Karen's Lineage

The formal negotiations between Dark Moon Island and the Church of Order officially began. The previous evening, delegates from Dark Moon Island and relevant officials from the Church of Order had already discussed and confirmed the specific details of the terms. In truth, high-level discussions between the two sides had been underway for a long time before Ophelia even arrived in York City. Thus, Ophelia's visit was more about signing the treaty on behalf of the Dark Moon clan now that a basic consensus had been reached. Yet that did not mean it was merely going through the motions. There remained a few sensitive details requiring Ophelia to sit down and negotiate with a Bishop from the York City Region specifically assigned to oversee the matter. The closer things came to the end, the more careful one had to be with thorny details; after all, the issues left for last were invariably the ones both parties cared about most. To the Church of Order, Dark Moon Island was a small power serving a great one. Viewed from another angle, however, even the slightest concession by the Church of Order on certain matters represented immense benefits to Dark Moon Island. The conference room was vast. Karen, Peige, and Fanny sat in the front row, while a short distance down the same row sat the female warrior Panmir and the new maid. Behind them were the lower-ranking staff of the Dark Moon Island delegation and personnel handling administrative affairs for the Church of Order, who were occasionally approached by participants stepping out of the talks to inquire about specific figures and situations. However, this did not mean Karen and the others were entitled to sit in on the proceedings, for a black barrier completely shrouded the oval conference table where the formal talks took place. Inside the barrier, Ophelia and Bishop Fix each had about ten core aides with them for the final negotiations. Sitting outside the barrier, Karen could see only the colors of the clothes worn by those within; there was no chance to even read their lips. Sitting for so long naturally grew dull. Karen turned his head and saw Fanny reading a newspaper, though a faint ripple of spirituality fluctuated across its pages. Fanny noticed Karen's gaze and split off half of the paper, handing it to him. Karen took it and found that the photographs on the page were actually moving images; furthermore, the text within certain text boxes could even scroll. There were actually newspapers like this? Karen glanced at the header—*Order Weekly*. As the name implied, it was an internal publication of the Church of Order. "Never seen one before?" Fanny asked. Karen nodded. "Normal enough. Thirty Order coupons an issue, no discount for monthly subscriptions." A newspaper costing 150 Order coupons a month to subscribe to—no wonder Karen had never seen it at the Pavaro Funeral Parlor. A God's Servant's monthly allowance was only 100 Order coupons, not even enough to subscribe, and Mr. Pavaro certainly wouldn't waste precious Order coupons on something like this. "Did you subscribe?" Karen asked. "No, I don't have time for this stuff. There's a rack by the conference room door where you can grab copies for free. If you want to subscribe, just send someone to the Education Building on Wutong Street to pay." "All right, good to know." Karen planned to subscribe. He already had a habit of reading newspapers, and now that he was part of Neo's squad, he didn't have to worry too much about point coupon income and could easily afford the expense. The contents were mostly events involving the Church of Order, along with essays from higher-ups sharing insights and reflections, as well as commentary on the application of magical arts. It was packed with valuable information. To Karen's surprise, however, a portion was dedicated to reporting secular news. For instance, one page was split into upper and lower halves. The upper half was news of John Rodini's successful election as mayor of Manlar City, accompanied by the new mayor's campaign platform calling for freedom and democracy. The lower half covered a rally held by Mr. Luther, where he called on all purple-haired people to unite for peaceful marches and demonstrations against violence and disorderly behavior. That an internal church publication would devote such extensive coverage to two "secular figures"... This struck Karen as intriguing. There had to be deeper implications behind it. The morning talks drew to a close. Once the barrier was removed, representatives from both sides could be seen exchanging smiling pleasantries before departing to rest and prepare for the afternoon session. "Do you think the talks went well?" Fanny asked Karen. "No idea," Karen replied. While negotiations were in progress, the two parties avoided unnecessary complications by not dining together, each taking their meals separately. At two in the afternoon, the conference resumed. The situation remained unchanged from the morning. This time, Peige also placed a newspaper in front of herself, gave Karen a gentle nudge with her elbow, and said, "If I fall asleep later and start snoring, remember to pinch my thigh." "All right," Karen nodded. Peige shielded her face with the newspaper, closed her eyes, and began her afternoon nap. Before long, Fanny did the same and began napping. Karen picked up a copy of *Light of Order* and began reading. Not long after, snoring could be heard—not from Peige, but from Fanny. Karen reached out and gave Fanny's thigh a light pinch as naturally as could be. Fanny opened her eyes, smiled at Karen to show she understood, adjusted her sitting position, and went back to sleep. A while later, Peige began snoring as well. Karen gave Peige's thigh a pinch too. Peige woke, smiled at him, shifted positions, and went back to sleep. Over the remainder of the afternoon session, Karen pinched Fanny three times and Peige six times. When the session concluded and they exited the room, both women stretched lazily with great satisfaction. "I'm usually not this sleepy, but whenever I'm in such a serious setting, I just can't keep my eyes open," Fanny remarked. "Same here," Peige said with a yawn. Karen spoke up: "The talks probably aren't going so smoothly, considering an extra evening session was added." The meetings, originally scheduled only for morning and afternoon, now included an extra evening session that did not end until late at night. After escorting Miss Ophelia back to her room, the two women unceremoniously claimed the large bed, one on each side. Even though they had slept through the meetings, they were still thoroughly exhausted—a weariness far surpassing even the combat from two nights ago. Just as Karen prepared to rest on the couch, the doorbell rang. Miss Ophelia was calling for him. This was their first time meeting this late at the hotel. Exquisite late-night snacks were arranged on the coffee table in front of Miss Ophelia, but Karen had little appetite. "The talks aren't going very smoothly," Ophelia said. "Mm." Karen acknowledged, taking the iced water handed over by the maid and downing a large mouthful. The maid paused for a second before silently serving a cup of hot black tea to her mistress. "So exhausting," Ophelia lamented, stretching her legs out across the sofa. She was wearing traditional Dark Moon Island attire—a dress somewhat resembling a cheongsam in cut, though without slits. Even so, in that posture, the smooth skin of her calves and partway above her knees was left exposed. "Mr. Karen, I truly despise these occasions and all these formalities. I'd rather take my sword to the open sea off Dark Moon Island and hunt reckless pirates and sirens for practice." "My two colleagues feel the same way." "Heh. Perhaps they and I are the same kind of people after all." To Karen's surprise, even though Ophelia saw he had no interest in eating, she still pulled him into chatting about literature for a while. Yet Karen distinctly noticed that she was visibly worn out herself. Their late-night "reading club" lasted nearly an hour. Ophelia seemed reluctant to end it, and it was only after Karen pointed out how late it was, asking her to get enough rest for tomorrow's talks, that he managed to take his leave and return to the room opposite. Closing the door, Karen leaned his back against it, his brows slightly furrowed. Miss Ophelia's behavior tonight had been rather deliberate. He wasn't so naive as to assume she had simply taken a fancy to him. Had she sensed something? Karen subconsciously touched his wrist. Was it because of the Dark Moon Blade? ... Ophelia sipped iced water, her gaze focused. Panmir stepped close and asked in a low voice, "Miss, is it him?" "During the first few nights, I only caught faint traces once or twice. But the night we were ambushed, even across that distance, I truly felt it. Moreover, despite always carrying himself with propriety, he didn't hide his familiarity or refuse when I gifted him my rapier. Panmir, not even you qualify to receive its inheritance. I find it difficult to fathom why he possesses it." "There is little the Church of Order desires that it cannot obtain. Perhaps his assignment as your personal security for this trip was directed by church higher-ups." "I agree with the first part, but as for the second... I am already considering a marriage alliance with Mr. Leon. Why would the Church of Order rush to make such an arrangement right now? It doesn't make sense." "Yet, what makes even less sense to me is how Mr. Karen, with the strength he displays on the surface, could be among this elite Whip of Order squad. He must be concealing his true power." Hearing this, Ophelia recalled the layered defensive barriers Karen had conjured that night. "No rush. Let's wait and see. If it comes down to it, I intend to ask him directly once the talks conclude." "Would that be wise, Miss?" "Sometimes, worrying too much and guessing too much only makes you feel foolish in hindsight." ... The second day followed the exact routine of the first: morning session, afternoon session, and an added evening session. Karen passed the time reading *Light of Order*, reaching out to pinch the two older sisters beside him awake whenever their snores started up. By the time they returned to their room, Peige and Fanny were even more exhausted than the previous night, collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep the moment they stepped inside. Karen, meanwhile, was summoned once more by Miss Ophelia. Tonight, Miss Ophelia kept Karen chatting about music for an hour. Karen was hardly versed in the music of this world; usually, he just had Alfred play some songs on the radio. Yet Karen discovered that Ophelia, having brought up the topic herself, knew even less about music than he did. As the conversation dragged on, it turned into him explaining things to her instead. At one-thirty in the morning, Karen returned to his room and used the telephone to call the funeral parlor. Alfred answered. After asking about the renovation progress, Karen hung up. ... The third day repeated the same routine as the previous two. By evening, Karen could clearly see the haggard state Peige and Fanny were in. Tonight, they didn't even crash into bed right away. Fanny sat on the couch, running her fingers through her hair over and over. Peige sat on the rug hugging her knees, her eyes completely lifeless. The two women looked as if they had just been violated. Karen knew this was likely "mental devastation." Deep down, they detested such environments; being in that setting made them instinctively uneasy, as if subjected to a spell. Then Karen was called across the hall once again. Tonight's theme was "movies." Not chatting about movies, but actually watching one. Ophelia brought Karen to a screening room on one of the lower floors of the hotel. Sitting one seat apart, the two watched an entire black-and-white romance film called *York Holiday*. It was two in the morning by the time the film ended. Ophelia and Karen walked out together and ran into three men and three women emerging from the opposite screening room. They greeted Ophelia warmly, and she responded with polite courtesy. They were likely acquaintances from the welcoming banquet on the first day. They paid little attention to Karen, however, as he was walking alongside Panmir. By protocol, whenever the protected person left her suite—even inside the hotel—she had to be accompanied by personal security personnel. There was no need to worry that gossip might reach the ears of the Chief Bishop's grandson, Mr. Leon. ... The fourth day and fifth day followed the exact same pattern. Finally, during the morning session of the sixth day, Peige and Fanny were asleep as usual, and Karen was yawning uncontrollably. A full week of non-stop work, capped off each night by Miss Ophelia dragging him over for nearly two hours of tea-time chatter—where even she didn't seem to know what to talk about or do—had finally worn Karen's endurance thin. Just as Karen prepared to shield his face with a newspaper and drift off, applause erupted. Karen immediately pinched Peige and Fanny awake, urging them to stand and applaud along with him. The negotiations had finally concluded. In the words of the representatives from both sides, the conference had achieved complete success. There were no activities scheduled for the rest of the day; even the celebratory banquet was set for the following evening, as both negotiating delegations were thoroughly exhausted and in dire need of rest. Karen grabbed a bite for lunch, took a bath after returning to the room, and went straight to bed. Peige and Fanny, on the other hand, looked like convicts freshly released from prison. Suddenly brimming with passion for life again, the two women sat chattering before the French window about dresses, handbags, and shoes. They had never cared about such things before, but this was to celebrate being brought back to "life." Karen slept until dusk. When he awoke, he saw a dining cart parked in the room, where Peige and Fanny were eating. "You're awake?" Fanny smiled. "Yeah." "Across the hall wants you to go over once you're up," Fanny said. "All right." After freshening up, Karen walked over to the dining cart. Just as he reached for food, Peige chimed in, "We've already packed and portioned the food to bring over to the captain and the others. Go on across the hall—she'll definitely have better food for you." "Exactly, exactly," Fanny chimed in. Karen sighed, put down his plate, and headed out. "How many days has it been now? Heading across the hall every single night," Peige muttered. Fanny replied, "So back at the docks, we thought he made a fool of himself. Turns out those of us who mocked him are the real joke." ... Karen arrived at Ophelia's suite. When he stepped inside, he saw that Panmir and the maid took the initiative to leave. "Mr. Karen, the negotiations have finally ended in success. Thank you for your hard work." "It is you who worked hard, Miss." "There are some matters I wish to speak with you about in complete candor, Mr. Karen." "Of course." Karen took a seat, then glanced around. To his surprise, there was no dining cart here; on the coffee table were only tea and ice, no food. "You truly are cautious, Mr. Karen." Ophelia took a blue pebble from her palm and placed it on the coffee table. The next instant, the pebble emitted a glow that enveloped the living area of the suite. It was a barrier. Karen nodded without asking why there was no food. He was genuinely too embarrassed to bring it up after she had already sent an entire cart of food over to his room. "Mr. Karen, what is your family name?" "Silva." "Silva—is that truly your real surname, Mr. Karen?" "Why does Miss ask that?" Karen remained composed on the surface, a polite smile on his lips, but internally, his guard was raised. So those awkward late-night conversations over the past few days were just laying the groundwork for this? What kind of tactic was this? A war of attrition? "During my first two nights in this hotel, while meditating, I sensed a power nearby that shared a certain resonance with me." *Hm? She sensed it too?* "At the time, I didn't think much of it. None of the guests staying at the Ankara Hotel are ordinary people; it's quite normal for subtle resonances to arise between differing powers. But on the night we were attacked, even from quite a distance away, I distinctly felt a resonance stemming from bloodline." Was it because he had used the Dark Moon Blade back then to kill the dwarf? She could sense it from so far away? Ophelia reached out to touch the rapier resting on the coffee table. "My senses might err, but it was indeed summoned at that moment. It cannot be mistaken. Weren't you quite interested in it, Mr. Karen? What a coincidence—it is quite interested in you as well." "I'm not sure I follow your meaning, Miss." "My meaning is simple." Ophelia opened her palm, and a blood-red whip appeared in her hand, swaying slightly and exuding an intimidating aura. "You aren't unfamiliar with this, are you, Mr. Karen?" "Is this your ability, Miss?" "Yes. It is a blessing from the Dark Moon, an ability granted by the Dark Moon to the bloodline of my clan. You should possess it as well, Mr. Karen." "You must be joking, Miss. My faith lies with Order. As a member of the church, how could I possess power from a family faith system?" Just as Mr. Bede had been unable to awaken Ancestor Allen's bloodline power after believing in the Church of the Mural God. "No, it's not the same, Mr. Karen. Do you know why my clan and families like the bloodthirsty aberrant demons are called special family faith systems? "Because our bloodline power is dominant. Unlike other family faith systems, even if we do not venerate our respective progenitors, we still have a chance to obtain the corresponding abilities. "It is just like how if both parents are athletes, their child's physique is usually quite good as well. "Therefore, unlike other family faith systems, where failing to venerate the progenitor means you cannot receive the ancestral blessing within the bloodline, "in theory, possessing it does not conflict with your faith in the God of Order, Mr. Karen." Karen couldn't help thinking of Neo, who had also acquired the regenerative powers of a bloodthirsty aberrant demon. Was this type of bloodline inheritance truly so formidable that it required no deliberate tapping, manifesting directly as a dominant trait? Like a divine beast that could fly: no matter how mediocre its offspring became, even if they degraded into a moth, they would still possess a small pair of wings to fly. Was this why special family powers like the bloodthirsty aberrant demons and Dark Moon Island were heavily guarded against and restricted by orthodox churches? Relying on this trait, they could actually infiltrate and contaminate church hierarchies through non-military means. If bloodthirsty aberrant demon families or Dark Moon families worshipping the main god ever emerged within the church, it would be an absolute nightmare. Of course, there were likely constraints and limitations. For instance, once one embarked on the path of worshipping a god, their innate bloodline abilities could no longer be further developed or enhanced without causing conflict—though perhaps a few geniuses could manage it. Even so, a priest with such dominant baseline traits would indisputably enjoy an early head start on the track. Therefore, the Church of Order preparing to establish a mission on Dark Moon Island was in fact a massive concession. It was equivalent to opening a small breach—not that people on Dark Moon Island couldn't worship the God of Order without a mission, but it granted them official recognition of status. "Admit it, Mr. Karen. You must have felt that I've always appreciated you and held you in high regard. While it isn't romantic affection, I believe we can consider each other friends. Most importantly, why would I harm a clansman who shares the same Dark Moon bloodline as me?" *Dark Moon bloodline? A clansman? The problem is, I don't have it.* On this point, Karen was completely certain, because his family name was Inmerlais, and the Inmerlais family was an ancient lineage of Inquisitors within the Church of Order. There was definitely nothing extra mixed into his bloodline. Even if there had been, his grandfather would surely have told him. Moreover, as he advanced from God's Servant to God's Revelation and then to God's Shepherd, he had examined himself time and time again; no such Dark Moon bloodline existed. What Karen knew even better was that the only reason he could use the Dark Moon Blade was that the power of Light inside him acted as a converter. "Actually, there are other conditions under which it can be used," Ophelia continued. "For example, the clan will bestow the Dark Moon bloodline upon certain loyal retainers, allowing them to cultivate the power of the Dark Moon. But such a bestowal cannot be passed down; it can only be used by the recipient themselves and cannot be inherited by their descendants. You've never been to Dark Moon Island, have you, Mr. Karen?" "Never." "Then there it is. Your bloodline is an inheritance passed down from your ancestors." Karen fell silent. Seeing that Karen was still unwilling to admit it, Ophelia laughed. "Of course, there is one other possibility: I know the power of Light can undergo conversion to mimic the powers of other faiths. But the expenditure is enormous—even the priests of Light back then wouldn't do so, because after converting ten parts of power, less than half might remain. Most importantly, how could I ever believe a Light remnant would show up here, let alone be assigned as my bodyguard? Wouldn't that be the biggest joke in the world?" Karen smiled as well, nodding along in agreement. "Now that we've come this far, could you show a little sincerity, Mr. Karen?" Karen took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, looked at Ophelia, and spread his palm. The next instant, a stream of blood-red power rose from Karen's palm, identical to the one in Ophelia's hand. Ophelia nodded. "No wonder I've always had a good impression of you. I was even worried I had fallen for you. As it turns out, it really was because we belong to the same clan." Immediately following her words, the blood-red whip in Ophelia's hand whipped fiercely toward Karen, morphing into a sharp sword mid-strike. The red whip in Karen's hand instantly shifted into a scimitar. *Clang!* Powers of the exact same attribute clashed and locked against one another. Ophelia promptly withdrew her hand, the red light in her grasp dissipating. "What is the meaning of this, Miss?" Karen regarded her with utmost gravity. "I only wished to verify it. It seems you truly have cultivated the Dark Moon Blade, Mr. Karen. You possess not only the Dark Moon bloodline, but also the Dark Moon Blade magical art." "Miss, you may finish what you have to say." "Very well. Dark Moon Island has many magical arts, but the Dark Moon Blade is the highest-tier art capable of mobilizing the power of the Dark Moon to the greatest degree. Even among our own clansmen, many do not qualify to cultivate it—and even if they could, they wouldn't be able to comprehend it." Hearing this, Karen remembered what Purr had said: thanks to its breakdown and analysis, Karen had bypassed the tedious process of meditating on the blood moon every night. Because Purr was a genius, the cat had reduced a complex problem into formulas, allowing Karen to simply follow the steps one by one. "The Dark Moon bloodline, the Dark Moon Blade art—you possess both, Mr. Karen. That leaves only one explanation." What explanation? Karen was actually very curious about this "explanation," as he hadn't figured out how to explain it himself yet. "When I asked you about the Allen family in the car, you said you had heard of them. At the time, I assumed it was simply because you were well-read and broadly knowledgeable. It appears my assumption was mistaken. To express his love, my ancestor once gave the Dark Moon Blade art as a gift to Miss Purr Allen. The explanation in my ancestor's autobiography was that although she could not use the art, in his heart, only such a gift could represent his deep devotion." Karen felt that had the man gifted something actually usable, Purr wouldn't have been so heartless back then. After all, once the black cat at home tasted his squirrel mandarin fish, it had instantly become easy to talk to—proof that taking from someone softens one's attitude. That young clan head had presented an unusable gift merely to move himself; he richly deserved to be forgotten in the sea. "As it turns out, everything my ancestor wrote back then was a lie—a falsehood meant to deceive us! My ancestor didn't give the Dark Moon Blade art to Miss Purr back then; he gave it to the child in Miss Purr's belly!" Ophelia stood up, looked at Karen, and said with complete seriousness, "Mr. Karen, you are Miss Purr's descendant!" "..." Karen.