Chapter 745: Declaration of War!

Chapter 745: Declaration of War!

Within the bonfire, a sand wolf was propped up and roasting, its fat dripping continuously and emitting a sizzling sound.

Richard picked up his dagger and began to carve the meat; the sand wolf's meat was not of good quality, being quite stringy, but there were still a few places that were relatively tender. Richard carved these sections out and placed them before little Conna and Philomena respectively.

Little Conna had already shifted back into her human form, because her mission was complete; from nightfall today onward, no one would be pursuing them from behind, and she no longer needed to keep leading people on a chase for fun.

She pulled out a pill, wrapped it in a thick slice of meat, and took a bite.

Then, her expression froze.

The aroma of the roasted meat and the terrible taste of the pill blended together, becoming even more revolting!

But the table manners taught to her by the cat at home dictated that unless you were certain it was poison, spitting out food that had entered your mouth was a highly immoral thing to do.

Lifting her head,

*Gulp*,

Little Conna swallowed the food in her mouth down.

"Is it good?" Richard asked.

"It tastes terrible."

"Oh, sorry, my culinary skills definitely can't compare to Karen's."

"It's the pill that tastes bad. Why does your Church of Order make pills taste so awful?"

"Probably because if they tasted good, people would steal them to eat?"

Little Conna nodded and said, "I think so too."

Immediately after, little Conna added, "Do you want to try one?"

"Forget it, I won't try it, it's very expensive."

"It doesn't matter."

"No, it does matter," Richard said with a bitter smile. "Even you get drowsy after eating this pill. If I took a bite... I might just explode from the sheer energy, do you understand?"

This was, after all, a medicine specifically formulated for the dragon race, and a pure-blooded dragon race at that; no, it shouldn't even be called medicine, it should be called a growth hormone.

Richard knew clearly that the little Jerry inside his own body couldn't handle this; little Conna could reach over a hundred meters when she transformed into a dragon now, while little Jerry wasn't even a decimeter yet.

"Sister Purr always says that the family is already overburdened just trying to raise me."

Richard comforted her, "Don't worry, she is actually the one with the largest living expenses in the household; you are on a public allowance."

Richard had seen the afternoon tea of that black cat in Karen's house—oh, heavens, it was entirely made of premium voucher dishes now, and that cup of coffee was at a price level even his grandfather couldn't afford. Karen himself lived a very simple daily life, but toward that cat, he was truly willing to spend.

Little Conna shook her head, "That is because Sister Purr has made many contributions to this family."

"Contributions?"

"She breaks her heart worrying over this family; without her, this household wouldn't be able to function at all."

"Who told you all this?"

"Sister Purr."

"Oh, all right, my grandmother often said things like that too.

So when I was a child, I often believed that if it weren't for my grandmother, all of us with the surname Guman would have to wander the streets and beg."

Philomena sat quietly to the side eating her meat, not speaking.

Richard, however, actively leaned closer and asked, "Are you angry with Karen?"

"My relationship with him is different."

"Oh, uh, alright." Richard scratched his head.

Philomena hesitated for a moment but still said, "It is not the kind of relationship you are imagining."

"What kind of relationship am I imagining?" Richard asked.

"Is there something you need?"

"Just worried that you might be in a bad mood. By the way, would you like me to help treat you in a little while?"

"I am not injured."

"You don't have to be injured; it's a new ability I just learned. Through massage, it can effectively relieve muscle and soul fatigue."

"Why would you go and learn that?"

Richard spread his hands, "What I learn is not controlled by myself, but rather depends on where my dad's belt lashes out."

In front of Philomena, Richard no longer cared about the fact that he was frequently beaten at home, because during his recuperation period, Philomena had come to his house to visit him several times.

Most importantly, Richard also knew that Philomena was often beaten by her own grandmother, so they could be considered "beating buddies."

"No, it is unnecessary."

"Are you embarrassed?"

"Sometimes fatigue testing is also a form of special training."

"Oh, alright, you really are strict with yourself. You know, before meeting you guys—no, to be precise, before meeting Karen—I actually didn't have many demands for myself; I always lived quite happily."

"Are you not happy now?"

"It is a different kind of happiness. When I was a child, I could play without a care in the world, and after becoming an adult, I managed to find a group of friends to play with together. I have always felt blessed, hehe, especially ever since I met Karen."

Philomena shook her head and said, "I do not know what childhood is."

"That doesn't matter; in the future, just give your own child a good childhood, and consider it compensation for yourself."

Little Conna had just swallowed another pill, and while stroking her stomach, she asked, "Richard, are you courting?"

"Uh, what?"

"Talking about children with a member of the opposite sex, isn't that just hoping to engage in mating behavior to reproduce offspring?"

"No, we humans are more hypocritical and won't be so direct."

"Oh, alright."

Little Conna lay down and said, "I am going to sleep. If you two want to mate, you don't need to mind me."

"This child is becoming more and more cheerful," Richard said with a smile, still remembering when Karen first brought her back, she basically wouldn't speak to outsiders and would imitate cat meows at home every day.

Philomena said, "She is resembling that black cat more and more."

That kind of teasing just now carried very much the style of that black cat.

"Are you done eating? You should rest too," Richard said.

"You sleep, I will keep watch."

"No need." Richard reached out and tapped his own forehead. "Little Jerry will be responsible for keeping watch; its detection range is truly very wide."

"Why do I feel that it has been evolving so fast lately?"

Philomena perceived that the new abilities Richard had awakened during this period were somewhat too numerous, and this was not solely due to paternal love.

"Minister Neo once gave me a very detailed rearing manual; it has been of great help to both me and little Jerry."

"So that is how it is."

"A pity that Minister Neo is no longer with us, alas."

Philomena remained silent, for she knew well that Neo was still alive.

Richard, mistakenly believing she too was mourning in silence, quickly moved to liven the mood:

"Actually, it is not all bad. I happen to know Minister Neo owed a fortune in usury before he passed. Two small accounting firms in our York City black market are going straight into bankruptcy because of his death."

...

"Everyone, get some rest. Once dawn breaks, reinforcements will arrive and we can be escorted out."

Within the cavernous fissure, Lango addressed the gathering.

It was he who had discovered this cleft, and he who, acting as organizer, had summoned everyone together at this critical hour; by now, they had all tacitly accepted him as their temporary leader.

Yet, truth be told, few were inclined to rest, resentment still writ large across the faces of the vast majority.

Indeed, it was meant to be a joyous hunt; before setting out, who could have foreseen such an end?

As the pursuers, they had seen their own numbers halved with staggering speed while chasing down their prey.

All of them were elite youths from various churches, proud and arrogant, and given that Karen was about their age—if not younger—to be routed so thoroughly left them utterly humiliated.

In truth, they wronged Karen in this; the heads reaped by Karen and Philomena were a mere minority, while the vast majority had been picked off in ambushes by their own people, like Daliwenluo and Lango.

"I have some potions here for restoring stamina and healing wounds. If anyone needs some, I can share them."

Lango began to check on them one by one.

A few accepted, but most declined, and even those who took them would not truly drink them; a necessary sense of wariness was something they still possessed.

What they failed to anticipate, however, was that with every person Lango approached to inquire after, he left behind precise coordinates on the spot, making final preparations to activate the array shortly.

When Lango finally stepped before Daliwenluo, he smiled and asked, "Do you want some?"

Daliwenluo countered, "As a follower of Life, wouldn't accepting your potion be a slap in my own face?"

Potions had always been the pride of the Church of Life; for a long period, mid-to-high-tier alchemy was essentially monopolized by them, forcing other churches to purchase from them whenever the need arose.

Even though the Grand Priest of Order, Budalas, carrying the residual might of defeating the Light, had forced the Church of Life to open many forbidden grounds and patents, followers of Life still believed their own potions were the finest in the entire clerical circle; even if the technological barriers were gone, the artisan spirit condensed within remained peerless.

"I was just afraid you had run out," Lango explained.

Daliwenluo shook his head. "I have no use for it anymore."

Lango nodded, rising to move on to the next person.

Daliwenluo watched his retreating figure, hesitated for a moment, but ultimately chose not to cast a detection spell to sweep his surroundings.

Once Lango completed his rounds, he sat down.

There was no grand declaration, no preamble; he simply raised his hand and crushed a soul pearl.

With a sharp crack, the array ignited, and beams of ash-gray light fell upon everyone present, binding their souls in an instant.

It seemed effortless and simple, almost like child's play, yet it was entirely natural, for Lango had utilized his status as "one of their own" to essentially press a gun barrel against each of their foreheads; any variation from this outcome would have been the true surprise.

A beam of light also marked Daliwenluo's forehead. He glanced around out of the corner of his eye, and seeing that everyone else remained motionless, he too stayed still, thinking to himself:

"Ha, lacking something really does mean one less flaw. Not having a soul doesn't seem quite so bad after all."

Lango clapped his hands and stood up. He felt little pride in his success; his true age being what it was, he could hardly mimic a youth, pumping his fist and skipping about.

He walked toward Daliwenluo, desperately curious to know what agreement this follower of Life had struck with Karen.

Yet midway there, he froze, sensing someone's arrival at the entrance of the fissure.

Lango turned and left the interior, appearing at the entrance where a lone figure stood—it was Karen.

"Minister Karen, you are punctual indeed."

Karen replied, "I hope you are as well."

"Of course, it is finished. Those foolish young things are now sitting quietly in place. All that remains for us is to pluck their heads one by one—as simple as harvesting cotton."

"I thought you would have piled the heads up so I could just take them away."

"Is that what you wished?" Lango shrugged. "It seems I misjudged you. I thought you would savor the thrill of gathering the fruits of victory with your own hands."

"Go on and pluck them, then. I shall wait here."

Lango brought it into the open: "Minister Karen, are you afraid I have some other designs on you, which is why you refuse to enter this fissure? Do you not trust me?"

"Yes, I do not trust you."

"I appreciate this manner of conversation." Lango looked around. "But, Minister Karen, are you aware that the array I laid down is not confined to the interior of the fissure? There is a part outside as well."

"I am aware. I dismantled it before stepping in; my movements were a bit too light for you to notice, that is all."

Lango: "..."

Lango wore a bitter smile. "You are cautious to a fault. I knew you were skilled in arrays, but I had no idea you were so proficient."

"It is not proficiency. The world within the Gates of Samsara lags behind in certain developments; the arrays you excel at have become textbook archetypes in the modern era. Unraveling them is hardly a chore."

"Oh, so that is how it is."

Karen pointed inward and asked, "Well, are you not going yet?"

"I am hesitating," Lango confessed. "You see, here, I possess an extra measure of confidence. Perhaps I might afford to be a bit greedier."

"Greedy for what?"

"You once said this body limits the display of my true strength, and indeed it does. Yet, it was the most suitable vessel I could find under the circumstances at the time.

But you, Minister Karen—your body...

When we met before, I sensed the extraordinary nature of your vessel, so pure and untainted. Seeing you again now, I find your body all the more enchanting.

Do you know, Minister Karen, it is hard for any soulful entity not to lust after your body. It is only because you have risen to your current position; had you remained a mere divine servant, I fear you would have been chosen by some high official of your Church of Order as a vessel for experimentation...

Oh no, even now, you could well compete to become the successor of the Son of God!"

Karen inquired, "You desire my body?"

"I make no secret of it; I truly covet it."

Karen spread his arms and said, "If you want it, I shall raise no defenses. You are welcome to flood your formidable soul power straight into my body."

"No, I dare not. I am greedy, but when facing you, I lack such courage."

Karen urged, "Please make your decision quickly."

Lango narrowed his eyes.

Inside the fissure, the array continued to hum, drawing soul energy from those young elites and gathering it at the spot where Lango had previously sat.

At this moment, Lango effectively possessed the souls of all these outstanding youths to labor for him and bear his expenditures; in other words, his current strength and survivability had been vastly amplified.

With more cards up his sleeve, his ambitions multiplied.

Daliwenluo stood up and strolled over to the crux of the array. He patted his bald head; he didn't understand arrays well, but fortunately, it mattered little—even without understanding, a solid strike could still smash it to pieces.

Outside, Lango seemed to have made up his mind, raising his hands. "I shall go harvest the heads for you now, Minister Karen."

Karen asked, "Have you fully considered it?"

"I have given it some thought, and I am afraid, hahaha. Does that make me look rather spineless?"

Cullen shook his head. "Not quite, just a trifle disappointing."

Lango turned and walked inward.

Yet at the very instant he turned, a glimmer of relief flickered through Cullen's eyes.

It was a well-hidden display of emotion, veiled as much as possible, a completely subconscious, instinctive reaction.

But the gift of a powerful soul lay in perception; Lango's "vision" did not rely entirely upon his eyes.

He caught it, and at this moment, he was nearly certain that Cullen was merely "bluffing"!

Lango turned sharply once more to confront Cullen, his breath growing rapid and shallow.

Cullen's gaze hardened, but his muscles and expression relaxed into ease a moment later. He smiled. "What, have you gone back on your word again?"

With that, Cullen opened his arms once more and urged, "Forget it, you might as well try. Do not leave yourself with regrets, or you will forever suffer a brooding heart, which would only ruin your quality of life."

Lango's mind began to roar: I have a boost to my power here; within this boundary, I can certainly suppress him!

"Sigh..."

Lango raised his hand,

and then,

"Smack!"

He delivered a vicious slap across his own face.

He spoke, "Minister Cullen, you have entered the Gate of Samsara, so you must know that the world within is no more comfortable than the one outside; on the contrary, the competition there is far more fierce and cruel."

"Indeed it is. So what are you still hesitating for? Simply show me your cruel side."

"No, my point is that my survival to this day—my rise to a high position within the Samsara Cult inside the Gate, and my seizing of that opportunity to step out of it into reality—was at times achieved not through my bravery, but through my cowardice.

I am not certain if that look in your eyes when I turned away just now was intentional on your part, but I... heh, I am truly afraid. I am merely a rat that has managed to live a bit longer than most.

Furthermore, let me share a piece of good news with you. During these past few days of this hunting game, the desert rebels launched a series of effective offensives against the various holy lands of the Desert. The pawns previously planted within the Desert Cult by the orthodox cults also played a monumental role during this period.

Aside from the Makina Holy Land, three other holy lands have been breached. The investigative team you belong to was the last batch to arrive, and the three previous batches of the Order Investigative Team were all within those three breached holy lands at the time.

Therefore, save for a few small fish that managed to break through and escape, the entirety of the Order Investigative Team has been essentially wiped out in the operations of these past few days.

The objective of the great orthodox cults is to use these extreme measures to force the Cult of Order to take the field themselves."

The Desert Cult was originally merely a large-scale cult, and now, not only did it suffer an internal rebellion, but it also faced the collective machinations of an entire flock of orthodox cults; the collapse of the situation was almost an absolute certainty.

Infiltration among the great cults was almost a routine operation—even the Cult of Order frequently found moles and spies within its own ranks. The Desert Cult was already riddled with holes, and with this sudden eruption of internal traitors, the entire stage collapsed in an instant.

The original desert rebels now held more major holy lands than the Desert Cult itself, akin to a civil war within a nation where the rebels had captured nearly all the major cities.

Consequently, if no powerful external force made a decisive intervention, the government forces originally tasked with quelling the rebellion would likely be reduced to "remnants" waiting to be exterminated.

Lango bowed at the waist, paying his respects to Cullen:

"My congratulations, Minister Cullen. Against such a backdrop, when you appear before the vision of Order carrying dozens of severed heads, your glory shall be matchless!"

"I do not find this to be particularly good news, though I shall indeed benefit from it."

"If there is an opportunity in the future for us to meet across a negotiating table, I hope you might grant me some consideration."

"So, you intend to expend your favor here?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"Then you are overthinking it."

"Hmm?"

"Boom!"

A violent tremor originating from the realm of the soul reverberated, and Lango turned back toward the fissure, his face a mask of horror.

"Ah... why am I still so sleepy? No, it would be a miracle if I weren't sleepy now. By all rights, I should have entered my eternal slumber long ago."

Dariwenluo walked out while yawning, reporting to Cullen, "The core of the formation has been smashed to pieces by me. The souls of those fellows whose spirits were confined have all been caught in the fallout and annihilated, but their corpses remain perfectly intact."

Having spoken, Dariwenluo raised his sapling, adopting a stance poised for attack against Lango.

"How did you manage that?" Lango was utterly bewildered; he was certain that the formation's effect had enveloped Dariwenluo at the time, meaning his soul should definitely have been imprisoned!

"I suppose this must be a miracle of life." Dariwenluo cracked his neck. "Furthermore, that you still possess such a thirst for knowledge at this moment is something I did not anticipate."

"Why shouldn't I? We are together in this," Lango said as if it were a matter of course, then turned his gaze toward Cullen.

Stripped of the formation's empowerment and facing a pincer attack from these two, he knew his situation was dire.

Cullen waved his hand at Lango and said, "You may leave."

"Ah, very well, thank you." Lango nodded at once, abandoning whatever lay within the fissure and walking straight out.

Cullen added, "The favor is cleared."

"Of course, of course. No longer owed, no longer owed."

Once Lango had departed, Dariwenluo asked in perplexity, "Why not detain him?"

"He did offer tremendous assistance after all. Moreover, he restrained himself and committed no error."

Dariwenluo smiled in realization. "Oh, I see. This is what true decency is."

Cullen shook his head. "The various holy lands of the Desert have been breached by the rebels, and our distance from the safe zone has been stretched even further. At a time like this, I have no desire to be injured, all for the sake of a single severed head that changes nothing whether we have it or not."

"Am I to return with you?" Dariwenluo inquired.

"Unless you wish to return to the Life Cult and serve as a mole for me?"

"It is possible, I suppose..."

"You possess no soul at present, which would make you easily discoverable within the cult. Most importantly, I cannot possibly journey to the Life Cult at regular intervals to recharge you."

"Very well. Then I shall change my divine robe and don a mask. Do I need to wear a wig?"

"I suggest against it. The dog I keep at home would likely feel a sense of kinship upon seeing that bald head of yours."

Dariwenluo immediately felt a touch aggrieved. "You cannot do this. I have become your Knight of Order, but surely I do not deserve such humiliation? Speaking in this manner is truly too..."

"The dog at my house is named Ranyedal, an evil god condemned by Order in the previous era."

"...too decent!"

...

After severing, sorting, and packing, the number of heads was substantial, but fortunately, upon reuniting with Richard and the others, they had the small bone dragon to haul the cargo.

Following a bout of hard riding and searching through the wilderness, Cullen and his companions finally located that secret contact point of Order and established communication with the Cult of Order—or more precisely, with the Whip of Order.

...

The administrative hall of the Cult of Order.

High Priest Norton sat in his chair, hands clasped before him, a burning cigar resting upon an ashtray on the coffee table in front of him.

Below him sat eight rows of seats, occupied by the respective heads of the cult's various branches; some bore indifferent expressions, while others appeared deeply uneasy.

Everyone knew that the High Priest had just concluded a round-table conference at the absolute apex of the Holy See, a meeting in which a fierce argument had erupted, and the topic of discussion was the Desert Incident.

"Tessensina, Averotti, Pakur."

The three whose names were called immediately rose from their seats and faced the High Priest.

These three individuals were the ones in charge of affairs related to the Desert Religion.

"I have selected three leadership roles in pioneer spaces for you. Report for duty tomorrow; you are needed there."

The three spoke in unison:

"Yes, High Priest."

Should these three leave this grand administrative temple, they would absolute be top-tier magnates within the Order Religion, yet their career destinies were decided by a single sentence from the High Priest.

This also reflected from another angle just how immense the High Priest's current control over the Holy See was. The most intuitive manifestation of power was personnel appointments and dismissals, which were also the most prone to touching the nerves of various factions.

If it had been the previous High Priest, Lasma, who wished to carry out a punitive reassignment of even one of these three, he would have had to take the process to the Roundtable Meeting, and even listen to the opinions of the temple. Now, that was no longer necessary.

Rumors were already spreading outside that High Priest Norton was now the second High Priest to possess such formidable authority, following Budalas more than a thousand years ago.

The High Priest picked up his cigar, took a puff, and after exhaling a ring of smoke, spoke:

"The business in the desert was an absolute embarrassment."

The three Cardinals took the lead in standing up, and the heads of the other various systems followed suit, preparing to collectively beg for forgiveness.

The High Priest waved his cigar and said, "Skip the procedures. Tell me how to remedy it."

The three Cardinals looked at each other and sat back down, and all the heads behind them sat down as well.

At this moment, the Whip-Wielder Foden pointedly looked toward a director from the propaganda department, who was the third-ranking figure in the propaganda system of the Order Religion, specializing in domestic public opinion.

Before entering the meeting hall, Foden had just received a message from his own Order's Whip system. The message had shocked even the Whip-Wielder himself, whose first reaction was to wonder if it was fake news, but upon seeing the signature of the person involved and the list of trophies, he immediately confirmed its authenticity.

Many things could be faked, but human heads could hardly be counterfeited; one could simply deploy the intelligence network to check those whose heads were severed to see if they ever appeared in their respective religions again.

Furthermore, the heads were about to be teleported over; at the latest, he would see them with his own eyes by evening.

Najir, receiving Foden's subtle hint, hesitated for a moment before standing up and saying:

"High Priest, we have just received news. A delegation of observers composed of young elites from various major religions was entirely annihilated while pursuing a member of our investigation team. I believe that when we announce our religion's setback in the desert internally, we can focus our propaganda on this achievement to offset the negative impact within the religion."

"A member" referred to Karen, as Philomena and Richard were considered attendants and, for the time being, did not count as people in the report.

"Who is it?"

"Karen Silva, Director of the Enforcement Department of the Order's Whip for the York City District. He was one of the members of this investigation team, belonging to the final batch to enter the sequence of the Machina Holy Land investigation team."

"Karen Silva?" The High Priest smiled and set his cigar down. "I remember him, Foden."

Foden immediately stood up and said, "He is a young man whom my Order's Whip is focusing on cultivating. Previously, during the Wien divine pollution incident, he personally led a team down into the polluted cave and brought out an artifact from the contaminated area. Currently, the former Whip-Holder of the York City District needs to temporarily step away from his post due to unforeseen circumstances, and we have already resolved to let Karen succeed the position of Whip-Holder."

Deliberately adding the latter piece of news was highly necessary, because the starting point for rewarding merit would be different. Foden's meaning was simple: that young man named Karen was already the next district head, so the specifications of the reward naturally had to be raised.

Of course, his deliberate mention of Karen's matter was not purely to elevate Karen.

The High Priest nodded. "He has indeed won back some face for our religion. For a young man like him, there is no need to care too much about age. Some people usually pride themselves on being mature and prudent, yet they panic and fall into disarray when things actually happen."

Foden spoke up, "High Priest, the most urgent matter now is to reconstruct our religion's intelligence system in the desert. This time, the situation was caused precisely because our intelligence work was inadequate. I believe that for external intelligence work, especially in key sensitive areas, we should abandon the past habit of multi-department joint operations, because this not only leads to overlapping responsibilities and functions but also easily leaks secrets."

The High Priest asked, "Meaning, you want to take over?"

Foden responded immediately, "Yes, the Order's Whip is willing to be responsible for the reconstruction of the desert intelligence system, and will never allow a similar incident to occur again."

"Look, look at him, his dog tail is showing," the High Priest said with a smile.

The numerous dignitaries below all let out cooperative laughter.

The Whip-Wielder Foden also cooperatively displayed a hint of bashfulness at having his hidden motives exposed.

Only here, before the High Priest, would these icebergs of dignitaries, who were aloof and high above on ordinary days, regain this touch of mundane life.

"So you see, it is only when one has capable people under them who can get things done that one can speak with such confidence. The rest of you should learn from this in the future. Before asking for benefits, first bring some achievements to the table for everyone to see.

Foden, the reconstruction of the desert intelligence system is hereby entrusted to the Order's Whip."

"Yes, your subordinate obeys your command!"

The High Priest shifted his sitting posture slightly, and everyone below adjusted theirs along with him.

"At the Roundtable Meeting, the elders held widely differing opinions. Some advocated for war, while others said this is clearly an old dispute from the days when our Order and the Light opposed each other, a pit into which we must not leap.

What about you all? What are your views?"

For a moment, no one dared to stand up and speak, because everyone was still unsure of the High Priest's thoughts.

At this point, Cardinal Crede, who was responsible for the authority and responsibility of external warfare, stood up and said, "High Priest, I believe that no matter what, our religion cannot sit idly by and watch the desert completely replace the wasteland with the covert support of other churches."

Once his words were spoken, everyone felt as if they had taken a reassuring pill, and they immediately stood up to voice their own fierce opinions. The council chamber seemed to be filled with a flock of soaring eagles.

Because everyone understood that what Crede said was definitely the High Priest's own thought.

The High Priest set his cigar down and said:

"What their purpose is, we know very well.

Not long ago, did we not just introduce a new mobilization mechanism reform plan? It is time to implement it comprehensively."

At this moment, Foden stood up and said, "High Priest, the Whip-Holder of the York City District submitted a new reform plan. After reviewing it, I replied that it was too bold and radical. But looking at it now, ordinary and gentle methods might find it difficult to satisfy the current situation."

"A radical plan? Proposed by the York City District again?"

"Yes. After all, the York City District has always been a pioneering demonstration area for the reforms of our Order's Whip. If this reform plan is implemented, the next specific executioner will be Karen. He is currently still at one of our liaison points in the desert, and upon his return, he will assume the position of District Whip-Holder."

The High Priest nodded and said, "Radical reforms should be attempted by radical young people. Let him do it first. Keep an eye on him, and if any problems arise, just call a halt to it."

"Yes, High Priest."

The Whip-Wielder sat down, and the gazes falling upon him from many around were filled with envy. After all, by utilizing the achievement of a young subordinate within his system today, he had directly secured two major benefits for his own branch.

One was that the Order's Whip would break out of its inertia of only internal supervision and officially begin external development; the other was that this reform could continue to strengthen the influence of the Order's Whip within the religion.

Foden had personally read that radical plan. How was this a radical plan? This was clearly a plan of radicalism.

It was only because the district head who submitted this plan was still the wife of the Son of God; otherwise, an ordinary district head would simply not dare to submit such a thing upward.

The High Priest reached out and lightly tapped the table, and the council chamber instantly fell silent.

"I announce that our religion will officially intervene in the desert civil war.

Do they not want to bleed our religion?

Very well.

Then we shall use them to train our troops!"