Chapter 712: Mr. Luther's Reward

Chapter 712: Mr. Luther's Reward

“Release them, listen to me, my child.”

The redneck boy instinctively resisted the command from Mr. Luther, but clearly, its resistance appeared somewhat feeble at this moment, especially with that crystal hanging from its neck, which resembled an exquisitely crafted... dog tag.

It was restrained, it was controlled, it was oppressed;

No matter how intense the reluctance in its heart, defying Mr. Luther's will was, for it, the ultimate unforgivable sin.

This was a form of control at the highest tier, transcending money, coercion, ethics, the secular world, as well as spellcraft, mesmerism, curses, and all other such mechanisms.

Your life... no, your very value of existence, was dictated by the opponent's will.

As an individual, you could object and repel, but from a holistic perspective, the ending had long been foreordained; the answer was singular.

Much like the angels... created by the God of the Abyss.

Except that angels were created by God Himself, whereas the redneck boy felt more like it had been forcibly endowed after the fact.

The medium of this relationship was that crystal, and in all likelihood, it was... a fragment of a godhead.

For countless years, condensing a fragment of a godhead had been the grandest objective in the hearts of generations of believers, a supreme aspiration worthy of being pursued with a lifetime;

Had it not been for his grandfather Diss, Karen would probably have held the exact same perception.

Diss was highly resistant to condensing godhead fragments; he had long been capable of condensing one but kept finding ways to delay and suppress it, and it wasn't purely to live the quiet, small happiness of his own family life.

He was a genius, a figure whose presence caused a whole host of "great figures" around him to pale in comparison during that brief era of his youth; he was also an exceptionally proud man, holding his self-respect as a human being in the highest regard.

He had said that condensing a fragment of a godhead was actually just becoming a dish that was tagged with a label once a god felt hungry.

He was dissatisfied, he was furious, he hated that the God of Order, whom he had once followed and believed in, had been deceiving his believers all along, so he abided by order, yet despised the God of Order.

He said: The God of Order was raised by a whore.

This was the ultimate insult to the personality of the God of Order, or rather to his "godhead"—I recognize your contributions to order, I acknowledge the magnificent achievements you once created, but regarding your character, I retain the utmost disdain.

Imagine if the one sitting here at this moment were not Mr. Luther but the God of Order, and the one kneeling here were not the redneck boy but Diss...

When you condensed a fragment of a godhead, when you completely dissolved the meaning of your own existence into the rules of another god, how could you possibly still possess dignity before him?

The redneck boy ultimately failed to withstand Mr. Luther's command after all; it retracted its hair, and Karen and Neil regained their freedom.

However, this was a relative freedom, for the redneck boy kept staring at them coldly, as though anticipating that they would hurriedly commit some reckless act right now so it could strike in response.

Unfortunately, Karen and Neil disappointed it.

The combat and operational experience of these two individuals was simply far too rich; without any need for communication, both clearly understood that now

The two figures standing before them, whether it was Mr. Luther or the redneck boy, were no gods. They were mere byproducts derived from the fall of a deity—or rather, they could be deemed the two greatest fonts of divine corruption.

"Oh, by the way, Mr. Neo, did you not just mention a dog?"

"Uh, yes, I was merely using a metaphor."

"No, it is no metaphor," Mr. Luther smiled. "Before my brain completely rots away, my thoughts and my vision can still retain a sliver of their former singularity."

"Chatting with you is truly a thoroughly unpleasant affair."

"Indeed, so it is. Hence, you still prefer conversing with those two, do you not? I mean, the other two besides Mr. Phineas."

"They have already spoken with you as well?"

"They have. One poured his heart out to me about the lonely misery of being sealed away for countless eons, while the other sought to proselytize, telling me that only the Light could grant salvation to my current plight. Because above the Light, no gods exist; so long as I convert to the Light, I can shed this filth that is gradually consuming me."

Neo curled his lip and smirked. "That certainly sounds like their style."

Immediately after, Neo teased Karen, "Today, I have experienced something far more uncomfortable and shameful than running stark naked down a public street."

Mr. Luther offered an apologetic tone. "My deepest apologies for causing you such distress."

"Ah, it's fine, you needn't be so polite, truly." Neo pointed a finger at Karen and asked, "Did you not chat with the crowd on his side? I can only host a tea party here, but over at his place, they throw a pool party every single day."

"Is that so?"

"Of course. Wait, by asking that, does it mean you haven't had the chance to talk to his side yet?"

"The wind simply cannot blow its way inside."

"What do you mean? You cannot see within him?"

"Indeed, I cannot. His body is... healthier than mine."

Between a body reshaped by Ranyedal, the fusion of the Dark Moon Bone, and Karen's own inherent uniqueness—if Neo had built a castle that could not keep the wind from entering, then Karen stood squarely at the very eye of the storm.

Sensing the sheer imbalance of it all, Neo threw up his hands and demanded, "This isn't fair. Why am I the only one who gets peeked at?"

"Because within your body lies an aura very similar to mine... You once fused with a part of me, did you not?"

Hearing this explanation, Neo's eyes gradually widened. He remembered now. He had once ambushed the members of the Church of Principles, seized a clay jar, and inhaled the peculiar vapor collected inside. It had driven him mad, but it had also triggered the awakening of the Mad Pope's lineage.

"So, you are saying you have a backdoor inside me?"

"You could understand it that way. If I am willing, and if you are willing, perhaps I too could step inside to share a cup of tea."

"I would certainly welcome you, but can that thing be left behind?"

"Whether it comes or not makes no difference. For once I join your tea party, you will never be able to leave this place. This will become your home, a sanctuary from which you can never break free for the rest of your days."

"Then let us gather another time. You know, my wife's tomb is still out there. If I must choose a place to remain eternally, I would rather it be before her grave than here."

"I can understand that."

"You are truly understanding. If Order and Light hadn't claimed me first, I suppose I would have been willing to follow you."

"Heh, I detect a note of sincerity in that."

"Right? My respect for you..."

"Though it is scant."

Neo cleared his throat. "Uh, right then."

Mr. Luther spoke up. "Very well, we may now discuss other matters."

Neo furrowed his brow. "As expected, you still have a twist up your sleeve."

"I know what you are thinking, but I must tell you that reality differs greatly from your imagination. First of all, the area I can temporarily control is confined to this single zone. This is only because you successfully wounded it, causing a brief imbalance between its power and mine. Otherwise, it would hold dominion over our dynamic.

Furthermore, my time controlling it will not last long, for I am continuously rotting away. Once completely decayed, I will not only fail to suppress it, but I will instead be devoured, becoming a part of its strength.

When that time comes, it will grow even more formidable."

Neo inquired, "Then what of our people?"

"They are already at the outermost perimeter, yet they cannot leave. Though those two holy artifacts are in their possession, they cannot depart the way they entered, because it..."

Mr. Luther turned his gaze toward the redneck boy. "He has driven the bulk of the corruption to the outermost edge, deliberately keeping them alive instead of killing them. He is eagerly waiting for your people on the outside to retrieve them. But I doubt those outside would be so foolish as to fall for such a trap."

"So, you mean to say we can only stay here and await our deaths?"

"Perhaps the ones who dispatched you inside never anticipated that our god would have once manifested, nor did they foresee that we would be born."

"Indeed, they did not foresee it. For all their fervent attempts at creating a god, they themselves likely never expected a god could truly be fashioned."

"Their calculations were not entirely wrong either. Alas, where in this world is there pure right and wrong?"

As Mr. Luther spoke, his primary focus finally settled upon Karen. He asked, "Is that not so, Mr. Reporter?"

"My apologies," Karen responded formally. "I could have saved you back then, but duty bound me. I feared my actions might unleash even greater devastation."

"You have no need to apologize to me. He and I are not the same person. He is he, and I am I; even if we were identical, we are still distinct. However, I recall that conversing with you was quite a pleasant experience."

Neo chimed in immediately, "But of course, this friend of mine is an absolute master at conversation. His decorum is always impeccable."

"In my memory, you held a critical view of my assertions."

Neo looked at Karen with a wry smile. "Are you mad?"

Karen nodded and replied, "Yes, that is correct. Even now, I still hold that very view."

"Oh." Mr. Luther showed no anger. "Perhaps now, we are granted a brief moment belonging solely to the two of us, to have a proper discussion."

Neo asked, "If the discussion goes well, is there a reward?"

"A reward?"

"Indeed," Neo said as if it were the most natural thing. "Usually at the end of a perilous place, one always encounters a benevolent old grandfather. The old man presents you with questions and trials, and upon passing, you receive a reward. Isn't that how it always plays out in novels and films?"

"Oh, a reward. Yes, there is one."

"What is it?" Neo licked his lips.

"The reward ought to be revealed at the very end, and it must be decided based on the marks of the trial, must it not?"

"Ah, you are quite right."

Mr. Luther looked toward Karen, gesturing. "Now, speak of what you wished to say that day but left unfinished."

Karen said, "I do not agree with your absolute rejection of violence, nor your exclusive reliance on civilized, peaceful means to pursue equal rights."

"So, you advocate for the use of violence?"

"I advocate for retaining the means to use violence."

"But it is like a crack appearing in a dam. Do you know what that portends?"

"I know the consequences of abusing violence, which is why we must remain vigilant: violence must never degenerate into a tool for individual venting."

"Could you be more specific?"

"I advocate that violence should be preserved, but it must be an ordered violence."

Neo twitched his mouth, thinking to himself: *Damn it, are you proselytizing right now?*

At that moment, Neo noticed that the gaze the redneck boy directed toward Karen had softened slightly compared to before. The distinction was sharpest when comparing how it looked at himself, at Luther, and then at Karen.

Clearly, to the redneck boy and the collective will of the purple-haired people it represented, Mr. Luther's death had fueled a resentment that fiercely rejected his method of "civilized rights advocacy without violence."

Mr. Luther let out a heavy sigh: "But it is far too difficult, beyond the reach of my abilities. Can you do it?"

Neil spoke up immediately: "Of course he can."

"I cannot do it right now."

"So, you mean to say you will be able to do it in the future?"

"Not necessarily even in the future."

"Then what meaning does your 'right now' possess?"

"Right now, the searching can begin."

"Searching? Are you certain that searching will yield an absolutely flawless path?"

"I am not certain, but it should yield an approach more suited to the present—a path, at the very least, superior to the past, so long as one can learn warfare through the act of warfare."

"But I am already dead. I have no further chance to search, nor any opportunity left to learn."

Karen hesitated a moment, yet faced the question squarely: "If the loss of your single presence causes the purple-haired civil rights movement to lose its capacity to search, learn, and progress, then it can only be said that you were never truly prepared for a protracted struggle, never fully grasped the grim reality of the current conflict, and certainly failed to map out an effective, concrete blueprint for the future."

"So, I return to my original question. If handed to you, you could do better than I did, correct?"

Neil instantly interjected: "Naturally. What he is doing now is also a grand endeavor."

"No. In all probability, I would not do better than you. As you well know, standing on the sidelines speaking is forever simpler and lighter than bending one's back to the labor. Though theories may align, the specific conditions faced on differing paths are entirely distinct."

"Heh heh heh," Mr. Luther chuckled. "I quite like you. It is a regret of mine that I did not meet you sooner, so that we might have frequently shared tea and conversation."

"The feeling is mutual."

"No, it is not the same. You knew from the very beginning that I would not succeed."

Karen lowered his head in slight embarrassment. It was true; from the very outset, he had harbored no optimism for the civil rights movement led by Mr. Luther, viewing it as altogether too naive.

The original inhabitants of this land of Wien were not the Maclaians either; the Maclaians had defeated the natives and seized this place as pirates. Therefore, in essence, Mr. Luther was seeking an opportunity for civilized negotiation with bandits, which was nothing short of a pipedream.

"I may not have believed in your cause, but I have always deeply respected you as a man, and I acknowledge your greatness."

"In your eyes, I am a naive soul, am I not?"

"Yet sometimes, it is only the naive and pure-hearted who are willing to step forward. I believe that from the moment you first raised the banner of this cause, you constantly received death threats and intimidation. You knew better than anyone that the larger you built this endeavor, the more likely you were to be assassinated, yet you chose to bravely persevere."

"Ah." Mr. Luther smacked his lips, though the delight in his eyes was completely undisguised.

For a man like him, encountering someone who could communicate, converse, and truly understand him—even if not a fanatical supporter—was a rare and joyful privilege.

Neil quickly asked: "What do you think of the test results?"

"I am well satisfied."

Neil: "And the reward?"

"There is one, and I shall grant it."

"So, what is the reward then?" Neil asked, restraining the urge to rub his hands together.

Mr. Luther looked toward the redneck boy at his side, a benevolent smile appearing on his face,

and said:

"The reward is the privilege to succeed me in this seat, and to rot away for eternity."