Chapter 612: Anger

Chapter 612: Wrath

Cullen’s feet returned to the solid ground, and he began to smooth out the collar of his robe, which had just been roughly jerked.

Fortunately, the fabric of his divine robe was of exceptional quality and possessed a certain degree of self-repair; had it been ordinary clothing seized with such force, a crooked collar would have been the least of his worries—it would have torn completely wide open.

Yet, a sliver of doubt lingered in Cullen's mind; even if Lady Augie's memory of that particular night had been sealed away, she ought to have remembered him, for she had encountered him on the Island of Fire prior to that evening.

Furthermore, when she had followed the Whip-Bearer to the Chief Bishop's residence that night, she had recognized him at very first glance and had even actively stepped forward to greet him.

But judging by her demeanor just now, she seemed to have utterly forgotten who he was.

At this moment, Lady Augie lay prostrate upon the ground, letting out a continuous string of wretched shrieks; she was grand in stature, and her screams were high-pitched and piercing, sounding very much like an operatic soprano warming up her vocal cords, brimming with a primitive, untamed aura.

The flow of people at the grand entrance of the luxury hotel was not heavy, but it was far from deserted; quite a few bystanders paused to watch, and the doormen and security personnel, witnessing the commotion, began to close in on the scene, yet the moment they caught sight of the Orderly Divine Robe Cullen wore, they all silently beat a retreat.

The Crypt Cult was a subordinate cult to the Cult of Order, and here, a Divine Official of Order enjoyed a transcendent and unassailable status.

In an extreme scenario, even if a Divine Official of Order stationed here were to violate a female magical beast, the Crypt Cult would have no authority to apprehend him; they could only lodge a formal protest and await the Cult of Order to dispatch personnel to escort him home for judgment, and as for the outcome of that domestic trial, it was entirely beyond the Crypt Cult's control.

A similar incident had occurred once before: several research-focused Divine Officials of Order had secretly abducted a werewolf family outside their cult's local office within the Crypt Cult's territory; once the matter came to light, it triggered mass protests from the Crypt Cult, resulting in those research officials being hauled back under the public assurance that they would be dealt with severely. Immediately afterward, the high-ranking leaders of both the Crypt Cult and the Cult of Order stood side by side, loudly proclaiming that the "Alliance of Order" remained unbreakable.

Yet a year later, the research groups of the Cult of Order and the Cult of Principles jointly published a paper titled "Conjectures on the Inheritance Patterns of Werewolf Bloodlines and Bloodthirsty Demonic Bloodlines," and among the signatures were those very same Divine Officials who had supposedly been "dealt with severely."

Therefore, as long as Cullen wore this "skin," he could practically walk sideways here without a care, to say nothing of the fact that Cullen's actual standing was already remarkably high.

Dina cast her gaze toward Cullen, though she showed no intention of intervening on Lady Augie’s behalf; instead, she observed Cullen with a look of profound interest.

But from her, Cullen detected a faint scent of "hatred."

This hatred was somewhat inexplicable; it seemed to stem not merely from the fact that he was causing her Sister Augie such torment, but rather originated from an entirely different direction.

The problem was, Cullen truly did not know her; this was undeniably their very first meeting.

After a long while, the lightning crackling across Lady Augie's body finally dissipated, and she slowly crawled up, standing to her full height to look at Cullen, before raising her hand and—crack!—delivering a vicious, resounding slap right to her own forehead.

If one were to envision her true, draconic form, it would be akin to a massive black dragon using her foreclaw to fiercely strike her own draconic snout; the sheer force of it was truly enough to shake the earth and move the mountains.

"Cullen?"

Lady Augie finally recognized Cullen, and in that instant, lightning began to swirl in her eyes once more, forcing her to deliver yet another brutal slap to her own forehead.

"Crack!"

"Whew..."

Lady Augie exhaled a long breath, looked at Cullen once more, and said, "Ah, Cullen."

She did recognize Cullen; even though Rasma had sealed her memories of that night, Cullen had previously possessed her body back on the Island of Fire.

The reason she failed to recognize him when they first crossed paths just now was that after her memories were sealed, much like the human tendency to constantly fixate on a wound, a portion of her memory had been locked away, and even though her mind knew she must not touch it, sometimes she simply couldn't help it, and her thoughts would inadvertently wander over.

This was an instinct; thus, during the period immediately following her awakening, Lady Augie would from time to time suffer lightning strikes beyond her conscious control, a spectacle that was truly quite wretched.

Later, amidst the ceaseless lightning strikes, she began to carve out a safety zone for herself—a boundary wider than the memory Rasma had sealed—and within this zone, there was one person who could not be excluded, and that was Cullen.

After all, on that night, it was she and Cullen who had pursued the assassin together, arriving in the City of Roga and meeting Rasma; if that memory absolutely required a male and female lead, then Cullen was bound to play the part of the male protagonist.

Consequently, whenever she thought of that day on the Island of Fire and Cullen's figure appeared within it, her mind would naturally connect to that night in York City, triggering a bolt of lightning.

Thus, her "safety zone" came to encompass Cullen; when she added an extra layer of memory seal upon herself to protect Rasma's own restriction, Cullen was "forgotten" by her as well.

Along with that day on the Island of Fire spent accompanying the Whip-Bearer to catch ants, she "forgot" that too; forgetting this mattered little, as the Whip-Bearer had already shifted his eccentric hobbies and no longer fancied playing with ants.

However, even if she had "forgotten" who Cullen was, the moment he actually appeared before her eyes, the rejection latent within her body and soul was instantaneously triggered; after all, it was because of this man that she had been struck by lightning an untold number of times.

"Lady Augie."

Cullen bowed to Augie in greeting.

Lady Augie took two steps back in terror, her expression twisted in pain.

Seeing this, Cullen guessed something of the truth and offered a suggestion: "Lady Augie, sometimes blindly expanding the scope of a seal is not entirely secure; the most effective safety measure is to fabricate a false memory to overlay it."

Hearing these words, Lady Augie’s eyes lit up instantly; nudged by Cullen's reminder, she devised a solution and immediately turned to Dina, saying, "Miss Dina, I must return to my room first. I am terribly sorry, but you will not be able to go out for a walk just now."

"Very well, Sister Augie, you go on back."

Lady Augie turned and walked back into the hotel.

Dina, meanwhile, looked at Cullen with curiosity and asked, "Do you and Sister Augie know each other?"

"Yes, we are acquainted," Cullen replied. "It is just that there is a stretch of memory that neither Lady Augie nor I can recall."

"What kind of memory is it?"

"This involves a secret of our cult, which I have been forbidden from investigating, so I must apologize, as I cannot answer you."

"Tell me, won't you? I won't breathe a word to anyone," Dina said, stepping forward, her enticing gaze fixed intently upon Cullen.

"My apologies, but that is something I cannot do."

"Mm, fine then, surely you can at least tell me your name?"

"Cullen Silva."

"You may call me Dina."

"Greetings, Miss Dina. Are you here to attend this Selection Assembly as well?"

For a young girl to have someone like Augie acting as her bodyguard, her status was bound to be illustrious; out of sheer habit, Cullen addressed her with honorifics.

"Selection Assembly? A very fitting description. Yes, indeed, I came for this affair, because I found being all by myself to be far too boring, so I wanted to see if I could find myself a playmate. And you?"

"Yes, I am as well."

"Excellent. You have just arrived, correct? Allow me to arrange a room for you, then."

"There is no need to trouble yourself, Miss Dina, we can manage on our own."

"It is no trouble at all." Dina tossed a room card toward Cullen. "I have booked the rooms to both the left and right of mine; you two can stay in one of them. Go on up quickly, it is the most luxurious suite type here."

"How could we accept this, we..."

"Refusing someone's goodwill can also invite displeasure, you know. Besides, I still have a few questions I wish to ask you, Mr. Cullen."

"Very well, then I must thank you, Miss Dina."

...

After completing their registration at the front desk, Cullen and his companions stepped into the elevator; the room card indicated a suite on the topmost floor.

The elevator here was quite intriguing—it was alive, an independent little space enclosed by layers of twisting vines, rich with the breath of nature.

Except that amidst these vines, Cullen occasionally caught sight of a snake scale, signifying that the true form of this elevator might well be an exceedingly long python.

Purr had no mind to care for the elevator, choosing instead to speak up: "Miss Dina, oh, are we playing out that familiar, cliché routine again? A beautiful young girl immediately captivated by your charms?"

Aislee, however, countered: "And shouldn't she be?"

In Aislee's view, as a woman, it was only natural to be drawn to a young man like the head of their department; not every woman possessed that peculiar mental eccentricity that drove them to sift through a dustbin searching for a slovenly yet profound man to love.

Purr remarked helplessly: "It just feels somewhat hollow and tedious, that's all."

Immediately following this, Purr paused; because Aislee was present, it did not speak too plainly, lamenting instead:

"When he was young and out in the world, was it the exact same situation for him? Oh, it must have been."

For Purr had just thought of Madame Tangli and Madame Felsher.

The elevator reached the floor and the vines retracted. Karen stepped out and pursed his lips upon checking the door number.

Alright, it turned out the penthouse consisted of just three massive suites; in other words, Dinah had booked the entire top floor.

Purr teased, "What a wasteful woman."

Karen smiled, reaching out to stroke Purr’s chin. "Yes, quite right. Our Purr is still the best at managing a household."

Purr puffed out her chest proudly. "Naturally. I only drink afternoon tea, and I never touch coffee for late-night snacks!"

Unlocking the door with the room card, they stepped inside to find an area nearly the size of half a football field.

Fortunately, the bedroom was close to the entrance.

Aisley spoke up, "Chief, I'll unpack our things first."

"Alright, thank you for your hard work."

"It's nothing, Chief. Let me brew some tea first. What kind would you like? I brought quite a few varieties, all taken from my father's private collection."

"Did you steal them?"

"Uh, no, my mother helped me steal them, hehe."

"Black tea, then."

"Understood, Chief."

Purr leapt from Karen's shoulder onto Kevin. The large golden retriever, carrying Purr on his back, began to trot playfully around the sprawling living room.

Karen walked into the bedroom and drew back the curtains. Because the hotel was so tall, the penthouse directly faced the rock strata above the subterranean world. The moment the curtains opened, the illumination of crystals flooded in—a feeling entirely divorced from beautiful romance, carrying instead a piercing discomfort as if countless eyes were peering down at him.

Drawing the curtains back shut, Karen glanced at the washroom, which featured a large bathtub. Placing the Sword of Diamans on the nightstand, he prepared to undress for a bath.

On the nightstand lay two room service menus: one for dining, and one for special services. Karen casually flipped through the special services and found an assortment of beast-kin technicians of various types—male, female, and even hermaphroditic.

As expected, every distinct cultural region possessed its corresponding specialty "pastry shop."

If some incredibly determined patron managed to experience the specialty "pastry shops" of every single region, he would likely become a leading scholar in the cultural and religious differences among regional races, fully qualified to publish books.

Well, his cousin Richard seemed to possess exactly that kind of aptitude.

However, just as Karen was getting ready to bathe, the doorbell rang, followed by Aisley's voice:

"Chief, Miss Dinah is here."

...

Dinah returned to her own room first. She found Sister Auggie sitting on the living room floor with her eyes closed, her expression shifting between pain and relief. Following Karen's reminder, she was currently reweaving her memories of that day.

After waiting a while, Dinah grew bored. Her mind flashed back to the moment Sister Auggie was electrocuted, specifically how Karen had adjusted his collar first the moment his feet touched the ground.

Immediately after, he had bowed to Sister Auggie, addressing her respectfully: "Lady Auggie."

This scene made her deeply uncomfortable.

Because when she was a child, every time she wanted to be close to him, he would always hold her affectionately first, but it was always a sequence of holding her, spinning three times, and putting her down exactly at the twelfth second.

"Go play by yourself."

Then he would instantly drop his previously warm smile and begin adjusting his clothes.

The transition of his

"According to the Decree of Order, internal conflict is strictly forbidden among our clergy, and for members of the Whip of Order—"

A low, resonant hum vibrated through the air.

Dana lunged forward with sudden ferocity, her fist driving straight toward Karen's face. It was a deliberate attempt to disfigure him; the mere sight of his countenance infuriated her, igniting a primal urge to tear it to pieces.

The Eyes of the Dark Moon flickered within Karen's pupils, instantly arresting Dana’s movements into slow motion. He took a single step back, effortlessly evading the blow, and fluidly pivoted his torso to drive his right forearm hard down into her exposed back.

A dull thud echoed.

Dana crashed face-first, slammed ruthlessly into the ground.

"—internal strife among members of the Whip of Order carries a double penalty."