chapter Two, Article Five of the *Regulations of Order* of the Church of Order."

"I... Ah!!!"

Renee, who had not yet comprehended what was happening, only had time to unleash a wretched shriek. One of her arms had already severed from her body, dropping to the floor, as she stared at the sight in absolute disbelief.

"No, no, no!"

This abrupt turn of events caused Mr. Morfe, who had hitherto maintained his entrepreneurial poise, to completely lose his composure. He instinctively reached his hand down to grasp the revolver inside the desk drawer.

Dis's gaze, however, was faster than his movements:

"Inciting an anomalous demon to harm an ordinary person—violating Chapter Three, Article One of the *Regulations of Order* of the Church of Order."

Dis extended his hand,

and in the next instant,

Mr. Morfe was seized as if by a massive, invisible hand, hoisted into the air, hurled over the desk, and slammed onto the study floor.

"You cannot do this, you cannot do this! My name is Morfe, my family in the city of Luojia possesses—"

"Where are we right now, and whose house is this?"

By now, Karen, who had already stood up, was extending his hand to brush away the nonexistent dust from his suit. The study floor was, after all, remarkably clean.

Immediately following this,

Karen retrieved that gold-bordered pack of Morfe cigarettes from his pocket,

drew one out,

held it between his teeth,

lowered his head,

and looked down at the terrified Mr. Morfe lying on the ground,

asking in bewilderment:

"Who are the Morfe family?"