A Pleasant Surprise!

The sea breeze blew gently, rustling the leaves in the woods. [My heartfelt thanks to all of you for your contributions to Dark Moon Island. You are weary, and you have labored hard. I invite you to sleep here for eternity. —Bernard] Reading the words carved into the stone tablet, one could almost picture Bernard's expression at that moment. He had succeeded; he had used them, profited from them, and eliminated them. He had not even bothered to coat it in hypocrisy, but had instead used a taunting tone to deliver his final mockery. This was an isolated island. Unless one used the teleportation circle inside the villa, reaching it was virtually impossible. It was like a private diary. Here, Bernard revealed a truth distinct from the facade he presented to the outside world—a glimpse into his genuine heart. The inscription on the tablet could easily be rephrased as: "Well, look here! A whole pack of fools is buried right in this pit!" Karen took out the Sword of Arius, which he had deliberately brought along in its sword case. Walking up to the stone tablet, he crouched down and used the blade to slowly grind away the words Bernard had once left behind. Mr. Aisen and Richard sat behind him, watching Karen grind down the inscription. Finally, the carvings on the stone were completely erased. Karen rested the sword across his knees, staring at the blank stone tablet, lost in thought. Having once worked at the Inmeles Funeral Parlor, Karen was accustomed to carving words on tombstones. He closed his eyes. An image formed in his mind: over a century ago, a group of people had arrived at Dark Moon Island aboard a sea turtle. They had poured their heart and soul into this island, hoping it would thrive in the future. Over a century later, when they should have enacted vengeance with hearts full of fury, they had chosen to hold back just as their revenge was about to be fulfilled. Was it mercy? No. Describing them merely with the word "mercy" would be inaccurate. Hatred had indeed lingered in their hearts; otherwise, after barely escaping, Philias would not have laid a curse upon the Dark Moon clan in his rage, nor would the curse worm have been born from it. Yet more than a hundred years had passed, and Bernard had died long ago. When they returned to this island, ordinary people would expect them to see the descendants of their enemies, an island flourishing by sucking dry their own life's blood. They should have raged, roared, and overturned every bit of the splendor built upon their corpses out of sheer indignation. Karen felt that had he been in their place, he certainly would have done just that. He would have let his fury burn the entire island to ashes. Instead, what they saw was the growth of their former lifework, their past dream materialized into reality. They were sowers of light. They had not come to proselytize. They had come to scatter the seeds of light, and when those seeds took root, sprouted, and bore fruit, they did not name the fruit "Light," but "Beauty." The Church of Light was the Church of Light; the God of Light was the God of Light; And light was simply light. For a moment, Karen felt deeply moved. He was not alone in this world of gods. Over a century ago, there had been a group like this. Perhaps their cognitive dialectic had not been as explicit as his, Yet they were far more remarkable than him, because they put it into practice. Perhaps this was what faith looked like in its purest form. Karen had once admired a painting in the studio of Piaget's wife, Linda, titled *Twilight of the Gods*. In the painting, the Last Pope of the Church of Light stood atop a high tower, crying out: *I do not believe there is truly a God of Light in this world.* Church historians generally agreed that this shout from the Last Pope of Light had effectively sounded the final death knell for the Church of Light, followed closely by the church's demise. Philias was a descendant of that Mad Pope. Therefore, that shout from the Mad Pope had not been a denial of light itself; he was merely denying the God of Light. Did a God of Light truly exist? Undoubtedly. This was a world with gods; gods truly existed—even the dog back home was one. Yet was the being called the God of Light truly the God of Light? Was it as though before the God of Order existed, there was no order in this world? Then before the God of Light existed, had mortals truly never seen light? In the eyes of the Church of Order's higher echelons, was his grandfather, Diss, not also considered another madman? Some people were mad because they were truly insane, while others were considered mad simply because everyone around them was mad. What difference was there between the Last Pope of Light shouting from atop the Tower of Light and his own grandfather bombing the Temple of Order? They had seen truths invisible to the world, and more admirably, instead of drifting with the tide, they had each raised their own voices within the context of their respective eras. A sudden wave of panic washed over Karen, causing him to slump back onto the ground. He had just realized that while Mr. Philias had inherited the legacy of the Mad Pope of Light, Karen was shouldering the expectations left behind by his grandfather, Diss. In essence, Mr. Philias and he were the same kind of people. This kinship transcended geography, nationality, faith, church, and every other boundary. Except, Philias had already lived it out. What about himself? Could he reach Philias' level? Would he even have the courage to take that step? Karen found that the confidence and resolve he had harbored began to tremble before the bloody corpses of his "kindred." No wonder Diss had repeatedly asked him before he left home whether he was truly ready. Back then, he had always answered Diss by saying he "wanted to go see the sights," feeling quite pleased with his suave reply. It turned out he had simply taken things too lightly all along. Who knew what Diss had felt every time he heard that answer? The scenery along the road was beautiful, but what if the path was paved with blood? If it were someone else's blood, it might be bearable, but what if it were his own? Taking one step after another, leaving behind a trail of crimson footprints—under such circumstances, would one still be in the mood to admire the view? "Phoo... haah..." Karen took a deep breath. Richard watched Karen, puzzled, curious, and mostly utterly bewildered. Mr. Aisen glanced back at his son, then looked at Karen ahead of them, unable to hold back a soft sigh. Having composed his emotions, Karen turned his mind back to the inscription. "Thank you for allowing me to witness the true light..." Karen shook his head. He was dissatisfied with this. He was in no position to offer them such gratitude. "Please do not grieve for us; please do not..." Karen shook his head again. That was not right either. In the end, Karen carved his own words onto the tablet: [Hey, we're setting sail once again!] Karen drove the sword into the ground, faced the burial pit, and crossed his arms over his chest without uttering a prayer of praise. Then, turning around, he looked at Bernard lying face down and used his boot to flip him over. Bernard's once immaculate, orderly salt-and-pepper hair was now disheveled, his face coated in sand. Closing his eyes, Karen carefully sensed the body and confirmed that because Bernard's corpse had been preserved exceptionally well, the residual spiritual power within was remarkably abundant. Richard could no longer contain his curiosity and asked, "Karen, what exactly do you plan to do to him?" "Humiliate him." "Are you going to start now?" Richard asked. "If I'd known, I would have drunk more water before coming here. Oh well, there are plenty of ways to desecrate a corpse anyway." "What's the point of desecrating a corpse? I want him to open his eyes and experience it himself." "Open his eyes and experience it? You want to use Awakening on him?" Karen nodded. "Are you crazy?! He was a legendary genius clan chief of the Dark Moon clan! Do you know how high his realm was?" Richard was currently a God's Shepherd and had not yet reached the Inquisitor realm capable of performing Awakening, but that did not stop him from understanding the cost and burden of using it. Mr. Aisen spoke up to correct his son: "No, he can do it." Evidently, however, the reason Mr. Aisen believed Karen could do it was not the actual reason Karen was able to. Karen turned to Mr. Aisen and asked, "Is there any way to keep his body intact while guaranteeing we can suppress his resistance once the Awakening succeeds?" The Church of Order's Awakening was completely different from the Church of Samsara's soul contract. Once a soul contract was formed, one could forcibly command the soul under their control, whereas the Church of Order's Awakening simply "awoke" the dead. A deceased person who woke up was also completely free. The safest approach would be to sever Bernard's limbs and stuff him into a jar like a human swine. However, severe destruction of the body would cause a massive leakage of the preserved spiritual power, which would likely leave Bernard mentally deranged upon waking. Having finally confirmed that the residual spiritual power within Bernard was so rich, Karen vastly preferred torturing him while he was lucid. "There is a way. We can embed spell formations into his body." "How exactly?" "By setting suppression formations across various parts of his body, including his soul, divided into layers and stages." "How long will it take?" Karen asked. "Not long. This requires quantity rather than perfection. To be safe, we should reserve at least two larger formations capable of obliterating him in an instant." "Yes, of course. You can start preparing it for me now." "Alright. Um, I'll need a relatively enclosed space." "No problem. Richard, carry the corpse and follow me." Richard hoisted the body onto his back and followed Karen into the cave. Karen walked up to Lady Jennifer's stone coffin, pushed open the lid, and inspected it, only to confirm that the spiritual power within her body had completely vanished as well. Karen felt a twinge of regret, yet also a sense of relief. "This coffin is very suitable," Mr. Aisen said. "The material of this stone sarcophagus is naturally tailored for laying down formations. Its original design was meant for formation containment." Mr. Aisen pointed to the coffin Lady Jennifer lay in and added, "The formations on that coffin were once activated to seal away resistance from within." "Then let's begin." "Alright. Richard, put the body inside." "Okay." Richard threw Bernard's corpse inside with considerable force, terrified Karen might think he wasn't rough enough and order him to carry it again. Mr. Aisen pulled out scroll after scroll from inside his priestly robes, covering the coffin lid with them. The sight took Karen aback. Aisen had not used any teleportation scroll to summon them, meaning he carried all these spell scrolls on his person. "You certainly know how to stash things. Good thing you told me before that you're not married and have no children, or with your knack for stashing things, you would have even hidden away your son's pacifier." Mr. Aisen's breathing grew slightly heavier. "Richard, go fetch some stream water from outside. There are coconut palms out there too—pick a few coconuts. Be careful, there are quite a few venomous snakes out there." "Got it, leave it to me." Richard immediately left to fetch late-night refreshments for everyone. Once he was gone, Karen said to Mr. Aisen, "Focus on your preparations." Mr. Aisen nodded. "The longer I spend around him, the more I wonder if he's really my flesh and blood." "There's no need to doubt that." "I know, but it's getting harder to accept." The corner of Mr. Aisen's mouth tugged into a fleeting smile. Brief as it was, he never would have displayed such an expression in the past. Karen noticed that Mr. Aisen had probably been suppressed for far too long. First came the venting of beating his son, and now, being led by both the Captain and Karen into committing these "illicit" acts had allowed his mind to unwind considerably. For some, balancing work and rest was merely an excuse for laziness, but for others, failing to unwind and relieve stress meant they would genuinely work themselves to death. Karen stood nearby, observing Mr. Aisen's technique. First, Aisen laid down formations on the sarcophagus—or more precisely, supplemented the coffin's existing formations to make it usable for what was to come. Afterward, he took out a Rubik's cube that floated before him. A silken thread drifted out from the cube, and using his fingertips to guide it, he imprinted the formations from the scrolls onto Bernard's body while stringing them together with the thread. It felt as if Bernard was a wooden board, and the formations were charms being hung across him. Using the silken thread as a conduit minimized physical damage to the body, allowing it to retain as much residual spiritual power as possible. It looked simple, but executing it was exceedingly complex. This cube appeared to be an ability exclusive to his mother's family, for on the night they moved against Samsara, Karen had seen his maternal grandfather, Old Master Delon, use it as well. "Is that a sacred relic or a spell?" Karen asked, pointing at the cube. "Both a sacred relic and a spell. Its purpose is to assist in deductions, significantly easing the burden on the formation master." "Can I learn it?" Karen inquired. "Well..." Mr. Aisen hesitated. "You should have better methods available to you." "Is it related to bloodline?" Karen caught on. "Yes. Those who possess the bloodline of the Guman family find it much easier to master." Mr. Aisen did not speak in absolutes, but in truth, the cube was indeed an ability bound by bloodline. "Does Richard know how?" Karen asked. "He does, but he won't be able to activate his own cube until he reaches the Inquisitor realm. He carries one on him as well." "Ah, I see." Once they returned, Karen could borrow Richard's cube and hand it to Kevin and Purr to study and replicate. As for the spell technique to operate it, he could coax that out of Richard too. The Guman bloodline... ran through his veins as well. Karen had come to realize that his understanding of spell formations could not remain at a basic level; he needed to step up and improve his proficiency in this area quickly. He still had the formation notes left behind by Mr. Hoffen, and paired with the Guman family's cube, he could achieve twice the result with half the effort. Mr. Aisen added, "Even if you hadn't told him to leave just now, I would have found an excuse to send him out." "Yes. This must have cost you quite a bit." Karen knew every single one of those scrolls was valuable. "It's fine. Scrolls are meant to be used after they're crafted. I think using them here is well worth it." Roughly two hours later, Mr. Aisen finally finished laying out all the formations. If one had to draw the formations from scratch, the task would have taken roughly three days and required sourcing numerous materials. Using so many pre-made spell scrolls was essentially like using meal kits—all one needed to do was open the packages, pour them out, heat them up, and serve. Bernard's body was covered in various multicolored sigils, each representing a formation with a distinct function: weakness, gravity, mental suppression, binding, and more... Explosive formations were set at the back of his head and his heart, prepared in case any accidents occurred. Karen could not help but marvel. No matter how powerful Bernard had been in life, once awakened, he wouldn't be able to stir up any trouble. Karen had planted countless bombs across his body—or rather, inside him. Mr. Aisen wiped the sweat from his face, admiring his handiwork on the greatest clan chief in Dark Moon Island's history, a satisfied expression washing over his features. Just then, Richard returned. In his left hand, he held a vine looped with seven or eight coconuts; in his right, a wooden branch skewering a large chunk of roasted python meat. Seeing this, Karen suddenly felt that his little cousin was actually quite useful. Karen and Mr. Aisen sat down and began eating the roasted snake meat. Richard cracked open a coconut for each of them, set them down, and walked over to the coffin to examine Bernard lying inside. As expected of a young master of the Guman family, even if his current practical ability wasn't up to par, his eye for appraisal was sharp. He said excitedly, "Damn, Memphis, you're a genuine genius with formations! I think my dad is leagues behind you in this area." Mr. Aisen looked up at Richard. "Your father's formation skills aren't high?" "Pfft, he's only good for thrashing me with an Order Cage. When you have time, teach me a thing or two. I don't know why, but these past few nights, I keep having dreams about going home and getting beaten by my dad. "I need to improve quickly. Next time he tries to lay a hand on me, I can use the formations you teach me to string him up and let him clear his head! I'll tell him using domestic violence on his son is a petty, foolish thing to do, hehe." Mr. Aisen replied, "Hehe." Having eaten their late-night snack, their stamina was replenished. Karen wiped his hands with some leaves and stood up. Now, they could begin. Richard stared at Karen with intense excitement and asked, "My intuition tells me you can really pull this off, Karen, but how?" "Even Awakening has different levels. This is something I comprehended on my own. You need to keep it a secret for me." "Of course! We're good brothers!" "Good. When I have time later, I'll teach it to you too." "Haha, awesome! Awesome!" Mr. Aisen tugged Richard's arm, signaling for him to be quiet. He knew very well there were no secrets to Awakening; it was merely a contest of realm and cost. Karen could awaken Bernard because he possessed the requisite strength and foundation. His foolish son actually believed there was some special shortcut! Karen fixed his gaze on Bernard lying in the coffin, raised his hand, and pointed at him. From beneath Karen's feet, an ancient, solemn black chain emerged. "You think death is the end? "Now, wake up for me. It's time to settle our accounts. "Order—Awakening!" The black chain extended into the coffin and sank into Bernard's body. Karen closed his eyes, waiting for his spiritual power to be drawn out. Yet after waiting for a long time, nothing happened at all. Behind him, Richard and Mr. Aisen both stood on their tiptoes to peer inside, the father and son craning their necks with astonishing synchronicity. Karen opened his eyes. For the first time, his Awakening ability had failed. Yet not a hint of disappointment appeared on Karen's face. Instead, the corners of his mouth curved into a smile, gradually turning into chuckles, which grew louder and louder until unbridled excitement broke through. "Heh... hehe... hahaha..." He did not believe his ability to awaken the dead was entirely immune to mishaps, but he certainly did not believe the very first mishap would occur on Bernard. Therefore, this could mean only one possibility—a possibility that left Karen thrilled and pleasantly surprised. Namely: "Bernard, you're actually still alive!"