Chapter 697: God-Making Project!

Chapter 697: The God-Making Project!

The title of "Senior" caused Gaspoer to freeze for a moment, and then a small arc traced across the corners of her mouth.

Yes, she was smiling.

She tried to control it but failed, instead letting out another soft laugh:

"Hehehe..."

Mavaryo stared with wide eyes from the side; this was the very first time he had seen his fiancée smile since she had moved into his house.

How could a high and mighty Son of God truly understand anything about factional struggles? From the day he accepted the inheritance of that "Lord," his status had been absolutely transcendent, like a statue in the civic square.

Not having to participate in the game of thrones meant comfort and safety, but at the same time, it meant losing the qualification to compete for the game's prizes.

And everyone else was a competitor in this game.

Gaspoer had climbed to this position step by step relying on her own efforts, so there were some things she could not give up, or at least, could not actively give up.

However, upon learning that she was to take over the position of Regional Director of Yorktown, her pressure was actually much, much greater than Cullen's.

She knew very well what kind of situation Yorktown was in now. Who could have imagined that the region which fired the first shot in the resurgence and seizure of power by the Whip of Order had now become a model region for harmonious cooperation between the Whip of Order and the regional management office?

Chief Bishop Bern was not like his easygoing predecessor, Wolfrun; Gaspoer was well aware of his methods and capabilities, and he also had a very clear alliance with Cullen.

As an outsider parachuted in, if she did not want to become a puppet or a stamping machine, she had to adopt methods of struggle to gradually expand and strengthen her own influence.

But her difficulty was simply too great, so great that she, who had always considered herself to possess a resilient character over these past days, had begun to hesitate.

First of all, the probability of winning the struggle was too low and the cost too high; secondly, once she lost... her political career would be over, and the end would be being sent away to sit on the bench in a cold, quiet department.

In the massive Divine Church with its thousands of branches and complex systems, countless people went up and countless people went down every day. How many people thought only of climbing up while ignoring that the higher the branches, the sparser they became, with the vast majority falling down in the process?

Therefore, Cullen's call of "Senior" could be described as a heavenly sound.

This indicated Cullen's willingness to cooperate. He could give her the respect due to a superior and could also cede a portion of power to her; of course, she also had to respect his factional interests.

This was the best possible outcome. Next, as long as she recommended him to the society and stamped the academic faction's brand upon him, then from a factional perspective, her assumption of office would actually be a success.

Cullen observed Gaspoer's facial reaction. It could almost be said now that he had succeeded; the other party had no intention of instigating an all-out power struggle.

This method had actually been suggested to him by Sousse. So, it really had to be the bureaucrats; they might not be that high in terms of pious faith or might even be a bit corrupt and degenerate, but they were absolutely the group of people who understood the rules most thoroughly.

"Cullen, you have enrolled in the academy?"

Gaspoer omitted the formal title of office as well.

Cullen smiled and nodded: "Yes, after getting involved in the work, I gradually discovered that I still have many deficiencies, so I applied for an on-leave enrollment, wanting to use this method to improve my level of ability."

"I appreciate this kind of attitude toward work and study. I enrolled earlier than you, but I also know quite a few professors and deans in the school, and many of my former classmates have stayed on as teachers. In the future, when you plan to go to class, you can notify me in advance, and I will accompany you to introduce some friends to you."

"That really couldn't be better. Thank you very much, Senior."

A tacit cooperation had already been achieved.

It seemed Mavaryo had exaggerated; his fiancée was not that difficult to deal with.

"Please sit, Cullen."

"Alright, Senior."

"You can just call me by my name, after all, we are not at school anymore."

"Alright, My Lord."

As Cullen sat down, he asked, "My Lord, what would you like to drink?"

"Coffee is fine," Gaspoer answered subconsciously.

"I'll have ice water." After Cullen finished speaking, he looked up at Mavaryo, who was standing to the side, and asked, "What are you still standing here for?"

"Oh, alright."

With his head buzzing, Mavaryo went into the kitchen to brew coffee and fetch ice cubes. It was only when he came out carrying the tray that he suddenly remembered: I am the master of this house, okay!

But since he had already brought them, Mavaryo still placed the two cups on the coffee table.

Gaspoer asked Cullen, "Are you on very good terms with my fiancé?"

"Yes, Mavaryo is my good friend, and can be considered a soulmate."

Hearing this answer from Cullen, Mavaryo actually felt a bit touched in his heart.

Gaspoer: "That's good. He probably doesn't have many friends. To have a friend like you means he won't be lonely."

Mavaryo looked at Gaspoer and said, "You say that as if you have a lot of friends yourself."

Cullen took up the conversation: "We are the Whip of Order. The nature of our work dictates that it is impossible for us to have many friends. If we have many friends, it would instead be a form of dereliction of duty."

Mavaryo: "..."

Hearing this explanation, Gaspoer lowered her head and took a sip of her coffee.

Originally, she and Cullen had only interacted in the tribunal. At that time, Cullen gave her the impression of a young yet incomparably tough figure. Because both of them belonged to the Whip of Order camp back then, she had a favorable impression of Cullen—unrelated to any romantic feelings between men and women, but purely a high recognition of his working ability.

This was her first private meeting with Cullen. How should she put it? She felt very comfortable.

In fact, Sousse felt the exact same way. Being Cullen's superior was definitely comfortable, as long as one didn't mind a shortened lifespan and a demotion.

"I have already arranged for someone to come over this afternoon to ask about your requirements for the office and all aspects of daily life. I thought you might feel that taking up office early would cause a bad influence, but some things must be arranged and prepared in advance to make it convenient for you to carry out your work after formally taking office."

"Yes, you have considered it very thoroughly. Thank you."

"It is all what I ought to do." Cullen looked up at the time and asked, "Do you have time now?"

"Is there something to do?"

"If you wish, I can immediately arrange afternoon tea for you and Chief Bern. Of course, if you want to receive some directors and chiefs now, I can also arrange that for you immediately."

"Do you have an appointment with Chief Bern?"

"There is no need for an appointment for this."

"Oh, alright. It seems your relationship with Chief Bern is truly very good."

"He is an elder and has always taken great care of me."

After sitting for a little while longer, Cullen stood up to make a phone call to the Chief's office. After hanging up the phone, Cullen said to Gaspoer, "The Chief Bishop has extended an invitation to you."

"Then let's go visit him." Gaspoer stood up, preparing to leave with Cullen.

Mavaryo blinked his eyes and pointed to himself: "That... can I go?"

"What are you going for?" Gaspoer responded very bluntly, "Your department is independent."

She was going to build up relations in advance. If she went with a Son of God fiancé, the Chief Bishop would have to bow and address her fiancé as "My Lord" before even drinking tea. Wouldn't that turn into a show of force?

"Alright then." Mavaryo shrugged. He actually didn't really want to go.

But after watching Cullen leave with his fiancée, the Lord Son of God stroked his chin, suddenly feeling that the development of things seemed a bit amiss?

The outside help he had recruited had mutinied and defected just like that?

...

After getting into the car, Cullen started the engine.

He rarely drove himself now, but for this kind of initial private contact, letting his subordinates drive would be inappropriate, and it would also make talking inconvenient. After all, today's contact would definitely affect the direction of the subsequent working model.

Instead of taking the back seat, Gaspoel slid into the front passenger side.

A light drizzle was falling outside, and the sky hung low and dreary.

“The weather in York City is truly miserable; when my transfer notice came down, my old colleagues all pitied me, saying I was off to enjoy *The Bleak World*.”

*The Bleak World* was a novel set against the backdrop of a bankrupt merchant's family in York City, chronicling the household's decline through the eyes of the protagonist, the merchant's daughter; the atmosphere of the book was oppressive, one might even say somber.

“It is precisely because of the abundance of foul weather that the citizens of York City know how to cherish bright sunshine more than people elsewhere.”

“Heh, quite so, Karen…”

“Please, go ahead.”

“I completely failed to anticipate before this that we would be working together.”

“I only hope you will not be misled by some of the rumors about me out there; in truth, I am a man who strictly abides by the rules, as you should well know given my current situation.”

“Your situation is no obstacle, you are still young.”

“Thank you. Perhaps, while I am still young, I ought to seize the moment to achieve greater things. Furthermore, the same applies to you; in the position of District Director, you are also absolutely young.”

“Mm, I believe our cooperation will be a pleasant one.”

“I think so too. Upon learning of your arrival, I began looking forward to carrying out my work under your leadership.”

Gaspoel lightly rubbed her fingertips together and said, “There are some things I suppose I shouldn't say to you.”

“If you wish to confide, I am all ears, heh,” Karen smiled. “I hear this dynamic is quite popular in the Dinger Archdiocese.”

Karen knew that Gaspoel was intentionally extending a gesture of goodwill, and the easiest way to bridge the gap between two strangers was… to share a few secrets of one's private life.

Barring any surprises, Karen figured she would bring up her marriage to Mavalor.

“When the higher-ups arranged for me to be betrothed to the Son of God, Mavalor, I was somewhat dazed myself, far more so than when I learned I was coming to the York City Archdiocese to serve as Director.”

“That is only natural. It is precisely because the leadership trusts you that they have bestowed such a mission upon you.”

Karen did not attack the arrangement from the perspective of marital freedom, because he knew full well that just as Mavalor detested the status of Son of God for stripping him of family and friends yet would absolutely never relinquish it, Gaspoel strongly resented this arranged religious marriage but would absolutely never rebel against it.

Just moments ago inside the house, the way she addressed Mavalor in his presence was: my fiancé.

This woman had clearly accepted the arrangement and would certainly find a way to reconcile it within herself, so helping her rationalize it now would make her feel comfortable.

“Yes, every Lord Son of God is a precious treasure to the Holy Church. At times, my personal thoughts and inclinations are actually of little consequence; after all, in my faith, I am willing to dedicate everything I am to Order.”

“It is precisely because of people like you that our Church of Order can remain eternally powerful, and the radiance of Order can forever shine bright.”

“However, the one harboring more rebellious feelings is actually our Lord Son of God, heh.”

Karen thought to himself: You already made him use a syringe, and you still have the nerve to say he has a lot of rebellious feelings?

“The Son of God is still young, and in truth, he is only human, not a deity. I believe he simply needs some time to process and understand, and after that, everything will follow naturally.”

“What about you, Karen?”

“Me? Are you asking about my private life?”

“Yes.”

“Mine is also an arranged marriage, a girl chosen for me by a senior who once mentored and helped me.”

Karen hesitated over whether to append a sighing interjection at the end.

One could cater to others appropriately, but there was no need to wrong oneself.

“And do you get along well?”

“I have just returned from a vacation at my fiancée's home. When it was time to leave, I was very reluctant to go, so I believe that when two people are together, we should try our best to look at each other's merits first.”

“And the flaws?” Gaspoel asked. “Just ignore them?”

“No, I have never approved of limitless tolerance in a marriage. Whether out of respect for the union or the expectation of lifelong companionship, if there is something the other person does that makes you uncomfortable, you should bring it up in a calm and composed manner. It is best for the two to talk face-to-face to resolve it, reflecting on oneself while making reasonable demands of one's partner. Only in this way can a marriage be long, happy, and fulfilling.

The consequence of limitless tolerance and endurance is that, at a certain point when it becomes unendurable, a sudden explosion occurs, turning a minor friction that could easily have been resolved by sitting down at the very beginning into a massive, malignant tumor.

Sometimes, so-called endurance in an emotional life is not greatness, but rather a form of laziness and irrationality.”

Gaspoel shook her head and said, “But what if the other person refuses to listen to reason?”

“Then it means your methods of communication are not clever enough, and your life wisdom is not rich enough.”

“Is that so…”

“Furthermore, when raising points of discomfort with your partner, you must first self-reflect on whether you possess the same flaws under identical conditions.”

Gaspoel seemed to think of something and asked, “Karen, there is something I want to ask you, since you are also a man.”

She wouldn't be asking about the syringe, would she?

“You may ask.”

“Never mind, forget it.” Gaspoel leaned the back of her head against the car seat.

Karen stole a glance at her. He could sense that this Chief Judge… though a bit older, likely had zero romantic experience.

Which stood to reason; the higher-ups would certainly have stringent requirements when selecting a wife for the Son of God.

“Ah, it is somewhat vexing.” Gaspoel propped her forehead with her hand. “Sometimes, I myself am unsure of how I should treat him. Can you give me some advice?”

“My advice is, you might try not viewing him as the Son of God.”

“You want me to view him as a husband?”

“Not as a husband either. I believe that as long as you stop viewing him as the Son of God, you will find unexpected rewards. You will be able to shed your restraint, and he will become… lively.”

“Hehehe, lively…” Gaspoel laughed. “How did you manage to use that word to describe the Lord Son of God?”

“Because, under Order, all people are equal.”

The smile vanished from Gaspoel’s face instantly. She turned her head to look at Karen and asked very seriously, “Karen, have you joined certain factions?”

“Those are words I read in *The Light of Order*. I know what you are guessing at, but please rest assured; once you officially take office, you will see many formerly classified documents, and you should well know my stance toward certain hidden factions within this archdiocese.”

“It is best you do not involve yourself too deeply with those organizations and factions; it will not favor your advancement.”

“I understand, thank you for the warning.”

The car ground to a halt; the traffic ahead was blocked, completely jammed.

Karen tapped the steering wheel with his hand and introduced, “York City has two customary cultures: one is Wien soybean paste, and the other is demonstrations.”

“They all have purple hair,” Gaspoel noted.

“It should be the purple-hair human rights movement led by Mr. Luther.”

Gaspoel said, “Mr. Luther? I often see reports about him in *The Order Weekly*, but he seems to be just an ordinary man.”

“Yes, an ordinary man.”

Karen had once harbored the same doubt: on what grounds could an ordinary man be frequently reported on by *The Order Weekly*?

It wasn't until later, when he and Neo discovered that mad plan of cooperation between the Church of Order and the Church of Principle.

But this matter was something he would absolutely never mention to Gaspoel.

A stage had been erected up ahead, and Mr. Luther stood upon it delivering a speech. By his side stood many purple-haired people, also known as his followers, all dressed in suits and leather shoes. Though many of the items were cheap, low-end goods, they had all dressed themselves to look thoroughly presentable and civilized.

His advocacy had always been to eliminate violence and seek the legitimate rights of purple-haired people in Wien through civilized means, but Karen felt that the authorities of Wien would probably rather see them smashing and looting than see them properly dressed, forming a genuine political entity.

At that moment, Cullen noticed a figure walking past his car, clad in a grey overcoat, one hand concealed within its folds, his gaze harboring hatred and murderous intent.

This posture easily brought to mind the image of a hidden firearm clutched against his chest.

Was he intending an assassination?

Immediately following, Cullen spotted two individuals tailing the "assassin." They wore no divine robes, yet Cullen instantly sensed the ripples of spiritual power emanating from them; they were two priests.

Cullen had known for a long time that the Church had been secretly sending agents to protect Mr. Luther.

The duo had undoubtedly discovered the assassin’s intent, but to Cullen’s surprise, though they followed him as he squeezed into the crowd, they made no premature move to subdue him.

After a short while, the assassin emerged again, his gaze hesitant and wavering; evidently, having originally intended to strike, he had abandoned his plan for now, the reason being simple enough—he was merely an ordinary man, and it was natural to lack courage at the critical moment, though next time, he might summon the nerve, perhaps even tomorrow.

Once the assassin departed, Cullen saw the two priests ahead step out as well.

Cullen released a thread of spiritual perception, extending it outside the car to eavesdrop on them.

This was a highly discourteous and offensive act, but it adhered to two principles: first, they were incapable of detecting his probe, and second... it was not an action initiated by an inferior toward a superior, conditions Cullen bypassed flawlessly.

Right after, Cullen overheard their conversation:

"Damn it, why did he give up on the assassination?"

"Who knows, maybe he didn't drink enough before leaving the house."

"How much longer do we have to wait? The higher-ups are pressing hard."

"What use is rushing? The superiors demanded that we do not interfere, that it must be spontaneously initiated by the radical Maclai