Chapter 767: The Whip Wielder Spends Lavishly!

Chapter 767: The Whip-Bearer Invests Heavily!

Having concluded his meeting with Byrne, Kallen departed from the academic administration building. Carrying little Conna on his back, he made his way back to the dormitory. Pushing the door open, he found Augie seated upon the sofa. Before her on the coffee table rested a massive platter of spicy stir-fried river snails, from which she was currently extracting the meat with a toothpick, dining with evident relish.

An ice dragon of almost terrifyingly immense proportions was, at this very moment, thoroughly enjoying herself over a dish of tiny snails.

Upon noticing Kallen’s return, Augie reflexively bent forward, scrambling to gather the snail shells that had tumbled onto the floor.

Yet almost immediately, she felt that such a humble and tense display was unbecoming of her. As Kallen passed before her, she adopted a leisurely, faintly mocking tone, taking the initiative to speak.

"My, look who is back from getting a scolding?"

Kallen ignored her.

After settling little Conna onto the bed in the bedroom, Kallen stepped back out.

"Master, would you like something to eat?"

"Is there anything ready-made?"

"There are spring rolls. I can heat them up for you."

"Yes."

Kallen took a seat upon a chair, intending to have a bite before returning to the office. In truth, drowsiness had already begun to creep over him, but he intended to sleep at his office desk.

Just then, the door to the room was kicked open, and Dana appeared at the threshold, clad in a full suit of armor and bearing a great sword upon her shoulder. She bellowed aloud:

"Xili, I am starving!"

Then, catching sight of Kallen seated within the room, she instantly amended her words:

"Please prepare some food for me."

"Of course, Miss Dana."

Dana lowered her great sword and made as if to strip off her armor, but Kallen spoke up.

"Keep it on for now. Take it off after you have eaten."

This armor was much like footwear; it was tolerable while worn, but once removed, the pent-up odors trapped inside would instantly waft through the air.

Because of the novice instructors and the limitations of the facility equipment at the training grounds, the training for the reserve batches was split into different intervals, much like a three-shift factory system. It was for this reason that she had finished her training in the morning and returned.

Dana left her armor on and sat down, asking, "My, look who is back from getting a scolding?"

"Heh."

Kallen could only reflect that the higher-ups arranging for Augie to serve as her bodyguard was truly a perfect match.

Xili served the spring rolls, supplementing them with small side dishes of century eggs and shredded salads. Seeing that Dana had returned, she went back to prepare fried rice.

Dana used her hands to stuff a spring roll into her mouth, asking as she chewed, "When exactly can I go to the front lines?"

"Soon. Within the next few days."

"I can hardly wait. I have to endure the most basic training every single day."

"Training has its purpose."

"Whether it has a purpose or not is for you to teach me? I was raised in the Knights Templar since childhood."

Kallen nodded. Using his silver chopsticks, he broke a piece of century egg, soaked it in vinegar, and remarked, "Does your military merit amount to even a fraction of mine?"

Dana: "..."

The young lady possessed a temper, to be sure, but she had not grown up completely spoiled. Though her heart was filled with grievances, she merely vented them upon returning home. In her day-to-day life, this foster daughter of the High Priest remained quite submissive as she underwent her recruit training. When it came to military merit, she truly had no ground to argue with Kallen. Not long ago, Kallen had brought back so many heads from the desert; every single one of those heads commanded a higher merit than her current total.

"Um, once we reach the front lines, can I choose my post?"

Kallen replied, "Obey orders."

"I am begging you."

"Request denied."

"I ought to receive some preferential treatment, shouldn't I?"

"Under the Order, all are equal."

"Hmph!" Dana accepted the large bowl of egg fried rice proffered by Xili, seized a spoon, and began to shovel it into her mouth with wild abandon.

Little Conna emerged from the bedroom, rubbing her eyes.

Kallen looked toward her and asked, "No longer sleepy?"

"Sleepy," little Conna said, walking toward the washroom. "One must bathe before going to bed."

Dana took a deep draught of soybean milk to wash down the fried rice in her mouth, scoffing at Kallen, "Your household has more rules than the High Priest’s residence."

"Because I do not wish to send Conna into an isolated pocket world, I can only place greater emphasis on cultivating her rules and etiquette in daily life."

"Why don't you apostatize, Kallen? Then I could hack you to death right now."

"You are no match for me."

Dana: "..."

Having finished his meal, Kallen stood up and went to the kitchen to wash his hands.

"Take your time, ladies. I am heading to the office."

The first thing Kallen did upon returning to his office was to call Alfred, Wick, and Leon in for a brief meeting, primarily recounting his recent experiences in the Dingle Region.

As his primary assistants, they needed to be aware of his movements and interpersonal dealings. Only in this manner could they manage affairs on his behalf while he slept.

Once the brief meeting concluded, they departed. Kallen entered the inner rest quarters, took a bath, and lay upon the bed to rest.

When he awoke, it was six o'clock.

Seeing that no matters had arisen to disturb him, Kallen simply chose not to get up and went back to sleep.

This time when he woke, it was one o'clock in the morning.

He had slept comfortably, and his spirit was fully restored.

Stepping out of the rest quarters, he sat in his office chair and pressed the desk bell. Whichever of the three on duty—Alfred and the others—would know he was awake. If there were urgent matters, they would bring them to his office; if not, they would inform Xili to prepare a meal for him.

Kallen first picked up the newspapers on his desk. Every day, the newspapers of the various orthodox deities would be updated on his desk, alongside their internal publications.

It was evident that the nature of the mobilization had become increasingly explicit.

If it could be said that previously the various orthodox deities were merely fanning the flames in secret, offering lip service without substance, then now they had one after another explicitly raised the slogan that aiding the desert was aiding themselves.

"Mercenaries" from the various orthodox deities, cloaked in the guise of the Desert Church, were heading toward the wasteland in expanding numbers.

The Church of Order was no exception; a new round of troop reinforcements had already commenced.

Furthermore, there was another piece of news: the Church of Order was preparing to launch operations against the Church of Samsara. It might not be open warfare, but rather a coordinated effort of subversion, involving the cooperation of other orthodox deities.

It was highly intriguing, and equally farcical. On one hand, the Church of Samsara stood alongside the other orthodox deities in the desert, wrestling with Order; on the other hand, the Church of Order was collaborating with those same orthodox deities to exert pressure and strike at Samsara. It was a spectacle rich in dark, realist humor.

In truth, the Church of Samsara currently found itself in a rather awkward position, caught between two fires. Unless the divine oracles of other master gods appeared in the near future to give a clear signal of their return, the Church of Samsara would find itself in a very uncomfortable position for a long time to come.

Xili arrived, bringing Kallen’s midnight snack, which could also be considered breakfast.

Once the food was set out, Kallen said to Xili, "Thank you for your hard work."

"It is no trouble at all, Master."

At that moment, Alfred entered: "Young master, it is time to establish contact with the militia regiment."

"Very well."

The communication array was set up right inside the district director's office, and the connection was quickly established.

Karen was currently dining, and across from him, Neo was also eating, though Karen's meal was rather lavish, whereas Neo was having canned rations.

"I am feeling a bit unbalanced," Neo remarked.

"Indeed. If you consider that you are risking your life desperately at the front lines while I sit in the rear continuously accumulating achievements, you will feel even more unbalanced."

"This is precisely why I despise bureaucrats."

"You do not despise bureaucrats; you despise the fact that it is not you sitting in my position."

"Heh, I suppose you are right, but I find it quite entertaining out here as well. Karen, you were correct; warfare truly is exhilarating and fun."

"Different from playing the stock market, I assume?"

"Different," Neo replied, shaking his head and turning uncharacteristically solemn for a moment. "If you lose everything in the stock market, the worst that happens is you repay the brokerage slowly. If you truly cannot pay, you just change your identity or simply sack the creditor's house."

"Yes."

"But what I hold in my hands right now are human lives, which are also your foundations. If I lose it all, I would truly be too ashamed to return and face you."

"Hearing you say that puts my mind at ease. I have faith in your capabilities in everything except the stock market."

"The current problem is that I cannot free myself to go grave-robbing."

"That is a very serious problem."

"Mainly because we performed too well before, and now we have become somewhat conspicuous. Every time those two commanders of the Knights Order assign missions, they place us and the Dingle District militia regiment at the very top. We have become the class monitors."

"These are practical difficulties, so you need not be overly anxious. Although my finances are tight here, I can still find ways to manage for the time being. Do not let affairs at home affect your decisions out there."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

"Alright, then my mind is at ease."

"Oh, by the way, I went to see the Whip-Bearer yesterday."

"Were you praised?"

"In a sense. The Whip-Bearer's meaning was for you to perform to your heart's content. However many achievements you can secure at the front, he will dispatch that much more strength to reinforce you."

Hearing those words, Neo swallowed his saliva.

Karen hesitated for a moment, set down his chopsticks, and cautioned: "I had not intended to tell you this sentence, but I believe the Whip of Order will soon increase its investment into your two militia regiments."

"Why would you not intend to tell me? What a steady and prudent man I am—surely you know that."

"I know it all too well."

"Alright, let it be at that. I still have to heat my can. You have no idea how wretched this canned meat tastes if it is not heated. It makes me want to return to my old trade, capture some prisoners, and drain their blood."

"Control yourself."

"Goodbye, and good night."

"Good morning."

The communication array deactivated.

Neo immediately tossed the can aside and urged: "Alright, alright, the communication is closed. Serve the food, serve the food!"

Muri, Ventura, and the others immediately brought various dishes to the table. Following the last campaign, both sides had reached a tacit understanding to break contact, beginning to gather their respective strengths for the next round of true, meaningful slaughter.

The militia regiment was stationed in the rear, so their logistics were robust. Coupled with the assistance of the priests from the Desert Cult to replenish supplies, they were truly not lacking in food and drink.

Indeed, with the conclusion of the previous battle, the two factions that had originally been fighting a civil war here had basically retreated to the second line.

Whether it was the Desert or the Wasteland, both had transformed into logistical suppliers. The only reason they had not entirely vanished from the stage was that their identities were needed as a guise to wage the war.

The external pretext of Order was to strike at the Desert rebels and eradicate Desert Church terrorism; the pretext of the Allied Forces was to halt the Wasteland's slaughter and persecution of the Desert, thereby protecting the Desert's heritage.

Waging a war on someone else's territory under someone else's name, yet neither side had truly torn away the veil of civility.

Ventura asked: "Why could we not let the district director see us eating?"

Neo explained: "Are you foolish? Do you not know how difficult a life your district director is leading right now? If he saw us eating so well at the front lines, he would certainly feel very uncomfortable."

Just then, someone came to report: "Commander Senlor is here again."

This plump commander of the neighboring regiment came over once every day—no, he came once in the morning and once in the evening, wishing he could move his command room over entirely.

"Alas."

Neo sighed, stood up, and switched seats with Muri, taking the subordinate position.

Ventura laughed: "What a pity the district director is not here. If the district director were here, given how sensible and attentive this man is, if he happened to be pierced to death by an arrow one day, he might just earn himself a place in a coffin."

Muri corrected him: "Do you think entering a coffin is that easy?"

Ventura shook his head: "Sometimes, it truly depends on luck."

Neo said: "Did you not just hear Karen tell me that the Whip of Order will immediately increase its investment into our two militia regiments? If the Whip-Bearer is truly willing to invest heavily, when that time comes, he likely will not be so attentive."

Ventura asked in confusion: "Why?"

Neo replied: "Because the greater the capital, the greater the greed, and rationality becomes suppressed."

Muri nodded: "Looking at it this way, if the Whip of Order dispatches more forces, it might not actually be a good thing for us?"

Ventura chimed in: "Would it not mean Commander Neo could command even more men?"

Neo shrugged: "I could command them, certainly, but the problem is, would the person sitting in this position still be you, Muri?"

"I..." Muri hesitated for a moment, yet still felt Neo was correct, and nodded. "If too many forces are dispatched, and if the Whip of Order intends to unify the command of these two militia regiments, my status and seniority would be insufficient to command public respect."

"Then what should be done?" Ventura asked with some anxiety. "Must we submit to someone else's command?"

Muri replied: "They would likely dispatch a grand figure of higher seniority and greater stature to command respect."

Neo tossed a stripped bone aside and smiled: "Alright, there is no need to worry about this just yet. This is a problem your district director should worry about. He certainly will not be willing to see his own team taken over by someone else."

Ventura sighed with emotion: "If only the district director could come here. His seniority would definitely be enough."

"I do wish he could come." Neo took a sip of wine. "It would make things a bit more interesting. He is likely lonely as well. Have you not heard? He actually went off to beat up the Assassins Guild. Hahaha!"

Muri nodded: "If the district director could come, then none of these would be problems."

"No, there is a problem inherent in this. If the Whip of Order's investment is not that vast, Karen would suffer a loss by coming here; it would lower his status. After all, there is such a massive stall of affairs at home that requires his stewardship. But if the Whip-Bearer truly risks it all, even if Karen wishes to come, he would have to face competition from those old moguls at the highest echelons of the Whip of Order.

Let us watch for now. Let us see how much strength the Whip of Order dispatches next. I hope it does not frighten us."

...

Having concluded his communication with Neo, Karen finished his meal. He had just stepped out of the inner washroom after washing his hands when the telephone rang.

There were not many calls that could ring directly into his office; they usually required transferring through the office of Alfred and the others, unless they deemed that this was a matter requiring no inquiry.

Sure enough, Miguel's voice came from the other end of the line.

"District Director Karen, good evening."

"Heh, it is nearly dawn on my side, Lord Secretary-General."

"Oh, right, I almost forgot the time difference, so you truly have been working hard, Minister Karen; you must take care of your health, even though you are still young."

"Thank you for your concern, Secretary-General."

In truth, Karen had only just woken up and finished his meal, and the communication with Neo could hardly be considered work; it felt more like two friends exchanging casual greetings.

"I have a matter to notify you about in advance. Starting roughly three days from now, numerous Whiplash of Order squads deployed from various regions will assemble in your district. Region Head Karen, you must prepare well for their reception and integration; they will serve as the next echelons to depart for the front lines."

"Understood, I shall see to it."

This meant reinforcements were being deployed, as the Whiplash of Order intended to increase its investment, yet Karen felt a faint trace of doubt. Logically, if that were all, an official dispatch would have sufficed; there was no need for Miguel to make this phone call personally.

"The reception work must be handled with meticulous care, Region Head Karen."

Karen grasped the meaning instantly and inquired, "Where are they being deployed from?"

"The Frontier Space."

Whiplash of Order squads deployed from the Frontier Space?

Neo had once mocked the other Whiplash squads in the York City Region as lapdogs, or perhaps cute little ducklings, claiming only they themselves were the true hounds; following this logic, the Whiplash squads active in the Frontier Space were genuine, battle-hardened war dogs.

Different environments forged different men. Though part of the same system, in recent years, the grassroots Whiplash squads in the various regions had essentially been working as laborers for their respective regional administrative offices;

Conversely, the Whiplash squads within the Frontier Space faced far more terrifying enemies, more hostile environments, and a higher mortality rate. One could say the squads there were entirely elite teams—the true foundation of the Whiplash of Order. The Whip-wielding Elder himself had once overseen the Whiplash operations within the Frontier Space.

Karen asked, "Roughly how many squads?"

Miguel replied, "Close to two hundred."

Hearing this number, Karen froze for a moment. Estimating a single squad at one captain and twelve members, that already amounted to over two thousand six hundred men, and if non-staff members were included, the figure would solidly exceed three thousand.

At the same time, one had to consider that the Dinger Region would surely face an identical situation, meaning that the Whiplash squads being gathered and sent to the front lines this time might approach seven thousand.

The Whip-wielding Elder was living like there was no tomorrow, smashing the pots to wager his entire fortune!

That Whip-wielding Elder, who ate shaved ice and covered his legs with a blanket as if suffering from chronic joint pain, was unexpectedly this extreme when he truly hardened his heart to act.

Factoring in the two militia regiments already at the front lines along with the reserves about to go up as reinforcements, adding it all together, it would not be long before the Whiplash of Order forces in the desert exceeded ten thousand.

Neo had originally been sent by him to the desert to rob tombs, yet before the tomb could even be plundered, he was inexplicably about to become the commander of a ten-thousand-man legion?

No, the commander was Muri.

Although the Benda family held a noble and pure status within the church, they possessed no influence within the Whiplash of Order or the Knightage; with Muri's seniority and status, it was impossible for him to remain in that position.

Karen understood now; this was the very reason Miguel had gone out of his way to make this call when it should have been a simple notification via official dispatch.

Miguel had likely just received the first-hand notice before the formal documents were even issued, and perhaps even the elite squads in the Frontier Space remained unaware of their impending deployment; he was leaking the exam questions to him in advance.

Because next,

Every grand figure within the entire Whiplash of Order system would, with bloodshot eyes, compete for the position of commander of this militia regiment—no, this was no longer a mere militia regiment; this was distinctly a Whiplash of Order Legion!

"I understand, Secretary-General. I will make all necessary preparations."

"I have faith in your capabilities, Region Head Karen."

Hanging up the telephone, Miguel pursed his lips, his mind recalling the scene from the carriage when the Whip-wielding Elder had looked through the window to watch Karen depart leading the small bone dragon.

He had already felt Karen possessed immense potential; now, he firmly believed Karen's potential was overflowing.

Having likewise hung up the phone,

Karen leaned back, his gaze fixed on the office ceiling, this piece of news and the massive upheaval it implied causing a great surge of emotion within his heart.

Now, looking at what lay before him, only a single question remained:

"Should I go..."