Chapter 523: Suicide Note! (16k Words Large Chapter!) (4/5)

Chapter 523: A Suicide Note! (A massive sixteen-thousand-word chapter!) (4/5)

"I will not trespass upon your leisure, honored Elders. I shall take my leave now."

Luo Han hoisted a skewer of squid and flung it backward, where Verdon caught it cleanly.

"Since you are already here, you might as well have a skewer."

"My profound thanks, Elder."

As Verdon partook of the squid, his form dissolved from the spot into nothingness.

Xidi gazed out at the azure expanse of the ocean, a cold sneer playing upon her lips.

"Never did I imagine a day would come when a mere dog could shadow us so directly, the moment we stepped out of the Temple for a breath of air.

Luo Han, it seems the times truly have changed.

But the blame lies squarely with that fellow Rasmar. His abdication was so abrupt, so utter, that he stripped away the very time we might have had to prepare and arrange our pieces.

Alas,

This High Priest truly wishes to pen the Temple up like a common pigsty, keeping us all domestic and tame."

Luo Han chuckled softly. "Rasmar abdicating with such haste—do you truly believe that to be an accident? Why on earth should he grant us time to prepare? If you ask me, it was entirely by design."

"And the business on Mink Street, was that by design as well?"

"Had there been no Mink Street, Rasmar would have found some other alleyway to catch us all unawares, executing a swift and sudden transfer of power.

They all claim Rasmar belongs to the old guard, but I have never bought into that. A child raised by a prostitute is bound to have rebellion woven into the very marrow of his bones."

"So, did he deliberately conceal himself on Mink Street?"

"The most convincing lies are those that intercept a fragment of the truth. The most persuasive accidents are those born of deliberate intent brushing against a stroke of coincidence.

Still, there is little use in dwelling on it now. We cannot very well march down to Mink Street to demand answers from Rasmar.

By staying there and shrouding every manner of information inquiry, he is telling us in no uncertain terms to leave him in peace. Ah, it beggars belief, does it not? A High Priest who scarcely dared to sit in your presence is proving to be this unyielding and iron-willed.

Oh, and another thing—everything regarding Mink Street remains so completely impenetrable that even a collective divination by the church’s finest seers could not bleed a single drop of insight through the veil. Though that particular individual has drifted into slumber, the blanket he pulled over himself is indeed rather grand."

Xidi murmured, "He said he only desired for his family to live a quiet, stable life."

"Then let him have it. His demand is hardly excessive; a matter of a few decades at most, which is scarcely a heartbeat to the likes of us. I have never taken issue with a man of temperament, provided he possesses the strength to make me tolerate it.

And clearly, this Elder Dis of ours possesses it in abundance, ha ha ha."

"It is a pity he never entered the Temple."

"Do you not resent him, Xidi? I harbored the impression that you loathed him intensely."

"To be humiliated by a man capable of condensing three fragments of a godhood—well, one simply takes the humiliation. What use is resentment? When your fists cannot match his and you dare not tear down the facade, you have no choice but to endure it."

"Ah, your temper has grown far gentler than it was in the old days."

"And what of yours?"

"Mine? I never really possessed one to begin with."

Luo Han extended his hand, and the silver mask resting behind him levitated, drifting before his face.

"It is summoning you. No, someone is using its twin to summon you from the other side. Yet, if memory serves, you have no scions, nor did you leave any lineage or inheritance in the mortal realm."

"Yes, quite right. But I do have friends. There were three such masks in total, belonging to comrades who braved perils, traveled, and undertook missions together in our youth—brothers of life and death, every one of them exceptional men.

Is it not a strange thing? I have resided within the Temple for so many years now; indeed, my time spent within these walls far outstrips the years I spent outside them.

Yet, the sharpest memories in my mind remain those from the days before I ever crossed this threshold.

The hours spent with my companions feel as though they unfolded only yesterday. Alas."

"Only you managed to enter the Temple, is that not so?"

"Yes. One of them perished in an accident during his middle years. The other, Naton, originally stood a fair chance of condensing a fragment of godhood right after me.

It was not easy for him, truly. He bore an immense struggle.

To successfully condense that fragment, he exhausted every conceivable method to prolong his waning lifespan, chasing after that gossamer thread of possibility. Having already entered the Temple by then, I used my own connections to aid him considerably.

He was fortunate, for just before his lifespan was completely spent, he finally caught sight of the dawning light of a condensed godhood fragment. Had he succeeded, the Gates of the Temple would have drawn him in, granting him a tremendous boon of additional years. All his past sacrifices and gritted teeth would have found their justification.

Yet he was profoundly unfortunate. On the very eve of that morning light, disaster struck."

Xidi inquired, "He failed to achieve it?"

"It was an accident." A shadow of reminiscence and helpless sorrow crept into Luo Han’s gaze. "To this day, I have never uncovered the cause of that catastrophe. In the end, he simply died."

"A failure, then?"

"I do not know. But I remember that at the exact hour of his undoing, the Gates of the Temple seemed to shudder, as though trembling in preparation to receive a new soul."

"You suspect he actually succeeded?"

"It is impossible to say. Either he failed, or he succeeded.

But he died regardless.

I beheld only his corpse; I never saw the fragment of godhood.

If he succeeded and yet perished... ha ha, who could have slain him, and done so almost entirely without a sound?

I can only surmise that he failed at the last.

Otherwise, I would be forced to accept an alternative truth—that he succeeded, only to be murdered, and his fragment plundered.

Not only is that a truth I cannot bring myself to accept, but I am certain that neither you nor the Temple itself could ever bear to entertain it."

"Indeed. That would be far too terrifying."

"There were three of these silver masks. Back then, the three of us held one apiece. The companion who met his end in middle age left no heirs, so I reclaimed his mask."

"So now it is the descendant of the one who failed the condensation, reaching out to you through the relic left by their ancestor?"

"Not quite. The mask they are utilizing to summon me belonged to the one who died in his middle years—the one I bestowed upon them. As for the mask belonging to their own ancestor... I never found it."

"Never found it?"

"Perhaps he secreted it away in some hidden place, and because his departure was so abrupt, he lacked the time to pass the knowledge down to his kin. I can only choose to believe that."

"Yes, one can only choose to believe that."

"That official dispatch—do you care to read it? I can look it over for you. I imagine whatever that hound carried in its jaws must bear the explicit will of its master."

"There is no need to look; I already comprehend its meaning well enough. Did you watch the broadcast of the judgment the other day?"

"My duties had only just concluded when I stepped out to accompany you for a walk. Do you honestly think I had the leisure to watch it?"

"I watched it. Heh, the moment I saw that surname, I watched. Naton—the surname of my old comrade."

"I did hear rumors, however. It sounded rather intriguing."

"It was. His ascent to the station of Bishop was due in part to a word I sent out during the contention. As the flesh and blood of a former friend, it was only right to extend a degree of protection and care."

"And what of this time?"

"Our High Priest sent that hound here for the sole purpose of warning me. He is telling me to keep my hands to myself this time around."

"And what is your own inclination?"

"With things as they are, why should I even bother extending a hand? A bunch of spineless, disappointing fools—they make it utterly impossible for me to associate them with their ancestors. If anything, they only make me angrier.

Besides, that Chief Priest has been deliberately provoking the Temple all this time, just waiting to see how we old fossils will react.

Rather than reforming those below, he wishes far more to carve his knife into those above.

Yet, he is not Rathma; he is different. We could bully a child raised by a prostitute, but we cannot bully him, nor do we dare to!"

"Is he truly Lord Tyranus's... inheritor?"

Tyranus, the founder of the Church of Order, had personally penned the *Light of Order* and single-handedly constructed the institutional system of the Church that endured to this day.

If any subordinate god held an absolutely transcendent and singular status within the Church of Order, it was none other than Lord Tyranus.

To deny him was equivalent to denying the Church of Order itself.

Inheritors were not a rarity within the inner echelons of the Church, and their numbers in the present age were by no means few, but an inheritor of Lord Tyranus was absolute in their singularity.

"No one knows. Divinations yield no results, deductions find no threads, and the divine oracles remain frustratingly vague. Even those higher-ranking elders, protectors, maintainers, guardians, and the like—none of them can provide a definitive answer.

He might be, but then again... he might not.

But who can... and who dares to truly tear away the veil of pleasantries with him?

If he truly is, the consequence of such a falling out would mean every last one of us, from the highest to the lowest in the Temple of Order, would have to prostrate ourselves at his feet and re-articulate our loyalty to the Church of Order!

Hehehe, hehehehe.

Forget it, let us just assume he is, shall we not?"

Rohan reached out and pressed down on the silver mask, which froze instantly, sealing away all manner of summonings.

"I shall obey the will of our Chief Priest and refrain from crossing him. My own descendants have rotted beyond recognition; that friend of mine will not blame me for holding back my hand. He would be the first to advise me not to spare another glance at these dregs, deeming it too filthy, too disgraceful."

"Deep down, you are still uneasy after all. Otherwise, you would not have gone out of your way to fish and barbecue."

"Because this was once the favorite activity of the three of us. After completing a grueling mission, the three of us would fish, catch fish, and barbecue together, paired with some wine—well, not too much wine.

The exhaustion, the dread—all of those things would vanish entirely."

"And now? Do you still have that feeling?"

"I cannot find it, not even a trace of it. So you see, only now do I understand why, in the ancient records, so many powerful deities would pursue research into the taboos of time.

The further along one lives, the more one actually wishes to return to the past."

...

"Master."

The old butler brought in three maids.

"Mm."

Dolph gave a word of acknowledgment.

Understanding implicitly, the old butler silently withdrew from the basement.

The three maids stood respectfully before Dolph.