Chapter 601: Arrogant

Chapter 601 Arrogance

Alfred clenched his hands slightly, then slowly released them. Though autumn had arrived with its distinct chill, the traces of sweat remained in his palms.

For a very long time in the past, Alfred had been a program host for the Luojia City television station. He was composed, he was elegant, and his exquisite burgundy suit made him a phantom on the nocturnal streets.

Originally, he could have continued such a life, like an aristocrat dwelling in the shadows, living luxuriously, occasionally indulging his spirit with a bit of languor when the mood struck.

But all of this was completely altered after he established a single goal, which was... to be on a mural!

To this end, he studied painting techniques while researching and appreciating the murals of various churches to enhance his own compositional skills.

At this moment, he was forcefully suppressing the intense excitement and emotion within his heart that defied description. Though his gaze was calm, he subconsciously lowered his eyes to restrain the misty tears that could secrete from his eyes at any second.

In the future, when he presented today's scene in the form of a mural, he would definitely add such an introduction beneath it:

This was the first time the Young Master (a great existence) expressed his dissatisfaction and anger in a public setting by means of direct confrontation. Its significance was not merely a standoff where conflict could erupt at any moment, but the bugle call of a rising force charging against the old establishment, unveiling the grand prelude of a new order replacing the old!

What a pity there was no piano nearby. If there were, Alfred would surely stroke the keys to play the most fitting background music, matching the sonorous rhythm with the chanting of "My Lord's Benevolence."

This was a regret, but also a direction for improvement in the next stage. Alfred believed that after this first time, similar occurrences would certainly not be scarce in the future.

This could not help but bring a scene back to his mind—that night on Mink Street, when Lord Diss took the Young Master to demand justice at a doorstep. On the street dimly lit by yellow lampposts, he had carried a peanut-tube radio on his shoulder, swaying gently to the music alongside the Young Master.

What a truly nostalgic memory.

That was also what Alfred considered in his heart to be the "Supreme Mural." It was neither sacred nor noble, yet it revealed the most precious message: the easygoing and intimate relationship between himself and the Young Master.

Ah, music, that damn music again!

Taking a deep breath after composing his thoughts, Alfred looked straight ahead. In the future, when helping the Young Master recruit believers, proficiency in a musical instrument must become a bonus point.

Unlike Alfred's rich internal monologue, Karen’s heart was quite calm right now, much like a suspense movie that had been spoiled, making it difficult to fully immerse himself again.

Moreover, there was another crucial reason that could not be ignored: the garrison knights flying in the sky and arrayed on the ground were only lent to him by Bishop Bern; they did not belong to him.

He was merely running an OEM business for canned soybean paste. No matter how much others praised the flavor of your paste, it was difficult to feel genuinely happy from the bottom of your heart.

When would he be able to possess a troop of Knights of Order, one that belonged exclusively to him?

However, Karen knew this was very difficult. Seeing how Neo had spent all his savings just to painstakingly put together a VIP car, the war weapons for his own [Dark Prison Castle] were still a long way from being equipped. An individual or a small group, no matter how corrupt they could be, would find it hard to pull off such an extraordinary feat.

The armor, accessories, formations, forging of various weapons, the cultivation of the knights themselves, the breeding, training, and replacement of the warhorses, the horses' armor, and even every single horseshoe—all condensed the crystallized wisdom of countless systems and departments.

Why the Crypt Deity Cult was willing to become a vassal of Order actually had little to do with the past friendship between the God of Order and the seven deities of the Crypt; it was purely because the Crypt Deity Cult itself... could not afford to sustain itself.

To say nothing else, if Lady Augie did not have the Whip-Wielder backing her up, allowing her to constantly consume the resources of the Church of Order, she wouldn't have been able to develop at all, let alone possess her current tall and full figure.

Therefore, from the perspective of a conspirator, secretly laundering church resources into one's own pocket just to assemble a car or decorate an office seemed utterly petty no matter how one looked at it.

A true conspirator should plan to use the church's resources to expand their own strength, directly skipping the stage where it circulated through their own hands.

Take Bishop Bern, for instance. Had he ever spent a single coupon of his own to maintain these garrison knights? Yet it didn't stop him from tossing a token, allowing these knights to obey his orders and charge in, even if they were charging the headquarters of the Whip of Order.

Hiss...

Karen suddenly had an epiphany. That was what true high-level play looked like.

A furious shout from the Regional Director pulled everyone’s thoughts back to reality:

"Is this a rebellion?!"

Karen tilted his neck slightly. Facing this situation, Regional Director Harry immediately slapped a heavy label on him.

How should one put it? You could mock the unsightly behavior of these leaders in private, but you could not truly underestimate the intelligence required for them to climb to this position.

Amidst the complex, chaotic, and astonishing changes in the scene, Regional Director Harry’s first step was to hoist the banner of righteousness, because he firmly believed that the garrison knights would not dare to actually launch an attack on the Whip of Order.

Otherwise, it would turn into the greatest joke in the history of the Church of Order. In the secular world, it would be equivalent to the army of the Vien Empire charging into the Vien government's procuratorate—a nature not much different from directly storming the parliament building.

Although Bishop Bern had said very excitedly last night that if he saw Karen order the garrison to actually attack, he would tremble with excitement.

But the reality was, he could not possibly order an attack.

In this struggle that originated from him being tripped up at the commendation ceremony, even if he lost, he would probably just be removed from the Whip of Order and transferred to another department to start over. It would not only waste a massive amount of time and energy, but the new beginning would be even harder.

But if he ordered an attack, everything would be irreversible. From himself, to Bern, to Wolfrun, and even almost the entire high-ranking leadership of the York City Region, all would face a bloody purge from the Holy See!

What was an act countless times worse than sending assassins to murder a competitor?

That was directly mobilizing an army to flatten the opponent.

This was something even the deceased Lord Tycheson had not dared to do.

Therefore, what Karen needed to do now, under the premise that everyone knew the conflict would not spark a real fire, was to make the opponent believe that he would actually do something so crazy;

And then force Regional Director Harry and Acting Chief Bishop Dunk to back down, making those five bishops who had just been formally "released into the wild" obediently return to the "chicken coop."

He had to act exaggerated; he had to act crazy...

Fortunately, Karen had a suitable reference, or rather an imitation target, in his mind. Regrettably, that person was currently writing a book in the cell below and could not guide him in person.

In short, this was truly very difficult. After all, it required him, who was always accustomed to being proper, to imitate a chaotic fun-seeker.

Karen walked down the steps and came before Minister Bernie.

Bernie's lips twitched slightly, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know what to say, because this was no longer the political game he was familiar with. He had never even imagined that in his lifetime, he would need to deal with such a situation.

Karen did not speak. Instead, he reached out, wrapped his arm behind Bernie's shoulder, pressed the back of the Minister’s neck, and then took half a step forward, bringing his own face to the same side as the Minister’s face.

"I told you, it's not over. It's just beginning."

"You... truly cannot comprehend..."

"Yeah, that's true. Sometimes I get confused too, not knowing what exactly I need to do next."

Next, Karen’s sentence left Bernie bewildered:

"Everyone laughs at Neo, yet everyone is Neo."

"What... does that mean?"

"It means..."

"Pfft!"

Bernie's body shuddered. He looked down in disbelief, just in time to see a black wing slowly being withdrawn from his abdomen. It retracted into the sleeve of Karen's divine robe and vanished, yet it had already inflicted a penetrating wound that left barely a layer of skin intact. Furthermore, the aura of Order's purification clung to the inside, further destroying his body.

Karen took a step back and opened his arms.

Bernie doubled over, clutching his abdomen with both hands as blood gushed out, dripping onto the ground. This pool of bright red stung the eyes of everyone who cast their gaze over.

Karen whispered, "We had clearly gotten onto the right track. I was willing to work under you as your subordinate, earning merits together and rising through the ranks following your footsteps.

So, I am truly curious, why did you have to mess with me?"

"Cough..."

Clutching his wound, Bernie spoke:

"If I say... I don't know either... would you believe me?"

"Does it even matter whether I believe it or not?" Karen shrugged, a smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. "I'm sorry, but the moment I realized you were going to mess with me during the commendation ceremony, I wanted to stab you."

"Haha... but I didn't expect... you would actually stab..."

"I have always considered myself a kind person, but the dog at my house has always felt that I am a very vengeful person, so it has always lived a very cautious and discreet life in my home."

"That dog of yours... sees things... very clearly..."

"Indeed, I should not have doubted its judgment and vision; perhaps it truly stands on a higher precipice, allowing it to read men with greater acuity."

Bernie began to administer self-treatment, being an exceptionally outstanding priest by nature, but the grievance lay in the fact that Karen had launched this sneak attack right before his eyes when he least expected it, under the gaze of so many pairs of watching eyes, and had infused it with a massive quantity of purifying power; even though he was highly adept at healing, the sheer intensity of the pain at this moment caused his entire body to spasm.

His back began to arch as his upper torso leaned forward, and his refusal to collapse to the ground was not the final obstinacy of his dignity, but rather because he had already grown numb, entirely past the point of caring about something as trivial as saving face.

Yet the words that Karen subsequently uttered, deliberately utilizing an amplification spell, forced Minister Bernie to snap his spirits back into alignment:

"Ah, Lord Minister, how has your old wound torn open again at a time like this? How can you cherish your own physical form so little?"

The voice was booming, echoing through the surroundings.

Although the vast majority of the crowd had not witnessed Karen driving the blade into Minister Bernie due to the angle of their vision and the sheer secrecy of Karen's execution, still... did anyone even need to see it to know!

Nevertheless, Minister Bernie gritted his teeth and parted his lips, and just as he prepared to speak, his attentive subordinate even placed the glowing aperture of the amplification spell right against his lips, as if delivering a microphone into the hands of a superior officer.

Bernie froze for a fraction of a moment, offering a silent, wry smile, and then he opened his mouth to say:

"Yes, my old injury has flared up; it always manages to tear itself open anew, which truly... inflicts quite a headache upon me!"

This scene was thoroughly steeped in a flavor of dark, farcical irony.

Every soul present, including the knights clad in black armor, knew perfectly well that it was Karen who had stabbed him, yet he was compelled to publicly declare that it was merely a recurrence of an old ailment.

The reason was elementary: except for answering in this exact fashion, Bernie possessed no second alternative.

Could he possibly cry out: "No, you actually dare to openly strike your superior, you apostate!"

Or perhaps,

"Men, seize him at once and bring him to justice for his crimes!"

The consequence of doing so would be to completely drive Karen into a dead end; if this were the political maneuvering of the past, forcing an adversary into a corner would usually instill a sense of a grandmaster's reserve and superiority in one's heart, allowing one to savor the artistry of such struggle;

However, he possessed soldiers in his hands!

If you blocked all of his other paths, then he would be left with only a single route to traverse.

Bernie was currently merely awaiting a demotion, and the sort of demotion meant to weather a passing storm at that; but if a bloody conflict were to truly erupt between the garrison forces and the Whip of Order, then every single high-ranking priest present... could well expect the iron-blooded judgment of the Holy See!

Under that manner of judgment, exile would belong to the realm of unrealistic, wishful thinking, because the Holy See maintained an absolute zero-tolerance policy toward behavior of that nature.

Most importantly, although the headquarters building was teeming with people, Bernie did not believe for a second that these personnel of the Whip of Order could possibly withstand a charge from these highly disciplined, flawlessly coordinated knights.

He did not even need to consider the matter of the subsequent trial; whether they could survive the very next cavalry charge remained a massive question mark!

Even the Whip of Order, whose combat prowess was considered relatively formidable among all the branches and belonged to the third tier of the Holy Church's combat sequence, would appear utterly pale and powerless when arrayed before a genuine army.

Karen reached out, gently patting Minister Bernie on the back, and then bypassed him, walking alone toward the small press conference stage located up ahead.

Presumably because he had just stabbed Bernie, as Karen walked over, the grand bishops and ministers did not unleash those cliché, tired roars that everyone was sick of hearing, such as "Karen, how dare you!" or "Karen, how presumptuous of you!"

Everyone was a person of dignity, and the defining characteristic of dignified people was that once their cloaks of dignity were stripped away, every single one of them would become exceedingly bashful.

As Karen swept his gaze toward the five grand bishops standing upon the stage, these five grand bishops all averted their faces in a tacit, mutual understanding to dodge Karen's eyes, even though Karen had spent a full half-month excoriating them at the press conferences.

Yet to everyone's surprise, the first person to actively step forward was not Karen's highest direct superior, Regional Director Harry, but rather the Acting Chief Bishop, Dunk.

This was an old man of elegant bearing; in truth, aside from his frost-white hair, his countenance and physique appeared remarkably youthful... carrying the distinct aura of a white-haired elven prince.

Small wonder he had become the candidate chosen to succeed Wolfrun; based on his image alone, he could already be awarded a exceptionally high score.

He came to a halt in front of Karen, and Karen stopped his steps as well; his stature was taller than Karen's, so he looked down, gazing at Karen with a warm, genial smile gracing the corners of his lips as he spoke:

"I have been away in the Dinge Grand Region conducting academic exchange and study programs for some time, and have only recently returned, which is why I have not formally met with you in the grand region, but when I first laid eyes on your photograph in the newspaper, I took it to my wife and asked her:

Look, does this not resemble a younger version of myself?"

This was originally a piece of conventional, diplomatic pleasantry; when a superior states that you resemble their younger self, they invariably consider it a form of high praise bestowed upon you;

But Karen had honestly heard variations of this phrase so often that his ears were practically growing calluses.

Only, what he most frequently heard, or rather what was conveyed through the meaning in the other party's eyes, remained: you truly look very much like your grandfather.

Especially his own maternal grandmother; at every meeting, from her physical gestures to her expressions, she seemed to incessantly repeat this very exclamation: seeing you is just like seeing a young Dis.

Well, as for saying he looked very much like his grandfather, Karen truly harbored no anger; instead, he would perceive it as a badge of honor, for if one were to truly be meticulous about it, the young Dis should have been far more free-spirited and untrammeled than his current self.

Upon the stone monument outside the gates of the temple, where others piously carved their names, his grandfather had split the monument cleanly into two halves, forcibly transforming it into the dividing line that established the future custom of men leaving names on the left and women on the right.

Furthermore, he had heard from Purdue and Old Hoffen that when his grandfather was young, he had possessed the audacity to talk back directly to the elders of the temple, leaving the other party entirely unable to step down gracefully from the stage.

Then look at himself now, relying on borrowed knights just to bicker with mediocre characters like regional ministers and bishops.

Alas, the generations were truly declining one after the other.

The only aspect where he could currently match his grandfather was probably his official rank; yes, an office director of the Whip of Order was significantly higher than an inquisitor.

Dunk had assumed that his gentle opening remarks would elicit a relatively positive response from the young man, or at least alleviate the current, dagger-drawn atmosphere of tension, but the gaze Karen returned to him carried a remarkably distinct brand of contempt, along with a reply that could be clearly perceived in its emotional weight despite the literal words being unfamiliar:

"My Lord, do you have brothers and sisters at home, and what is your ranking among your siblings?"

Dunk felt that if he were to actually answer that question, he would appear utterly foolish.

Therefore, he sidestepped the query, bending his upper body slightly forward instead as he inquired:

"Bern really knows how to play a dangerous game; I have reviewed your file, and it lists you as an orphan; so, could it be that you are Bern's illegitimate son?"

This was likewise a question where a genuine answer would make one appear exceedingly foolish.

Consequently, Karen did not choose to answer; instead, he raised his hand, and aimed a direct, resounding slap right across this remarkably handsome old face that was hovering so close to his own!

"Smack!"

Crisp, loud.

It reverberated clearly into the distance even without the aid of an amplification spell.

Acting Chief Bishop Dunk stared blankly at Karen, the burning pain upon his left cheek and the metallic sweetness oozing from the broken corner of his mouth allowing him to confirm that all of this was no dream, but an occurrence that had transpired in absolute reality.

"My Lord, there was a mosquito upon your face just now!"