A Chapter of Transition

"Is this a prophecy?" Karen looked at the painting, deep in thought for a long time. He didn't believe Mr. Bede would specially paint a piece purely symbolizing love for him. If that were the case, it would have made far more sense to give it to Piaget. The meaning depicted in the painting was clear: the exalted seat of the Mural God toward which Linda had soared had been replaced by Piaget. It was an explicit statement—Piaget was the next Mural God. Yet such an explicit indication felt somewhat like playing house—a little too crude and simplistic. And yet, playing house with a "god" seemed profoundly disrespectful; after all, a believer's greatest taboo was blasphemy against their deity. Moreover, an underlying thread lurked within this: for a painter who could prophesy who the next Mural God would be... how was his status to be defined? This inevitably fell into a paradox: only the next Mural God could prophesy the next Mural God, yet the one he prophesied was someone else? Through the window, Karen watched the two figures carrying their bags down the end of the street. For a moment, he didn't know whether he should wear a grave, solemn expression or an easy smile. "It seems I'd better minimize contact with the Mural God cultists. Not only are they lunatics themselves, but they're also skilled at turning everyone around them into lunatics." Rolling up the painting and putting it into his pocket, Karen walked over to the front desk, where Muri happened to be standing, about to pay the bill. "Allow me." Karen rested a hand on Muri's shoulder. Muri turned his head toward Karen and grinned. "I wasn't planning to fight you for it. I just came over to order a few more bottles of fine wine and grab two cartons of premium cigarettes." The front desk attendant brought the wine and cigarettes over. Because they were so expensive, paper seals were actually affixed over them, which had to be broken in the customer's presence. "Are you insane? This won't be easy to expense," Karen scolded with a laugh. "That's why I originally wanted to sneak them in and give you a little surprise when you paid after eating." The attendants looked at the two of them and asked, "My lords, should we still break the seals?" Muri pointed at Karen. "Ask him." Karen nodded. "Break them." "Yes, my lord." Karen took out Order coupons and said, "Tally up the bill for both private rooms." Holding the cigarettes and wine, Muri asked, "What, afraid I'll keep ordering? This is already enough, no need to order more. I can even take half a carton back to smoke and sip at my leisure." "I'm just taking care of it while I'm here." "Don't worry, nobody's going to fight our captain for the bill. Everyone follows the captain's orders, haha." When settling the tab, Karen glanced at the total and quietly pulled a few more point coupons from his pocket to cover the difference. After returning to the private room, everyone had mostly finished eating. Now they were mainly drinking, smoking, and chatting. As the conversation flowed, it soon shifted to plans for the future. Muri suggested, "How about this: let's pool our money and buy a whole building in York City. If we all live together, it'll make going on missions and communicating much more convenient later on." Karen couldn't help thinking of the apartment complex where he used to live—the Allen Apartments. "Leave this matter to me to arrange." He could have Allen Manor clear out a building in that apartment complex specifically for his subordinates to live in. That way, it would be very close to his funeral parlor, making it easy to mobilize people. "Thank you, Captain!" "Haha, the captain is the best!" Karen smiled and nodded. In the future, if there were any funerals, he would have plenty of extra hands to help out. The young master of the Benda family carrying your casket, future officers of the knight order clearing your way, and a whole row of genuine priests singing elegies for you—for a display like that, one would have to pay extra coupons. "Once our Whip of Order squad is established and everyone assembles in York City, we'll be very busy. I hope everyone is mentally prepared for that. "We won't discuss the higher-ups' deeper motives behind this reform for now, but there's no denying that squads like ours, formed specifically from exceptional young talent, will certainly be the star squads in each region's hands. "If we do well, it'll be easier to achieve results and our future paths will be much smoother. If we perform poorly, any failure under the spotlight will be amplified. So this is pressure, but it's also motivation. "Yet I believe in our strength, and I believe in our character. We are still young, and youth means infinite possibilities. "Believe in me, and believe in ourselves. The future Church of Order will belong to us! Cheers!" "Cheers!" "Cheers!" ... The gathering lasted until three-thirty in the afternoon. After leaving the restaurant, everyone boarded carriages. No one wanted to head back so early. Of course, because Richard wasn't here, no one suggested visiting an art studio to sample the local customs either. In the end, at the suggestion of Bart, Mars, and a few others, the carriage drove out of the city, heading not toward the delegation camp, but in the direction of the Gate of Samsara. On the day they returned, they hadn't had a chance to examine it closely. Now, they could take their time inspecting this battlefield "relic." The preliminary cleanup of the battlefield was already complete; one could no longer spot any wounded, but the disposal of corpses was far from over. Not only the remains of those undead creatures, but also the remains of many priests. Disposing of the latter was both crucial and time-consuming. Of course, this wasn't about showing respect for the dead, but rather "recycling." Virtually every church had regulations governing the recovery of its priests' remains. Depending on a priest's strength, cultivation path, and degree of damage, there were different specifications for recovery. As the carriages drew near, they saw teams of Samsara believers carrying and sorting corpses. The occupants of the carriages observed their surroundings with the mindset of tourists on a tour. Even Ashley and Blanche, the two young women, didn't shed a tear; instead, they found it quite novel. "When we came back that day, I didn't realize there were so many dead," Muri said. Bart reminded him, "This doesn't even include those whose bodies couldn't be preserved or those that have already been collected. The true death toll is definitely higher." Mars remarked, "You also have to consider the wounded. This was a war of a different scale. The injured are very likely suffering from corruption, both physical and psychological." Karen said, "If you want concrete figures, you can ask Commander Growen after we get back. Their side should have compiled a more precise count." Just how severe the Church of Samsara's losses were in this incident was what all the other churches cared about most. "Hey!" Someone outside shouted toward the carriage. Karen poked his head out and saw Lango. "Stop." The carriage halted, and Karen stepped down. Lango walked over as well and asked with a grin: "What, come to see the spectacle?" "No, came to pay respects to the battlefield." "No need to be so hypocritical. If Order had suffered the same, I reckon I wouldn't be able to resist taking a look at a field littered with corpses of Order priests either." "Then you probably won't get to see it. Our Church of Order is very fast at recovering bodies." "Uh, hahaha!" Lango burst into laughter. "After staying inside the gate for so long, I haven't heard black humor between churches like this in ages." "I'm not lying to you. While I won't grieve over the Church of Samsara's casualties, I have no interest in slandering or mocking them either. I respect anyone who dares to fight when facing a god—well, including undead creatures." "I understand your meaning, but I can also sense the danger in your words. What are you comparing gods to?" "Apart from our own god, all other gods are targets we must be prepared to crusade against, aren't they?" "You're just covering your tracks." "Yes, I am." "Actually, the world inside the gate is quite nice. This time was just an accident." "Then why did you come out?" "I don't know. I didn't expect it myself. The place I'd spent so long wanting to escape from... the moment I got out, I immediately started missing it." Karen pointed toward the distant Gate of Samsara and said, "The gate hasn't closed yet. You could try finding a way back in." "The gate has the ability to discern souls entering and leaving. If you want to break the rules, you'll pay a heavy price—unless you're strong enough to warp the rules. "By the way, I just received word that the Church of Order is demanding that Samsara increase the number of youths sent to Order for study and exchange. Your Church of Order sure knows how to kick someone while they're down." "I think it reflects humanitarian care. When the Church of Samsara suffers a heavy blow, we are still warmly offering to help you train your youth. It's a symbol of mutual trust, mutual aid, and enduring friendship in the ecclesiastical circle." "Did you memorize all the empty pleasantries from the opening of the official dispatches?" "Haha, what's so bad about it? When your youth come to study abroad, not only will there be no tuition, but they'll likely receive stipends—stipends generous enough to make many Order priests jealous." "There's no such thing as free love. The more you give now, the more you intend to earn back in the future. Still, I plan to go to the Church of Order for an exchange." "I think it'll be hard for you to sneak in. Even if you do, you'll receive 'special' arrangements." "That's not a big problem. I've kept a breath of life in this body's original host; I can make use of him when the time comes. I originally thought you'd invite me. I saw the public dispatches issued recently by your Church of Order—this batch of youths, including those from the selection, will form Whip of Order squads." "We aren't that close." "But I think I could be of use, couldn't I?" "No, you're not suitable." "Why?" "With you around, it'd be hard for me to get high-value, low-risk missions." "Fair enough. But I have a feeling we'll meet again. I've been paying close attention to you." "Because of Peide?" "No, because... hehe, do you know that the altar where you were standing when we first met—the altar at the core of the church—wasn't supposed to have an external teleportation node inside the gate? So, where did you teleport from?" "Do I need to explain that to you? I don't think it's necessary. It's true that the Gate of Samsara is held by your Church of Samsara, but your church only controls an entrance and exit. "I think you should be more concerned about the relationship between the two Churches of Samsara—the one outside the gate and the one inside. Personally, I'm more curious about how you define your own identity." "I can't be bothered with that." Karen pointed toward the carriage. "My battlefield tour is over. I'm heading back." "Farewell." "Farewell." ... The journey back went smoothly. They first took a ship to that transit island. However, unlike when they arrived, the number of Order Knights on the island had multiplied nearly tenfold, and Falcon Knights circled continuously over the surrounding waters. According to Commander Growen, this was already after troops had been withdrawn; two days before Rielsa came out of the gate, half a knight order had already gathered on this island. Originally, the Church of Order had planned to unite with other orthodox churches to help the Church of Samsara settle this affair. But because the entity that ultimately emerged was the Mural God Rielsa—a god personally sealed away in history by the God of Order—the Church of Order used this as a pretext to terminate the joint relief effort, leaving Samsara to face the revived Mural God alone. Before they entered the teleportation formation, Commander Growen presented everyone with a souvenir: twelve miniature figurines of the Throne of Order. He had crafted them by hand from a marrow bone he stole back from the bone dragon on the battlefield. After everyone exchanged thanks, the teleportation formation activated. Following a spell of jostling, the group returned to the Teleportation Formation Building in the Dinge Region. If he had a choice, Karen would have loved to take a teleportation formation straight back to York City right now. But formal procedure wouldn't permit him such freedom, nor was he in any position to refuse the torment of bureaucratic protocol. Awaiting the group were inquiries from three relevant departments, lasting an entire day. Karen and Muri, as the Guides, had an extra evening session added. Exhausting as it was, fortunately, it was obvious that the higher-ups were merely going through the motions, with no suspicion prompting them to dig deeper. Their accommodations were arranged at the Zeliya Hotel, named after the first female High Priest in the history of the Church of Order. Staying at this hotel meant a barrage of commendation ceremonies and banquets would follow. Sure enough, for the next three days, there were three banquets every single day. If it were merely about eating a banquet, it would have been fine. But instead of guests, their role was more like the bride and groom—akin to holding three of your own weddings every day. After this whole ordeal, everyone was practically drained of energy. "Sigh, I even sleep with a fake smile plastered on my face at night now," Muri said, rubbing the corners of his mouth. Bart glanced at him. "I'm smiling even when I'm straining on the toilet." "Please, could you two not be so disgusting? I'm eating!" Ashley scooped up a spoonful of cake, popped it into her mouth, and flashed a proper, polite smile while chewing. The room's bell chimed—room service. Ventura immediately got up and brought back wine and cigarettes, stowing them all into his newly bought large suitcase. Muri spoke up to remind him, "Ventura, did you call for the portion for my room too?" Ventura answered, "Already did. The wine and cigarettes provided daily by this hotel are even more expensive!" Karen, freshly showered and wearing a pristine clerical robe, walked out and asked, "Is there another banquet tonight?" Bart said puzzledly, "What banquet could possibly be left? Even the Knight Order's Dinge Region Representative Office has already hosted us." Mars reminded them, "Not just the representative office; the Dinge Region Knight Order Veterans Association hosted us as well. They actually managed to get an approval slip from above." The door opened, and Blanche walked in. "Captain, we just received notice. There's another banquet scheduled for tonight." "Ugh!" Everyone collapsed onto the sofas or the carpet. Karen picked up a glass of ice water from the table and asked, "From which department?" "The Whip of Order." ... The banquet was held in the seventh-floor ballroom of the Zeliya Hotel. Though battered and exhausted, everyone still meticulously adjusted their attire, gathered their spirits, and lined up neatly in the corridor outside the ballroom doors a quarter of an hour before the banquet began. Given sufficient incentive, even youth who loathed socializing and formalistic rituals could instantly transform into adept socialites. After all, their next stop was the Whip of Order. Led by the master of ceremonies, the group entered. The first to arrive were the heads of the various Whip of Order departments within the Dinge Region, followed by the leadership of the entire Whip of Order system. Because the Dinge Region was the "capital region," the highest department of the Whip of Order was based here as well. First came the speeches by the department heads. Once they had spoken to their hearts' content, Karen and Muri stepped forward as representatives to give speeches. The openings followed an identical formula: first validating the leaders' nonsense, then summarizing the leaders' nonsense, and finally reaffirming that they would take the leaders' nonsense as guidance in performing their future duties. Afterward, during casual chats with the department bigwigs, Karen received an official dispatch from the Director of Personnel at Whip of Order headquarters. With this dispatch, once Karen returned to York City, he could go directly to his region's Whip of Order Administration Office to register, then complete a standard procedure at the Church Affairs Building, and his Whip of Order squad would be officially established. This dispatch was Karen's greatest harvest from tonight's banquet. It not only saved him time navigating bureaucratic procedures, but more importantly, it allowed him to complete personnel registration right away. Holding it was equivalent to transferring personnel under the name of Whip of Order headquarters; any familial or departmental ties of the other members present could be overridden, and their official billets could be transferred directly. It also spared him the headache of regional figures trying to pull strings and shove unwanted people into his squad once he got back. Muri received a dispatch as well. Out of consideration for the director's face, he didn't turn around and toss it to Paxio and the others. Just as tonight's banquet was nearing its end, someone rushed in to deliver a message. Karen noticed an immediate shift in the atmosphere: the Whip of Order bigwigs who had been chatting and laughing moments before began adjusting their clothes one by one, even deliberately arranging themselves into formation. At last, a man with graying hair walked in, and the banquet hall's atmosphere instantly sank into absolute suppression. Karen noted that the man's eyes were blue—not a soft blue, but rather an apathy akin to gazing upon a corpse. Everyone present bowed to him: "Greetings, Whip-Wielder." The highest-ranking figure of the Whip of Order system, Whip-Wielder Foden Elrod. Foden walked up before Karen and the others, and all the team members bowed to the Whip-Wielder once more. "My apologies for arriving late. But I imagine before I got here, they must have subjected you to a tremendous amount of nonsense, didn't they?" When Foden said this, all the Whip of Order bigwigs present chuckled obligingly, even if the laughter was at their own expense. "I hope that one day in the future, the ones standing here talking nonsense will be you. "Tomorrow you will have your freedom to enjoy your vacation. I won't waste words tonight either; I have only one piece of advice for you." With that, Foden took half a step back, raised his right fist to his left chest, and called out: "Wield the whip!" Karen and the others made the exact same gesture, answering in unison: "For Order!"