Chapter 713: Violence Controlled by Order!

Chapter 713 Violence Grasped by Order!

"Whether it was the past me, the great existence once born from this body of mine, or the current me, truth be told, none of us are familiar with the church behind you.

But I can feel that it must be powerful, despairingly powerful, otherwise, it would not have dared to organize such a terrifying experiment.

Yet in this world, not all problems can be solved with 'power.'

I think that is also the reason why you have appeared here.

You do not want everything here to spread out, because not far from here lies York City, and this place itself is located within the territory of Wien; you are here to protect Wien.

Actually, I love Wien too, I love this country's music, poetry, cinema, and customs, and I eat a large dish of soybean paste with every single meal.

If I did not truly love this place, I would not have called for the avoidance of violence, and it is precisely because of my deep love for this land that I wished to lead my supporters to create an equal social environment, so we could better build it and make it prosper.

I can understand that you came in wanting to take away those two divine artifacts; yes, I can feel the function of those two divine artifacts, they can progressively deconstruct the seal you deployed on the periphery.

It wants to grasp them too, except that because of the altar, it is temporarily difficult for it to manage, so for this purpose, it utilized the artifact spirit of that chessboard—actually, she was not a native artifact spirit, but a freak born from the ripple effects of this pollution, identical to us yet lower in tier than us.

You see, it is actually not as stupid as you imagine, it knows how to utilize and deceive people; of course, after she lost her utility value, it simply crushed her directly, without the slightest hesitation."

This "it" obviously referred to the redneck boy.

"However, you, as well as the colossal church behind you, have all overlooked one point—to be precise, you do not seem to have a profound realization regarding this matter.

You do not understand the 'God' you constantly speak of and pray to, even if you possess extremely detailed records of God, even if you carry books about God with you everywhere.

My university major was history, and I too once sought methods to solve current problems within human history, but later, I realized there is a crux that cannot be avoided, and that is lifespan.

Humans created writing, using writing to record history, thereby offsetting the shackles of human lifespan.

However, emotional perception cannot be shared through cold writing.

I used to have a classmate who was a Katran.

Seventy years ago, when the Wien Empire began to execute its strategy of colonial expansion, the Katrans rose up in resistance to protect their homeland, repelling the colonial armies of the Wien Empire time after time, maintaining their own independence to this day.

But when I communicated with this classmate, he said instead that the ancestors of the past did not understand the advanced wheels of civilization, and that their ignorant resistance prevented his hometown from receiving the illumination of the lighthouse and stepping into true enlightenment.

Even though the history books of Katra clearly recorded that series of crimes committed by the colonizers, and he had read them all, he remained indifferent.

Because his great-grandfather had experienced and resisted it, his grandfather had seen it as a child, his father had been educated by the great-grandfather and grandfather, but by his generation, without the narration of a firsthand witness, relying purely on writing cannot form understanding and correct perception.

Just like... you.

Do you think that by sealing this place, everything is secure?

You underestimate Gods, even a God who has just fallen.

As long as she was once born, just how terrifying the imprint she left behind is, is also something beyond your imagination.

When I am completely decayed, I will no longer be able to suppress it, and I myself will become its nourishment.

It cannot leave this place, because I believe the church behind you can definitely make it forever impossible to break through this seal.

But it actually does not need to break through, it can sleep peacefully here, and then form a resonance.

As long as there are still supporters of me, Luther, in Wien or in other countries, people who believe in me, it can utilize the channel of faith to descend upon the believers, and it can project its power over.

This will bring immense loss; if a bowl of water is carried out, perhaps only a spoonful remains, but it can send out many, many spoonfuls; the large pollution will remain here because it cannot exit the seal, but the small pollution will blossom everywhere outside.

It will look forward, looking forward to the pollution outside gathering together and returning here to rescue it.

It will do this; as long as it confirms that it cannot break through the seal to leave, it will definitely do this.

So...

Even if you take away those two divine artifacts, even if you forge the most meticulous sealing system, you still cannot completely restrict it to this place.

This is the most terrifying aspect of the divine pollution within your perception.

To add one more point, originally the concentration of pollution here would not have been this high, mainly because the church behind you prepared far too much for this experiment—so much so that even though the experiment failed, the accumulation here... is still far too abundant, and this is its true underlying confidence to generously gamble with consumption and scatter the pollution of faith."

After listening to Mr. Luther's narration, Neo was the first to speak: "As for the time, it should be quite far off, right?"

Mr. Luther looked at Neo and asked: "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if the time is long enough, if it can wait until I am old to erupt, or erupt after I die, then it seems to have nothing to do with me; I won't see it anyway, will I?"

Karen reminded him: "Have you forgotten your own lineage? If you don't commit suicide, you can live much longer than ordinary people."

Neo: "Oh, damn it!"

Mr. Luther said: "The exact time depends on when it despairs and becomes willing to make this resolution; it might take a hundred years, or it might lose hope in a week and adopt the most extreme method."

Neo immediately looked at the redneck boy: "My dear, you must stay full of hope for life, learn from me, and absolutely do not abandon yourself to despair and go to extremes, alright?"

The redneck boy's gaze was gloomy.

Mr. Luther looked at Karen and asked: "What about you? Is your thought the same as his?"

Karen shook his head and said: "Either one doesn't know, or one hasn't encountered it; since we already know and have encountered it, then we must find a way to prevent and solve it."

"Even if this disaster might only occur after your death?"

Karen replied: "The difficulties before our eyes indeed make it easy for people to disregard the future, but if one lacks a perspective on the future, then the difficulties before our eyes will never truly be resolved."

Mr. Luther nodded and said: "I am very satisfied with this answer of yours—no, with many of your answers, which gives me a feeling that while I am still groping in the dark, you actually already have a precise answer in your heart.

Or rather, I am groping, while you... are verifying?

Is that how it is?"

Karen did not answer.

Mr. Luther asked again: "He once bestowed guidance, he once... succeeded?"

Karen continued to remain silent.

Mr. Luther continued to ask: "Is he a God?"

Karen spoke up: "No, he does not like others treating him as a God."

Mr. Luther fell silent, and immediately following that, he exerted effort to raise his hand: "I cannot hold on for too long, because this body of mine once gave birth to her, and along with her fall, I inevitably continue to rot away.

I do not like to refer to it as a dog, but now, I must find a person to hold its leash before I completely decay, so that the most extreme disaster will not occur."

Immediately afterward, Mr. Luther looked at Neo and smiled, "My apologies, an award like this has disappointed you, hasn't it?"

Neo clapped his hands hard and said excitedly: "No, this is the best award in the world."

"Heh, you truly love your wife."

"Please do not continue to flip through my past, alright? Also, toward my wife, what I feel most is guilt."

"Without sufficiently deep love, from where would truly intense guilt be born?"

"Alright, alright, in short, I am willing to accept your award, let me stay behind, holding this dog leash, heh."

"But, you are not suitable."

"I'm not suitable?" Neo pointed at his own face, "Do you know what my nickname is?"

"A hound, an old hound that never gives up."

I cannot fulfill this request.

Mr. Luther’s hand finally brushed against Cullen’s face, and layers of black veins gradually spread across his visage like a spider's web.

"You believers love to keep the teachings of your god on your lips. I would like to ask you, Mr. Cullen, under today’s circumstances, has your god ever taught you what you ought to do?"

"Regrettably, you have never read *The Light of Order*. The God of Order, who founded our sacred church, once personally trampled the Land of Divine Burial into dust."

"The Land of Divine Burial?"

"A place where many, many existences just like you have fallen."

"Oh, heavens, that must be a truly terrifying place. What a pity. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I wouldn't have looked at the newspaper first; I would certainly have read your church's scriptures first.

Still, I believe that the god you faith in will be proud of what you have done today."

"You need not speak like that, for such words offer me no comfort."

"Very well, my apologies."

The black veins continued to spread; they did not merely enter Cullen’s body, but even permeated his soul.

This process did not last for very long, as Mr. Luther's body merged almost entirely with Cullen.

At this moment, his head was positioned above Cullen’s, as though Cullen were carrying him on his back, while his body was draped in a black raincoat meant to ward off the rain.

Cullen turned his head, looked toward that redneck boy, and said, "Now, withdraw the corruption outside, and let my companions leave this place."

A look of absolute absurdity appeared on the redneck boy's face; it found this utterly inconceivable. On what grounds did you think you could command me?

Cullen continued, "You know that if Mr. Luther remains sitting here, he would never agree to let you out. But if it is replaced by me sitting here, it will be different. Perhaps everything I said before was spoken against my heart, knowing the situation was beyond my control. At the very least, you have one more option."

The redneck boy only sneered.

"Mr. Luther, please halt for a moment."

Mr. Luther stopped.

Cullen no longer looked at the redneck boy, but said very calmly, "Release them."

The redneck boy’s gaze grew deep and profound; it raised its hand and made a clutching motion.

Mr. Luther spoke, "The peripheral corruption has been withdrawn. That group of people has already been teleported away."

Cullen turned his head toward Neo and said, "Mr. Luther, release him from his confinement."

"Very well."

Neo regained his freedom. He licked his lips, said nothing, and transformed into a flock of bats, flying outward at the absolute limit of his speed.

After waiting a moment longer, Mr. Luther spoke, "He is out as well."

"Is everyone out?"

"No, someone is unwilling to leave. A person wearing a mask."

"There is no need for him."

"Very well, shall we continue?"

"We may."

"I must apologize to you once more, Mr. Cullen. You must bid a formal farewell to your past."

Cullen took a deep breath and nodded. "I tried to find some grand sense of self-moved emotion for myself, but I failed, because I find that I simply cannot manage it right now."

"That is entirely normal. Being moved is a response bestowed by the outside world."

"No, it is that you cannot expect a person who is starving to death to do anything else before a meal; all of it would be superfluous."

"I quite like this analogy of yours, Mr. Cullen."

"This is not an analogy."

"Goodbye, Mr. Cullen."

"Goodbye, Mr. Luther."

The redneck boy slowly stood up, anticipation and mockery appearing in its eyes.

"Buzz!"

In an instant, all the blackness burrowed into Cullen's body.

Cullen only felt his field of vision expand all at once; everything in the laboratory, everything in the tunnel, and everything around the periphery of the cavern began to rush frantically into his consciousness.

An aura of putrefaction and degradation was manifesting upon his body.

The defensive line of the physical form constructed by Ragnall showed signs of collapse and disintegration for the very first time, and the Dark Moon Bones also began to flake away.

Collapsing right along with them was his soul.

Before this intense, dense divine pollution, the body and the soul—no, the very mode of living existence—were being redefined.

Cullen's consciousness was being stretched and magnified infinitely. If he had been a concrete block of chocolate before, then the current him was like being tossed into a cup of boiling water, melting at a rapid pace.

"Ah..."

Cullen let out a cry. He was not even sure if this sound had actually formed; he could only perceive a very faint ripple shimmering outward.

There was no sensation of pain, because pain at this moment had already shifted into a form of expression with which Cullen was not yet familiar.

The body formally began to melt and peel away; from within, sands of other colors began to flow out. They were incapable of manifesting at any other time; only now, soaked within an absolute concentration of divine pollution, did they truly reveal their presence.

...

"Woof!"

"What is it, stupid dog? What are you barking blindly for in the dead of night?"

Kevin paid no heed to Purr's words. It turned its head to look out the window. Watching the moon in the sky, it began to scratch at the floorboards with its claws in disbelief.

"Has something happened to Cullen, stupid dog?"

Kevin still gave no response, but instead curled up into the corner and began to tremble. In the dog's eyes, there rushed a mixture of panic, terror, reminiscence, and... anticipation.

In the grand sacrificial hall of the Dark Moon Island, the islanders were conducting their morning prayers.

Right then, someone suddenly noticed something and let out a gasp of alarm. Immediately following, the gasps began to chain together into a single wave, and everyone raised their heads, looking upward in utter panic.

Upon that Dark Moon above... a crack had actually appeared.

...

Within the soul space, the black, foul-smelling tide rushed in frantically.

Thousand-Charms began to fly about wildly like mad, evading the onslaught of these waters, while certain other things were swiftly torn down and buried by this violent, surging torrent.

To Thousand-Charms, this was nothing short of the arrival of doomsday. It truly had not expected that the meal it had just used to stuff its belly with "earth" might very well be its last supper.

It began to fly upward desperately. It had to win as much time for itself as possible; even if it was destined to be submerged, it must be the very last one!

"Stupid dog, stupid dog?"

Purr leaped onto Kevin and began to scratch at it. It was absolutely certain that the stupid dog had sensed something, and that it must be related to Cullen.

"Meow!!!"

Suddenly, Purr froze in its tracks. It looked at its own feline paws in stunned bewilderment: "The symbiotic covenant... has disappeared?"

Purr clutched his feline head with his paws: "What kind of power could possibly sever a symbiotic contract?"

"Thud!"

Little Conna, who had been asleep, tumbled off the bed, sat up, and stared blankly at Purr, murmuring: "The master-servant contract... it's gone."

The Allen Mansion, the Patriarch’s study.

Ever since the family got back on track, old Anderson came to this study almost every day to chat with the portraits of his ancestors; previously, he had been too ashamed to enter, but now, this was his hour of bliss.

"Rest assured, dear ancestors, the current members of our family are now—"

"Clatter!"

Directly above the patriarch’s desk,

the grand portrait of the First Ancestor Allen crashed violently to the floor.

...

The Valley of Samsara.

Before the Gate of Samsara, the skeletal remains of the last great war had not yet been completely cleared away; every day, countless people toiled here as laborers, alongside demonic beasts digging and hauling debris.

Suddenly,

the Gate of Samsara trembled violently.

Multitudes of people, priests, demonic beasts, and undead creatures froze in unison. They thought they had misheard, yet a lingering uncertainty hung in the air.

...

The Temple of Order.

Within a sanctuary perched upon a distant star, the Scythe of War, enshrined since time immemorial, suddenly shifted its orientation.

"What is happening? Where has a war erupted to evoke the power of the Scythe of War?"

...

Logia City, Mink Street.

Inside the church, the old

The redneck boy gazed downward, and as the platform ascended rapidly, he saw the position he occupied extend outward, resembling an arm...

Immediately following, a forearm appeared behind the hand, a shoulder behind the forearm, and a torso behind the shoulder...

The redneck boy began to shudder, finally comprehending exactly where he was currently standing; this was a colossal statue, towering and majestic, of unimaginable proportions.

Suddenly, as if struck by a sudden realization, he slowly raised his head and looked upward.

He beheld a face, though he could not grasp what it actually looked like; even witnessing it with his own eyes, he could retain no impression or cognition of it, yet he felt the gaze emanating from that face.

Though he had just snapped the dog chain with his own hands, the redneck boy now dropped to his knees uncontrollably, his body trembling ceaselessly as he choked back sobs, appearing as weak and helpless as a true child.

Mr. Luke raised his head blankly, no longer calling for the prostrate Cullen to stand or move; in his mind, only a single sentence now echoed like thunder, a phrase he himself had previously spoken to Cullen, and he looked down at the crawling redneck boy: "So... this is what violence governed by Order looks like."