Chapter 703: Karen's List!

Chapter 703: Karen's List!

From the bookshelves to the desk, from the floor to the chandelier, from the potted plants to the pen holder, every space within this office where one could catch a foothold was packed tight with crows.

There were still more that simply had no place to land, left to circle and wheel through the air. The heavy rush of sound from their beating wings spilled and crashed like a breaking tide the very instant the door swung open.

Every single crow signified a cleric who had stepped forward to volunteer.

Given that the Chief Bishop had made it perfectly clear that the volunteers stood almost zero chance of survival, his office had still been flooded to the brim with these avian applications.

"Hehehe... Hahaha... Hahaha..."

Chief Bishop Bourne spread his arms wide and let out a hearty, booming laugh.

Once, he had lived in the dark. His family’s calculated maneuvers had allowed the Pamires Religion to undergo a complete transformation, making it entirely a vassal to Order.

It had been a long and agonizing period of years, and the very thing that had sustained his steady march through that darkness was this vast, chattering multitude before his eyes—a crowd that, though never officially summoned, was destined to appear.

Bourne turned his head slowly, looking at Karen as he spoke:

"Some people see a single negative incident within the Church and immediately become frantic and hyperactive. They wave their hands about, shouting and screaming in the belief that the entire Holy Church is thoroughly corrupt.

Their brains are not even as large as the two walnuts dangling between their thighs.

The shadow of a single hand is enough to make them mistakenly believe they are looking at the entirety of the world.

They are incapable of seeing the whole picture, which makes them prone to pessimism, prone to resentment, prone to extremes, and prone to passivity.

Karen, I dare say that I am the person who has seen the most of the Church's dark side, and the darkness I have personally dealt with is far too extensive to count.

Yet I have never despaired, nor have I ever grown despondent;

Though, occasionally, ah, there is a tiny hint of loneliness.

But I have never felt alone.

Since the dawn of this era, our Holy Church of Order has risen through step-by-step struggles, winning the war against the Light and developing over the past millennium into the number one Holy Church in the world.

This is the finest proof.

Proof that there are many, many people just like me who usually remain quiet, who do not raise their voices, but silently dedicate themselves and offer support at their respective posts.

If this Holy Church were entirely comprised of those filthy clerics you have encountered, it would have been impossible to reach this present day, wouldn't it?

After all, this is a Holy Church capable of possessing the First Knights; a Holy Church for whose cause people are willing to continue dedicating themselves even after death.

I do not know them, and they likely do not know me, but reality informs us of each other's true existence. I—we—will never walk alone."

Karen did not speak. To put it bluntly, he was thoroughly shaken by the scene before him.

He had seen the avarice of Sihan; he had seen the filth of the Nat family. It was true that negative stains could more easily attract human attention and focus your gaze, causing you to overlook the fact that, in truth, there were many like Pavaro within the Holy Church of Order.

"Clap, clap, clap!"

Bourne clapped his hands, and all the black crows transformed into sheets of black spell paper, stacking themselves neatly onto the desk into a towering pile. That was the list.

Karen turned around and closed the office door.

"Karen, there is no ice left, but there is cold tea. Do you mind?"

"I don't mind."

The two sat facing each other on the sofa. Karen picked up the cup of cold tea and took a sip, frowning slightly. It was not just cold, but it actually carried a faint, fishy odor. He had no idea what strange kind of tea leaves the Chief Bishop was actually drinking.

Bourne spoke up: "There is a sacred task that can be left for you to decide."

"You don't mean to have me select the volunteers, do you?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean."

"Don't you think that is too cruel?"

"Cruel?" Bourne shook his head. "You must pass through this stage, Karen. Furthermore, I do not believe you are incapable of enduring this small measure of cruelty."

Karen shook his head, but he did not openly voice a refusal. Just as he and Bourne had joined forces earlier to pressure Gaspo into abiding by the rules, his own interactions with Bourne required certain rules to be observed.

Bourne continued: "More often than not, we all wish we could live a purer life, but reality rarely grants you that kind of luxury. Therefore, certain things must be done by someone, even if it looks like it will dirty one's hands and cause inner moral unease. Everyone wants to be Sandy during the rituals, with holy feathers untouched by dust, but someone still has to take the broom and the rag to clean the sacrificial altar. We are those people."

"I understand."

"The plan over there calls for twenty people. It would be best if the list is finalized before dawn tomorrow, as rapid training needs to be carried out.

Because we have to tell them exactly what has happened and what the consequences will be if this matter is not handled in a timely manner. As for the danger and the prospect of living a life worse than death due to contamination even if they make it out alive, we must explain all of that to them with absolute clarity."

Karen nodded and said, "That is only right."

"Yes, the greatest difference between our Holy Church of Order and other churches lies in the fact that our doctrines never preach about abysses, heavens, the embrace of the moon, or an eternal home where believers can journey after death. Nor do we preach about the happiness of the next life or the degree of atonement, and there are certainly no descriptions of the God of Order opening His arms to welcome your soul to rest...

We only tell our believers that life happens but once, and a person has only this single lifetime. Even those who enter the First Knights are fully aware that they are already dead.

We oppose reincarnation, we despise the abyss, and we disdain the moonlight, because the gaze of us believers of Order is fixed solely beneath our feet.

Therefore, the true greatness of Order lies in the fact that it will not give you a false dreamland to deceive you into making a so-called sacrifice. We will tell you what the purpose of the sacrifice is, while calling upon you to use this only life of yours to make a contribution toward the maintenance of Order."

Karen picked up the rather unpalatable cold tea, took another sip, and said, "I simply feel that discussing the greatness of sacrifice in this sort of atmosphere is somewhat emotionally jarring."

Deep down, Karen still minded the occurrence of this entire affair.

He actually felt a bit of regret now. Had he known that the experiment would fail even without his interference, he would not have hesitated that day. He would have simply joined forces with Neo to break the deadlock and save Luther, or perhaps arrange a natural end for Luther like a 'sudden heart attack.'

Whatever the case, the outcome likely would not have been any worse than it was now.

"Yes, it is indeed quite unpleasant that we have to send our people to clean up the mess created by others at the cost of their lives.

However, the incident has already occurred.

Even if accountability is to be pursued, that is a matter for the future. What we must do now is summon our courage and responsibility to thoroughly resolve the danger right in front of us.

In the final analysis, the work must be done first.

I know you feel that the actions of those people violated the doctrines of Order, whereas I feel that while their behavior was villainous, it is somewhat understandable. This matter has failed now, but what if it had succeeded?

Particularly against the backdrop of the prophecy regarding the return of the gods, the pressure of shifting tides faced by our Holy Church of Order as the current number one holy church is actually the greatest. If we could grasp the power of a deity now, it would be of immense help for the future.

Sigh...

In short, the matters of this world are not a children's book. Righteousness and evil, right and wrong, have never been so easy to distinguish. In fact, it is inherently 'alive'; it will repeatedly leap back and forth across that line between right and wrong.

We can only leave it aside for now, correct?"

"Correct."

"Hurry up and settle the candidates yourself."

"Mm."

Bourne pressed the desk bell, and the attendant brought in dinner, placing a portion in front of Karen as well.

"It isn't as delicious as the dishes at your home, but it will do to fill your stomach."

"Alright."

Right there in the office, Karen shared a simple dinner—or perhaps a midnight snack—with Bourne.

Afterward, the two left the office together and stepped into the elevator, parting ways on different floors.

Bourne still needed to attend the subsequent meetings, while Delon had arrived to take Karen to see Pilo.

When he met Delon, the exhaustion on the old man's face was clearly visible. However, he held a thermos flask in his hand and smiled at Karen: "Wontons my wife wrapped for me. Want to eat together?"

"Your wife brought it over herself?"

"Yes, she was just waiting for me down by the academic affairs building."

Karen did not mention that he had already eaten, but merely nodded with a smile: "Alright."

Upon knocking, a middle-aged man opened the door. He looked at Karen and said, "I am Nebas. You must be Karen. My teacher speaks of you often; he says your talent far exceeds mine."

Karen noticed the intricate details of the sacred robe the man wore—a dark red cluster, which meant his position in the Dingle District was at least that of a department director, rank-equivalent to Delon's current standing as a district bishop.

Of course, to be part of the expert panel for this incident, he could not possibly be an ordinary figure.

Yet the man's demeanor was clear, deliberately omitting their respective official titles, acting somewhat like a senior student meeting a junior, or rather... an elder disciple meeting the master's newly accepted closing disciple.

"Hello, I have always been grateful for Teacher Pilo's guidance."

"We can converse more in the future. If you ever come to the Dingle District, you can find me directly; I'll introduce you to more friends in our circle."

These were merely polite pleasantries.

Karen knew his own reputation was resounding but far from likeable. This "senior brother" surely knew of his existence long ago; if he truly intended to build a relationship and pull him into the circle, where had he been before?

It was nothing more than the fact that Pilo himself was currently in the office, and he had to put on a performance for his own teacher to see.

"Alright, I would be honored."

Behind him, Delon felt a slight twinge of discomfort upon seeing Karen’s other array formation teacher, but on second thought, he wasn't Karen's teacher—he was Karen's maternal grandfather.

With that, the faint trace of jealousy instantly vanished.

After greeting Karen, Nebas immediately exchanged pleasantries with Delon.

As everyone entered, they saw Pilo himself sitting rather informally on the office desk, a pipe clamped in his mouth, while seven people sat on the sofas before him.

Two were from the Church of Principles, and five were from the Church of Order, among whom was a young man and woman.

Pilo asked, "Delon Guman?"

"Greetings, My Lord," Delon saluted Pilo.

"No, no, no, I am retired now. By rights, I should be the one saluting you," Pilo interrupted Delon’s gesture. "Sit, let us discuss matters together."

Saying this, Pilo tapped his pipe and began rearranging the tobacco.

Nebas pulled out a lighter, preparing to light the pipe for his teacher.

Pilo avoided it, his gaze shifting to Karen instead.

Karen stepped forward, his eyes scanning the desk. He picked up a box of matches resting there and struck one with a sharp scrape.

Pilo leaned his pipe in, drawing a deeply satisfied puff, exhaling a plume of smoke with an enraptured sigh.

Witnessing this, Nebas could only offer a bitter smile.

Even parents cannot treat their children with absolute equality, let alone teachers; and while parents might have some scruples, teachers often harbor the most absurd favoritism.

Pilo turned to Karen and asked, "The notes I gave you last time, how much of them have you read?"

"I have finished them all," Karen replied truthfully.

Pilo asked again, "How much did you understand?"

"I have finished them all."

"Heh, you rascal," Pilo took another draw from his pipe. "You still need to dedicate some proper effort."

"Your guidance is noted, Teacher."

Pilo was highly satisfied with Karen's attitude; of course, he also caught the deeper meaning behind Karen repeating "I have finished them all."

To have finished reading such thick notes in so short a time was already an extraordinary feat.

"Can we proceed, Pilo?"

An elder wearing the sacred robe of Order asked Pilo with a touch of dissatisfaction.

Pilo pointed his pipe at him and said to Karen, "Karen, this is Hoses Born, one of the organizers of this experimental project."

Hoses frowned. "There is no need to waste time with introductions, is there?"

Pilo shrugged and said, "Hoses, mind your attitude. You conducted this kind of experiment in the York City District and have now caused such a massive disaster. The head of the district's Whip of Order is standing right in front of you. If your attitude doesn't improve, beware that this student of mine might just thrash you directly."

"You..."

"What about me? Karen, the Head of the Law Enforcement Department of York City District. You do read the newspapers, don't you? Haha, this student of mine has quite a temper; he is entirely capable of thrashing you. Since you are retired anyway and hold no official public title, him beating you wouldn't even count as insubordination."

Karen looked toward Hoses, his gaze turning slightly cold.

Just then, the young woman beside Hoses stood up and said to Karen, "Please mind your attitude."

Hearing this, Karen actively walked toward her.

Hoses reached out, pressing down on his female student's shoulder: "Marina, sit down."

"Yes, Teacher."

Hoses said to Karen, "The Church will hold us accountable for the mistakes we made in due time. Shall we deal with the thorny situation at hand first, if we may?"

Karen remained noncommittal and sat down on the sofa.

Delon opened the insulated flask, pulled out a fork, and handed it to Karen. Karen took it and began eating the dry-tossed wontons made by his grandmother alongside his grandfather.

Hoses looked at Delon and said, "Could you recount the situation on the front lines while you eat?"

"Very well." Master Delon showed no stage fright whatsoever, recounting the details precisely while eating; after all, as a man who could marry grandmother and survive decades of domestic "storms," he had been thoroughly tempered.

Once Delon finished his account, Pilo and the others began their deliberation. There were two plans in total: one regarding what combination of arrays to use to seal the cavern if the artifact inside was successfully retrieved, and the other regarding how to maintain a long-term stalemate if the artifact could not be extracted.

Karen could not chime in; after finishing his wontons, he simply sat there, listening in silence.

In truth, these discussions held little meaning for Karen, as they all relied on large-scale formations implemented by teams, requiring vast amounts of precious materials.

The individual technical threshold was not high; the difficulty lay in coordination.

When the discussion concluded, Pilo led Hoses, Delon, and the others to move to a larger conference hall to discuss the next steps with other factions.

On the sofa of the original temporary office, only Karen, that girl Marina, and another young man remained.

Karen could not be bothered to acknowledge them and silently began packing up the insulated flask.

"You always keep such a cold face, can't you show a bit of restraint?" Marina asked.

Karen took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and said nothing.

The male beside her spoke up: "I am Queto, Queto Al Dinks. Pleased to meet you, Department Head Karen."

"Hello."

"My younger sister likes you very much. Although she is still studying at the Church University, she has quite a few of your newspaper clippings pasted on her bedroom wall."

"Thank you."

Karen picked up the insulated flask and stood up, preparing to leave.

Marina stood up as well, speaking to Karen: "Our only fault is that the experiment failed, that is all!"

Karen looked at her and said, "If it weren't for the hope that you might be of some use in resolving the current crisis, I would certainly have someone throw you and your teacher into the prisons of the Whip of Order right now."

"Who do you think you are threatening!"

Quinto raised his hand and said, "Marlina, I believe our Minister could certainly do something like that. He isn't bluffing. In my sister's words, this is part of Minister Cullen's charm."

Marlina took a few steps forward, coming so close she was nearly pressed against Cullen, and said:

"We will make amends for the consequences of our failed experiment ourselves. I excel in formation arrays, and Quinto is skilled in sacred artifact operation. He and I have already been selected to enter the cavern to retrieve the divine and sacred artifacts. The other two pairs of hands will be provided by the Church of Principles.

So, please put away your temper, because we are using our lives to make amends!"

As she spoke, Marlina pointed her finger at Cullen.

"Ah!"

Marlina let out a sharp cry of pain. Her finger was gripped by Cullen and twisted downward, the intense agony forcing her whole body to pivot sideways as she bent over.

Immediately, waves of spiritual energy fluctuated around Marlina, but a far more violent wave of energy surged from Cullen.

The message was clear: if you try to make another move, I will beat you ruthlessly without hesitation.

Ultimately, Marlina abandoned her plan to fight back, instead shouting stubbornly, "Let me go!"

"I do not know how your mentor taught you manners, but I only want to tell you that when you do something wrong, making amends for it yourself is a truth even kindergarten children understand. Therefore, you have no right to stand here making people feel how remarkable you are."

Quinto hurriedly tried to break up the fight, saying, "Minister Cullen, don't break her finger. She still needs to break the formations down in the cavern."

Cullen released his grip and said, "If you die in that cavern, no one will think it a pity. You should have died there, and your mentor should have too."

"How dare you insult my mentor, you... ah!"

Cullen exerted force once more, eliciting another sharp cry from Marlina. This time, it felt to her as though not just her finger, but her entire arm was about to be wrenched apart.

"Do you know that our region has to select twenty people to assist you in completing this mission? Do you know how many of them will come out alive?"

Marlina fell silent.

Cullen released his grip yet again, picked up the insulated container, and walked out of the office.

Quinto stepped forward to inspect Marlina’s condition, asking with concern, "Are you all right? Why did you have to provoke that madman? Haven't you heard of his past exploits?"

"I just can't stand the way he looks at people."

"There's nothing wrong with him looking at you that way."

"But we weren't wrong either. This experiment itself was not wrong!"

"Fine, fine, not wrong, not wrong. I suppose in a few days, if we can still come out of that cavern alive, we can continue to debate right and wrong while enduring the agony of pollution."

Marlina glanced at Quinto and asked, "Are you afraid?"

"I don't fucking want to die, dammit!" Quinto suddenly roared. "If I had originally continued studying under our mentor for a few more years, I could have gone to the Divine Temple for advanced studies, and eventually had the chance to become an attendant at the Divine Artifact Temple. What about now? I don't think I can come out alive, or if I luckily survive and report on the mission, I'll probably commit suicide."

"Then you can mention it to your mentor, say you don't want to go in."

"How can I mention it? Who told my mentor and your mentor to participate in this project together? If the students don't go in, are we supposed to let the mentors go in first? Besides, if we fail, won't they have to go in anyway?"

Quinto clenched his fists, swung them twice, and suddenly laughed again,

saying:

"Besides, I am a believer in Order. There are some things I must do even if they have nothing to do with me, let alone when they do involve me. So, what Minister Cullen said just now was right."

"What?"

"As a member of Order, what is so remarkable about you going to that place?"

...

Cullen did not return to his office, but instead walked straight downstairs to the administration building, entered the flowerbed in front of the building, found a bench, sat down, and pulled out a cigarette.

Just then, the insulated container that had been placed beside him was lifted by someone; it was his grandmother, Lady Tangli.

"Grandmother, you haven't left yet."

"What, didn't you come down specially with the container because you knew I hadn't left?"

Cullen silently lit his cigarette.

"Where is your grandfather? Still in the meeting?"

"Yes."

"I heard about the matter from your grandfather because it involves you."

"It has nothing to do with me."

"Cullen, don't you dare get hot-headed. In short, you are not allowed to go. Let someone else go!"

"I never said I was going. What is the matter with you and grandfather?"

"Think of your parents, Cullen. Divine pollution... really, do not touch it."

Cullen slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke, his gaze somewhat distant.

"Aren't you hesitating right now about whether to go or not?"

"I am not, Grandmother."

"Promise your grandmother you won't go."

"All right, Grandmother, I promise you. How could I possibly go? My position is so high, and it's not my turn to go anyway. There are plenty of people signing up to go, even the clerk servants inside the ground floor windows of the administration building have signed up."

Lady Tangli held the insulated container, momentarily at a loss for how to respond to this.

After a long pause, she could only ask with concern:

"Cullen, are you all right?"

"What could be wrong with me? I just want to sit by myself for a while, Grandmother, I'm sorry."

"I understand. You are men who have work to do. I will head back first. Tomorrow I will continue to bring food to your grandfather, and I'll bring a portion for you too."

"Thank you, Grandmother."

Lady Tangli departed.

Cullen leaned his back against the bench, facing the sky, his hands spread wide as he shook the ash from his cigarette.

In truth, Cullen was very clear that his resistance to pollution was extremely high. Without considering other protective measures, there should be no one in the entire administration building more capable of resisting pollution than himself.

But that was no ordinary pollution; it was divine pollution, and the conditions inside were unknown. There would certainly be other dangers besides pollution.

If he went in, his survival rate would be higher than others, but not by too much.

"Sigh..."

Cullen discarded the cigarette butt and lowered his head.

On the distant steps, Wick stood there, watching his Minister sitting in the flowerbed.

Bern's figure appeared beside Wick, stretching his arms: "Damn it, looks like this meeting will go on until dawn."

"Lord Chief," Wick immediately saluted Bern.

"I came out to get some fresh air. What are you doing? Oh, watching your Minister?"

"Yes, I feel the Minister is hesitating."

"Hesitating?" Hearing this response, Bern suddenly laughed. "It seems you truly do not understand your Minister."

"What?" This sentence was a bit too "damaging" to Wick now, because he was currently Cullen’s "believer." Fortunately, Mr. Alfred was not here, otherwise he would have dragged Wick away for another remedial lesson in political and ideological thought.

"By the way, is the list finalized yet?"

"Not yet, we still have to wait for our director to make the final selections."

"Alright, remember to help me prod him; the list needs to be ready soon."

"Understood, Your Eminence."

Bern stretched lazily once more, his form vanishing from the spot as he did so.

While Wick was still agonizing over that phrase, "You don't understand your director," he failed to notice that Karen had already appeared right in front of him.

"What are you dazing off for?"

"Ah, Director."

"Let's go back to the office and get to work."

"Yes, Director."

Karen led Wick back to Bern's office and seated himself directly in the High Bishop’s desk chair, facing several towering stacks of application forms.

"Director, can we begin sorting through them now?" Wick asked.

Karen did not answer. Instead, he clapped his hands, and with the influx of guiding spiritual power, the enchanted sheets of paper transformed back into crows, flying frantically all over the office.

Thankfully, these crows were made of paper; had they been alive, the droppings left behind would probably have given the High Bishop enough reason to repaint his entire office.

Karen reached out and picked up the copy of "The Light of Order" resting on the High Bishop’s desk, a standard fixture on almost every Order cleric's workspace.

Members of the Whiplash of Order would also have an additional copy of "The Regulations of Order" on theirs.

"Heh, it’s actually the latest edition."

For a grand High Bishop to have the latest edition of "The Light of Order" on his desk showed an utter lack of pride in his status; the older the edition, the fewer the redactions, meaning one could often glimpse more of the authentic records.

However, Karen wasn't looking for anything that needed editing; he simply stopped at a particular page.

This section happened to record the God of Order’s suppression of the Divine Burial Ground.

After a deity perishes, the discarded carcass becomes a terrible source of pollution; the Divine Burial Ground was one such massive expanse of contamination.

During the Age of Light, the God of Light chose to negotiate to pacify the Divine Burial Ground.

In the Age of Order, the God of Order refused to negotiate, entering the place entirely alone, and after trampling the Divine Burial Ground to ruins, had Kevin—no, had Raniedal—exile it.

In the memory fragments of Raniedal, the nearly omnipotent God of Order had clearly borne wounds when emerging from the Divine Burial Ground.

Karen let out a soft chuckle. "Heh heh."

Wick had been sitting by the secretary's desk, watching the murder of crows fluttering all around, when he suddenly heard his director’s laughter, leaving him even more bewildered and intensifying his panic.

"So, Grandfather and Grandmother weren't worrying blindly for no reason after all. I was just a bit slow to realize it myself. I truly never thought I would actively confront it, but the word 'escape' does not exist in my dictionary."

Karen’s fingertips brushed against that passage of text.

"Your deeds are the objects of praise and worship for others, yet to me, they have merely become the baseline."

Karen raised his hand, and the crows, having had enough of their "playfulness," flew back down, morphing once more into several tall stacks of application forms.

"Wick."

"Present."

"Come over and handle the screening. Select thirteen names from here."

"Huh? Director, shouldn't we be choosing twenty?"

"Because I have already selected seven people. I will read their names to you, record them now."

"Oh, alright, Director, please go ahead."

"Leon, Philomena, Muri, Ventura, Alfred..."

Karen paused for a moment.

Wick jolted instantly and shouted the name aloud as he wrote, terrified of missing it. "Wick!"

Karen nodded, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk.

"Karen."

Wick finished the recording and handed the list over to Karen.

Furthermore, he felt a bit surprised himself that he didn't feel the slightest bit of fear or dread; instead, his mind felt grounded. He even let out a smile and cracked a joke.

"Director, haha, if some accident really happens, will our whole team be wiped out?"

"Heheh." Karen laughed too. "Wick, record a message on behalf of Alfred since he isn't here right now, and hand it to him later."

"Yes, Director."

Wick immediately pulled out a small notebook, identical to the one Alfred always carried with him.

Karen stood up and placed the list containing the seven names atop the thick stack of application forms before him.

"We, you see, are going to stand ahead of them."