Chapter 77: For the Rest of Your Life, Never Wrong Yourself

Chapter 77: For the Rest of Your Life, Wrong Not Yourself

One old man supported another, the two of them walking along the street.

They moved very slowly, while the scenery on either side seemed to pass by in rather a hurry.

"Asleep just like that?" Rasma asked, looking at This, whom he was supporting.

"Yes."

"How could you bring yourself to do it?" Rasma shook his head, unable to understand.

"When you possess something truly important, nothing else is too precious to part with."

"No, my point is that humans are inherently selfish." Rasma let out a sigh. "Even if it is a lie, when you have believed it for nearly a lifetime, the truth of the lie no longer matters. Denying a lie is easy; what is difficult is denying yourself."

Rasma pointed a finger at himself:

"Take me, for instance. If I discovered I was wrong, I would probably choose to keep playing the fool. A mistake is just a mistake, it is no big deal."

"I used to think that way, too."

"And then?"

"And then I condensed a second fragment of divinity."

"..." Rasma fell silent.

"It is very painful. Whether you believe, or do not believe, or even if you choose evasion and passivity, it will not let you go."

"This 'it'—who does it refer to?"

"Order."

"Oh, oh." Rasma nodded twice. "So, this is what you call a blissful agony?"

"Bliss is merely a surface that fades easily; the core agony is eternal. Look at the three of them today. If they were faced with provocations from any other opponent, they certainly would never allow the other party to behave with such presumption.

The more indulgence they showed me today, the more it proves just how vitally important a fragment of divinity is to the current Temple of Order."

"I am not yet qualified to enter, so I do not know," Rasma said. "As you know, the Church and the Temple seem to be a single entity, but in reality, they are two different worlds."

At that moment, This pressed down slightly on Rasma's arm. Rasma slowed his pace, and the rhythm of the surrounding scenery slowed down as well.

Just then, a small truck loaded with slaughter-pigs passed beside the two of them.

This spoke up:

"What do those on the truck resemble?"

Rasma replied almost without thinking: "Believers."

After answering, Rasma even let out a laugh. It was hard to imagine the Grand Priest of the Church of Order uttering such words.

"And the delivery driver?"

"Me," Rasma answered.

This shook his head and said, "You are not worthy."

"I truly hate chatting with you, This!"

"It is the Elders of the Temple."

"Then the butcher shop owner is..." Rasma pointed a finger toward the sky.

"Yes."

"So, what is the situation now?" Rasma asked in bewilderment. "Which part of the process went wrong?"

"You also know that a part of the process went wrong?"

"I am different from you. You spend most of your time in Luojia City, while I spend most of mine in the Holy See. My clearance allows me to leaf through almost all the recorded literature within the Church.

Besides, this is hardly a secret.

Compared to the magnificent spectacle of the last era, when the gods vied with one another to manifest, the records of this era are suddenly pitifully scarce. No, it could almost be said there are none.

It has reached the point where holding an extraordinary god-descending ritual now stirs up all factions;

Take the one in Berwyn City a few months ago, for instance.

Heh, if placed in the last era, during the period of chaos among true gods, ferocious gods, and evil gods, what would an extraordinary god-descending ritual even amount to?"

"What do you think?" This asked. "What caused it?"

"The mainstream conjecture among the major churches is that some changes may have occurred in the rules of this world, making it impossible for gods to descend as frequently as they did in the last era. But as to whether that is precisely it, and if so, what sparked it, there are no convincing expositions."

"Therefore, our God of Order will only grow more anxious," This said. "Under the premise that even true gods are having a difficult time, he, who is not yet a true god, will find his days even tighter."

"But that does not square with your metaphor just now," Rasma asked. "The pigs, the driver, the butcher shop owner?"

"Because the vehicle that happened to pass by was a truck carrying pork."

"Oh, right, your explanation is very persuasive. So one only needs to simply assume that the owner needs more cargo, is that it? No, that is not right either. It should be that the owner needs more drivers?"

"Every Temple Elder who condenses a fragment of divinity is, in truth, equivalent to a driver who comes to help deliver cargo with his own truck."

"A fragment of divinity is akin to a delivery truck?"

"Yes."

"So, the current problem is that there are actually quite a few drivers, but what is lacking are the trucks?"

"Yes."

"Then why are trucks scarce?" Rasma asked.

"I thought you would ask me why they do not just go to the factory to buy a vehicle?"

"Do you think I am that stupid, This! I know it is a metaphor, an imprecise metaphor! How could I ask such an idiotic question?"

Rasma paused,

Then asked in a low voice:

"Can these trucks really not be bought?"

"In truth, all along, the fragment of divinity is what he truly desires; the driver is merely there to deliver the goods. It is just that the driver and the vehicle can only appear together, so we tend to notice that drivers have become fewer, yet we rarely notice that what is truly scarce are the vehicles.

An operator can only be called a driver when he possesses a vehicle.

If he does not even have a vehicle, he can only be called..."

"Called what?"

"You."

"Damn this leap-of-logic metaphor."

"So, given that this is an era where the gods no longer descend, why is it that only our Church of Order shows such a glaring disparity?"

"To what aspect of disparity do you refer? The Church of Order has always been vastly powerful."

"As a church with a history of only a little over an era, the reason we are able to be more powerful compared to those churches that have inherited more than two eras is that the Temple of Order preserves the remains of past generations of Church Elders and existences of your level. Furthermore, the true primal doctrinal capability of the Church of Order is the ability to make those once-powerful existences 'awaken'—not to control them mindlessly, but to truly make them 'awaken'.

This ensures that the accumulation of the Church of Order has always been positive, allowing us to amass a more profound strength in a shorter span of time, because we do not even let the dead off the hook.

Yet ever since entering this era, the number of successive generations in the Church of Order ascending to Temple Elders has dropped almost like a cliff. This sort of situation has not appeared in other churches."

"Therefore, I believe the issue lies within our own operational rules, specifically the order we believe in.

Other divine sects generated faith first, and only then were their gods born.

Faith and divinity began to flow, forming a cycle.

Our Order of the Goddess, as can be seen from the mythological summaries, shows that the companions who followed the God of Order back then were all 'awakened' by the God of Order himself.

Furthermore,

Why do we believe that the God of Order isolated gods from mortals and set rules for them?

Because his style of action was to rely on the Light of Order to mete out punishment; in the last era, our God of Order was the one who hunted down the most deities.

It even gave rise to the story of the purple bookmark.

He was simply hungry; he was feeding.

Haven't you noticed? After other major churches grew and expanded, they all produced branches. The figures on the original murals might create their own small churches.

But if you search through the mythological summaries of the Order of the Goddess, you will find that a new branch has never been born within it.

Because he didn't have enough to eat himself, so how could he possibly allow any to be delivered outside?

Since entering this era,

The gods have almost ceased to appear in the world, so his prey is gone.

Moreover, compared to other true gods, the impact he suffers would only be greater.

Therefore, he who used to rely on the rules of order to hunt other deities must now turn back, open his mouth, and begin to eat the meat continuously delivered upon this rule.

The systems of other divine sects are like rain falling on the earth, evaporated by the sun to return to the sky, and then falling again. Although there are extreme climates like droughts and floods, most of the time they can maintain such a cycle.

Yet since entering this era, our cycle has actually been broken.

He no longer gives back after absorbing, but instead directly raises his blade against his former hounds to eat their meat.

The more he eats, the weaker the entire cycle becomes. Next, the people on our rule who will have the chance to condense a godhead will only become fewer and fewer.

Rasma, you must have flipped through many notes left by past High Priests. Have you discovered a certain..."

"Yes," Rasma answered directly. "When I looked through their notes and read their experiences, more than once did I sigh: why were such stupid people able to promote to elders and enter the Temple of Order so easily?"

"Yes. Had it been the last era, you, Rasma, would have entered the temple long ago, and would have condensed a godhead long ago."

"Then what about you? You even condensed three."

Right after asking this question, Rasma regretted it and immediately said, "Forget it, pretend I didn't ask, because you are Diss."

Because you are Diss, one should not ask how you could actually condense three, but rather state with a shocked tone: You were actually only able to condense three!

"I condensed three," Diss said.

"Alright, I know, I know. I saw it just now. You left Elder Sitti staring blankly like a village woman who has never seen the world."

"I condensed three..."

"I know, I know!"

"But each one is not large," Diss said.

Rasma froze, then asked, "So, what you mean is?"

"In the last era, branches were born in the mythological narratives of many divine sects. The god revered by the branch church, I think, should be a complete godhead of their own born from the belief in the original god among the high-level members of the original major church.

It might be very small, after all, it is a branch god; but it should be complete.

If it were the last era, you would have been a temple elder long ago, and I should have been a branch god."

Rasma frowned,

Puzzled, he asked:

"Are you praising me or are you praising yourself?"

"Does it make any sense to talk about who is being praised now?"

"Mmh, indeed it makes no sense. But why are you telling me this?"

"Because you asked first."

"Uh... then let's just say you told me first, alright?"

"Mmh."

"Then why are you telling me this? You must know, you are a renegade now, and I am the High Priest of the Holy Church."

"Because you were once my opponent."

Rasma took a deep breath through his nose and asked, "Are those your true words?"

"I suggest you do not continue asking."

"Alright, I won't ask."

"My home is here."

The two had already walked to the entrance of No. 13 Mink Street.

"Want to come in and sit for a while?" Diss asked.

"I'm not going in, I'm afraid you'll hang me on the cross too."

"Heh."

"Does your home need me to look after it for you?"

"I would prefer it if you made your subordinates move their gaze away from my house."

"Alright, I understand."

Diss pushed open the courtyard gate, preparing to walk in;

Just then,

Rasma spoke up and asked, "Diss, do you think it is possible to change it? I mean... our order and our church."

Diss paused his movements and said, "For several eras, have you ever heard of any church reform succeeding from the bottom up?"

"No, not a single one."

"The church is the extension of God in the mortal world. Without changing God, the church cannot be changed."

"Then is there no way?"

Diss's gaze became somewhat deep as he answered:

"Not necessarily.

Because in my view, our Order of the Goddess has not yet waited for its true god."

...

The study door was pushed open.

Sitting in the chair behind the desk, Karen's body trembled slightly.

Until,

He waited until that familiar voice rang out:

"I'm back."

Karen took off his mask, his eyes slightly rimmed with red.

"You've been crying," Dis said.

"No, I must be a little allergic to the material of this mask."

Karen rose and walked to Dis's side to support him, clearly seeing how pale the old man's face was now.

The old man at this moment truly looked like an old man.

"Grandfather, please sit."

"I won't sit, let's go back to the bedroom, I want to lie down for a while."

"Alright, Grandfather."

Karen supported Dis into the bedroom, where Dis sat down against the bed, his back resting against the headboard.

"The matter, I have taken care of it."

"I knew Grandfather would have no trouble with it."

"This family is fine now; you are fine too."

"Is it because of my choice that you were put in a difficult position, Grandfather, or rather, that you paid a heavier price?"

"Karen, do you know what the greatest pain is for an old person?"

"Tell me, I am listening."

"It is that one grows old, and can no longer help one's own children."

"You really don't need to have that kind of mindset, Grandfather. Because you are here, this family has always been so warm. Grandfather, do you know? I love this home, and I love the family values you brought to it."

Dis smiled,

Then,

His gaze fell upon Pu'er and the golden retriever who had followed them inside earlier.

Pu'er had already leapt onto the bed and come before Dis, her eyes shimmering with tears.

This cat had indeed watched Dis grow up.

"I gave Xiti a beating today."

Pu'er froze for a moment, her mouth twitching into a smile, then she pouted and said:

"That wretched woman, I had completely forgotten about her."

Dis reached out and placed his hand on his lap, and Pu'er extended her paw, resting it upon Dis's palm.

Pu'er spoke, "Rest assured, I will take good care of Karen."

Dis lifted his head, looked at Karen, and exhorted:

"Promise Grandfather one thing, take good care of Po'er... heh, take good care of Pu'er."

"..." Pu'er.

"Alright, Grandfather."

Dis looked at the golden retriever sitting on the floor with utter docility, his gaze darkening slightly:

"In truth, evil gods are nothing special."

The large golden retriever panted with its tongue out, smiling foolishly.

"I have always believed that evil gods do not count as deities, for a true god should be placed within a temple to be enshrined by believers. How can there be a god that sneaks around?"

The golden retriever's smile began to gradually fade.

"You think what I gave you was imprisonment, but I feel that what I gave you was an opportunity."

The golden retriever's lips began to tremble slightly, baring a few of its white teeth within.

"In this era where the gods do not appear, since you were able to emerge, this is actually your opportunity."

"Woof!"

The golden retriever barked in anger.

Dis paid no more attention to the dog, but looked before the bed, his gaze not holding any specific focus:

"The matters at home, I have already arranged them; the matters outside, I have also arranged them. Of course, it is impossible for everything to be arranged perfectly, and there will inevitably be some omissions.

But then, life is just like that, isn't it?"

"Yes, Grandfather, such a life is interesting."

"There are always winds and waves you must experience yourself, always torrents you must conquer yourself, and always scenery that, no matter how well others describe it or even if it is captured with a camera, can never compare to a single glance of your own.

Karen, this world is worth it for you."

"I understand, Grandfather."

"To say something irresponsible, if I could have known you earlier, and you could have become a part of my family sooner, perhaps everything, absolutely everything, could have changed.

Perhaps I would have chosen to enter the Temple of Order, and under my guidance, you could have entered the Church of Order as well.

I would have arranged all sorts of connections for you, given you all kinds of care, and provided you with all kinds of resources, building you up slowly.

Regrettably, we met too late."

"Grandfather, I used to fantasize about that kind of life too, but later I realized that it would actually be quite meaningless. Sometimes, when one cares too much about the result, the process is lost instead.

Though many people feel that a process without a result is meaningless;

I believe that a result without a process... cannot be bitten into for sweetness at all."

Dis nodded and said, "Though the metaphor is a bit convoluted, I can understand your meaning. Very good."

Because in the Macrai language family, results and fruits share no common root.

The sun was already setting, and the light and shadow of the dusk filtered through the tree branches outside the window, scattering across the floor inside the room. It formed streaks of orange mottling, embellishing the room with a sense of age.

"Karen, my grandson." Dis reached out and grasped Karen's hand, "Promise me one last thing."

"Tell me."

"In the days to come, do not let yourself live with grievances."

Dis's palm tapped gently against the back of Karen's hand,

He slowly closed his eyes:

"Grandfather is tired, and wants to sleep for a while.

But if you truly encounter a grievance in the future that you cannot swallow down,

Do not fear,

Come home,

And wake... Grandfather up."