The Fight Is On

After Neo and Tafman left, Mr. Aisen walked over carrying an iron shovel. Setting it down, he pulled out a slip of paper with three lines written on it. First line: *Set up a formation here.* Mr. Aisen put the paper away and began setting up the formation. Once the formation was in place, Mr. Aisen unfolded the slip again. Second line: *Dig a hole and bury yourself in it.* Mr. Aisen picked up the shovel, dug a pit nearby, and buried himself in it. He took care to preserve the topmost layer of turf with the grass intact, so that after jumping into the hole, he was able to prop the patch of sod right on top of his head. He pulled out the note once more. Third line: *Upon hearing keywords or synonyms such as "This is a restricted area of the Palace of Longing, no unauthorized persons may enter or offend...", detonate the formation.* Mr. Aisen silently repeated the words to himself, then crouched down, concealing his figure entirely beneath the grass. Every step had been arranged in advance; all he had to do was follow instructions. He really liked this method of handing out assignments. And so, he remained motionless in the dirt pit, simply repeating those keywords over and over beneath his breath. *** "I've had enough. Enough! I'm sick to death of those damned Order bastards! Bastards!" "Yeah, losing this war feels utterly stifling. When it comes down to it, they only won through a sneak attack. If both sides lined up for a real fight, Samsara wouldn't necessarily lose!" "At the very least, Order would never have won so easily. Seeing those Order dogs these past few days makes me sick—strutting around like monkeys with their tails raised straight to the sky, reeking of smug arrogance." "Haha, exactly! I swear, even my uncle's unwashed boots don't stink as bad as they do right now." "All right, that's enough shouting. Since we're out to have fun, just relax and put your troubles out of your minds for now. In the future, Samsara will still depend on us to hold up the mantle." "Yes, Captain Pat." "The captain is right." Nearly twenty men entered individual red cubicles, each separated by curtains and furnished with a simple sofa bed. After stepping inside his own cubicle, Pat slipped back out almost immediately. He produced a purple ticket, showed it to the attendant at the entrance, and headed up to the third floor. A purple ticket was not overly expensive for him, but out in the open, he could hardly afford to buy purple tickets for all twenty of his subordinates. The cost would have been exorbitant. His only choice had been to escort them to the second floor first, then slip away to the third floor alone. When he finished, he would have to head back down quickly before they noticed, or it would be hard to command their respect. Reaching the third floor, Pat entered a private room and walked over to the harpoon console. Looking down into the pool below, he selected a mermaid in the very center. He then returned to the edge of the bed and tugged at the collar of his clerical robe. Although he had maintained a composed facade before his men, the depression and rage festering in his heart ran even deeper than theirs. His subordinates only had to endure the jeers and mockery of the Order delegates outside the conference hall. Pat, on the other hand, had to endure the fury of his own superiors whenever he reported to them. The church had suffered such a catastrophic defeat under the leadership of those very superiors, leaving them no choice but to come here and beg for peace. Even if they had hoped to salvage some dignity through negotiations, Order had threatened renewed warfare on the very first day. Terrified into submission, they had agreed to practically every term. How did they still have the gall to throw tantrums? Dammit! Pat's mouth felt dry. He picked up the water on the nightstand, hesitated, and then opened the drawer. Inside lay a box of red pills, meant to heighten a guest's arousal and stamina. He took one. Then another. And another. Three pills in total. He popped them into his mouth and washed them down with water. Before long, a knock came at the door. Several attendants stood outside carrying a bathtub, inside of which was a gentle, alluring mermaid. Pat was pleased, his eyes faintly flushed red. The tub was carried inside, and the attendants departed. The mermaid brought out a vial of potion, looking at her guest to inquire what he wished. Pat shook his head. "Not just yet." With that, Pat pulled out one thousand Samsara coupons from his wallet and tossed them into the tub. The coupons were waterproof and would not dissolve. He casually tossed the wallet onto the nightstand. Following the Church of Samsara's defeat in the war, Samsara coupons had lost nearly half their value. It was foreseeable that once the results of the negotiations were announced, their value would plummet even further. The Church of Samsara had to pay war reparations to the Church of Order. Naturally, Order would never accept payment in Samsara coupons; they demanded Order coupons. To raise the required funds, Samsara would have to liquidate its assets and materials while simultaneously printing massive amounts of Samsara coupons, plundering the wealth of its own followers and sphere of influence. Because of this, spending a thousand Samsara coupons did not pain Pat in the slightest. The mermaid blinked. She knew that coupons were valuable, but she had no concept of their current exchange rates. Pat leaned down, his hands caressing the mermaid's body. The mermaid stretched out as best she could to accommodate her guest. Right then, a thin cord appeared in Pat's hands, wrapping tightly around the mermaid's mouth. For a moment, the mermaid was confused, instinctively assuming it was some eccentric preference of this patron. Soon, however, she realized how wrong she was. *Rip!* *Rip!* Pat tore two scales straight from the mermaid's tail. Blood immediately welled out from her skin. "Mmh! Mmh!" The mermaid tried to scream in agony, but with her mouth bound, she could make little sound. Even if the attendants outside heard, they would likely assume it was just the usual noises of service. "Hahaha!" Watching the mermaid writhe in pain as tears streamed down her cheeks, the smothered fire of resentment in Pat's chest finally found a measure of relief. *Rip!* *Rip!* He continued tearing off scales. In agony, the mermaid pleaded desperately with her eyes for mercy, but Pat was in the throes of excitement—how could he possibly stop? He had accumulated who knew how much negative stress over these past days; he desperately needed an outlet! *Rip!* *Rip!* Scale after scale was ruthlessly ripped away, turning the bathwater red with blood. The smile on Pat's face grew increasingly twisted and vicious. He wasn't worried about what the theater's owner might do to him. Even if the Church of Samsara had lost to the Church of Order, Samsara remained an orthodox major church. It was not something a mere theater establishment on Dark Moon Island dared cross. At worst, he would toss out a few more coupons as symbolic compensation. They were becoming worthless anyway! Pat continued torturing the mermaid. The greater her torment, the more thrilled he became, his laughter turning increasingly maniacal. "Does it hurt? It hurts, doesn't it? Hurt yourself to death, hahaha!" The ugliest facets of human nature were laid completely bare in that moment. Just as Pat was thoroughly absorbed in his cruel frenzy, the door cracked open a sliver. A hand reached inside and grabbed the wallet lying on the nightstand. Just as the hand was about to make off with the wallet, Pat suddenly sensed something. He snapped his head toward the door, let out a low growl, and lunged forward to yank it wide open. Standing outside was a man wearing a snake-head mask. Pat sneered. "You dare steal from me? Heh." Neo began to tremble all over. His left hand still clutched the wallet, while his right drew a battered little dagger, waving it shakily before Pat like a trembling amateur. "Lowly dog, you're looking to die." A ball of gray mist coalesced in Pat's palm. But at that moment, the thief suddenly seemed to lose his mind, wildly lunging forward with his dagger. Just as Pat's gray mist was about to bind him, the thief coincidentally beat him to the punch, slicing right across Pat's wrist with the blade. *Hiss...* Blood trickled from Pat's wrist. "Aaaah!" Neo shrieked, perfectly imitating a thief driven hysterical by being caught red-handed. "Die!" Pat roared. His glabella flashed, and a ghostly phantom manifested behind him while a protective barrier sprang up in front. Seeing the phantom appear, the thief seemed utterly petrified. He threw the dagger straight at Pat, spun around, and bolted, wailing loudly in the local dialect as he fled. Naturally, a dagger thrown in "blind panic" lacked accuracy, slamming into the wall instead. Yet the dagger ricocheted off the wall and plunged directly into Pat's thigh. "..." Pat stared in disbelief. Even for combat-oriented priests, unless they specialized in physical conditioning, their baseline physiology was only slightly better than an ordinary person's. Most priests relied on spells to enhance their bodies during melee combat. In other words, with the right timing, an ordinary firearm could indeed kill an Inquisitor. Pat let out another furious roar, yanked the dagger from his leg, and without even bothering to stop the bleeding, charged down from the third floor after the thief. On the second floor, many of Pat's subordinates heard the roar from above. Poking their heads out of their cubicles, they saw a man in a snake-head mask dashing down the stairs, followed immediately by their captain chasing in a bloody fury. "Stop him! Stop him!" Two subordinates moved to intercept the thief at once, but the thief turned sideways, threw himself over the railing, and slid down the banister at blinding speed. The fastest Samsara member tried to slide down the same way. But just as he was about to land, the fleeing thief suddenly glanced back, grabbed his leg, and yanked downward. The squad member immediately realized that the force exerted on him was terrifyingly immense. He instinctively tried to erect a defensive spell, but right then, an overwhelming force surged into his body, disrupting the gathering of his spirituality and breaking his casting. Just like that, completely unprotected, the member plummeted headfirst toward the marble steps. *Bang!* The extraordinary impact shattered a chunk of the stone stairs. His face instantly resembled an overturned Wien condiment shop, sauces of every color splattering outward. The Samsara members rushing down behind him quickly helped their fallen comrade up. Seeing his gruesome state, they could only silently mourn his terrible luck. As for the unconscious member, who was now breathing out far more air than he took in, he couldn't even warn his comrades of the anomaly he had sensed. He was completely out cold. "Catch him! Kill him, kill him!" The thief paused at the theater entrance. Seeing the pursuers catch up, he bolted down the theater steps in seeming panic and fled into the alleyway. The Samsara members swarmed after him. Yet every time they prepared to cast a spell, the thief miraculously managed to turn into a side alley. Every time they attempted to cut him off, he used his apparent familiarity with the terrain to carve out a new escape route. Just like that, they chased the thief down an entire street. When they finally drew close and Pat hurled the ghost infant behind him to capture him alive, the thief made a sudden leap, landing squarely onto a passing carriage. "Dammit, keep chasing!" *** Tafman was driving the carriage. Sitting in the passenger seat, Neo let out a breath, opened the wallet, pulled out half the coupons, and stuffed them into Tafman's chest pocket. After tucking them in, he patted Tafman's chest. "Here's your half." "Heh, thanks." Tafman continued steering the carriage. "Are they still chasing?" Neo asked. "Still chasing. They have spell enhancements; they're very fast." "Head toward the Bernard Hotel first. The side entrance." "A lot of their people are there," Tafman reminded him. "That's the point. We want them to call more people." Tafman maneuvered the carriage around a turn and asked, "You want to lure the Samsara people to the Palace of Longing?" "You guessed right. The Dark Moon Island guards dared draw their blades against the Light remnants. Let's see if they dare draw their blades against an orthodox church." "If they know what will happen once we break in, I'd say they will dare." "Not necessarily." "We won't be able to break in. The Samsara people aren't fools, either." "Just focus on driving." "Heh, fine." An orb of white light emerged from Tafman's palm, traveling along the reins to the unicorn pulling the carriage. The unicorn was instantly invigorated, galloping with renewed frenzy and keeping the pursuing Samsara members at bay. Upon reaching the side entrance of the Bernard Hotel, the carriage turned again. A flock of gray light orbs had flown faster than the carriage, acting much like the messenger crows commonly used in the Church of Order. A large group of Samsara personnel had already spilled out of the side entrance. Seeing the carriage and hearing the shouts of their comrades from behind, they immediately began casting spells to intercept it. "Faster! Faster, they're catching up!" Neo shouted. "This is already top speed—" Tafman and Neo ducked simultaneously. A wave of energy swept past, slicing the back half of the carriage cleanly away. The angle of their duck spared them completely. Having shed half its weight, the carriage actually gained speed. Several streams of gray mist surged up from both sides—a movement technique similar to the Church of Order's Black Mist Stride. Tafman jerked the carriage again, turning into a side path. "The unicorn's exhausted!" Tafman shouted. "Then jump!" Both men leapt from the carriage. The unicorn gave out completely, crashing sideways into the bushes along with the remaining half of the vehicle. Neo and Tafman took off on foot. Truth be told, without the carriage restricting them, they could flee with far greater ease. Although they could not use conspicuous spells that might arouse their pursuers' suspicions, their experience and tactical awareness were top-notch, and the dense surrounding vegetation provided ample cover. After running separately for a stretch, the two fell back into step with remarkable synergy. The Palace of Longing lay straight ahead. The guards stationed there had detected the spell fluctuations from this direction and were rapidly converging. "We can't get through!" Tafman said. "Heh." Neo leapt forward, diving into a flowerbed ahead. Light and shadow instantly warped across his body as he used a Light spell to conceal himself. Ordinarily, hiding this way would be utterly ineffective, as the Dark Moon guards had already noted the disturbance here. All it would take was a detection spell or a wide-area spell scroll to flush out anyone in hiding. But the problem now was that a swarm of Samsara pursuers was trailing right behind them. Tafman hesitated for a second, then followed Neo into the flowerbed, light crystals crystallizing around him to cloak his form. "Good grief, why hide with me?!" Neo cursed. "Doing that will get us both spotted immediately!" Neo's leap and concealment had been timed to exploit the final blind spot just as the guards were turning their attention toward the area. Tafman's subsequent jump, however, was executed right under the guards' watchful eyes—it was practically announcing to the guards that someone was hiding there. "This flowerbed is the densest," Tafman explained. He had wanted Neo exposed. "Heh, haha." Neo laughed. Hearing that laugh, Tafman suddenly realized his mistake: he shouldn't have jumped here. Sure enough, the Dark Moon guards froze for a moment, then tacitly refrained from encircling the flowerbed—because they had recognized their general jumping in. Although the general wore plain clothes and a mask, they had seen him dressed like that not long ago. While they didn't know why the general was doing this, they had no right to question him. Instead, the Dark Moon guards moved to intercept the crowd of Samsara pursuers. Lately, the delegates of the Church of Samsara had been harboring immense fury. Setting aside the raw, distinct hatred of those who had chased Neo all the way from the theater, those who joined in along the way had simply heard the commotion and come looking for someone to vent their anger on. Tafman looked at Neo crouching before him. Had he already figured out his true identity? "They're about to fight," Neo said. "Once the brawl starts, we'll slip inside, open the coffin, and take the covenant conch." "They won't fight." The leading Dark Moon guard captain stepped forward and shouted, "This is a restricted area of my Dark Moon Island, no offense permitted! May I ask what—" Truth be told, the guard captain handled the situation with great poise. He had already recognized the spell auras radiating from the approaching crowd. At this stage, the only people on Dark Moon Island capable of amassing such numbers were the members of the two orthodox major churches staying at the Bernard Hotel. The captain did not want a conflict to erupt; he wished to defuse the tension and ascertain what had happened. Yet his words got no further. In the nearby brush, a man who had crouched motionless for ages slowly raised his head: "Keywords!" Over by the entrance, the Samsara priests who had chased all this way had barely halted, many still panting for breath, and even more with no idea who they had actually been chasing. All they heard from the opposite side was: "This is a restricted area of my Dark Moon Island, no offense permitted—" *BOOM!* An explosion suddenly erupted right beneath their feet! This was an explosive formation personally set by a Jurist of the Church of Order, detonating at the absolute perfect moment. In an instant, several Samsara priests were blown to pieces, and many more were injured and sent flying. The scene plunged into utter chaos. Under such shock and trauma, the Samsara side instinctively unleashed spells, hurling them toward the Dark Moon guards, who had no choice but to fight back. Neo turned his head toward Tafman. *Snap!* He snapped his fingers. "Tsk. The fight's on!"