Chapter 564: Extermination of the Sect

Chapter 564 Extermination

Stepping out of the taxi and closing the door, Cullen looked at the mundane villa district ahead, remarking with a sigh, "It seems the lives of great figures are quite low-key."

It had been the same when he visited the Nat family last time; their villa wasn't considered luxurious in York City, and Bishop Wolflun's home was even more understated.

Of course, at their level, the Church of Divine Order handled their room, board, travel, and security, but most high-ranking officials preferred not to be confined together, choosing instead to live in their old estates—a small indulgence of its own.

"They probably no longer care about personal pleasure," Philomena attempted to chime in.

"No, they care, it's just that the pleasures ordinary people conceive of are far too base for them."

Saying this, Cullen handed a one-hundred-Rael note to Philomena.

Philomena took the money, her eyes flashing with confusion.

"Don't you pay for taking a taxi?"

"Oh."

Philomena handed the money to the taxi driver.

"Thank you, ma'am, may you be in good health."

With that, the taxi driver hit the gas and departed.

"Tsk."

Cullen clicked his tongue, reminding Philomena:

"Remember to ask for change next time."

"My apologies, Captain. I thought you no longer cared about these Raels."

"What I care about is the flavor of life."

"I understand. Next time I will demand the change."

"No."

"Then..."

"Haggle before you even get in."

"Yes... I understand."

"Let us go, head inside."

Cullen led Philomena inward, but as they walked, confusion arose within him: "This shouldn't be. Though the message said the assassination against Chief Bishop Wolflun failed, they should at least put on a show. The garrison should have deployed to establish defenses here."

After all, Wolflun was ostensibly the leading figure of the Church of Divine Order in the York City Region.

In the past, whenever something even slightly significant happened, the garrison would deploy immediately, with falcon knights circling the skies, yet this time, it was distinctly, eerily quiet.

Walking a bit further, Cullen halted his steps, while Philomena rested her hand upon the hilt of the Blade of Nightmares; both detected gazes watching them from the surroundings.

Just then, a voice echoed from the shadows ahead:

"Identity."

Cullen pulled out his credentials, displaying them as he spoke, "Captain Cullen Silva, Operations Brigade of the Discipline Office, Whip of Order for this region."

A man dressed in the robes of Divine Order emerged from the shadows, waved to both sides, and said:

"Captain."

With that, the man stepped aside to clear the path.

Cullen did not rush inside, but asked instead, "Which department are you from?"

"Captain, you do not possess the authority to inquire about our department."

Hearing this, Cullen nodded. The man had not answered, yet it was an answer in itself; this individual, along with those currently maintaining control over the Chief Bishop’s residence from the shadows, likely belonged to a special force within this region.

His prior confusion was now resolved. It wasn't that the absence of a garrison parade signaled negligence, but rather that the security and secrecy levels here were extraordinarily high.

The latter—the level of secrecy—was particularly crucial.

Cullen even suspected that had Neo not been lying in the hospital, Bernie might not have notified him to come at all.

The news of the Chief Bishop's attempted assassination was undoubtedly under a strict blockade right now.

At that moment, a figure came running from behind; it was Leon.

He had been taken to Red Leaf Street by Richard tonight, where he had fallen asleep while cuddling and chatting with an older sister who could well have been an aunt. He slept so soundly that he hadn't managed to return home in time.

Thus, he received the news almost at the same time as Cullen, and due to the distance, he arrived slightly later than Cullen did.

"My car," Philomena spoke up. "Richard gave it to me."

A lady's sedan was parked in the distance, driven over by Leon.

Cullen understood instantly where Leon had gone tonight and with whom, except Richard had been dragged home ahead of time.

"Captain."

After calling out to his captain, Leon began to pant, not from exhaustion, but from tension and lingering fear.

Cullen consoled him, "It is fine, the assassination failed. Bishop Wolflun is safe."

Leon nodded vigorously.

"Let us go inside first."

Cullen gestured, then led Leon and Philomena inward. As they stepped into the courtyard, he sensed the shifting of a spell formation, which had likely been deliberately altered just now to allow Cullen and his companions entry.

In the courtyard, Cullen spotted Bernie as well as several other department heads from the Whip of Order.

Bernie walked toward Cullen and asked, "What happened to Neo?"

"In response to the Department Head, the Director was ambushed while apprehending a remnant of the Light. The enemy’s offensive holy artifact was somewhat peculiar, hindering his lineage recovery."

This was the excuse Cullen and Neo had agreed upon beforehand.

Bernie nodded, then his gaze fell upon Leon standing behind Cullen, his expression turning somewhat complex.

"Take them and go inside first. Be careful not to disturb the environment within. The special task force from the Dingle Region will arrive shortly."

The Dingle Region was sending a special task force directly?

When a Chief Bishop was assassinated, it was only natural for the Dingle Region, where the Holy See resided, to send people to investigate, but to arrive so quickly, and in the form of a special task force, was clearly a bit too rushed.

Cullen stepped inside. As soon as he crossed the foyer and turned into the living room, he saw the chandelier above the room encased in a thick layer of sand, shaped like a honeycomb.

Embedded within was a middle-aged man whose eyes, ears, nose, and mouth were entirely stuffed with sand, his death exceedingly gruesome.

"Father!"

Leon let out a sharp shriek, instinctively lunging forward.

Someone had died?

And the deceased was Leon's father?

The message had made no mention of this at all!

Though entirely shocked to his core, Cullen immediately reached out to grab Leon's shoulder, but Leon was so utterly overwrought with emotion that he struggled violently to break free.

Left with no alternative, Cullen exerted his strength, flipping him entirely onto the floor.

"Control your emotions. Look below, a barrier protects the scene—do not disturb it!"

Leon finally ceased his movement, for he saw a disk resting upon the carpet beneath the wasp nest, its dark, lustrous sheen enveloping the remains above entirely within the safeguard of its barrier.

"How could this happen... how could this happen... how could this happen!"

Leon clenched his fists, his eyes flushing crimson.

When the tidings reached him, he believed his grandfather had faced an assassination attempt and successfully thwarted the assailant, but he truly had not anticipated that his own kin would fall to disaster.

"Mother, Mother, my mother..."

As though struck by a sudden realization, Leon grew instantly frantic.

Karen could no longer continue to restrain him, for in such circumstances, his hysteria was entirely natural; one could not even forcefully demand his composure, and so he could only utter:

"Try to... control yourself."

With that, Karen released his grip.

Leon rose to his feet and rushed toward the stairs, with Karen and Philomena following close behind.

"Ah!!!!"

From the turning of the staircase, a piercing cry from Leon resounded.

As Karen ascended, he discovered that upon the wall at the landing, where a portrait once hung, there now hung the corpse of a woman.

Sand spikes were driven through the woman's forehead, both hands, and both feet; her arms drooped slightly at her sides, her legs pressed together in death.

Beneath the woman's body lay another disk, casting a protective barrier over the scene of the corpse.

"Mother!!"

Leon threw himself to his knees before the woman, his tears pouring down as he gnashed his teeth, his fists tightly clenched in unendurable grief.

This woman was his mother.

The Chief Bishop's son and daughter-in-law were both dead.

This was no longer a mere attempted assassination, for the family of the Chief Bishop had perished at the hands of the assassin.

Karen took a deep breath; no wonder the garrison had not been deployed outside, but rather the secret forces of this grand district had been activated, and no wonder the task force from the Dingle Grand District was to arrive so swiftly.

For this matter was far too immense.

Just then, Karen spotted a familiar figure descending from above—it was none other than Bishop Byrne, clad in his bishop's holy robes.

Upon seeing him, a conjecture flashed instantly through Karen's mind: could the Church of Order have orchestrated this event to manufacture a plausible pretext for striking against the Desert Church?

Karen harbored this suspicion based on three distinct reasons:

First, the sand here—the assassin clearly wielded the power of the sand attribute, which easily evoked thoughts of the Desert Church;

Second, as learned from the burial grounds of Compasini, the Church of Order had begun constructing the Desert Faith sequence three hundred years ago to prepare for the annexation of the Desert Church, and calculating the time, they should be ready now;

Third, seeing Bishop Byrne here—and he, more often than not, represented a conspiracy.

Yet upon finer reflection, Karen deemed it unrealistic; the Church of Order would not go so far as to slaughter the family of its own regional chief commander just to find an excuse.

Though the internal strife of every church was bloody and dark, the Church of Order had always maintained a rather rogue attitude regarding foreign policies.

Even during the last instance when they sought a pretext to declare war on the Samsara Church, had not that Order Knight Regiment, which was supposed to have perished in the spatial collapse, been prepared long beforehand and emerged completely unscathed?

Internal conflicts were internal conflicts, but when external matters were involved, they could employ some "shameless" methods; yet turning the blade upon one's own people truly to seek an external excuse would appear exceedingly low-class.

Most importantly, if the high echelons of the Church of Order had truly planned to ignite fury and conflict in this manner, what need would there be to suppress the news now? Should they not instead herald it with great fanfare to blow the matter completely out of proportion?

Bishop Byrne looked toward Leon and said, "Your grandfather is waiting for you."

Leon wiped his eyes forcefully, stood up, and demanded of Bishop Byrne, "Where is the assassin!"

At this moment, Leon's countenance bore the look of a man intent on murder.

Bishop Byrne's eyelids drooped, appearing disinclined to pay him any heed.

"I asked you, where is the assassin!"

Leon lunged toward Bishop Byrne, who stood upon the stairs.

Karen was forced to extend his hand once more to obstruct him, whispering beside his ear, "Go see your grandfather first!"

Leon's frame stiffened; he struck his own head hard twice—striking very heavily—and then, with a countenance thoroughly panicked, continued up the stairs.

For he had surmised something: the dispatch stated his grandfather had encountered an assassination but it had failed, yet observing the current state of his family, his grandfather had surely not deflected the strike with ease—perhaps his grandfather now...

After Leon went up, Karen followed.

Bishop Byrne looked toward Karen and inquired, "The look you just gave me, what did it mean?"

In such a sudden crisis, no matter how adept Karen was at controlling his facial expressions, it was difficult to escape notice before this Lord Bishop; the man required but a single glance from you, or perhaps needed not even to look at you, to glean many answers from the alterations in your breath.

Karen replied, "Just now, I suspected..."

Before Karen could finish, Bishop Byrne cut him off, asking, "And what do you think now?"

"I no longer suspect."

Bishop Byrne nodded, "Not entirely stupid, then."

Having spoken, Bishop Byrne proceeded down the stairs.

Karen continued upward; on the upper floor, there was a corner with a small tea table facing the French window. This spot in the Guman family villa was the grandmother's favorite; she often sat here knitting sweaters, so she could see the family returning at the very first moment.

Except now, upon the small sofa beside the tea table, an elderly lady sat; her mouth was impaled by a broken spear fashioned of sand, pinning her entire form to the sofa.

This must be Leon's grandmother.

When Karen turned toward the study, he saw another man and woman pinned against the wall outside the study, dressed in the attire of domestic servants; they were likely the butler and maid of the household, or could be considered as bodyguards.

What struck the greatest dread into Karen's heart was the sheer cleanliness of the entire residence.

From Leon's father to his mother, and to the other deceased encountered along the way, aside from the sand upon their corpses, not a grain of sand was to be seen in any other corner.

This signified that when the adversary slaughtered these people, the methods were exceedingly clean and swift; the targets of the slaughter possessed absolutely no capacity to strike back before him.

Just what manner of assassin, possessing what degree of formidable might, could kill people in a bishop's home in such a fashion?

Furthermore, this bishop himself was at home!

"Captain, the assassin is highly formidable," Philomena remarked.

"Merely formidable?" Karen pursed his lips. "An assassin such as this—into whosever home he steps, that home must flow with rivers of blood."

Karen reached out and gently pushed open the half-closed door of the study; Leon was not within, yet the space behind the desk was not vacant—though it was not Bishop Wolfrun, but another middle-aged man who sat upon it.

The upper end of a massive sand pillar joined the ceiling while the lower end met the floor, passing directly through the center of the man's body.

The man's mouth hung wide open, his arms drooping downward, fixed in this place even after death.

A family portrait hung inside the study, and the man was in it as well, highly likely to be Leon's uncle.

They were aiming for total extermination!

Was it the work of the Desert Pantheon? He had left behind so many sand sculptures here; was it to deliberately reveal his identity, terrified that others wouldn't know?

Since the ridiculous speculation of the Order Pantheon directing and acting this out themselves had already been ruled out, the meaning the assassin wanted to convey was truly worthy of serious attention.

Karen let out a long breath; no matter what, seeing this, fury had already ignited in his heart.

As a Cleric of Order, seeing the family members of his own district’s Chief Bishop nailed to death and fixed in their home one by one by an outsider... whether Karen belonged to the Whiplash of Order system or the District Management Office, he would feel a deep sense of humiliation.

Moreover, this sense of humiliation wouldn't just end here; the humiliation felt by the upper echelons would only be heavier.

It could even be said that if the Desert Pantheon truly jumped out to issue a statement saying this matter was done by someone within their church and that they would take responsibility for it.

Then going to war... would be almost inevitable; the Knights of Order would be mobilized immediately, marching toward the Desert Pantheon.

No, even if the Desert Pantheon wouldn't be that foolish, there would definitely have to be an accounting for what happened here, and the wrath of Order would surely be unleashed.

"Let me in, I am Leon, this is my home, my grandfather is inside!"

Leon was stopped at the bedroom door by three clerics.

"Apologies, currently the Chief Lord is undergoing a new round of treatment, please wait a moment."

"I want to go in, I must see grandfather right now!"

"Leon!" Karen could only act as the bad guy once more, "wait until the treatment ends."

Leon bit his lip and stopped there; very quickly, his lip began to bleed.

Philomena spoke up: "At my home..."

Before Philomena could finish, Karen's warning gaze swept over.

Philomena shut her mouth immediately.

What she had wanted to say just now was that when people died at her home, she didn't have any special feeling.

Of course, she wasn't making sarcastic remarks; her original intention was to comfort Leon.

It was just that she truly didn't know how to comfort people; just like Uncle Eisen needing to relearn how to get along with Aunt, Philomena, having broken away from her dysfunctional family, also needed to truly start learning how to get along with others.

"Thud!"

Leon knelt on the ground once more, cradling his head with both hands as tears and mucus dripped continuously.

He felt it was absurd and also felt immense remorse; while his family was being assassinated, he himself was lying in the arms of a prostitute, chatting and sleeping.

At this moment, a fierce sense of self-reproach seemed to turn into a blazing fire, continuously roasting his heart, making him feel an incomparable loathing toward himself.

Karen did not step forward again, because at this time, Leon simply did not need comfort from an outsider.

Finally, a cleric with white patterns on his chest walked out from within: "You may enter."

Leon stood up immediately and walked into the bedroom.

Karen walked to the doorway and looked inside; Bishop Wolfrun was sitting on the bed, his injury presumably in his chest, and at this moment, the Lord Bishop’s face was exceedingly pale, which was already the result of emergency treatment.

"The Lord Bishop's injury..." Karen looked at this priest.

"Fortunately, Lord Bernie arrived in time, otherwise right now it might be... right now, I can only say the situation is very poor, the Chief Lord is merely holding on by sheer willpower."

"Alright, thank you for your hard work."

"This is my duty."

Leon knelt down beside his grandfather's bed and asked anxiously: "Grandfather, Grandfather, are you alright?"

He had just seen each and every one of his deceased family members, and right now, he was already somewhat overloaded with grief, only wishing to desperately grasp onto his living relative.

Bishop Wolfrun smiled and asked:

"Leon... tonight... where did you... go?"

Leon wiped away his tears forcefully, without making the slightest concealment, answering very honestly:

"Tonight, I was at the pastry shop."

When answering this question, Leon clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his flesh; he felt an incomparable sense of shame and self-reproach.

And this scene fell entirely into Wolfrun's eyes.

The elderly man, gravely wounded and on the verge of death, was at this moment most unable to let go of his grandson.

"Hehe... hehe..." Bishop Wolfrun smiled, "do not grieve... do not feel guilty... do not blame yourself... if you had normally... come home today... right now you would... also be dead... so do not carry a psychological burden..."

"Grandfather..."

"Thank the God of Order... for protecting you... Leon... my grandson... you must not weep... you must smile... and continue to live cheerfully...

This is the duty... granted by God to you to continue the family... the opportunity to avenge our family... before dying, when everyone in the family... thought of you not being home tonight... in their hearts, they should all have been happy..."

Bishop Wolfrun reached out his hand, pulling Leon's head close, resting his own chin against Leon's head:

"My grandson... promise grandfather, alright... I do not wish for you to live the rest of your life in guilt and pain... cough, cough, cough..."

"I promise you, Grandfather, I promise you!"

"Then smile... smile... let grandfather hear your good fortune..."

"Heh... hehe..."

"Lou... louder!"

"Hahaha!"