Chapter 746: Go Home!

Chapter 746: Going Home!

Two three-meter-long lounge chairs were carried upstairs by little Concia, one in each hand, and brought to the second-floor terrace where she set them down.

Deliberately looking from the back of one chair toward the other to confirm they were perfectly aligned, little Concia finally lay down contentedly on one of them; having just taken her medicinal pills, she was beginning to feel drowsy and needed to sleep.

The domestic education provided by Purr was evidently very successful; even out in the open, the little bone dragon meticulously adhered to the family's living habits.

Karen arrived at the terrace holding a water cup in his left hand, an insulated flask filled with ice cubes in his right, and a copy of the Order Weekly tucked under his arm.

Drinking ice water and reading the newspaper in a desert oasis was truly a pleasant indulgence.

Some days had passed since they found the liaison point. Karen had already submitted the investigation team's situation reports, battle record reports, and administrative observation reports; those dozens of severed heads should by now have been circulated among the high-ranking officials of the Church. Moreover, on the second-page spread of the copy of the Order Weekly he had just received today, there was a photograph of the "jingguan"—the pyramid monument built of those heads.

Penned personally by the chief editor of the Order Weekly, a vast amount of ink had been spilled to render and describe Karen's accomplishments this time.

It was written with great subtlety, great emotion, great passion, and great surging energy;

It made Karen himself wish to meet the "Karen" described in the newspaper.

One could only say that the chief editor was truly worthy of his title; his literary prowess was genuinely admirable.

In moments of crisis, what he thought of in his heart was Order; in times of hardship, relying on his faith in Order, he burst forth with a more stubborn fighting spirit—the honorable chief editor used numerous parallelisms to depict "Karen's" inner thoughts at that time.

Karen could not help but laugh as he read, finding it both amusing and unfamiliar.

He could not return just yet because his current status was rather awkward. In name, he still belonged to the investigation team; although the team was now virtually wiped out, even if the men fell, the framework had to be maintained.

He had even received an appointment from within the Church, becoming the temporary deputy head of the investigation team.

Though it was temporary and only a deputy position, such a title was still a massive leap for the current Karen.

But who could blame them? After the annihilation of the investigation team, Karen was the first member to actively contact the Church. Although some scattered personnel who escaped were subsequently gathered, many held positions lower than Karen's, and even those higher were only marginally so.

In any case, it was a hollow title; it was better to give it to someone who had performed meritorious service as a temporary arrangement, bringing things to a proper conclusion. After returning to report on his duties, there would still be formal procedures to go through, as the sacrificed team members still needed evaluations for their pensions and compensation.

Exactly as Lango had anticipated, through this "headhunting operation," he had acquired an immense amount of political capital. In the past, he had only been on the stage of the York City region; now, he was clearly standing beneath the spotlight of the entire Church.

The propaganda methods within the Church of Order held no surprises either; they first announced the losses of the investigation team, and then focused heavily on promoting Karen's deeds.

The only thing Karen failed to foresee was probably the Church's attitude toward the desert incident, which was unexpectedly clear and iron-fisted.

The front-page headline featured a speech by Grand Priest Norton.

First, a definitive definition was given to the Desert Investigation Team incident, labeling it: A direct provocation and infringement upon Order.

Following the definition came the measures; there were no bureaucratic pleasantries, no postponement to the future, and no empty warnings issued into the void. Instead, it stated directly and clearly that the Church of Order would personally enter the fray to cleanse all dust upon Order.

Among them, three sentences left the deepest impression on Karen;

The first sentence was: "Some wish to carve out a place to continuously bleed us, believing this can drag us down. But they do not know that we, the believers of Order, do not even fear death; shall we fear shedding blood?"

In this sentence, "not even fearing death" was not a mere adjective for courage, but a direct reference to the First Knight Order.

This was directly bringing out the universally recognized ultimate weapon of the Church of Order to inspire their own believers of Order and to deter the external clerical circles.

It told the entire religious world that in this incident, the upper limit of the Church of Order's handling mechanism could go as high as deploying the Order Knights.

The ultimate weapon was precisely used in this manner; it could remain asleep forever, but it could absolutely not be absent. Moreover, its value did not lie in its actual usage; pulling it out to bask in the sun whenever anything happened was enough to exert its effect.

The second sentence: "The Desert Church, in the management of this crisis, has shown indolence in capability and wavering in faith; it is unworthy of trust and entrustment."

This sentence appeared to be the Grand Priest directly criticizing and expressing dissatisfaction with the Desert Church, but in truth, it was establishing a master-subordinate relationship for the subsequent intervention of the Church of Order.

The Desert Church was too useless, so the purpose of the Church of Order's upcoming intervention was not to prop up the Desert, but a unilateral retaliatory punishment by the Church of Order.

The Church of Order would no longer spend energy and cost to insist on supporting a Desert facade—that is, a "puppet regime."

From a practical standpoint, continuing to maintain the existence of the Desert Church could significantly lower the cost of intervention and maintenance for the Church of Order, as well as secure the moral high ground.

But from the perspective of long-term interests, continuing to maintain the existence of the Desert Church would only cause it to remain a continuous bleeding wound for the Church of Order. In the future, once the forces of Order withdrew, the Desert Church might collapse again in an instant.

Therefore, this church, which had been thoroughly infiltrated and riddled with holes, no longer required resuscitation.

Besides, Order had originally intended to control and absorb it; now, they might as well dismantle and consume it without any concealment.

Furthermore, this also meant that the Church of Order would not sink into the quagmire of a traditional "counter-insurgency war." We are only here to kill people, not to govern the land.

Karen could not help but sigh with emotion: "This is treating the desert as an expansion space to be conquered."

Every major church had its own newly opened spaces, and the vast majority of those spaces contained "indigenous populations"—non-human entities. Toward them, the Church's method of handling was basically to cleanse first and build later.

Therefore, the Church of Order would next focus on striking the vital forces of the hostile desert factions. I do not want this territory, nor do I wish to manage this faith zone; I completely abandon all revenue here. I am just here to kill people!

The cost would be immense; there might only be a few strongholds, and every time a military operation took place, the forces of Order would have to be deployed instantly through teleportation arrays, but this could effectively preserve their own vital forces.

"Training the troops..."

Karen could not help but think of this.

If nothing unexpected occurred, it might happen that not only the knight orders and garrisons, but even the various major regions would take turns organizing personnel to go to the desert to participate in war missions, using this to sharpen the believers.

Perhaps not long from now, after he returned, he would have to come back here again, leading a "militia regiment" formed by the York City region.

The third sentence almost corroborated Karen's conjecture. The Grand Priest said:

"The time this war begins shall be decided by us; let the time it ends be left to them to decide."

Looking at this sentence in isolation made one feel it was a form of weakness and helplessness.

But considering the preceding preamble and the sheer scale of the Church of Order, the flavor changed instantly, presenting a genuinely transcendent confidence.

A leader's unyielding posture could always win favor more easily, because it provided a better sense of protection and pride.

But if one disregarded actual circumstances and blindly remained unyielding, it could easily lead to a continuous deterioration of the situation, or even a total disaster.

Karen was not certain what the future of this iron-fisted intervention would become, because up until now, he himself still possessed the feeling of being a grain of sand in an era; he saw it, he experienced it, he participated in it, but he was still carried along by the tide.

It was worth mentioning that after this declaration was publicly issued, the desert rebels immediately halted their pursuit of victory, ceasing to attack the remaining strongholds of the Desert Church to exterminate them entirely.

Instead, they rapidly consolidated their forces and transferred resources; even those few large sacred lands they had just captured seemed no longer intended for a stubborn defense, as they began preparing for a subsequent fragmentation into smaller units.

Because the rebels, and the orthodox churches behind them, knew very well that even if they assembled all their forces to mount a defense within the sacred lands, when the Order Knights appeared, they would still be unable to withstand the hooves of Order.

For this reason, many desert believers were able to escape from the regions originally controlled by the rebels, and quite a few people had recently arrived at this small stronghold where Karen was staying.

A woman dressed in a yellow gown appeared behind Karen. Her name was Denimir; her grandfather had been a high-ranking official of the Desert Church, and her father had originally been the third manager of a sacred land.

During the recent period, her grandfather and father had successively died at the hands of the rebels. She herself had gone into hiding and taken the opportunity to escape after the rebels consolidated their forces.

Her status was noble, but nobility was predicated on the continued existence of the Desert Church.

Karen knew her intentions in approaching him; she hoped to maintain a sense of stability through a relationship with him.

This pattern of behavior appeared clichéd yet entirely natural.

It was just that she was destined to be disappointed, because Karen had no intention of continuing his development in the desert. He was waiting for the summons; after returning to the Dingge region to report on his duties, he would return to the York City region to serve as the regional director. York City was his upcoming fundamental base.

Remaining here in the desert to be an Order warlord, living in luxury with noble desert women for company—such a life might be liked by someone like Count Rekar, but Karen did not like it.

Denimir crouched beside Karen's lounge chair. The small desert lizard upon her shoulder darted out, seemingly wanting to go toward the lounge chair where little Concia lay; after all, while master spoke to master, pet would go to play with pet.

The fast-asleep little Concia turned over at this moment, her brow furrowing slightly; the desert lizard immediately froze in place, not daring to step forward, only venturing to grovel on the spot, looking very much like its master.

Karen sighed, closed the newspaper, and said, "Miss Denimir, I have said before, you do not need to spend your thoughts on me. From me, you cannot obtain the things you desire."

"I am willing to follow you and leave the desert, Lord Karen."

"But I am unwilling to take you away from the desert, Miss."

"I am willing to give you everything, if only you would grant me a sliver of peace."

"I need nothing from you, nor am I qualified to grant you any peace."

"Are you truly so heartless?"

Miss Denimir let slip a sorrowful and fragile expression. Born into nobility, she had once been a benevolent star at high-society banquets, and she was well-practised in assuming a vulnerable air.

Karen nodded and said, "I have a fiancée, and I have no intention of becoming entangled with other women and affecting my family."

"Very well, I understand. Thank you for taking me in during this time."

"You should thank the chief of the liaison office here. I, too, am merely being sheltered. Now, mademoiselle, I require rest; you have disrupted my peace."

Miss Denimir rose and departed, her lizard following closely behind.

A moment later, Dalivinro, clad in the robes of the Order and wearing his mask, strolled over, asking curiously, "I had thought you would carry her to the bedroom chamber, and after a tempestuous swaying, kindle the sparks of life."

Karen continued turning the pages of his newspaper, saying, "Once you return with me and receive an education from my manservant, you will understand that I dislike others meddling in my private affairs."

"This is not a private affair, this is the continuation of life." Dalivinro pulled over a small stool and sat beside Karen. "The constraints of marital ethics only diminish the growth of life. I am curious, why do you habitually restrain your desires?"

"Because I do not wish for any child she bears to become the next you."

Dalivinro fell silent.

Karen lowered his newspaper, looked at him, and continued, "Life should not focus purely on quantity while neglecting quality, otherwise the value and meaning of life will likewise be diminished."

Dalivinro sighed. "Very well, I comprehend your meaning."

"How is your physical condition lately?"

"Recovering splendidly, which is what I find most miraculous. I am clearly deceased, yet my vital essence has not decreased; rather, it has become more active. You know, when I previously used spells, modified my body, and stimulated my potential, I always had to worry about the endurance threshold of my soul. Now, that threshold has been elevated.

The regulatory ecosystem you left within my body is fragile, yet remarkably resilient."

"For you, that is a boon."

"Yes, a boon. I am beginning to suspect that the soul might actually be a burden to life."

"You are turning extreme again."

"It is inevitable. Oh, praise Order."

"Your gesture is incorrect."

"I shall strive to improve."

"You have been sparring with Philomena lately, have you not?"

"Yes, she is a troublesome opponent. Fighting her is highly entertaining; fighting you, however, is terribly tedious. Forgive my insolence, but I truly feel you possess no aesthetic of combat."

It was merely relying on sheer foundation to crush, crush, and crush...

That sensation of knowing you would lose from the very beginning accompanied you until the moment you actually lost; it held no surprises and no joy whatsoever.

"Before the battle even begins, I am certain of my victory. That is my aesthetic of combat."

"Is that why you went mad at the end of the last era? Because you were too bored?"

"You need not test me with such questions."

"It is no test. I have already returned from the dead, what need have I to test you? I am... merely curious."

"If you are curious, ask the dog at home when we return."

"I now wax the crown of my head every day, hoping to face it in my finest state."

Just then, Richard walked over, a document in hand.

"Karen, the investigation team is being recalled to the Dingle District!"

...

Karen stepped into the teleportation array with little Canna on his back. Dalivinro stepped forward and asked, "Shall I carry her instead?"

"If you carry her, she will be angry."

As Karen spoke, he turned his face slightly. Little Canna had her chin rested against his shoulder, sleeping soundly, prompting Karen to reach out and gently pinch her cheek.

Lovely children were always endearing because they were inherently cute—provided they were obedient and well-behaved.

Once Karen took his place, half of the remaining personnel of the investigation team on the periphery saluted him solemnly before stepping inside.

Among the four cohorts of the investigation team, half of those who escaped belonged to the Machina Holy Land, all having used the opportunity to flee when Karen took them out to post sentries.

In particular, these Chiefs of the Whiplash of Order from other districts felt a reverence and gratitude toward Karen that came from the very marrow of their bones.

However, during his tenure as the temporary, concurrent deputy commander, Karen had rejected all requests for an audience. He was weary, and he wished for quiet rest.

Yet Richard had not been idle; he had already forged tight bonds with them, wishing he could drink and converse with them every single day. Of Richard’s two great talents, the first was socializing, and the second was taking a beating.

This network would help Karen extend his influence to other districts after he had properly managed the York City District.

Moreover, there was no need to fear that this "life-saving debt" would fade; as long as Karen continued to thrive, this debt of gratitude would only shine brighter.

The activation of the teleportation array was briefly delayed. Everyone waited for a moment because a larger teleportation array was being activated nearby, and they feared mutual interference.

After about a quarter of an hour, Karen saw knights clad in the black armor of Order entering through the gates, and the teleportation array on their side finally activated.

The day he departed the wilderness was also the day the power of Order formally marched into it.

Upon arriving at the Dingle District, no welcoming ceremony had been arranged, and not even family members were present to wait or receive them.

Firstly, because everyone knew there were no remains to collect; secondly, because the investigation team's mission was a failure. Aside from Karen’s personal, illustrious record of great military merit, the rest—even the kin of the fallen—were worried about whether they would face collateral punishment.

Karen had no intention of concealing the faults of the deceased in his report, harshly criticizing Yamlek’s operations in the teleportation array hall of the Machina Holy Land.

He did not care whether this report would add any negative marks to the image he had fought so hard to "whitewash," because he truly did not wish for the leadership above to be a swine the next time he encountered such a situation.

If they had followed his advice at the time and chosen to break through directly, perhaps half, or even more, of that cohort of the investigation team would have returned alive.

Karen went first to the Academic Affairs Building to complete the handover. He ran back and forth within the building for a long time before finally completing all the paperwork, and this was even under the premise of a green light all the way, with no one causing difficulties or slacking.

There was no helping it; with so many former deputy commanders and the commander gone, he was the only concurrent official left, meaning he had to handle every procedure himself.

The final procedure was signing the registry of those killed in the line of duty. Karen signed them one by one, a process that took a very long time.

Once the handover of the investigation team's mission was complete, Richard held many invitations in his hand. Not a few people wished to invite Karen to dine that evening. Karen had originally intended to decline them all, wishing to return to York City tonight, but there was one person’s invitation that Karen could not refuse. The other party had sent their personal secretary to wait for him, while the individual himself sat in a carriage outside.

He was Andilau Kraft, the Head of the Disciplinary Inspection Commission of the Whiplash of Order, one of the three titans of the academic faction whom Karen had met at the lakeside manor outside the University of Order.

Karen carried little Canna on his back to the front of the carriage. An attendant helped open the carriage door, and Andilau pointed to the seat opposite him. "Get in."

Karen prepared to hand little Canna over to Richard for temporary care, but Andilau said, "It is fine, bring her along."

After entering, the carriage door closed, and the carriage began to move.

Andilau spoke, "It is not we who wish to see you; we are not in such a hurry."

The "we" here referred to the academic faction.

"So, care to guess who wishes to see you now?"

Karen replied, "I do not know."

"The Hand of the Whip."

Karen straightened his chest slightly and began to adjust his cuffs.

No wonder Andylau had told him to bring little Conna; the Whip-Bearer also possessed a dragon, and arriving at the appointment with one of his own would naturally make the high authority feel a sense of closeness, seeing a reflection of himself.

Even at his lofty station, Andylau remained remarkably attentive to such nuances, an observation that indirectly mirrored the High Priest Norton's absolute grip on the Holy See—the Whip-Bearer's command over this entire system was similarly absolute.

"Because of your achievements this time, our Whip of Order managed to secure two additional benefits. The Whip-Bearer is very pleased. You have seen the Whip-Bearer before, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have seen him."

"But not in a private audience, nor in any formal capacity?"

"No, never."

"Seize this opportunity," Andylau instructed. "It is of great importance to you."

"Yes, I understand."

The carriage fell into silence for a while before Andylau spoke once more: "The previous proposal is about to be implemented. Upon your return, make the necessary preparations. The handover ceremony will begin shortly. Once you assume the role of District Head, focus your efforts on pushing this reform through, and execute it beautifully."

"Yes, I will."

"You are already considered the District Head. Doing this reform well is, in truth, paving the way for your future ascent."

"I understand. Thank you for your guidance."

"You are most welcome."

The carriage rolled through an iron gate, and once inside, the environment outside the window underwent a drastic transformation; the formal gardens vanished, replaced instead by a sinister vista resembling a descent into purgatory.

Presently, the carriage entered a cavern, and after traveling a short distance further, a door appeared ahead.

"Alight."

"Yes."

Karen stepped down from the carriage, carrying the still fast-asleep little Conna on his back, and followed Andylau through the door.

Upon entering, the scene shifted yet again. Glass doors lined both sides, revealing an office area beyond; this was presumably the true headquarters of the Whip of Order, though the entrance they had used seemed to be the back door.

At the far end of the transparent corridor lay an office, outside of which sat a red-haired man. He was young, and his smile carried a warm affability.

"Lord Andylau."

"Please inform the Whip-Bearer that I have brought the man."

"Very well, my Lord."

Andylau turned to Karen and said, "I shall take my leave first."

Karen replied, "Very well, my Lord."

Evidently, even with Andylau's status, one did not simply walk into the Whip-Bearer's office at will.

The secretary finished delivering the message and said, "The Whip-Bearer is temporarily away from his office, but you may go inside and wait for him now."

"Is that permissible?"

"Of course. You were not summoned via official memorandum for a routine debriefing, so for now, your status is half that of a guest."

"Thank you."

"No need for formalities. Ah, by the way, you may call me Miguel. I was recently promoted to the Whip-Bearer's Chief Secretary."

"Congratulations, Secretary-General Miguel."

"You are too kind. The position of secretary to the Whip-Bearer is a high-risk occupation; my two predecessors both became snacks for Auggie."

"This..."

"No need to worry. The Whip-Bearer prefers us to keep lessons and warnings on the tips of our tongues, so as to avoid repeating the same mistakes. Well, please enter, Minister Karen. There is spring water and ice inside—your favorites."

"Thank you."

Karen stepped into the office, the interior of which was a vast expanse of glaciers; the ground beneath his feet resembled a small island nestled within a frozen river.

The drop in temperature caused little Conna to stir gradually from her slumber.

Just then, a colossal dragon's head slowly surfaced from beneath the icy river.

Lord Auggie's gaze swept over Karen where he stood, her voice echoing: "You have advanced remarkably fast."

At their first meeting, Karen had been nothing more than a mid-level cleric in the York City Grand District; now, he was actually receiving a personal audience with the Whip-Bearer.

Little Conna opened her eyes, lifted her head, and glared at the massive dragon's head before her, muttering in displeasure:

"You are very loud, stupid dragon."

Lord Auggie's draconic features twitched slightly; she knew the little bone dragon harbored no fondness for her.

Karen knelt by a spring, scooped up a handful of water, and took a sip; it was crisp and piercingly cold.

From the opposite side of the room, the sound of a door opening drifted over. Karen instantly stood up straight as the figure of Vorden emerged from within.

This was not Karen's first time seeing the Whip-Bearer, yet it was far more nerve-wracking than any prior encounter, for in those past meetings, he had been a mere background character.

Vorden took his seat behind the desk, and Karen approached, holding little Conna by the hand.

"Greetings, Lord Whip-Bearer," Karen saluted.

"You have raised this dragon well."

"It is entirely due to the efforts of the researchers at the institute."

The Whip-Bearer lowered his gaze, opened a file upon his desk, and began to work.

Seeing this, Karen immediately spoke: "Thank you for your instruction, this subordinate shall take his leave."

"Mm," the Whip-Bearer grunted in response, without raising his head.

Once Karen had departed, Lord Auggie, lingering in the nearby icy pool, asked with some bewilderment:

"Do you harbor some grievance against him?"

Vorden, who was signing a document, let out a cold sneer upon hearing this and remarked:

"A beast, in the end, is nothing but a beast."

Lord Auggie dared not show anger, choosing only to silently submerge her massive head back into the depths of the icy pool.

Karen led little Conna out of the office. Refreshments had been laid out before Miguel's desk, and upon seeing Karen emerge, the secretary said, "Minister Karen, would you care to join me for some tea?"

"Your kindness leaves me unable to refuse."

Karen sat down beside him to partake in the refreshments. Neither man ate much; each merely took a single bite of a pastry before Miguel set his down to focus on the paperwork at hand, while Karen held his pastry, sitting there in silence.

Roughly twenty minutes passed.

Karen set down the pastry, of which less than half had been consumed, and Miguel closed the file in his hands in tandem.

"Lord Secretary-General, I shall take my leave. Thank you for your hospitality."

"I have heard that Minister Karen is quite skilled in the culinary arts. I hope to have the opportunity to sample your cooking in the future."

"I shall await your grand arrival at any time."

Holding little Conna's hand, Karen retraced his steps. At the entrance, the carriage remained waiting. Upon boarding, Karen spoke to the coachman: "To the Teleportation Array Hall."

"Very well, my Lord."

As the carriage set in motion, little Conna asked with a hint of confusion, "So, did the Whip-Bearer only come to see if I was being raised well?"

"Our Kanna is indeed very well-raised."

"No, I mean, didn't he have anything else to say to you? I thought he would praise and commend you the way Sister Pu'er does to me. I didn't expect it to truly be just a single meeting, with nothing of substance."

"A single meeting is already something of substance."

To be granted a private audience by the grand master of the system was a reward in itself. This matter would not remain hidden; it was bound to be publicized. Moreover, the corridor was transparent, and quite a few people had already witnessed it.

As for the outsiders, they wouldn't care in the slightest about what he and the Whipper had actually discussed. They would only focus on the sheer fact of the "private audience."

Henceforth, whatever Karen chose to do, people would easily associate it with the Whipper's backing. This, in truth, was a profound level of support.

Sometimes, many subordinates racked their brains just to shake hands once with a leader. An act that seemed simpler than simple could bring about an influence crucial to a person's future development, or even decide the destiny of the entire industry behind them.

Furthermore, given the Whipper's temperament, he hadn