Have You Been Tainted?

It was indeed the Church of Principles. Mr. Hoffen's assessment of his own Church of Principles could not help but surface in Karen's mind. He had said: "To believers of Principles, this world is merely a game of pursuing laws and exploring essences. That doesn't mean they are innocent or naive, but rather that they harbor an absolute indifference toward this world." Earlier, a voice from the sea urchin had muttered, "Well, today's a failure anyway..." Coupled with that baffling public notice and the peculiar relationship between the Church of Principles and a certain other faith, everything clicked into place. Tonight's events in York City were an experiment orchestrated by two great orthodox religions: Order and Principles. The entry point of this experiment lay in that earthenware jar in the captain's hands. What did they call it again... ah, the honeypot. The true purpose of the experiment could likely be unearthed from that jar. At that moment, Karen sensed energy ripples from three teleportation arrays appearing almost simultaneously not far from him. Heh, they certainly had deep pockets. A plume of flame of Light surged from Karen's hand, melting the yellow sea urchin directly into liquid. Thousand Phantoms slithered out from Karen's body, thoughtfully licking Karen's palm clean. Karen gave his hand a flick. Having completed his task of intercepting the pursuit for the captain, there was no need to meet up with him at the photo studio. Right now, the wisest choice was to withdraw on his own. That way, the captain could flee directly without any encumbrance. A moment later, the wings on Karen's back reappeared, and he vanished from where he stood. Descending into a neighborhood below, Karen slipped straight into the bedroom of a residence. Inside, a woman was sound asleep, holding a child. Karen's entrance did not disturb them in the least. Touching the silver ring with his fingertips, Karen donned the silver mask left behind by his grandfather. He didn't know if he had been marked; to be safe, he chose to put it on to ensure his "isolation." Standing behind the curtain, Karen parted a corner slightly. Down on the street below, three men and women clad in white armor appeared. They seemed bewildered and confused. Evidently, they had lost their target. After lingering for a moment, they departed in different directions. Karen turned and walked out of the bedroom, heading to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. Opening the refrigerator and finding no ice cubes inside, he felt a faint twinge of disappointment. He drank half the glass, poured the rest into the sink, rinsed the glass, and placed it back where it belonged. Karen stepped into an adjacent bedroom; it had only bedboards without a mattress, and no signs of men's belongings could be seen in the room. Karen took out five hundred riels from his pocket and placed them under the bed, fearing he might forget to leave lodging money when departing the next morning. Lying down on the bed, he closed his eyes and began to rest. Just as Karen lay down to rest, the figures of the three armored individuals who had previously departed reappeared one after another on the street. Clearly, they had not given up their search. ... Boom! With his left hand gripping the armored figure's neck, Neo dragged him forward ruthlessly and slammed him into a wall ahead, carving a long trench into the road behind him. "If you are willing to surrender now, we can guarantee lenient treatment, even if you are a remnant of Light." "Indeed, we honor our promises. You should believe in our sincerity." Neo offered no reply whatsoever. Pinning the armored figure beneath him, he poured flames of Light directly into the armor, incinerating everything within. He then stood up, looking at the suit of armor on the ground with a pang of regret. Even without intuition, his eyes told him this armor was exceptionally valuable. Alas, under these circumstances, he could not afford to haul it away. Cradling the earthenware jar, Neo walked into the photo studio's side entrance. When the staircase opened, it revealed the secret chamber below. As his power poured into it, the teleportation array began to activate. Sounds came from outside, as if someone were forcing their way in, but Neo showed no trace of panic. He was confident the warding outside was sufficient to delay them. Once the array activated successfully, Neo stepped inside. He even deliberately waited a moment, flashing a smile just as two armored figures rushed into view. Well, although Neo wasn't sure whether his featureless face could convey the expression of a smile, it was simply his way of pleasing himself. Hum! The white light dissipated; the teleportation was a success. ... For some reason, even though he had only slept on bare bedboards, even though the air held a damp, faintly mildewed scent, and even though he had fallen asleep while actively being hunted, Karen slept extraordinarily well. Both in duration and quality, it was a rare, deep sleep of a caliber he hadn't enjoyed recently. Perhaps it was because he was sleeping under someone else's roof. A little girl sat on a chair eating breakfast, kicking her legs excitedly while reading a comic book in front of her. Beside her, the girl's mother was on the telephone, her tone heated as she argued with a man over post-divorce alimony. "Listen to me! The breakdown of our marriage is because you cheated! You betrayed our marriage, you betrayed our love, and you betrayed our daughter! I don't want to hear any of your excuses. All I want is to secure what my daughter and I rightfully deserve! "If you can't meet my reasonable demands, I will take you to court! "You're saying I'm crazy? "Heh. "Just who is the crazy one? No matter how crazy I am, I'd never be like you—returning home in the morning to find a strange member of the opposite sex in my house, looking like they just rolled out of bed!" Just then, because the little girl was kicking her legs too vigorously, her chair began tipping backward, dragging her along with it. Karen appeared behind the girl, caught her, and set her safely down on the floor. With an expression of pure curiosity, the girl asked: "Big brother, who are you?" The woman on the phone stared blankly at the strange man standing in her home, who indeed looked as though he had just woken up. Then, she silently hung up the receiver. "I left lodging money under the bed. Excuse me for the intrusion—I was too exhausted last night, so I took shelter for the night. My sincere apologies." Karen walked over to the sink, turned on the tap, and splashed water over his face. The woman stared at Karen. She felt she ought to scream, but no sound came out; she felt she ought to be terrified, yet she couldn't conjure up any sense of fear. She could only stand there in a daze. Karen pulled a few napkins from the box on the dining table, dried his hands, and said, "Once again, my apologies for my presumption. Goodbye." With that, Karen opened the door and walked right out. The woman took a deep breath, let out a long sigh, hurried over to the sink, and began washing her face. ... The street had already grown lively. Commuters on their way to work, people out for a stroll, old men sitting on benches with pipes in their mouths reading newspapers, the clanging ding-ding of a streetcar echoing from afar—it was as though everything were perfectly normal. In truth, it was. The purple-haired settlement was merely a tiny nook, a narrow crevice in this vast metropolis. Although what happened last night had reeked with thick bloodshed, the stench wasn't enough to reach everyone in the city. Perhaps at this hour, a child eating breakfast might glance at a newspaper and ask their father if something terrible had happened last night. And the father would snatch the newspaper away, grunting in disdain: "Purple-head business has nothing to do with us." Karen hailed a cab and gave the driver his destination. The driver suddenly chuckled. "Oh, sir, aren't you going to make a fortune these next few days!" Karen understood what the driver was hinting at. When it came to knowing the city, most cab drivers beat out the spokesperson for the mayor's office. Karen had no interest in following up on the topic, merely turning his face toward the window. As the car drew closer to Blue Bridge Community, differences gradually became noticeable on the streets. Some spots were still wet, evidently freshly hosed down, yet burn marks could still be seen. Something abnormal had clearly happened, yet today everything appeared thoroughly normal, leaving one to wonder whether last night's abnormality was itself just another part of this city's normality. Just like what the Church of Order's notice had proclaimed... the normal functioning of society. Karen suddenly felt suffocated. He rolled down the car window, letting the wind blow in from outside, but it did nothing to lift his mood. He fished a cigarette out of his pocket. In this era, smoking in a taxi was hardly considered bad manners; many people even believed tobacco could ward off illness. Even so, Karen habitually asked, "Do you smoke?" "I do, sir." Karen handed one over. The driver turned slightly to take it. "Thank you, sir." Click. Karen lit his own cigarette. Taking a drag of the tobacco blended with special ingredients, a faint numbing sensation washed over his soul. Karen pursed his lips. He didn't know how Neo was faring now or whether he had escaped safely, yet there wasn't the slightest worry in his heart. For someone like the captain, getting captured or dying so neatly was genuinely difficult. Karen began to ponder the source of the heaviness in his heart, and he quickly found his answer. He could understand it purely from the perspective of Light of Order: the Church's stance of non-interference with the normal functioning of society. In this era, it was precisely the rise of the Church of Order that had led the faiths, at least on the surface over the past thousand years, to relax their influence and control over ordinary people, allowing human society to enter a new stage of development. The ones who should have handled things last night were the police and politicians. Even though the police seemed to have taken a "holiday" last night, and even though politicians were apparently the instigators behind the scenes, if the Church of Order were to intervene, how would that differ from directly establishing a theocracy? And yet, was this truly non-interference? A surface claim of non-interference while having intervened long ago was not so-called respect, but genuine contempt. It shouldn't be like this, because this was wrong. In essence, what difference was there between what the Church of Principles and the Church of Order did last night and what Jurist Qihe did back then? Bang! The taxi suddenly accelerated and crashed into a utility pole ahead. Karen lurched, while the cab driver banged his forehead, bruising it purple. Even so, the driver kept his arms raised as if dancing, Karen's cigarette still pinched between his fingers. Karen had overlooked the effect that this special tobacco had on ordinary people. He had no choice but to get out, open the driver's door, and cast a simple healing spell on the driver before onlookers gathered, then slipped five hundred riels into the driver's pocket. By the time the crowd gathered, Karen was already gone. Not much distance remained, so Karen decided to walk the rest of the way. Well, his already sour mood had now grown even worse. If five hundred riels for morning lodging and emotional distress compensation wasn't considered expensive, then handing out another five hundred riels just now was purely self-inflicted. A loss of wealth averts disaster; a loss of wealth averts disaster. Only by muttering this silent mantra could he feel slightly better, as if the money cast away had somehow bought him something in the unseen fabric of fate. Ahead, a crowd appeared, all purple-haired people with white cloths tied around their shoulders, conducting house calls and relief work. Leading them was none other than Mr. Luther. Karen suddenly recalled that he had seen multiple reports in Order Weekly concerning this civil rights leader. That in itself was bizarre. Why would the newspaper of the era's greatest church consistently pay attention to an ordinary mortal? Even if he was the leader of a faction, what did that amount to? Even the royal family of Wien held little standing in the Church's eyes. Mr. Luther's eyes were rimmed with red as he embraced and comforted a purple-haired mother, who sobbed that her child had died last night. Karen steered clear of the group. He didn't want any deep contact, nor did he want to reach out and investigate. He just wanted to go home, eat a bowl of wonton noodles, and take a bath. In the afternoon, he could sit in the courtyard, basking in the sun while reading the newspaper. "In essence, both I and this city are ostriches." Yet just as Karen stepped aside to avoid them, he noticed the two individuals following behind Mr. Luther. They looked like assistants yet resembled bodyguards, and most importantly, Karen sensed a familiar aura from them. Ordinary bodyguards habitually positioned themselves to shield their employer with their bodies or stood ready to draw weapons and return fire; their positioning was deliberate. Those two were also positioning and shielding, but their starting stances were clearly clearing space to deploy spells or scrolls. Mr. Luther's bodyguards were church members? Karen took out his cigarettes, his fingers tapping lightly against the pack. Most low-ranking priests couldn't afford this luxury brand sold only in point coupon shops, but they would definitely recognize it—just as ordinary people who neither smoked nor drank still recognized famous brands of liquor and tobacco. Sure enough, when the two glanced over Karen, particularly at the cigarette pack in his hand, their expressions shifted slightly. One moved to cover Mr. Luther's path, while the other turned to face Karen, hand slipping into his sleeve. Soon, however, the one facing Karen asked in confusion, "Mr. Silva?" Karen suddenly realized that within a certain circle, his fame was higher than that of the cigarette pack. While mass media in this era wasn't as advanced as in the future, lack of development had its perks. When channels for acquiring information were limited, it actually increased the reach of specific news. For instance, when priests of York City Region read Order Weekly, they instinctively paid attention to terms tied to their own region. It was human nature. A young man selected from their own region becoming captain of a trial squad and leading the team to complete the trial mission was an immense honor. Karen asked, "And you are?" "We are also members of the Whip of Order, though squads like ours are formed separately to carry out specific missions. Mr. Karen, I am Xiasen, and he is Natike." "Greetings. Are you on a protection detail?" Karen asked. "Yes. Our squad's mission is to protect Mr. Luther. However, we hope you can keep this confidential, Mr. Silva; it is covered under our nondisclosure protocol." "Understood. You can just call me Karen." "Our captain is very eager to meet you. She's got a smoking-hot figure, and she's right up on a nearby rooftop. I don't know the exact building; they shift positions as Mr. Luther moves." "Were you also protecting Mr. Luther's safety last night?" Karen asked. "Yes, of course. Um, Mr. Karen, could you leave your contact information? I can pass it to my captain later." "Sure, of course." Karen took a business card for the funeral parlor from his pocket and handed it over. Being fellow priests of the Church of Order, seeing a funeral parlor's card didn't strike them as bizarre or unlucky; instead, it carried the familiar warmth of home. After parting ways, Karen looked back at the retreating figures of Mr. Luther and his group. Members of the Church of Order had been protecting him all along? ... Dinge Region, Holy See, Grand Office Hall. Foot traffic bustled along every corridor, while High Priest Norton remained seated behind his desk, attending to affairs. Inside a separate barrier nearby, High Priest Norton held his cigar before him and flicked it; the falling ash scattered across the floor, forming an array. A ripple of energy pulsed, and a woman's figure manifested within the array. Clad in gold-trimmed clerical robes, she exuded an air of solemn majesty. "Elder Xiti, I require an explanation." "High Priest, whatever the Temple chooses to do, it hardly seems necessary to seek permission from the Holy See. Regarding certain rules, perhaps you might consult your predecessor, Rasma." "Very well. Then I won't bother prying. I will simply issue an order: the next time any so-called Temple guards or Temple emissaries dare issue orders to lower regions without going through Holy See procedures, they will be dealt with as apostates." "High Priest, do you know who you are speaking to?" Norton took a drag of his cigar, blew out a ring of smoke, and smiled. "Elder Xiti, do you know who you are speaking to?" Silence. Silence. Silence... Ultimately, Elder Xiti was the first to break the silence. "The Temple will grant the Holy See its due respect." High Priest Norton continued, "I just reviewed the reports. What exactly is the Temple—no, what are you—doing in the York City Region this time?" "Merely an experiment. The Church has countless experimental projects; I assume the High Priest is well aware." "Yet yours is no simple experiment. You joined hands with the Church of Principles... Heh. Do you know what you are doing? I can see your true objective clearly. "So, do you realize that such conduct is blaspheming God?" Elder Xiti replied, "In my heart, there is only one supreme being—the great God of Order." "Yet when you begin blaspheming 'deities,' you are, in truth, also blaspheming the God of Order." High Priest Norton rose to his feet, walked up before Elder Xiti, and said in a low, heavy voice: "I even have reason to suspect that you, an esteemed Temple Elder... "...have been tainted?" ... ["The third condition is that the three of you swear upon your own divinity never to erase from your memories the words I spoke earlier concerning the God of Order."]