Madame Tangli took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Though she did not turn around, an image of Madam Felscher's current expression had already surfaced in her mind.
Some people changed—like herself. Over all these years, she had constantly adapted to her status and her life, learning to fit in and find enjoyment.
Yet some people never changed—like Madam Felscher.
It was not that she did not want to change, but that she lacked the conditions to do so.
She was like someone lying on a floor covered in barbed hooks. Her wounds had long since begun to fester, giving off waves of foul stench, with pain and torment keeping her company day and night.
Yet she had grown used to it.
If you asked her to stand up or roll over to leave that floor, her body would inevitably scrape against other barbs. She was afraid of the pain.
"Things in the past..."
Hearing this, Madam Felscher asked, "Are you trying to persuade me to let it go?"
Madame Tangli shook her head. "What happened in the past has nothing to do with the children."
"The children?" Madam Felscher's brows knitted slightly.
Madame Tangli smoothly covered: "Because my son inherited my bloodline, he has been tormented by a curse to this day. If there were a choice, I would wish he never experienced a sliver of such pain. When I saw your granddaughter, seeing how she drowsed along as if constantly nodding off, I knew you must have made her childhood terribly bleak."
"As a descendant of the Felscher family, she has the mission of vengeance."
"What mission?"
"Revenge!"
"You want her to seek revenge on Diss? Do you think that's even possible?"
Madam Felscher suddenly laughed. "But Diss has descendants too."
"Heh."
Madame Tangli chuckled. She used laughter to conceal the killing intent surging within her heart upon hearing those words.
Madam Felscher picked up a strawberry from the plate on the table, took a small bite, and dropped the rest right by her feet. Her son immediately poked his head out, devoured the strawberry, and even went out of his way to lick the floor clean.
"I'm very glad you came to see me, truly. It reminds me of the old days, hehe." Madam Felscher chuckled to herself again. "Back then, I really didn't expect you to end up with that fool Delon. In my eyes, aside from the Guman family bloodline being somewhat interesting, there's nothing special about him in any other aspect. Sigh, he's completely unworthy of being compared to Diss."
Her own husband was someone she could scold or mock, but when an outsider insulted him, she was bound to be displeased.
Madame Tangli turned around to look at Madam Felscher, leaning slightly forward.
"Of course Delon isn't worthy of comparison to Diss."
"Right? I knew you were well aware..."
"Yet there is one thing I have always known: I was completely unworthy of Diss as well."
Madam Felscher's face froze, because she knew that those words were aimed right at herself!
Madame Tangli straightened up again and said, "Why must you keep living in your own dream?"
"You don't understand!" Madam Felscher's voice turned sharply shrill. "You don't understand the first thing about love! You people of the Arte family are nothing but bloodline parasites!"
"And you do?"
"I do! Of course I do!"
"If you understood love, why did you go and confess to Diss back then when you were already married?"
"Marriage isn't love! Using marriage to bind love is a desecration of love!"
"Do you know why I never visited you all these years after that incident happened, even though our bond back then was so close? Because I realized you and I aren't the same kind of people.
"You treat reality as a dream, and in your dream, you care only about yourself, considering only your own feelings, likes, and dislikes. You are too selfish.
"Being friends with you gives no sense of security."
Madam Felscher dismissed it nonchalantly. "I'm merely more genuine than all of you, unlike each and every one of you who is a hypocrite."
"Then guess: did Diss know the truth about what happened back then?"
Madam Felscher froze.
Madame Tangli continued, "It seems you've had the answer in your heart all along."
"So what if he knew? He still couldn't bear to kill me. He has feelings for me in his heart."
Madame Tangli picked up a whole strawberry from the table, bent down, and offered it to the man under the table. The man opened his mouth, took it, and chewed. After swallowing, he even stuck out his tongue at her to show affection.
"All these years, has your life been happy?"
"What on earth do you mean?"
"My meaning is simple. He didn't kill you because he felt killing you would be a mercy. It was better to let you live and be tormented continuously by life."
"You! Are! Spouting! Nonsense!"
"Very well, I'm leaving. Have a wonderful life."
Madame Tangli pushed the door open and walked out. When she stepped out through the small wooden gate of the garden, the villa behind her was swallowed entirely by black mist, almost vanishing from sight.
*Sigh.*
Madame Tangli let out a sigh. Originally, she had only intercepted the crow her son had flown to Karen; curious about what her son and grandson were up to, she had followed to have a look. Who would have thought she would discover this had something to do with *her*.
*Diss,*
*When you came to Wien last time, why didn't you just kill her along the way?*
***
Outside a farmhouse, Karen and Mr. Aisen stood side by side.
Philomena had brought them here, saying this was the man's hideout. However, many defensive puppets had been set up inside the farmhouse, so fearing he might escape, she went in alone first to drag him out.
Karen had agreed.
Mr. Aisen asked, "Do you really trust her?"
"Yeah." Karen nodded. "I had some contact with her during the selection. Her situation is also a bit unusual."
"'Also'?"
"Oh, that's not what I meant."
Mr. Aisen said, "I sensed it. Yes, like me, she has some mental issues."
"I didn't mean that."
"I've always been curious about something." Mr. Aisen looked at Karen. "I always feel you respect me a bit too much. It baffles me, and it makes me uneasy."
"Because you are an upright person."
Aisen shook his head at this answer; clearly, he didn't buy the reason.
"She barely qualifies as one too."
"Oh, so in this context, that's what 'upright' means. I understand—she doesn't like lying."
"By the way, there's something I wanted to ask you. Do you have any insights regarding the message-carrying crow spell?"
"Insights? As long as it can fly once folded, isn't that enough? Does it really need to be folded beautifully?"
"Yeah, you're right."
"That eagle—I think it might be worth investigating," Mr. Aisen said. "Shall I handle it?"
"Her background is complicated. Don't investigate on your own; I'll look into it personally."
"Understood."
The eagle that had suddenly appeared had shifted Philomena's attitude in an instant. Karen vaguely sensed that his maternal grandmother might be behind this.
Next time he visited the Guman family, he could try asking her.
Of course, if she were willing to share something with him on her own, she would call him over or send Richard to invite him—after all, Richard's leg was healing quickly.
"Oh, right. The higher-ups will have arrangements soon; I'll likely be forming a new Whip of Order squad. I've already spoken with Richard, and he'll be joining when the time comes. But he gets along very well with 'Mr. Memphis' and begged me to let 'Memphis' join too, or else he wouldn't join.
"What do you think?"
Mr. Aisen said solemnly, "He actually dared to blackmail you with the favor you showed him?"
"That was wrong of him. When you get back, you can discipline him properly. But as for the new squad?"
"Can I join?" Mr. Aisen asked. "I mean, would you find it troublesome?"
"Not at all. I hope you will join. You and Richard are already external squad members, so you can become regular members directly under me."
"All right, I'll join. Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
Karen felt that his uncle genuinely seemed to have taken a liking to life in the Whip of Order, and enjoyed the feeling of being teammates with his own son.
Just then, Philomena came out, carrying a fat man in her hand.
*Thud!*
Philomena tossed the fat man onto the ground.
"Take him back to the pottery studio and let Lemar take a look. If everything checks out, handle it according to Lemar's wishes."
"Understood."
Mr. Aisen stepped forward, hoisted the fat man up, and after confirming with a glance from Karen, left with the captive first.
Philomena looked at Karen and asked, "Why didn't you leave with him?"
"Even though things took a few twists and turns, from my perspective, you helped me solve a problem. I should thank you."
You couldn't convict Philomena for things that hadn't happened, even if she had likely been the hired thug brought along by that fat man earlier.
"Can that pottery studio make puppets too?"
"Yes, their craftsmanship is excellent. You can go straight to the owner, Lemar, to place a custom order. Mention my name, and you'll get a discount."
"Understood." Philomena tilted her head slightly. "Do you know my grandmother?"
"Uh, I don't, and I haven't looked into your background."
"Do you want to?"
"If there's an opportunity in the future, I'll pay a visit to your elders," Karen said politely.
Philomena asked, "Are you busy right now, then?"
"That depends on what you want me to do next."
"I want to take you home to meet my grandmother. She heard about you from me and thinks highly of you."
"Sorry, I don't want to go."
Philomena nodded.
Karen added, "It's nothing against you."
"It's fine. My home isn't a suitable place for guests anyway."
"I meant no offense."
"I'm used to it; I won't take it to heart."
With that, Philomena turned and walked away.
Karen hoisted the Sword of Arius onto his shoulder and walked toward his car parked nearby. After sitting inside for a brief moment, he started the engine and drove home.
***
By the time he arrived at the funeral parlor, it was already dusk. To Karen's surprise, two unfamiliar cars were parked outside the entrance.
Getting out and stepping into the front hall, he found three men and two women standing inside. All of them wore civilian clothes, but as he drew closer, he could sense a familiar professional aura radiating from them.
When they saw Karen enter, slight expressions of reverence showed on their faces.
A woman in her thirties with a face full of freckles walked up to Karen and extended her hand:
"Giotto Squad, Marlena."
Karen shook her hand. "Karen."
"Congratulations, Mr. Karen, on passing the final selection."
"Thank you. And this is...?"
Karen noticed a stretcher gurney behind them, upon which lay a man's corpse.
A business customer had actually arrived?
Karen felt a little unaccustomed to this, since the funeral parlor had been closed for business for quite some time after handling Old Saman's funeral.
"This is my captain, Giotto," Marlena said, pointing toward the stretcher.
Karen walked up beside it. Lying upon it was a middle-aged... leaning toward elderly man. His hair was half gray, but his facial features were sharply defined and his build was burly; in life, he must have been a tough, hardy man.
"We already spoke with your servant earlier, and he agreed to hold a funeral for our captain."
This client indeed met the new rule Karen had set for the funeral parlor earlier: to save manpower, they would only accept business paid with point coupons.
"All right. Thank you for your trust; we will hold a proper funeral for Mr. Giotto."
At that moment, Alfred emerged holding a booklet. He bowed to Karen first before handing the booklet to Marlena:
"We hope you can discuss the options and specific requirements in this booklet with Mr. Giotto's family, check the boxes, or fill in any additional details, and return it to us before the night after tomorrow. After all, preparing the body takes some time."
"Understood. Thank you for your hard work."
Marlena turned to Karen. "Thank you for your trouble, sir."
Karen replied at once, "It's our duty."
Marlena raised the booklet in her hand. "Then we'll be taking our leave. Captain... we entrust our captain to you."
"Rest assured."
Once Marlena and the others drove off, Alfred called Pike and Dincomb over, having them wheel Mr. Giotto into Mrs. Lake's workshop while Karen and Alfred followed behind.
"A walk-in client?" Karen asked. "Or were they referred by someone?"
"A walk-in. I had a brief chat with Marlena just now and learned that before passing away, Mr. Giotto was holding the previous issue of *Order Weekly*. Pointing at the spread reporting on you, Young Master, he happily praised you as the pride of the Whip of Order in the York City Region. And then, still clutching that newspaper, he died."
"Why does that sound so strange?"
"My apologies, Young Master, that was poor phrasing on my part. Mr. Giotto passed away for reasons of his own. He had been wounded and contaminated during a mission, and had spent the past few months undergoing treatment at the church hospital. Because the contamination worsened, he voluntarily signed a consent form for his own death. Yesterday was the day he was euthanized."
After Pike and Dincomb wheeled the body into the workshop, they stepped outside. Karen pulled back the white cloth covering the corpse and placed a hand on it to sense. There was no residual spiritual power left in the corpse; it had clearly undergone purification.
Being contaminated during a mission was not rare. If not treated in time, or if the contamination was deep and its nature particularly tricky, it meant the priest's life was on a countdown.
A small portion would have their bodily functions fade away as the contamination worsened—and that was considered fortunate, as it brought an end through death.
However, due to the inherent nature of priests, most worsened contaminations did not lead to death, but rather to losing oneself, turning into a new source of contamination or losing all sanity to become a brutally violent deviant demon.
Signing one's own death consent form was not a cruel act; it was done out of a desire to avoid reaching such a state, preserving a final shred of dignity for oneself.
"His squad members believed this was their captain's final wish, and upon learning that you worked at the Pavaro Funeral Parlor, they arranged for Mr. Giotto's funeral to be held here."
"All right, I understand."
Normally, when a priest died, their body would be reclaimed by their church. But because Giotto died of contamination, his body was not reclaimed. Instead, following customary protocol, his body was purified after death, which explained why there was no residual spiritual power inside him.
Such a corpse held no value for reclamation.
"I will oversee the handover of this matter. Once the funeral plan is drawn up, I will submit it to you for review, Young Master."
"Fine, let's proceed with that for now."
"Young Master, there is also the matter of Teacher Daishan."
"You looked into it so quickly?"
"Yes. Teacher Daishan seems to have been in contact with some new intellectual movement organizations recently and attends their events. However, those organizations have nothing to do with churches."
"That's good, then."
"I will continue to keep an eye on these matters."
"Mm, thank you for your hard work."
***
In the underground workshop of the Lemar Pottery Studio.
A fat man was bound to an upright workbench, restrained with extra seals so that he could only watch with wide eyes, unable to move or make a sound.
Right in front of him, Lemar unlocked the "lock" binding the puppet that housed his sister.
The moment Serena regained her freedom, her first words were:
"Brother, Mr. Karen actually came into my room specifically to talk to me and comfort me!"
"And here I was worried that being locked inside for so many days might give you psychological trauma. It seems Mr. Karen truly lives up to his reputation as an excellent part-time psychotherapist."
"Brother, did you forget? I've lived inside various puppets for years. Being locked in a puppet is just like you closing the shop and staying inside for a few days without going out. How could I develop psychological issues from that?"
"It's good that you haven't." Lemar walked over to a nearby wooden puppet shaped like a young boy, reached out, and patted its head. The puppet opened its mouth and spat out a crystal carving knife.
Holding the carving knife, Lemar smiled at the man before him. "Surprised, aren't you? The Yilmaz carving knife was kept right in such an obvious spot all along. While precious to me, it is, after all, merely a tool."
With that, Lemar handed the Yilmaz carving knife to his sister.
"Brother, why are you giving this to me?"
Lemar pointed at the carving knife, then at the man before them. "Serena, today your brother will formally teach you puppet crafting. We will use him as the raw material for your very first work."
"Brother, are you sure you're not joking? If I do that, I really *will* develop psychological issues."
"Then all the better—you'll have an excuse to seek treatment from Mr. Karen."
"But I'm a puppet! A puppet, for heaven's sake! What would I learn puppet crafting for?"
"Our ancestor, Voss, was originally a puppet."
"Brother, do you have a fever?"
"No."
"If our ancestor Voss was a puppet, how could we even exist?"
"In the mythological narrative of the *Long Song of the Abyss* from the Church of the Abyss, it is recorded: [When the God of the Abyss went to pioneer Heaven, He summoned Voss to craft a puppet of Himself, making the ferocious beings of Hell believe the God of the Abyss was still in Hell so they dared not act rashly].
"The oral legend passed down through our family describes what happened next like this:
"[When the deed was accomplished, the God of the Abyss asked our ancestor what reward he desired. Our ancestor replied: May the great God bestow a drop of blood.]
"Historically, the reason our family declined was that the Church of Light demanded our family forge a puppet for them, but our family refused. From then on, under the suppression of the Church of Light, our family declined and fractured.
"Because back then, the Church of Light produced a drop of... terrifying blood. Guess whose it was?
"And what was their objective?"
"Brother, you know very well that ever since I was little, I've never been interested in these grand mythological narratives or half-true, half-false family legends."
"Serena, I have always suspected that those truly best suited to cultivate puppet forging may not be descendants like us, but rather... puppets. What we craft are tools, but what you and our ancestor craft are your own kind."
"Brother, you know how lazy I am."
"Mr. Karen has a fiancée."
"Brother, why are you suddenly bringing that up?"
"Mr. Karen is a man of principle; he won't be with you. Moreover, your body cannot bear children. Don't you think that will be an immense regret?"
"Brother, don't you think it's cruel to say that to a sister who just came out of being confined for so many days?"
"Yet perhaps one day in the future, you can find a suitable excuse to ask Mr. Karen for a drop of blood."
"Heh, Brother, do you take your sister for an idiot who's so easily fooled? Even if I study hard and truly reach the same height as our ancestor, what you're enticing me with could never happen.
"After all, Mr. Karen isn't a god."
"Well, then there's nothing that can be done. Sigh."
Lemar let out a sigh. Just as he was about to withdraw the Yilmaz carving knife, he found its handle grasped away—the one who had taken it was none other than his sister.
Serena let out a sigh as well and said,
"Sigh, I'm too softhearted. It hurts too much seeing my brother look so disappointed."
Chapter 330