Chapter 719: Base Modification

Chapter 719: Base Modification

"That Dark Moon Island princess sister doesn't seem to have come along," Ventura remarked with a slight grin, breaking the silence as he bit into a cream cake. The pastry had been baked by his grandmother's own hands. Ever since his position and stipend had improved, she had taken to adding an extra helping of high-grade cream—the kind that could only be purchased with special vouchers—whenever she baked. However, that premium cream was meant for his colleagues and the department head; Ventura himself always stuck to the most ordinary kind.

"Tell me, is that any of your business?" Muri looked down at the younger boy. "No superior ever appreciates their subordinates prying into their private affairs."

"I'm just chatting with you. What, are you going to report me to Mr. Alfred, or are you going to stand up and criticize me at the next reading seminar?"

Ventura shared the closest bond with Muri. After all, they belonged to the same inaugural class of the Performing Arts Hall training program, and among themselves, they joked about being the first-termers. Philomena belonged to the second term, while Lyon and Wick were of the third.

Muri smiled faintly. "You are more than welcome to take the initiative at the next seminar and bring up criticisms regarding the Minister's personal romantic life."

"You're terrible."

Ventura finished the last morsel of his cake, licked the remaining cream from his fingers, and then picked up two fallen leaves from the ground to wipe his hands clean.

Muri spoke in a measured tone. "Ophelia belongs to Son of God Mavalo's department, not our system. To put it even more bluntly, if we want to gain absolute control over this vanguard of Dark Moon warriors, stripping away the influence of Dark Moon Island is our absolute priority. Therefore, not just this time, but in the future, we must minimize any substantive contact between Her Highness and these warriors. Mr. Alfred has already dropped a hint to Son of God Mavalo. Moving forward, our Princess Ophelia will remain occupied with scientific research."

"That’s exactly what I meant," Ventura replied, "but it’s going to be incredibly difficult. Dark Moon Island is their homeland, after all. The parents, and even the wives and children, of many among them are still on that island."

Muri shook his head, correcting him. "We are not asking them to betray Dark Moon Island. We are letting them see that we represent a more advanced, far superior path for the Dark Moon. Just as Mr. Alfred said, we are not rebelling against Order; we are setting out to establish a better New Order."

"You certainly memorized that well."

"It requires true understanding. I believe you should invest more energy into these matters. Only a solid theoretical foundation can properly guide practice."

"I don't really care about all that." Ventura drew a flare from the pocket of his divine robes. "All I know is that my life was given to me by the old master of the Inmemoles family, and everything I have now was given to me by the young master."

"The Minister won't like that kind of mindset."

Ventura remained indifferent. "It’s enough to leave the execution to clever people like you. There always needs to be someone a bit simple-minded like me..."

"Heh, to do what?"

"To keep an eye on you clever people."

The clearing fell quiet for a moment.

Ventura attempted to smooth things over. "Muri, I didn't mean that against you."

"I know," Muri nodded. "I can only interpret it this way: when some people are too clever, they require the most principled and steadfast individuals to balance them out. Otherwise, their cleverness might easily lead the team straight over a cliff."

Neither youth mentioned a name, yet both knew exactly who that clever person was—Wick.

Of the five core disciples, four possessed deep, unbreakable bonds with Cullen himself. Only Wick was an opportunist. Furthermore, while everyone lay unconscious in the cavern, Wick had issued the command to abandon the Minister and retreat. Though the others could comprehend the logic behind it upon waking, it remained difficult to accept emotionally.

Muri spoke. "Fire the flare. Clear the path from here to the manor."

"Understood."

Ventura pulled the cap, and the flare shot into the sky, bursting into a silent flash.

Immediately,

From the forest ahead of them, squads from the Whip of Order emerged from their hidden positions, swiftly advancing to screen and scour the terrain, eliminating any potential threats.

The scale of the deployment reached twenty squads, half of which were comprised of Dark Moon warriors.

Muri rested a hand on Ventura’s shoulder. Ventura thumped his chest as his physique expanded, transforming into a towering stone giant. Leveraging the strength of the giant's wrist, Muri hoisted himself up and stood upon Ventura's shoulder, surveying the surroundings from his elevated vantage point.

The stone giant began its march forward, and the sweeping operations of the surrounding Whip of Order squads rippled outward, using the giant as their center point.

Behind them, the prestigious motorcade was about to arrive.

***

"This way, Your Eminence." Lyon personally attended to Delon.

Lyon was the sole remaining descendant of the former Chief Bishop, while Delon was an old subordinate of that very same figure. The bond between them spanned generations, so Delon treated him with great courtesy, never viewing him merely as a junior.

Of course, Old Delon’s presence today was not solely due to ancient sentiments; the one who had truly requested his assistance was his own maternal grandson.

The pretext for the entire operation was simple enough: an Inquisitor of Order whose jurisdiction encompassed the Allen Manor lands had reported sightings of magical beasts within these mountains. Once the report was submitted, the Whip of Order dispatched a squad to investigate. Based on their findings, they resolved to fortify the area, using the manor as a staging point to construct a minor defensive array to repel any beast incursions.

The relevant department of the Whip of Order then forwarded this official request for cooperation to the Regional Administration Office, which passed it along to the Array Department via standard administrative procedures.

As it turned out, the Bishop in charge of array affairs for the entire region decided that the weather was pleasant today—or perhaps he felt that no matter how minor the threat, any matter concerning the stability of Order was paramount. In short, he had come in person.

He did not come alone, either; he brought a contingent of highly capable, elite array masters from his department, including several who held titles of directors and chiefs.

Such was the efficacy of a network of relationships, the compounding effect of authority and influence.

Delon was willing to exert himself for his grandson, but his willingness alone did not automatically mean he could mobilize so many high-ranking personnel from his department to assist. Ultimately, it was a testament to the prestige of "Minister Cullen."

The most defining characteristic of regional protectionism—or factionalism—was that within a specific domain, the will of a single individual or group could bypass the standard boundaries between departmental systems.

Cullen currently held that level of stature within the York City Region. Especially after emerging alive from the cavern, it was clear to everyone that his prospects were boundless. Years from now, if anyone from the York City Region were to secure a seat at the Holy See’s Roundtable, it would undoubtedly be him.

What regional leadership wouldn't want one of their own in the inner circle of the Church in the future?

After all, having an insider at the Holy See made everything easier.

"Bring me the master blueprint. Are you prepared?" Delon inquired.

"Yes, we are ready." Lyon produced the master schematic and began to unroll it.

He unrolled it... and kept unrolling it... and unrolling it...

The process took quite some time because the parchment was exceptionally large.

This particular blueprint was a personal favor Cullen had requested from Master Pilo when the master visited him following Neo’s memorial service.

The reason it had been provided so swiftly was because Master Pilo had simply dropped a duplicate copy of a permanent fortress array blueprint utilized by the Church within an Unexplored Dimension.

It was safe to say that Master Pilo’s affection for his student, Cullen, was deeply ingrained.

One had to realize that these permanent garrison arrays, designed to withstand mysterious and unknown perils within unexplored territories, were classified military schematics.

Delon’s eyelids twitched slightly. He lowered his voice and asked, "Are you planning to construct another regional headquarters building here?"

Lyon replied with a polite smile, "It should be far simpler than an administration building."

"But purely from the standpoint of defense, detection, and screening capabilities, it is in no way inferior to a regional office. I had no idea you were orchestrating something on this scale. I did bring some array materials from the warehouse, but for a project of this magnitude, it is nowhere near enough."

"Please put your mind at ease, Your Eminence. The necessary materials have already been prepared within the manor."

"Oh?" Delon paused, surprised. "Your preparations are thorough indeed."

Delon turned his gaze back. The manor servants were currently serving tea and light refreshments to the array masters he had brought along. Beneath each person's teacup sat a black envelope.

The envelopes were not thick, but that did not imply the value inside was meager; rather, it suggested bearer cards issued by private underground banks, containing vast sums.

Delon knit his brows slightly. Good heavens, this was open bribery right before his eyes.

Had it been in the past, the old man would have lost his temper and launched into a tirade upon witnessing such a display.

It was only out of consideration for his grandson today that he chose to endure it; after all, his wife had also accompanied him on this journey.

Leon perceived the subtle shift in Delong’s expression and smiled warmly, saying, "My Lord, this is merely a token for tea. When neighbors are invited to lend a hand during the busy harvest or when a house is being built, these small gestures are always prepared. It is simply the custom here in Wien."

"Hmph, custom. They are, after all, Inquisitors of the Order," the old man muttered, a lingering touch of resentment still coloring his words.

"But today is the Sabbath, a statutory holiday for the district. Everyone is actually off-duty right now; it is their personal time. Consider it a bit of extracurricular earning. Besides, with the official letter of assistance already processed beforehand, no one can possibly find fault with it."

The materials were provided by me, the wages were prepared by me, and you all are currently on holiday. How could this possibly be considered a transgression?

At that moment, several directors holding the envelopes turned their eyes toward Delong, waiting for his implicit consent; they had, after all, once been his students.

Delong let out a helpless sigh and said, "This is a matter of personal relations."

Only then did smiles break across their faces as they slid the envelopes into their pockets.

They belonged to the upper-middle echelon of the district's clergy, but that did not mean they were wealthy. In truth, within the district, the vast majority of the Order's Inquisitors subsisted solely on their stipends.

Departments capable of skimming cream or engaging in embezzlement certainly existed, but they were confined to a few minor offices and had little to do with most of the personnel.

Furthermore, following the strict crackdown implemented after the new Chief took office not long ago, a considerable number of bishops and high-ranking clerics had been dismissed and imprisoned. The institutional atmosphere had cleared immensely, and no one dared stretch out a hand to touch what little perks remained.

Moreover, array masters possessed a natural inclination to research and experiment with new formations, and the required materials were invariably exorbitant. The higher one's position, the more one delighted in playing with high-end arrays. Thus, while most of the directors and chiefs present lived quite comfortably by ordinary standards, they were universally impoverished when it came to the currency of the faith. They were deeply pleased to receive such a generous bit of extra income.

However, these array materials and the tea money had nearly drained the majority of the Allen Estate's revenue from the past year. Yet, despite this, Old Anderson harbored not the slightest resentment. This was, after all, a family defense array!

Even during the family’s zenith, it would have been impossible to invite so many dignitaries from the Church of the Order to assist in constructing one.

Although nearly all future family income would have to be dedicated to the maintenance costs of this array, Old Anderson still deemed it entirely worthwhile. For compared to wealth and castles, the most precious thing that could truly be passed down through generations was this very formation.

Delong waved his hand and called out, "Come, let us begin the work."

He had initially thought that by arriving in the morning with so many people, and with the foundational work already completed in advance, the array could be finished in less than half an hour. Looking at the sheer scale of the task now, he estimated they would be working from this moment until late into the night.

"Alas..."

Delong placed his hands on his hips and sighed once more, a bitter expression crossing his face.

"This old waist of mine is going to be utterly broken today."

...

"He actually has the nerve to put his hands on his hips and sigh. That old creature, who knows how long it has been since he last used his waist."

In front of the window on the third floor of the castle, Madame Tanli stood watching her old man down below working busily with the crowd.

"Madame, please have some tea."

Eunice took the tea, which she had ordered the maid to bring, from the bedroom doorway and personally presented it to Madame Tanli.

Madame Tanli turned her head to look at Eunice, a warm smile gracing her face. As she accepted the teacup, she placed a pair of silver bracelets into Eunice's palm.

"Thank you for the gift, Madame."

Eunice did not decline; she slipped the bracelets on directly in front of Madame Tanli. She knew this was a sacred artifact. Having already reached Level 5 within the family's faith system, with a faint indication of an imminent breakthrough to Level 6, she could clearly sense the energy fluctuations contained within the jewelry.

"When I was pregnant, I wore it constantly. It is good for the body and helps avoid accidental bumps."

"Understood, I will remember that."

"Heh."

Madame Tanli had suddenly appeared in Eunice's bedroom and had told her quite plainly that she was Karen's elder.

Yet this young girl had not shown the slightest panic; she had accepted the reality of her appearance with utter composure and had even served her tea.

She was beautiful, possessed an excellent figure, and one could see she had a gentle disposition while being well-versed in the ways of the world.

As for things like family faith systems, bloodlines, or talents, Madame Tanli ignored them entirely. She did not lack such things herself, so she cared nothing for them.

This grandson of hers really shared his grandfather's taste in choosing a wife.

Wait, that was not right. The grandson's fiancée before her seemed to have been personally chosen by Karen's grandfather.

So, what did that prove?

Did it mean that Dis's method of selecting a partner remained exactly the same as it had been in his youth?

True enough, given her own foul and stubborn temper back then, probably only an old creature like Delong could have accommodated her so unconditionally.

"I often hear Karen speak of you. His fiancée is always on the tip of his tongue."

Eunice smiled at the words and said, "It is I who have been discourteous. By rights, I should have been the one to pay my respects at your door."

"Never mind that, there is no need. His work is busy now, and very perilous..."

"I know. I will not allow him to be distracted."

"That is not what I meant. I mean to say that he has many things to attend to over these next two years. Only when the immediate matters are properly settled can you two lead a truly tranquil life. Ah, well, you surely understand this principle."

"Yes, I know the burden on his shoulders is very heavy."

"Alas."

Madame Tanli took a sip of tea and looked out the window again at her busy husband.

This husband of hers was happy. He had labored under the impression that Karen had returned alive from the cavern early on, merely suffering from severe injuries; thus, his concern was entirely focused on the recovery of Karen's physical condition.

As for herself, she had lived in terror for nearly half a month, weeping secretly in the night countless times, dreading what would happen if Karen truly failed to return.

That fellow, even if wrapped in bandages from head to toe, carrying contamination to shield against inspection, and playing the role of Karen to perfection—down to every movement and habit of speech...

How could she possibly fail to recognize her own flesh-and-blood grandson?

Whether it was real, whether it was truly him, she only needed to stand before him to know instantly.

So two nights ago, when Karen's phone call came through, she had been the one to answer it. The moment Karen cried out "Grandmother," Madame Tanli had wept outright.

The request Karen subsequently made regarding his grandfather was granted by Madame Tanli without even consulting her husband first.

Would he dare refuse? She would hack him to pieces!

The joy of her grandson finally returning alive was enough to demolish all of a grandmother's reason.

She had accompanied him here as well. Meeting Karen's fiancée was merely an incidental matter; her primary purpose was to act as the overseer.

...

"This time, I truly thank you for your accommodation."

"You are too kind, too kind. Whether out of respect for you or for Minister Karen, it is only right that we extend such a convenience."

"Then, shall we meet tomorrow evening?"

"Very well, until tomorrow evening."

Vick stepped out of the Sealed Space Office, having just concluded a piece of negotiation.

Minister Karen, under the pretext of requiring the power of a sacred artifact to treat the contamination upon his body, had applied to use the "Harp of the Goddess Miers."

Under normal circumstances, however, the utilization of a sacred artifact required not only a specific summoning altar but also the presence of relevant personnel from the Sealed Space Office to supervise and prevent any leakage of the artifact's power.

Vick's purpose on this trip was to trade on reputation—first leveraging Karen's influence, and then drawing upon that of his own mentor.

Although his mentor, Rasma, had been defined by the higher-ups as a representative of the conservative faction, causing Vick's own political career to suffer, Rasma had served in the Sealed Space before becoming the Grand Priest, leaving behind a few favors.

Now, his student had come to collect them.

The "Harp of the Goddess Miers" was not meant for treating contamination; it was intended for purification when one ascended to become a servant of the gods. How could they possibly allow the people from the Sealed Space to witness such an event?

Fortunately, the Sealing Space naturally came with its own share of side benefits and gray area perks. When other departments applied to use a divine artifact, they usually managed to sneak in a little extra work within a reasonable scope. It was like finally securing a rare, high-end instrument under the name of a specific experimental project; who would be foolish enough to just pack up and finish after running that single project? As long as time permitted, they would certainly squeeze in as many extra runs as possible.

Therefore, outside grease and personal favors were needed to stop the mouths of the Sealing Space priests, forcing them to turn a blind eye.

Stepping outside, the cold wind brushing against him, Vick exhaled a long breath.

His task could be considered complete.

He could not help but slap his own face with a crisp smack:

"Serves you right for speaking up back then. Did everyone else lose their mouths?"

Then, second-guessing himself, he remembered that among the direct line at that time, besides himself, everyone else had been severely wounded and knocked unconscious.

"Agh."

Vick reached up to scratch his hair, deeply annoyed.

"Next time, next time I'll charge right up too. At worst, we all get knocked out together. Damn it, no wonder Leon charged ahead back then."

…

There were seven vehicles in total. The one in the very middle was the VIP car, and Karen sat inside.

Seated right in front of him was little Conas, while Philomena sat behind him.

He currently possessed no power, making things highly dangerous. Ever since his return, Conas had not left his side, and Philomena's duty had shifted to around-the-clock protection.

Thus, such an imposing entourage was not pure ostentation, but a necessity born of genuine security concerns.

Just yesterday, the Whip of Order had apprehended two suspects. According to their confessions, at least three factions were currently plotting an assassination, aiming to strike while he was supposedly afflicted by the severe wound contamination.

This led Karen to reflect on his past conduct. What had he done to accumulate so many enemies who wished him dead?

The conclusion of his reflection was that in the future, he must purge his enemies as thoroughly as possible, allowing them to reunite beneath the earth.

Of course, the heavy escort served another purpose: concealment.

The performance hall inside Allen Manor hid his greatest secret, which was also the critical key to his future path of advancement. It required the most absolute protection, and cutting corners on cost was out of the question.

Rather than acting stealthily, it was better to lay things out openly and grandly, placing the secret right under the sunlight. That way, it was less likely to arouse outside suspicion.

Let the world believe that he, the director, was merely seeking benefits for his wife's family, heh.

In essence, it was because the current Karen finally possessed the confidence and backing to guard his own secrets.

Alfred, who was driving, spoke up: "Young Master, did you look over the proposal I gave you last night?"

Karen nodded as he stroked the fur along Purr's back while she lay across his knees. "I read it."

"Young Master, are you dissatisfied?" Alfred knew that if his master were satisfied, he would have added a brief "It will do."

"Yes, I am dissatisfied."

"Your political path has been swept completely smooth by the cavern contamination incident. Given the current situation, once your injuries heal, you only need to complete the upcoming Desert Cult civil war investigation team and the Order Church University societies. As long as Director Gaspoir can be pressured into stepping down quickly, you will rightfully succeed her and take the director's seat."

"I know."

"Therefore, these arrangements must be laid out in advance so everything connects seamlessly when the time comes, minimizing any waste of time. Young Master, our time is precious."

"I understand, but the scheme in your proposal is somewhat too aggressive."

More than just aggressive... some of those methods were downright underhanded.

"But Young Master, she has only just assumed office as director. Without extreme measures, it will be very difficult to make her vacate the seat.

As long as you join that church university society and are accepted by the academic faction as one of their own, then for the academics, having you replace Gaspoir maximizes the faction's interests. After all, you are far younger than she is, and your future prospects are much higher."