Determination!

Karen held the glass, staring at the crystal-clear blue liquid inside. Assuming Karen was feeling hesitant, Purr offered comforting words: "It's fine. Just think of it as drinking fish sauce." "You really don't need to make wild analogies," Karen said. "Oh, sorry, my dear little Karen. I was just trying to help, you know," Purr said, swishing its tail. "Come to think of it, you really have never used fish sauce in your cooking, have you?" Alfred spoke up: "Young Master, this subordinate has already purified it. There are no impurities whatsoever; it is completely pure." Karen shook his head. "It isn't that I feel disgusted. I just feel that having no aversion at all seems a bit wrong, so I was trying to drum some up." Understanding dawned on Alfred. "I see." With that, he instinctively reached toward his pocket for his small notebook to write it down, but he checked himself. Recording the Young Master's words and actions right to his face was disrespectful—it felt too much like spying on him. Karen hesitated no longer. He raised the glass and drained the blue liquid in a single gulp. Setting the glass down, he leaned back against the chair, folded his hands in front of him, and closed his eyes. Alfred stood facing the study door. Purr went quiet as well, perched on Kevin's back, watching Karen's reactions intently. Soon, a faint grimace of pain appeared on Karen's face. "*Hiss...*" After drawing a deep breath, Karen clutched his chest. Right now, every beat of his heart felt like someone was striking it with a hammer, sending tremors through his entire body. Yet Karen knew full well that he had to endure this phase. The pain lasted roughly ten minutes. Cold sweat drenched Karen's face, and his lips had turned pale. At that point, the hammering within his chest began to subside from its peak. The turning point had arrived. Though the physical agony had only slightly ebbed, Karen's spirit experienced a massive surge. Yet as the pounding faded, his heart rate began to slow down as well. Karen gradually felt as though his body had been placed inside a vacuum chamber where the pressure was continuously dropping. A suffocating tightness assailed him on both a physical and psychological level. Because he was among his own people, Karen had no need to hide anything; every feeling showed on his face. For the same reason, though the others in the room clearly saw his agony, they were not overly worried, knowing full well the limits of his endurance. Karen clenched his fists, imagining himself surging rapidly upward through water, desperate to breach the surface and breathe fresh air. He had no idea how much time passed. Time seemed to lose its meaning. Until a crisp crack echoed from within his chest. Karen felt as if he had finally broken through the water's surface, gasping greedily for air. Once he fully regained his composure, he sat up straight and placed a palm against his chest. A faint blue glow emanated from where his heart lay. When Karen turned his palm upward, the water inside the teacup on the desk drifted into the air; the fountain pen, the thermos, and other items floated up alongside it. As Karen slowly lowered his hand, everything returned to its place. Immediately after, the Sea God's Armor materialized over Karen's body. This time, the patterns and details on the armor were several times sharper and clearer than before. Where it had once looked crude and primitive, it was now exquisitely sculpted. Karen waved a hand, and the Sea God's Armor vanished. "It worked." "Congratulations, Young Master!" Alfred bowed with a hand against his chest. Kevin bowed his head, mimicking Alfred's posture and bending his front paws. Caught off guard, Purr tumbled off Kevin's back. Purr didn't scold Kevin, however, but chuckled instead. "The Dark Moon Eye, the Heart of the Sea God... My dear little Karen, are you planning to upgrade every single part of your body from now on? "What's next? The Hand of Light? "The Brain of Principles? "The Elbow of Samsara? "The Whip of Order?" Karen frowned. Purr realized its mistake at once. "Oh, right. The Whip of Order isn't a body part, and you don't have a whip on you." "Heh." Karen stood up. "I'm going to take a bath and get some rest. The Heart of the Sea God needs to replenish its energy." Watching Karen leave the study, Purr asked in confusion, "Huh, his reaction just now seemed a bit odd, like I said something wrong." Alfred offered his analysis: "I believe it might be because of the Whip of Order." "What's wrong with the Whip of Order?" Purr asked. Kevin also turned his head curiously toward Alfred. He knew that Alfred didn't just study the words and thoughts in his notebooks; he also deeply pondered and extrapolated based on Karen's phrasing habits and the unusual terms he frequently used. In other words, Alfred was studying an entirely different language—a language only Karen understood. No, perhaps it was a linguistic system Karen had invented himself. Alfred gestured with his hands. "A whip, you see, is long. It is likely a euphemism. Considering that Young Master's self-created linguistic system frequently features metaphors and extended meanings, I suspect the word 'whip' in that tongue might also refer to a man's private parts." "Woof! Woof! Woof!" Kevin barked repeatedly and raised a paw. "Thank you." Alfred bent down and gave Kevin a high five. His analysis and research had earned the affirmation of the Evil God—no, its sheer admiration! Purr blinked. It muttered to itself, "Oh... In that case, he had every right to be angry." *** Inside the bathroom, Karen had already undressed and was soaking in the bathtub. Possessing the Heart of the Sea God meant that, alongside his body's original reservoir and the reservoir of the Dark Moon Eye, he now had a third reservoir. At the same time, it was equivalent to having three outlets. This kind of amplification was never simple addition or subtraction; it was multiplication. In short, Karen had lost any standard for accurately assessing his own strength. If forced to benchmark himself, he felt genuinely confident that he could exchange blows with the Captain when the Captain drew upon the power of Light. The outcome was hard to say; he would probably still have the higher chance of losing. Though the Captain harbored no more major secrets, his accumulated combat experience and the sheer number of enchanted trinkets he possessed were on par with Karen's. However, the enhanced Dark Moon Blade and the upgraded Sea God's Armor provided him with immense offensive and defensive capabilities. Combined with his spiritual energy reserves and his diligent efforts to learn all kinds of spells during every meal... It would be far from easy for the Captain to defeat him comfortably. Right now, Karen was likely the most headache-inducing opponent for anyone who wasn't a tier above him. Unless someone could instantly crush him with power that exceeded his comprehension and endurance, he could drag any opponent into a grueling war of attrition. Karen took a towel and wiped his face. Though his realm hadn't advanced during this period, the increase in his raw combat strength had been remarkably pronounced. He had remained stationary on the road, seemingly making no forward progress, yet he had opened up several additional lanes alongside everyone else. "Little Karen?" Purr's voice came from outside the bathroom door. "Don't drain the bathwater when you're done! Dora and Doreen need to take their bath." "Understood." Karen stood, dried himself, and changed into his pajamas. Since he hadn't soaked for long, he took the liberty of channeling a bit of Light power into the tub. Lying down on his bed, Karen was just about to have a sip of water before sleeping when Dora and Doreen entered, carrying baskets filled with toiletries and clean clothes. The two girls bowed to Karen and stepped into the bathroom. They were all family, so there was no need for awkwardness or excessive modesty. Karen pulled up the quilt, lay back down, and went to sleep. He had to set out early tomorrow morning for the final selection, so he needed to seize every moment to replenish his energy. After finishing their bath and dressing, Dora and Doreen came out and couldn't help pausing beside the bed to look at Karen a little longer. They held immense affection for Karen. It was this older brother's arrival that had given them their current life and freed them from painful torment. What was more, he was handsome—more handsome than the male celebrities in picture albums—and being around him always felt comfortable and reassuring. Yet the two girls' affection for Karen was entirely pure. They simply liked him, without any thoughts of anything happening between them. When the two girls walked out of the bedroom, Mrs. Lake, standing at the door, gave them a somewhat helpless look. Both daughters bashfully lowered their heads, and Mrs. Lake couldn't help but smile at the sight. She loved her current life—peaceful and tranquil. The only regret was that at night, she occasionally missed that dead husband of hers. Purr was sitting in the kitchen while Xili prepared afternoon tea specifically for it. Xili knew that the coffee she was brewing couldn't even be bought with riels. The last time the coffee beans had run out, she had asked Mr. Alfred about the brand, intending to use her own salary to buy some as a gift for her employers. But Mr. Alfred had laughed and told her that only gold could buy this coffee; they didn't accept riels. Thus, the maid understood that the entire household's daily expenses combined couldn't compare to a single afternoon tea enjoyed by this cat. The Young Master truly doted on it. He only drank iced water himself, never touching this coffee. On that point, Xili had actually misunderstood Karen. Karen simply hadn't acquired a taste for coffee in his previous life, treating instant coffee purely as a stimulant; now that he had the means in this life, he couldn't be bothered to force himself to learn to like it. "Hey, Big Butt." At first, when Purr addressed her that way, Xili had been terrified, because a cat was actually speaking. Gradually, she had grown embarrassed, because a cat was describing her like that, sometimes right in front of the Young Master. Then, step by step, she had grown accustomed to it, because she knew the Young Master liked looking at her rear end. She even thoughtfully struck flattering poses for him in the mornings. It was just that the Young Master only looked and never touched, which left the maid—who had recently received another raise—feeling rather guilty. A friend who had grown up with her in the slums had become a maid for another household and turned into the master's secret lover, yet her monthly wages were less than a third of Xili's—and that was before factoring in Xili's bonuses and allowances. Therefore, Xili was filled with gratitude, feeling fortunate and blessed, completely forgetting how she had endured so many frights to stay in this household in the first place, all for the sake of that handsome salary. Now, she was entirely used to it. For instance, she could respond with utter composure to this elegant black cat: "What are your instructions, Miss Purr?" "Under my guidance, your tea-snack preparation skills have improved considerably." "Thank you for the compliment, Miss." "Mm." Purr took a sip of coffee. Indeed, though it was a cat, it never lapped up its coffee; it sipped it. Alfred's room had an adjoining study alcove. Though not as large as the Young Master's private study, it was more than sufficient. There were three desks. The small desk held ledgers recording household income and expenses, even tracking social obligations. Whenever a festival arrived, Alfred would prepare gifts and send them to places closely associated with the Young Master—such as Allen Manor, the Lemar Pottery Studio, the Guman family, and so forth. Even Karen himself didn't know about this; Alfred felt there was no need to trouble the Young Master with such minor details. The medium desk held the notebooks left behind by Mr. Hoffen, along with spell booklets Alfred had transcribed and collected himself. As for the largest desk, its surface, the space beneath, and its drawers were stuffed full of Alfred's notes, insights, quotes, and analyses. At that moment, Kevin was sprawled across the large desk, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his dog snout, reading through Alfred's analysis of Karen's unique linguistic system. Alfred turned on the radio. It began playing a song Alfred had personally recorded—a divine melody in his heart. *"There have never been any saviors, nor do we rely on gods or emperors..."* Kevin turned his head, looking at Alfred in confusion. Yet he saw Alfred with his hands propped behind his head, leaning back so that the chair tilted onto two legs, resting in absolute comfort. "Woof?" "Mr. Hoffen once taught me that the greatest purpose of my eyes is for learning. I have gradually come to understand the deep meaning behind his words." "Woof?" "What I am studying is a magnificent civilization." *** Karen slept straight through until four in the morning, waking completely energized. When he got up, he saw Purr still sprawled on the nightstand reading a romance novel. He couldn't resist reaching out to knead the soft fur beneath Purr's neck. Purr had grown accustomed to Karen occasionally petting it like a regular pet. Who could blame him when he loved cooking fish for his pet? Seeing Karen wake, Purr rang the bedside bell. Karen got up, washed, changed into the clerical robe that was one size too large, and stepped out of the bedroom to have breakfast. Entering the kitchen, he found Xili already bustling about, just serving up a bowl of hot soup. Karen took a spoon and had a sip. "Who sent this?" "Young Master, the old matriarch of the Guman family delivered it personally last night. Mr. Alfred confirmed that the soup is safe for you to drink." "Mm, it's quite good." Madame Tangli had actually come in person, likely because Richard's broken leg prevented him from running errands. Karen held genuine affection for the old matriarch. He could sense that her feelings toward him carried no hidden motives, allowing him to feel once again—after leaving Ruilan—the familial warmth he had known from Uncle Mason and Aunt Mary. Breakfast was hearty, with rice as the staple. He needed to build up his energy before heading to the final selection. After finishing his meal, Karen took a stroll, breathing in the rare clarity of the morning air. Only at this hour was the air in York City free of stifling irritation. As he reached the front entrance of the shop, he saw someone step out of a taxi. It was Ventura. Ventura carried a bag over to him with a smile. "My grandmother made us some pastries." "Have you had breakfast?" Karen asked. "Yes, I have." "Take them along, then. We can eat them on the road." "Alright." A luxury carriage-car drove up. Driving it was Mr. Santos, and accompanying Aisli as she stepped out was Mrs. Selina. In truth, Karen hadn't arranged to travel with them, but they had naturally come ahead of time to gather. Mr. Santos unloaded three large spell cabinets from the car, filled with the first batch of nutritional supplements for Purr and Kevin. Karen thanked them. They didn't linger; husband and wife got back into the car at once. But before the car could even pull away, a shadow fell from the sky. Immediately after, a falcon glided low, and a figure dropped from it, landing steadily on his feet. It was Bart. According to church regulations for the knight orders, without transfer orders, the order could not set foot outside military encampments. The falcon hadn't touched the ground, so it didn't count as a violation. Of course, this "private use of public resources" was glaringly obvious. Mr. and Mrs. Santos waved goodbye to their daughter, and Aisli waved back. Bart was rather surprised to see Aisli's parents escorting her personally. That likely meant Karen's background was even more formidable than his own parents had estimated. With that, four of the five candidates for the York City Region were gathered. As for the sleepy girl, Philomena, who hadn't shown up, she had long been excluded from this small circle due to her unsociable nature. "Let's establish this beforehand. If the final selection format allows for teamwork, we stick together. The rule is simple: no one is required to sacrifice their own interests for the others, but please do not take the initiative to trample upon the interests of the other three among us. "Agreed?" "Agreed." "Agreed." "Agreed." Alfred had been standing by the entire time. He heard the Young Master propose a broad verbal agreement, and he understood even better that the only reason the Young Master was willing to take on this trouble was that whether the final selection succeeded or failed, the Young Master would secure connections with both Mr. Santos and the knight order. As for Ventura—well, he was already slated to be a member of the Young Master's future squad. Once this selection ended—no, once the trial at the Gate of Samsara concluded—the Young Master would begin forming his own squad and carving out his own faction. "It's about time. Let's head to the examination grounds." Karen looked toward Alfred. "You drive us." "Yes, Young Master." Alfred moved toward the secondhand Ponce sedan. "That car is too cramped," Karen said. "Pick something roomier." "Roomier?" Alfred paused. "Young Master, do you mean I should drive..." *** Outside the Church Affairs Building, Chief Bishop Worflen stood by the entrance leading a group of bishops and senior priests, preparing to welcome the five candidates of their region. He had even prepared an inspiring speech, hoping these young people would fight valiantly and bring honor to the region. Though his grandson Leon had failed the selection, he had already composed himself, fully aware of his duties. It was just that this batch of candidates seemed to be arriving a bit late. For such an important final selection, how could they cut it so close? If the youths lacked sense, did their elders fail to grasp the gravity of the occasion as well? Bishop Worflen sighed faintly in his heart. This meant his speech would have to be cut short. "They're here!" someone announced. A Jurist responsible for etiquette waved his hand. "Play the music!" The orchestra struck up a rousing melody, and reporters raised their cameras, ready to shoot photos destined for the pages of *Order Weekly*. Then, Under the watchful eyes of the bishops and the assembled senior priests, There drove up... A hearse. *** *Why is there a ceremony?* Karen was genuinely surprised. He had only thought that with so many people, taking the hearse would be roomier and more comfortable; he hadn't intended to make an eccentric spectacle. The hearse came to a stop in front of the Church Affairs Building. The orchestra ceased playing, because against the backdrop of a hearse, any melody would sound horribly out of tune with the atmosphere. The entire courtyard fell deathly silent. Karen and the other three stepped down from the hearse. He could clearly see Bishop Worflen standing ahead, his face, weathered like old elm bark, entirely stiff. Ventura shrank backward, taking his place at the rear, not even daring to fiddle with his stones; he had always been on the shy side. Aisli wanted to laugh but forced herself to hold it in. Naturally cheerful, she was privately gloating over the absurdity of it all, even though she was part of the spectacle. Bart stared up at the direction of the morning glow. When Karen had first proposed riding in the hearse, he had inwardly resisted, but hadn't dared to voice an objection. Now look—they had made fools of themselves. The one to break this quiet, awkward atmosphere was a reporter. Flashing her press credentials, she stepped forward and asked Karen, who stood at the front: "Hello, I am Mellier, the resident York City reporter for *Order Weekly*. May I ask why you chose to arrive at the final selection in a hearse today? Is it because the York City Region failed to provide adequate logistical support for the candidates?" Hearing this question, Bishop Worflen's brow furrowed. Karen replied, "Because it carries a special meaning—to demonstrate our determination to achieve victory." "Demonstrate determination to achieve victory? Could you elaborate?" Mellier pressed. "Either we pass the final selection in victory, or we get brought back lying in coffins inside a hearse."