Chapter 42: We Have Arrived

Chapter 42: We, are here.

Karen took a drag from the Morfe cigarette,

Then he shook the cigarette ash right above Mr. Morfe's face;

The ash from the Morfe cigarette tumbled down onto Mr. Morfe's face.

Renee knelt there, the wound from her severed arm already "seared" shut by the blistering heat, stopping the blood, but her eyes were filled with sheer terror and blank bewilderment.

An existence of her level within the Divine Cult was a mere, imperceptibly thin layer above an ordinary priest who enjoyed listening to the Voice of Women; strictly speaking, she did not even belong to the Cult's system.

Therefore, this was her very first time experiencing the dread of the Order Divine Cult—no, it was utter tyranny, a brand of tyranny that left her now without the courage to utter a single word.

Mr. Morfe, lying on the floor, did not even dare to blow away the ash on his face, able only to look up at Karen with pleading eyes;

"I am somewhat unaccustomed to this."

Karen squatted down beside Mr. Morfe, and Purr silently came before him; Karen used the hand not holding the cigarette to gently stroke Purr's head.

"I also believe that you, in fact, are somewhat unaccustomed to this too; even now, you are still putting on your airs."

"I am not..." Mr. Morfe denied.

"No, you are. Just as I myself do not know exactly how to lay my hands on you next, you actually believe that we will stop right here, don't you?

I am just an ordinary person..."

"Meow~"

"It is hard for me to imagine myself doing anything cruel. I feel that life is best kept away from things tainted with blood—oh, except when scaling fish."

"Meow~"

"You are the same, you still don't believe we will truly do anything to you, otherwise why is it that your mistress has already lost an arm, while you were merely thrown down, right?

Mr. Morfe, you are rich, exceedingly rich; in Roja City, there are likely very few families wealthier than yours.

You have many industries under your name, many people who act at your command, and you can even influence the very operation of this city.

This is dictated by your wealth and your status; whether it is you standing above or the people looking up at you from below, everyone has accepted this mode of operation.

Including,

the former me.

You could lift a finger, for your own benefit, to destroy an entire family—a family that, even while living in poverty, still strove through life with a highly optimistic mindset.

That family, in your eyes, amounted to absolutely nothing."

"I... I apologize to you, I confess to you, I..."

"No need to apologize to me, I was not actually well-acquainted with that family; when I first saw them, they were already cold corpses.

I am well-acquainted with their neighbors; those neighbors are truly good people, and their pickled cucumbers suit my taste perfectly. You know, pairing them with meat or noodles is highly fitting."

"I..." Mr. Morfe found himself completely unable to keep up with the train of thought of the young man before him.

"You should count your blessings, count your blessings that when you chose your sacrifices, you did not choose that family," Karen took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke at Mr. Morfe, "Otherwise, the thought in my mind tonight would be for your entire family to hold a mourning service together, just like Siso's family.

Since you made that family completely uniform in death, I would have made your family completely uniform along with them.

Pray,

that because of that slight distance, my rage did not reach its absolute peak.

Though saying this feels quite unfair to Siso's family, I believe that optimistic man, Siso, would understand me."

"Yes, yes, he

The study was thick with the heavy scent of tobacco.

Karen stood there, watching Mr. Morf consume the tobacco.

Purr returned to Karen's shoulder, looking at Mr. Morf for a moment and then at Karen's profile.

Alfred, his eyes still shining, leaned in close to Karen's side and whispered:

"Master, next time there is a job like this, you can let me do it. Your body is precious."

Meaning this extortion gig;

Karen shook his head,

and said:

"Unfortunately, you are not an ordinary person."

"..." Alfred.

Right, you are an ordinary person.

Finally,

Mr. Morf knelt on the floor, his hands still clutching cigarettes and cigars, his mouth stuffed completely full, his belly protruding immensely.

At this moment,

he wanted to scream in agony, but he could not make a sound.

At last,

his body convulsed for a moment, and then grew still;

he had been stuffed to death by tobacco.

Karen looked at Renee, who was still sitting on the floor, utterly dazed,

and asked Dis:

"Grandpa, does she need to be silenced?"

Renee snapped out of it instantly and began kowtowing to Dis.

Dis turned around and walked out, asking at the same time:

"Where to next?"

So, no need to silence her?

Tonight, having witnessed the terrifying and overbearing might of the Church of Order, Renee, a believer of the Church of Mills, probably wouldn't dare mention this matter ever again. As for revenge?

What a joke,

would a grass-like church that didn't even count as an orthodox sequence, that didn't even touch the fringes, dare to call the great Church of Order to account over the severed arm of a marginal believer?

So, there really was no need to pull up the roots along with the weeds.

Alas,

it seemed he had spoken out of turn again. Grandpa turning around and walking away directly meant he thought he was still behaving too small-minded.

"Clean this place up, can you?" Karen said to Renee.

"Yes, no problem, I will definitely clean it very thoroughly, including Mr. Morf's corpse, it will never..."

"You won't be needed for the corpse." Karen looked at Alfred. "Have Young Master Morf come in to carry his father's remains."

The way everyone came in was the way they went out again.

After putting the suffocated Mr. Morf into the hearse, Alfred started the hearse and drove toward the next target. After turning the corner on the street, the blood-red color in Alfred's eyes faded completely.

Back at the spot, Young Master Morf, still sitting in the driver's seat, looked outside the car window with some confusion,

slammed his hands onto the steering wheel,

"Did I fall asleep? Damn it, that medicine today was really potent.

Sigh,

it's so late. The old man is definitely going to lecture me again when I get back. Why hasn't he died yet so I can divide up the family estate!"

...

"Mhm, tomorrow's layout is set like this. Use those few photos I selected. Make sure the angles are clear when they're enlarged to highlight the citizens' anger. I want everyone who reads the newspaper tomorrow morning to feel genuinely angry, angry enough that they can't even eat breakfast!

In addition, right beneath the statement of the open letter to citizens from the old Mayor Hickson, match a news piece. Use the photo from last year when Mayor Hickson received foreign investment guests. Pick the one of them in the hotel, the one where he smiled brightest while shaking hands with the foreign guest.

Of course I know it's from last year. Isn't last year's news still news? Can't it be published?

Just do as I say;

Don't worry, not many people will notice. They will only have their minds occupied by anger under our guidance. Even if a few people do find out, they can't change the situation.

In this world, fools are always in the majority.

Alright,

hanging up!"

"Clack!"

The editor-in-chief hung up the phone, picked up the teacup beside him, and took a sip.

Mr. Ford had promised him that once he was elected mayor, he would appoint him as the head of the municipal government's propaganda department.

The tiny Loria Daily was simply too small a stage. He should step into politics; that was where he would truly shine and generate heat.

At this thought, the editor-in-chief could not help but twist his arms in excitement.

"Huh, why hasn't Michelle arrived yet?"

Three years ago, the editor-in-chief had already separated from his original wife. Although they weren't divorced, the marriage had long existed in name only. He now lived alone in a luxury apartment on Orchid Street.

Michelle was a female reporter just hired by the newspaper last month. After he threatened to send her to the East District for field duty, she had ultimately chosen to submit to him.

Thinking of Michelle's hot figure, the editor-in-chief felt a surge of heat in his throat.

But irritatingly, there was absolutely no warmth down below.

Sighing,

he reached out to touch his mostly bald head,

and the editor-in-chief took a medicine box out of a drawer, extracting two red capsules from it.

This was the men's medicine produced by Morf Pharmaceuticals that Mr. Morf had given him. The efficacy was quite good, though after using it, the whole person would be incredibly exhausted with a sore back the next day.

But, the present moment was more important.

Taking the medicine,

while waiting for the effects to kick in,

the editor-in-chief turned on the radio. At this time, it was time to listen to the stock market news.

Sigh,

the Black Friday a few years ago had almost stripped him of all his savings. Fortunately, God gave him a chance to start anew. This time, the "writing fees" given by Mr. Orca and Mr. Morf were enough to rekindle new hope for him.

"Welcome to today's securities news……"

"Ah, just in time," the editor-in-chief said gleefully.

"I am your host for the program, Alfred."

"Oh? Has the host changed? Is it no longer that female anchor?"

"The pen is a magnificent human invention; it records knowledge, conveys messages, and brings forth the illuminating fire to be passed down through humanity and society.

It can also be an expression of love, an outpouring of yearning;

But,

When it falls into the hands of filthy individuals, it can just as easily be taken up to murder."

"Damn it, what on earth is this nonsense show? Where is my securities news?"

"Particularly as a journalist, when the pen in his hand loses its impartiality, then..."

"Click!"

The editor-in-chief reached out and shut off the radio.

At the same moment,

The sound of a door opening drifted in from outside.

An old man clad in black robes materialized before him:

"You have been accused of violating the Order, of employing an aberrant demon to do your bidding. Now, pursuant to the Order Regulations of the Church of the Order, you are to be questioned."

"Who are you... No, how did you get in here? What raving madness are you spouting? Get out, get out of here, or I will call the police this instant!"

The editor-in-chief walked over to the telephone, lifting the receiver to dial.

Dis stood there, perfectly motionless.

Alfred, meanwhile, raised his hand to his face, forming a gesture that looked to Karen like a 'six', holding it against his cheek as if gripping a telephone receiver.

On the editor-in-chief's end, the call connected:

"Hello, police department? This is Humil, editor-in-chief of the Luojia Daily. I live on the third floor of the Orchid Street Garden Apartments. A group of strange intruders has appeared in my home, and my life is under a great, imminent threat. Please send men over immediately, quickly, right this second, or I will denounce your dereliction of duty in the newspapers for wasting the taxpayers' money!"

Alfred spoke up:

"Very well, sir, please do not be angry. Our hearse has already arrived."

"What hearse..."

Clutching the receiver, the editor-in-chief froze entirely, staring in stark terror at the man in the blue suit standing opposite him who was mimicking a phone call. The words the man had just spoken had indeed emanated from his own telephone receiver;

Moreover, the man's timbre was identical to the one on the radio moments ago!

"Who... who are you people..."

The editor-in-chief panicked completely, feeling that he had encountered something utterly beyond comprehension.

Dis stood there, motionless.

Alfred said with some helplessness, "Young master, it seems this editor-in-chief truly knows absolutely nothing about the affairs of the Church."

"Indeed," Karen nodded.

"And there is no way an aberrant demon exists in his home," Alfred added.

"Indeed."

They wanted to stage a confrontation, but the prop was missing.

However, this was not a problem.

Karen reached out, gently stroking the head of the black cat resting on his shoulder:

"Go on."

Purr leapt from Karen's shoulder, landing precisely on the desk in front of the editor-in-chief.

The editor-in-chief was now like a bird startled by the mere twang of a bow; even a black cat suddenly jumping over made him shudder with fright.

Upon landing, Purr let out an exceedingly affectionate cry toward the editor-in-chief:

"Meow, meow~"

Immediately following that, she turned around to face Dis, Karen, and the others.

She bared her teeth, snarled, hissed, arched her tail, and leaned forward, preparing to strike!

Karen stepped forward,

"MEOW!!!"

Purr soared into the air, driving a claw straight toward Karen's face!

A few strands of Karen's hair were severed.

Having landed, Purr continued to bare her teeth and snarl at Karen, her face a mask of ferocity.

Dis spoke:

"Employing an aberrant demon to harm ordinary citizens, a violation of Article One, Chapter Three of the Order Regulations of the Church of the Order."

"..." The editor-in-chief was speechless.

Alfred cried out in his heart; he had actually been upstaged by a cat!

He was the truly powerful aberrant demon here, whereas this cat was practically a disgrace to their kind, yet he had been completely outdone by this disgrace of an aberrant demon!

Karen walked toward the editor-in-chief;

"What do you think you are doing? What aberrant demon? That cat? Isn't that your cat? That is your cat, not mine! It's the cat you brought in here!"

"This is clearly your cat. Didn't you see it? It was just greeting you so affectionately, and then it turned around to attack us. Doesn't that prove it is your cat? It is protecting you."

"No, no, no, you are speaking nonsense, you are turning black into white, you are framing me, you are slandering me! This is not my cat, you want to frame me, you want to frame me!"

Karen smiled,

And said:

"I learned this from you, Mr. Editor-in-Chief. Every day at breakfast, I learn from you and benefit greatly, and it just so happens I get to use it today.

When it comes to framing, to slandering, to turning black into white, you are the true expert, are you not?"

"Get out, get out, leave my house, leave my house!"

The editor-in-chief grabbed the penholder from his desk and hurled it directly at Karen.

Karen closed his eyes,

Dis opened his hand, and the fountain pens flying through the air instantly froze. In the next breath, these pens flew backward at an even greater speed, piercing directly into the editor-in-chief's body. Right between his brows was a black fountain pen.

"I..."

The editor-in-chief toppled backward entirely, collapsing onto the floor;

He,

Died by his own pen.

Standing beside the editor-in-chief, Karen watched the scene unfold. He licked his lips, struck by a strange, inexplicable beauty in the spectacle—one that compelled a man to stop and linger, if only to admire it a moment longer.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room,

Dis looked down at Purr upon the floor.

His voice rang out, heavy and solemn:

"An aberrant demon harming ordinary citizens violates Chapter Three, Article Seven of the Order Regulations of the Church of Order. Depending on the severity of the harm caused, the demon shall face execution or... confinement.

It is hereby decided that you shall be punished with confinement. During this period, you are forbidden to leave the Immels house without permission. Do you accept this sentence?"

Purr brought her front paws together and prostrated herself upon the ground:

"Meow~"

Just then,

The telephone began to ring.

Alfred first switched off the radio, then stepped across the room to lift the receiver:

"Hello, Humir speaking."

Alfred's voice was an flawless mirror, identical to that of the deceased editor-in-chief.

Immediately afterward, the voice from the other end of the line filtered out through the radio speaker, audible to everyone present in the room.

"Hi, my dear editor-in-chief. Is everything arranged at the newspaper for tomorrow?"

Karen recognized that voice; it belonged to Mr. Orca.

"Of course it is ready. When have you ever known my work to give you cause for worry?" Alfred replied.

"Worry? No, no, how could I possibly worry? I am only calling because word has just reached me—that old fool Hickson couldn't withstand the pressure, and he intends to submit his resignation to the city government tomorrow afternoon.

Right now, our Mayor Ford and Councilman Hagert are here with me, and our Goddess of Environmental Protection, Delis, is playing a beautiful melody on the piano to celebrate the victory of this campaign.

So, I wanted to ask our tireless, wise editor-in-chief if he would care to join us for a drink now, to celebrate early?"

Alfred spoke up:

"What about Mr. Morf?"

"We won't trouble him; Mr. Morf always retires early to look after his health. And besides, you know his temperament—I have no desire to call and wake him, only to be given the cold shoulder."

"That hardly seems right. If you dare not call him, then I shall try to give Mr. Morf a ring myself. After all, the scolding will fall upon my head anyway."

"Hahaha, that would be wonderful indeed. But you must hurry, otherwise the prized vintage I brought out from my private collection will be entirely drained by our old councilman."

A subtle smile touched the corner of Alfred's lips,

And he said:

"Do not fret. I shall arrive shortly, together with Mr. Morf."