Chapter 584: Exchange Offices

Chapter 584: Exchanging Offices

"Come if you wish, just look for me directly at the Pavaro Funeral Parlor. After stepping out of the teleportation array, you can directly take the carriage parked in the array hall; it will be more convenient that way."

"Hmm? Doesn't everyone take a carriage after exiting the array?"

"Hehe."

Karen smiled on the surface, while silently despising the church's utterly unreasonable stipend system in his heart.

In front of a "Son of God" like Mavalor, the stipend gap between them was likely even greater than the gap between himself and an ordinary servant of God.

Of course, he probably had no need for stipends anymore, as most of his expenses could be reimbursed.

Look at that, he himself thought that people who took carriages inside the array hall had water in their brains, yet he had overlooked that some people had swimming pools in their homes.

Alas, this truly chilled the heart of a combatant of the Whip of Order like himself, who fought on the very front lines for the church.

"You should tend to your business first. When you are finished, you can write to me. Though, of course, I guess you will probably forget."

"That is a certainty." Karen shrugged. "True friends are too lazy to write letters to each other."

"Hehe, the array is about to activate. Goodbye." Mavalor waved to Karen.

"Goodbye." Karen nodded to Mavalor, then turned around and walked toward his own teleportation array position.

Mavalor did not remain in place to watch Karen's retreating figure either; as soon as Karen turned around, he also turned and walked away.

Purr, perched on Karen's shoulder, whispered, "I originally thought he was a rare, honest and simple man."

"And now?"

"Only when he decided without the slightest hesitation to let List take the blame did I realize he is not."

Karen smiled and said, "He never was."

"Was I too naive?"

"No, you weren't. It might just be because you have eaten too full."

"Are you mocking me?"

"No. If you were walking in the wilderness and saw an aberrant demon harming a human, would you step in to save him?"

"Depends on my mood."

"Exactly, he is the same way, it depends on his mood. He probably feels quite comfortable interacting with me, so we have a relatively good relationship, and thus he has a higher tolerance for me.

But toward others, like List, they are actually just very ordinary colleagues—oh no, superior and subordinate, well, maybe even lower, since List addresses him as 'My Lord'."

"I think, Karen, you know better than I do how to make friends. Back in my day, I had quite a few companions to whom I could entrust my back during adventures, but I also misjudged quite a few filthy and disgusting fellows."

"Because you were truly trying to make friends, while I am seriously interacting with people."

"Is there a difference?"

"Making friends always makes one feel that once you become friends, you are friends forever. Interacting, however, requires a dynamic approach to maintain the relationship.

It is just like how I know Mavalor has always been troubled by his identity as a 'Successor,' losing his childhood and his family because of it. Yet, looking at his attitude when he let List shoulder everything alone, it proves he has actually long been accustomed to the identity of a 'Son of God.'

You can express some of his inner miseries with him, but you must absolutely never criticize the identity of a Son of God along with him.

A wealthy man might mock himself for neglecting his family for his career, but if you asked him to become a commoner just to have more opportunities to spend time with his family, it would be utterly impossible for him to agree, and he would even turn on you in a desperate rage.

Ultimately, he just wants to find someone to indulge in his sentimentality with him."

"But don't you find that very exhausting? Having to maintain a relationship even after it has been established."

"Everything in this world is in a state of dynamic change. Even after a husband and wife marry, maintaining family harmony and happiness requires wisdom."

"True, but also not true."

"Hmm?"

"Take the stupid dog, for instance; it seems it has never changed."

"You are right."

Karen handed the receipt to the array maintenance personnel, then registered his name.

Quite a few people were already standing within the array circle. Karen walked in and found a spot in a corner to stand.

Accompanied by the coverage of light, the teleportation initiated.

...

"Phew..."

In the teleportation array hall of the York City Archdiocese, Karen, who had just teleported out, performed small stretching movements. Nearby, many people who had just teleported over together were also stretching their bodies.

There were mattresses here for everyone to loosen up, and of course, a massage room, though it was very expensive. Ordinary people would not choose to go in and enjoy it, and those who were not ordinary most likely did not have the time to enjoy it.

"Teleporting inside the Whiplash's carriage really makes it impossible to perceive even a bit of bumpiness."

"Yes, meow." Purr stretched lazily in Karen's embrace.

"That is just how humans are; once you experience something better and go back, it is inevitable to feel a bit of pain."

"Therefore, one must still strive to elevate their status and obtain better treatment, meow. After all, expensive things have only one flaw, which is being too expensive."

"That is not its flaw, it is my flaw."

"Oh, every time I want to encourage you to face reality bravely, I always find that you are even more realistic than a cat."

Chatting with Purr while walking outward, Karen saw two rows of garrison knights standing at the entrance of the array hall, and the atmosphere of the entire hall appeared very solemn.

Calculating the time, it had been about three days since the assassin assassinated the Chief Bishop's entire family. And this was precisely when the influence of that severe incident was spreading outward; the entire York City Archdiocese should be shrouded beneath a thundercloud.

"Why has no one come to welcome you?" Purr asked with some curiosity. "By all accounts, you should be considered a hero at this time, though I know you do not care about this."

"It should be that Mavalor did not report my return to the archdiocese. Standing from his perspective, he probably thinks that a friend he acknowledges would prefer a quiet rest at this time."

"Oh, what he does not know is that you currently very much need exposure and fame to pave the way for your future development."

"This is fine too, let's go home." Karen sighed. "I hope I can make it in time for Dincom's funeral."

"They will definitely wait for you to return. Alas, poor Dincom."

Just then, an attendant officer who looked somewhat familiar walked toward Karen. He bowed to Karen: "Captain Karen, the Chief requests you to have tea."

"Alright."

In terms of reason or propriety, Karen could not refuse.

Led by the attendant officer, Karen entered the elevator, and then walked into the Chief Bishop's office.

Wofulun sat on the sofa. Judging by his complexion, he looked very normal, but Karen knew clearly that this was a short-term normalcy he had exchanged with the remainder of his life.

After pouring tea for Karen, the attendant officer walked out of the office and closed the door.

"Sit."

Wofulun pointed to the sofa in front of him.

"Yes, Chief."

Karen sat down.

One old and one young, the two men raised their teacups together and took a polite sip, which served to moisten the atmosphere for the ensuing conversation.

"The teleportation arrays keep a registry; when you teleported over from the Dingle Region, we received the passenger list here as well, so I knew you had returned."

Karen offered a polite smile.

The warmth on Wolfulen's face gradually receded, turning somewhat profound as he inquired:

"Care to tell me about it?"

Karen shook his head and replied, "My apologies, My Lord Chief. I have received a gag order. Until the higher-ups finish their investigation and determine the nature of the matter, it is inconvenient for me to say much."

Wolfulen nodded in understanding. "I have gathered some intelligence and reviewed the summary of events. Naturally, I see far more than the average person, though I know it is certainly not the ultimate truth.

Still, I want to ask you a few more pointless questions, if you wouldn't mind."

"Chief, please ask whatever you wish. I will certainly answer what I can."

"Is the assassin truly dead?"

"Dead."

Hearing this, the creases on Wolfulen's face smoothed out as he exhaled a long sigh of relief.

"Should I be grateful to you?"

Karen shook his head and said, "You are the Chief, but like me, you are a member of the Church. I merely did what I had to do, fulfilling my duty as a believer of Order.

You do not need to thank me; your gratitude belongs to the Great God of Order."

"Your home was attacked as well, and someone died?"

"Yes."

"My condolences."

"To you as well."

Wolfulen closed his eyes, falling silent.

Karen lifted his teacup for the second time, taking a sip of the tea that remained somewhat scalding.

After a long pause, Wolfulen opened his eyes, his gaze burning with profound fury:

"A lone assassin is not enough. I refuse to believe it was merely a provocation from the lineage of the Fallen God. There must be an organization behind him; he came under orders!"

"Yes, I believe so too."

"There must be retaliation," Wolfulen repeated. "There must be retaliation."

"Inevitably, Chief."

Wolfulen's chest heaved slightly as he strove to master his emotions. "Go on back, then. I have delayed you."

"Yes, Chief."

Karen stood up. Just as he turned around, Wolfulen spoke again from behind him:

"Keep up the good work."

"I will, My Lord Chief."

Stepping out of the office, the attendant standing by the door asked, "Captain Karen, did you arrange for someone to pick you up?"

"No."

"Then allow me to see you back."

"Alright, thank you."

"It is my duty."

Karen followed the attendant down the lift and returned to the subterranean teleportation hall, where the attendant waved down a carriage.

"After you, sir."

"Thank you."

Karen stepped into the carriage. Once it rolled out of the array hall and onto the highway, it entered stealth mode, and even hovered smoothly over sections of traffic congestion.

Before long, the carriage brought Karen back to the Pava Funeral Parlor.

Alighting from the carriage, Karen slipped his hand into his empty pocket.

The driver immediately smiled and said, "Sir, the attendant already instructed me to sign the bill back at the office. I wish you good health, sir."

Once the driver turned the carriage around and departed, Karen withdrew his hand.

Entering the funeral parlor, the mourning hall had already been prepared. Two coffins rested upon the morgue tables, each bearing a memorial portrait—one of Pavaro, and the other of Dincom.

Ever since the incident in Vicolai, Karen had resolved to hold a proper memorial service for Pavaro, but he never anticipated that the funerals would overlap.

Karen did not know whose idea it was, but he did not object in the slightest; dividing the memorial services of Pavaro and Dincom into an order of precedence would be inappropriate either way, making a joint service the most fitting choice.

Yet, seeing the scene of the memorial service for the first time struck Karen with a profound, lingering dread that sent a chill down his spine.

Having once worked in his family's funeral parlor, he lacked the usual superstitions and taboos ordinary people held regarding funerals, but this time, he was truly afraid.

Perhaps this emotional leaning was somewhat misplaced, given that Dincom had perished;

but if matters had not taken a turn that night, if the assassin had been decisive instead of greedy, then today, he would be holding a funeral... for his entire family in the parlor.

Alfred, Mrs. Luke, Dora, Dorine, Kevin, Purr, and Pick... that night, there was a high probability they would have been turned into cold sand-sculpture art, just like the Chief Bishop's family.

The spark of lingering dread served as a fuse, igniting a roaring fire of rage.

The words Chief Bishop Wolfulen had repeated earlier in the office began to echo in Karen's mind:

"There must be retaliation!"

...

"No news is good news, so do not worry about your captain. Go have your lunch; there is work to be done this afternoon. Especially you, Mars, and the others—you need to help revise the teleportation array blueprints for headquarters. Hurry up and get it done, understood?"

"Yes, Director."

"Yes, Director."

The subordinates filed out of the office, leaving only a large Golden Retriever sprawled upon the carpet.

True, the director's office floor was warped, cracked, and ruined, yet despite this, the director had still found a carpet to overlay it, allowing the Golden Retriever to lie down in greater comfort.

Lunch had already been fetched by Fanni and set upon the table. Neo stood up, lifted the Golden Retriever, and seated it opposite him, portioning out its food before sitting back down to eat with his spoon.

"Not to your liking?"

Noticing that the Golden Retriever had not taken a single bite, Neo inquired curiously,

"What would you like to eat? I can have someone go out and buy it."

The Golden Retriever shook its canine head, slumping back into the chair.

"Are you worried about Karen? Rest assured, it is fine. It is nothing more than a trip to the Dingle Region for an inspection."

The Golden Retriever shook its head once more, appearing as if it wanted to open its mouth to retort, but after a moment's hesitation, it refrained from speaking and instead let out a:

"Woof!"

"Oh, of course, of course. Matters involving that place might not be as simple as the Dingle Region; it is highly likely an inspection inside the Temple."

Kevin frowned slightly, for it suddenly realized that this remnant of Light before it seemed to understand "dog language" as well.

But Kevin soon found peace within himself again, for he recalled that Philias had even been capable of studying those terrible insects, which implied an extraordinarily high talent for beast-taming; it was only natural for him to understand some special languages, and was not the man before his eyes the very one who had inherited Philias's spiritual legacy.

"I believe in Karen," Neo continued, chewing on his beef. "That lad manages to appear decent and composed no matter where he is; the day I am exposed, he still won't be, believe me."

Kevin ignored him, leaped off the chair, and lay back down on the blanket, for he was not actually worried about Karen, but rather about Purr.

Because the intelligence Neo had procured only spoke of the matter concerning Karen and that dragon, making no mention of the cat.

Although things seemed to be developing in a favorable direction—that assassin had been successfully slain, and by Karen'