Chapter 522: New Breakthrough

Chapter 522: A New Breakthrough

Cullen bent down, picked up the photograph, and flicked it gently with his index finger.

Neo smiled. "One is enough. No need to develop a second. It is not as if we would ever take this photograph out for casual appreciation; it is far too grotesque."

Cullen nodded. "I understand. Its proper utility lies in one party dying a sudden death, leaving the other to gaze upon it in remembrance."

"Precisely. Thus, I suggest the photograph remain with me. After all, I possess the lineage of a Bloodthirsty Aberrant; I am harder to kill than you."

"And yet, have you never heard the proverb? Most men who drown in the river are those who know how to swim."

"Rest assured. If I suffer from insomnia one night after you pass, or if I dine too well and seek some manner of spiritual diversion, I shall bring forth this photograph. I will conjure the proper sentiment, and while mourning you, I might even move myself to tears."

Cullen countered, "I shall enshrine your likeness. Upon the table I will lay the dishes you most fancied and the wine you loved to drink. Fearing your loneliness, I will place two candlesticks before your image, appointing someone to watch over them so they never gutter out. Then, on the annual anniversary of your demise and upon your birthday, I shall forge counterfeit cash—currency from every pantheon. I will set a brazier before your portrait and commit them to the flames, burning billions upon billions for your sake."

Neo frowned slightly, sighing. "I must admit, your arrangements sound exceedingly professional. It almost makes me feel quite embarrassed if I do not die first."

"Who can truly say what the future holds? I shall not place this photograph in my wallet; it belongs at home."

"That is fair enough. Well then, why not stay a while longer and accompany me in hauling trash? A bit of manual labor and honest sweat is beneficial to the constitution."

Cullen replied, "I have no desire to deprive you of an activity so wholesome for the mind and body. Pray, enjoy it alone."

"Ah, I speak in earnest. I intend to revisit the Norton residence once my 'bout' subsides. By standard procedure, Norton's son—Vicolais's nominal father—should return tonight. We might probe him. I imagine his household would never suspect that the remnant of Light has returned."

"It takes too long," Cullen said, shaking his head. "I would rather return home first. It has been so long since I last crossed my own threshold that even the cat is displeased."

"And does the dog harbor no grievances?"

"He is not a fastidious eater."

"Ah, the Lord of Evil Gods is indeed broad-minded, having transcended vulgar gratifications. Shall we agree on a hour to venture forth tonight?"

"Let us not complicate matters. Give me two more hours. Do you see the coffee shop across the way? Go there, have a cup and a light meal, whilst I finish sweeping the next street. Then I shall depart with you."

"Departing while stricken?"

"Illness possesses varying degrees of severity. I believe two hours should suffice to see me through the worst; it will not impede our movements. To speak plainly, our involvement in the routine affairs of the department yields little significance; the subordinates can handle that well enough. We two departmental heads are chiefly tasked with discovering a breakthrough. Once that breach is found, the subsequent matters unfold with ease. Vicolais has been condemned, and Trisen has enough filth beneath his seat to ruin him. The district office has already given its assent; his demise is practically written in stone. Now, the grandest obstacle remains Dolf."

"To topple him will not be easy. One cannot very well indict him solely on the charge of incest."

"Do you intend to seek out Vicolais's 'father'?"

"If one's faculties are sound, discovering that his own wife slept with his father and bore a child who is simultaneously his son and his brother ought to bring immense torment, if not outright fury, would it not?"

"It might also bring arousal."

"That is an extreme case."

"Very well. Let us pray it is not so."

"Consider this: a diplomatic priest appears a most distinguished vocation, and for an ordinary cleric, such a career path would undoubtedly be a magnificent achievement. Yet for the Norton family, his choice of such a path is visibly a poor bargain. Do you take my meaning?"

"You imply he sought to flee his own kin?"

"Indeed. That is my conjecture."

"We slaughter his brother first, then destroy his son—or rather, his brother—and then we seek him out, demanding his complicity in the destruction of his own father? If he accedes to this, what a twisted soul he must be."

"I expect you understand such matters far better than I. I have long since discerned your talent for capturing the psychological intricacies of others."

"This task is of an exceeding difficulty."

"Sometimes, affairs that appear most formidable are resolved through the most unimaginably low and simple means."

"Very well. Continue your sweeping; I shall accompany you."

"By the way, it matters not that you refrain from labor, but do summon two hands to assist me. Once I feel recovered, they may help dispose of the contents here. After all, the refuse cart conceals quite a few treasures."

"Why do you not summon your own men?"

"Because as matters currently stand, my only direct squad is yours."

Cullen waved his hand at Neo and crossed the street to the coffee shop. He ordered a cup of coffee and a modest plate of beef curry.

Once the order was placed, Cullen produced a sheet of black paper and began to fold a crow.

His subordinates were presently occupied; even Ventura was consumed with running documents and securing seals. Yet there remained two fellows vexed by the sheer absence of any employment.

Having released the black crow into the night, Cullen consumed his meal and sat back, closing his eyes to doze.

Before long, Philomina and Richard arrived.

"Captain."

"Captain."

"Have you eaten?"

"We have."

"Then sit a while, and wait."

"Understood, Captain."

Richard and Philomina took their seats, and Cullen resumed his slumber.

After another interval, Neo entered, clad still in his scavenger's uniform. Beholding Philomina and Richard, he bent low and spoke to them:

"A refuse cart stands outside. Beneath the garbage lie several corpses. The two of you shall assist me in disposing of them through departmental channels. Do you understand?"

"Understood, Director," Richard answered instantly, rising to his feet.

Philomina nodded likewise, following Richard into the street.

Neo sat down. Snatching a half-emptied cup of coffee from the low table—the owner of which remained unknown—he dropped several cubes of ice and sugar into it, then drained it in a series of deep gulps.

Cullen snapped his fingers, summoning the attendant. "Waiter, a glass of ice water, if you please."

"Right away, sir."

"Ah, I am parched to death," Neo muttered, licking his lips. "Would you believe that a moment ago, I was fantasizing about the taste of chilled blood?"

"Do you fear Bernie might scrutinize you?" Cullen inquired.

Neo nodded. "Bernie will not bypass me to suspect you, though in truth you are far more deserving of suspicion. His treatment of you is undoubtedly devoid of ulterior motives, but where I am concerned, it is quite uncertain. In permitting Richard and Philomina to dispose of these corpses through official channels, I ensure that if Bernie has a mind to look, he will surely perceive it. If he has no desire to look, it matters little. If he wishes to observe, then let him; after all, my possession of the Bloodthirsty Aberrant lineage is a matter of public record within the Church. However, I have granted him a minor surprise. It should allow him to discover that the grade of my lineage is somewhat higher than the archives suggest. When a superior wishes to grasp your secrets, you must always allow him to seize upon something; only then is his mind set at ease."

Neo delighted in amusement, and his conduct often verged on the mad, yet his survival to this day without catastrophe was the finest testament to his meticulous nature.

Cullen remarked with mild irony, "What is it like to possess such a superior?"

Neo shrugged his shoulders. "What is it like? Certainly far less blissful than the lot of a certain someone, whose own superior is, remarkably, a fellow traitor."

"It's getting late, can we head out now?"

"I haven't eaten yet."

"Waiter, you can bring me those two set meals I ordered to go."

"Hold on, what kind of car did you drive over?"

"That VIP car of yours."

"Then it will have to wait a little longer. I'm going to the bathroom to take a shower and change my clothes; I'm afraid I'll make my car stink."

...

Karen drove, while Neo sat in the passenger seat, eating his meal.

"Have you contacted that diplomatic priest, Dalis?"

"No." Neo took a sip of water to wash down the food in his mouth. "It's purely to try our luck. I feel like there might be some harvest, because we've already passed the hardest hurdle. It's like we've ridden over a hill; no matter what lies ahead, fortune should lean slightly in our favor. It can't possibly be a rough road all the way."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you recently transferred to the Divination Department."

"Oh, those people are just a bunch of charlatans. I've dealt with them before. They aren't even sure about the things they divine themselves, and they have a whole mountain of taboos.

Last time, didn't I almost end up on the rooftop because of the Moon Ring tickets? Someone I knew who worked in the Divination Department committed suicide right then and there."

"That tragic?"

"Yeah, not only did he owe money to loan sharks, but he also borrowed a lot of point tickets from colleagues in the department. Then his mental resilience failed, and he used a ritual pistol to shoot himself right in the chest."

"That's the unfairness of fate; some people take a shot to the chest and end up clearing their debts instead."

...

"Can Wicklai still come back?"

"Get some proper rest. We will handle these matters."

"I only want my son. I only want him to return safely. Dalis, I beg of you, use your connections in the Church of Thunder to save Wicklai. Save him, I beg of you.

All of this was my mistake, it has nothing to do with Wicklai. He has always called you father, called you that for so many years, hasn't he?"

"I will do my best."

Dalis gently caressed the woman's back, a ball of soft light condensing in his palm. The woman closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep, but even in her slumber, she still murmured the name "Wicklai."

Helping the woman pull up the blanket, Dalis stood up, walked to the bedroom doorway, paused, and looked back at her once more.

There was no hatred in his gaze; instead, he seemed entirely serene.

He truly did not hate her, because he knew how frantically she had struggled that night. Like him, she was a pitiful soul in this house, born to bear guilt.

Dalis walked down the stairs. The atmosphere in the house was heavy; after all, such a massive incident had occurred.

He brewed a cup of coffee for himself, and then, ignoring the stares of those around him, walked toward the basement.

The basement was secured with layer upon layer of restrictions. Dalis undid them one by one. He couldn't undo the final layer, but the person inside had already sensed his arrival and proactively released the seal.

Dalis walked inside. It was a circular array hall. At this moment, Bishop Dolph was kneeling before a communication array, making a call.

It was clearly visible that the Lord Bishop's mental state was wretched.

In Dalis's memory, he had never seen his father so completely lose his composure.

"You're back."

Bishop Dolph turned around, looking at Dalis.

"Yes, I'm back, to assist with the investigation."

"They want to devour our entire family, mouthful by mouthful. Wicklai was the first, your older brother is the second, you are next... and ultimately, it will be me."

"Yes, as it stands now, that seems to be the case."

Dalis sat down nearby.

"Do you have any ideas?" Bishop Dolph asked. "Over at the Regional Management Office, I contacted several bishops, including the Chief. Ever since the trial concluded, they have rejected all contact with me, appearing unwilling to meddle in this matter any further."

"Father, I think if they were simply not meddling, that would actually be a good thing. What I worry about now is that they will meddle, but they won't be helping us."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I imagine the Whip of Order might have reached an agreement with the Regional Management Office. Our Naton family is likely the sacrificial offering jointly selected by both sides now."

Bishop Dolph froze there, words spilling repeatedly from his mouth:

"How is that possible... how could they do this..."

"It is a fact, Father. The Naton family has lost its bargaining chips and has no chance left to turn the tables. Right now, our family is meat on the chopping block; they are likely considering how to carve it and the specific method of cooking.

Perhaps their most troublesome task now is how to use a series of clues to ultimately convict you, Father, because you are their true target."

Bishop Dolph glanced at his son and asked, "In your heart, you must be very pleased, aren't you?"

"Do you think I would be pleased, Father? I watched the broadcast of the trial together with my colleagues at the embassy. When Wicklai called out 'Papa' to you, would I be pleased?"

"I think you would be pleased, Dalis."

"If you think I should be pleased, then so be it."

"From childhood to adulthood, you have always been the most outstanding of my sons, even far more outstanding than me. But I know very well that deep down in your heart, there is an invisible barrier between you and me. Leaving the matter of Wicklai's mother aside, can you tell me what it is?"

"I have said it many times, Father. Your paranoia has always seemed absurd to me."

Dolph reached out and directly choked his second son's neck. Dalis did not resist, and his expression did not even alter; he merely continued to look at this father, who had inexplicably flared up in anger once again, with that same calm gaze.

"It's this feeling again, this feeling again. Ever since you were eight years old, every time I see you, I easily lose my temper. I don't know how many times I have truly wanted to just choke you to death like this."

"I am your son. In this house, you have that right, and I acknowledge it."

"I don't think my feeling is entirely born of my imagination, Dalis. There is definitely a problem, there definitely is."

"Father, we have discussed this problem countless times over the past many years, and we have never reached a conclusion. I also chose an external posting to remove myself from your sight. But now, why do you bring it up again?

At a time like this, continuing to discuss a matter that has absolutely no resolution is truly devoid of any meaning."

"Because I feel that perhaps I don't have that much time left to continue thinking about and researching this problem, Dalis. I desperately want to know the answer. If you could tell me, I would even be willing to kneel before you."

"Our family bloodline might have some issues. You are like this, older brother is like this, and my younger brothers, including Wicklai, are also like this."

"That is not the answer." Dolph released his grip on Dalis's neck. "That is not the answer, definitely not."

Dalis reached out to rub his neck as he spoke, "Perhaps now, the sole hope lies in the family's relationship with that personage in the temple. You said before, Father, that your ascent to the position of bishop was also because that personage had once spoken up on your behalf."

"We are not direct descendants of that personage. The reason he spoke up for me back then was because he shared a past friendship with my great-grandfather."

"But right now, the only one our family can count on is him. If he is willing to say another word at this moment, it could at least preserve the family. You must have a way to contact him; I think you should give it a try."

"I will try, Dalis, I will. This is my home, and I want to

After calming his racing heart, Dolph opened his palm and pressed it flat against a floor tile beneath him. The ground began to sink, and from the depression rose a small pedestal, etched with a highly intricate array for transmission. In the very center of this formation rested a box forged of pure mithril.

Dolph slit his palm with a sharp fingernail, letting his fresh blood drip onto the container, which slowly groaned open.

"Grandfather once told me that Great-Grandfather had been tantalously close to condensing a shard of godhood. Back then, the family had even readied themselves to reverently escort him through the grand gates of the pantheon. Yet, in the end, he failed.

Alas, had Great-Grandfather succeeded, our Naden family would not be the Naden family of today, nor would we ever have fallen into such desperate straits.

If our lineage currently possessed a supreme, exalted being, how would Warfulen and his lot ever dare to abandon me at this moment?

Who would dare come to pass judgment on my kin?"

Pursing his lips,

Dolph drew a deep breath, speaking with words that trembled between soaring hope and profound dread:

"With the heirloom passed down through our line, I summon you once more. I pray you still cherish your old bond with my great-grandfather, and grant your aid to the Naden family one final time."

The box swung completely open,

And in the next breath, a chillingly cold artifact floated out from its depths;

It was a... silver mask.

———

I spent quite a bit of time hammering out the narrative details today, so there will only be one chapter tonight. I will write more tomorrow to make up for it, as splitting the upcoming plot arc into separate chapters simply didn't feel right.