Dad!

Stepping back, Karen placed his left arm across his chest and dropped to one knee before Luoya. "Thank you for remembering me, Your Highness Luoya." Not a flicker of change showed on Luoya's face—a demeanor that fit perfectly with everyone's preconceived notions of artifact spirits as aloof and noble. In truth, however, Luoya was completely stunned. She had thought that keeping her joy hidden and intentionally acting cold and distant would be enough of a pleasant surprise for Brother Karen. Never could she have imagined that Brother Karen would give her an even bigger "surprise" in return. *Mm... he actually knelt before me.* For a fleeting second, she nearly knelt down right alongside him. Fortunately, she suppressed the impulse just in time. Still, a doubt crept into her mind: had her clever little "performance" gone too far? Had it made Brother Karen uncomfortable? *Ah, is my acting really that bad?* *But when I acted in plays with "them," they all said I was a natural-born actor. Were they just flattering me the whole time?* In reality, Karen had found nothing wrong with Luoya's spontaneous cooperation; it was merely his nature to want full control over the pace from here on out. Furthermore, his relationship with Luoya had to be handled in a way that appeared entirely "normal"—or at least provided anyone who noticed anything unusual with a plausible explanation to dispel any further suspicion. Thus, Karen promptly spoke again: "Not being able to thank you in person that night for saving my life has been a lingering regret for both Inquisitor Pavaro and myself. "When I encountered you last time in Augurev Fortress, you were serving as the trial examiner, so I had no chance to speak to you. When I returned and mentioned it to Inquisitor Pavaro, he expressed deep regret as well. "Now, at last, I have the opportunity. Please accept my gratitude, Your Highness Luoya." At the sausage factory during the Qihe case, he had met Luoya once. During the selection process in Augurev Fortress, he had met Luoya once. Counting this time, it was three meetings. Although there had been another meeting in between, that had involved the silver mask left behind by his grandfather and amounted to an "illegal prison visit." Under ordinary circumstances, anyone looking to investigate would most likely overlook the encounter at Augurev Fortress; after all, an official service record typically only noted that so-and-so had taken an exam on such-and-such date and attained a certain ranking, without transcribing the exam questions themselves. Yet Karen refused to gamble—or more precisely, he was unwilling to take the risk. He never assumed those trying to investigate him were fools; one could not naively expect all future opponents to be as inept as Vicolai. In fact... someone like Bishop Bourne might very well dig up the actual exam contents. Therefore, it was far better to bring it up openly himself. The best way to keep a secret was often to place it in broad daylight. Before being teleported here, Luoya had received an official dispatch outlining roughly why she was needed. At this moment, sharp as she was, she immediately caught the underlying meaning in Karen's words. Having met Inquisitor Pavaro, she knew full well that he had been in an "Awakened" state back then—which was to say, the state of a dead man. Logically, Inquisitor Pavaro should have passed away right after that night ended; how could he possibly have survived until Karen saw her again at Augurev Fortress? Thus, Luoya immediately asked: "Where is Inquisitor Pavaro? He was an upright, outstanding believer of Order. In him, I saw the true Light of Order. Is he not here?" Karen's expression darkened, and he closed his eyes as he answered: "He is dead." "Dead?" Karen turned his head toward Vicolai in the cage, raised his hand, pointed directly at him, and said: "While investigating his criminal acts, Inquisitor Pavaro was silenced by him." Luoya's gaze shifted to Vicolai. This time, frost gathered in the artifact spirit's eyes. This was neither pretense nor acting. Her respect for Inquisitor Pavaro was genuine; had it not been for his relentless investigation, her sisters would still be suffering in pigsty-like pens, or several batches of sisters might have already been rotated through and lost. "You... killed Inquisitor Pavaro?" Vicolai stood blank-faced, utterly incapable of imagining that Karen had actually summoned a divine artifact into the courtroom! At this moment, a sensation called despair began to engulf him. He was foolish, but not an idiot. An idiot would keep leaping and giggling happily even while burning in a fire. A fool might walk into the flames of his own accord, but once scorched, he would still wail in agony. He sensed the crushing weight of a monumental crisis bearing down upon him—a crisis his family background could no longer shield him from. "No, no, no! He's framing me, he's framing me! I didn't kill Pavaro! I didn't do it! I really didn't kill him!" By this point, the situation was crystal clear. In fact, the moment the artifact spirit of the Source of Sin appeared and addressed Karen directly, acknowledging that they knew each other, Vicolai had already lost. Karen had previously declared that he and Inquisitor Pavaro had been at the sausage factory that night, while Vicolai had claimed that he was there as well. Neither side acknowledged the other's presence. The moment one side presented ironclad proof, the other was inevitably exposed as a liar. And once proven a liar, the first charge—"stealing Inquisitor Pavaro's credit"—was firmly established. With that charge established, the third charge—silencing Pavaro to cover up the theft—gained an inherent, natural motive. As for the second charge sandwiched between them, with Pavaro having initiated the investigation and left behind a suicide note, it appeared more undeniably real than anything else. In truth, the second charge was the most genuine of all, without a single drop of fabrication. The third charge was entirely fake. The first charge was half-true and half-false, since Vicolai had only ever encountered someone wearing Pavaro's face mask. Yet ironically, the truest charge was the hardest to substantiate. To put it plainly, the nature of this trial had exceeded the bounds of a legal proceeding from the very start. Had Karen been a moral purist obsessed with procedural justice, he would have been doomed to lose. Or rather, he never would have been placed in this role by the higher-ups in the first place. Karen felt not the slightest burden of conscience over his orchestration. In his eyes, the purpose of procedural justice was to avoid wrongly condemning an innocent person, not to stand by helplessly before an obvious villain. Still, Karen continued to guide Luoya. He could not allow her to improvise freely in her eagerness to help him; he had to signal that it was time to wrap things up. "Your Highness Luoya, he claims that on that night, he was there, battled Qihe, and foiled Qihe's conspiracy. "May I ask Your Highness, "Do you know him?" "I do not know him." "Have you ever seen him?" "I have never seen him." "Do you corroborate what he claims?" "I do not." *All right.* Karen stood up and straightened his robes. This was enough. Pushing any further risked complications; this was the ideal stopping point. Even if anyone suspected his relationship with Luoya, mere suspicion would yield them nothing. Presiding Judge Gasper cleared her throat and gave her leather whip a soft flick, producing a light crack. Then she addressed the spirit: "Source of Sin." Luoya turned her head toward the presiding judge and said, "My name is Luoya." Brother Karen had told her she was the purest existence in the world, so she thoroughly disliked the name "Source of Sin." To her, that name felt no different from blaming a girl's beauty when she was molested. The presiding judge took a deep breath. *Fine, no need to get angry. After all, this artifact spirit is on our side.* Gasper had vast judicial experience, but this was the first time she had ever enjoyed the luxury of having a divine artifact testify as physical evidence. She even found the artifact spirit somewhat endearing. "Luoya, in the name of this tribunal, I ask you: can you bear full responsibility for the testimony you have just provided?" Luoya raised her hand and said solemnly, "I swear in the name of the God of Laks that everything I have spoken is the truth." For an artifact spirit to swear an oath in the name of its own chief god was a standard of the utmost solemnity. Gasper turned toward Bishop Bourne and asked, "Does the defense wish to challenge this physical evidence?" "Challenge" here meant to raise a formal objection. Bishop Bourne shook his head and answered briskly, "The defense accepts this evidence." With a divine artifact personally testifying, how could anyone argue against it? Even if one tried to stir up doubt or spin the narrative, forcing the issue would accomplish nothing except turning oneself into a laughingstock. "Does the defense maintain any doubt regarding the first charge: 'The defendant stole Inquisitor Pavaro's credit in the Qihe case'?" Bishop Bourne shook his head and replied just as curtly, "No doubt." This was not a secular trial; it was a church proceeding. Bishop Bourne was indeed Vicolai's advocate, but he was hardly a defense attorney bound by professional ethics. Gasper continued: "Does the defense maintain any doubt regarding the third charge: 'The defendant murdered Inquisitor Pavaro to silence him'?" Bishop Bourne hesitated. In all honesty, he found this charge rather dubious. After Karen moved into Pavaro's home, Pavaro had rarely been around. Although Karen's explanation was that Pavaro was too upright to accept charity and took on endless missions everywhere to repay Karen's points... there were clearly more sensible ways to show gratitude. As Karen's rank and status steadily rose, wouldn't running errands directly for Karen and taking assignments from him have made much more sense? Was there any need to keep taking jobs from strangers outside and never returning home? Furthermore, as for this alleged silencing... the body had been handled exceptionally "cleanly." Did it really have to be done that way? Once someone was murdered, subjecting the corpse to an "Order Purification" to prevent any "Awakening" would have been more than enough, wouldn't it? It was quite likely that the body simply could not be produced. This inevitably planted another suspicion in Bishop Bourne's mind: he suspected Pavaro had actually died long ago. As for the "Pavaro" who appeared later, it was very likely not the real Inquisitor Pavaro at all. There were far too many ways to convincingly impersonate someone. This theory had crossed his mind while reviewing the case files before the trial, but he had never shared it with the other bishops, keeping it strictly to himself. Out of professional instinct, he was almost certain that digging deeper along this line would unearth substantial dirt. Didn't Pavaro have family? Didn't he have colleagues? What about the missions he undertook? Even if taken under an alias, they weren't impossible to track down. Such a breakthrough point would have been all too easy to find. However, he had abandoned this angle from the start. His objective was to manage this conflict from the perspective of the region's interests—a clash between the regional administration and the Whip of Order. He had never intended to dig up dirt on Karen to completely ruin him. Indeed, Bishop Bourne considered himself quite gentle. Even though he had used vile, venomous words to slander Karen's relationship with Pavaro's widow and twin daughters, he still considered himself gentle. In his worldview, so long as he didn't take your life or seek your utter destruction, nothing counted as genuine malice. As for insults and slander? His family practically controlled the Church of Pamires; when faith itself could be straddled across boundaries, why would he care about petty reputation? "The defense will answer," Gasper urged. Her sequence of questioning was heavily biased, asking about charge one first, then charge three. Yet this trial was dominated by the Whip of Order to begin with; why pretend to maintain "objective impartiality" instead of favoring one's own side? Bishop Bourne spoke: "No doubt." Gasper nodded, then began conferring with the assistants beside her—a deliberate stall to apply psychological pressure to the defense. Only after a considerable pause did Gasper ask: "And as for the second charge, does the defense maintain any doubt?" Bishop Bourne raised both hands and answered, "All my prior deductions were based on questioning what seemed to be a conspiracy orchestrated by the Whip of Order. Now that the facts lie before me, I acknowledge my mistake." With that, Bishop Bourne turned toward Karen and bowed slightly. "Here, I apologize for my earlier misunderstanding. The defense concedes Adjudicator Vicolai's... the defense concedes the suspect's guilt." Karen turned to face Bishop Bourne and replied, "Please place your faith in the justice of the Whip of Order. At the very least, believe that many within the Whip of Order still hold dear the oath they took upon joining: *Wield the Whip for Order!* "Just as I have always believed that the vast majority of priests in the region are like Inquisitor Pavaro—placing their faith in Order and in the great God of Order above all else." "Yes, I understand." Bishop Bourne nodded, thinking to himself: *This young man certainly knows how to speak.* If only he had met him earlier—no, if only he had spotted his potential when the boy was young. He was actually far better suited than his own son, Derius, to infiltrate the Church of Pamires. Unlike his son, whose actions were often clouded by emotional turmoil, Karen was composed and adept at seizing opportunities. If Karen were the Holy Child of the Church of Pamires right now, Bourne would not have to worry in the slightest about losing control of the church in the hands of the next generation. What a pity that opportunity was gone. Unless the higher-ups of the Whip of Order were completely blind, this young man was destined to become a prime candidate for grooming within their ranks after this trial. He would never come over to Bourne's side to serve as an operative in the shadows when he had a vastly brighter future ahead. Still, Bourne thought he could give him a word of advice later—tell him how certain things could be buried deeper and loose ends tied up without leaving a trace, sparing him from having them dug up in the future. Bishop Bourne replied, "I believe that with men like Captain Karen, the Whip of Order will become a vital force in preserving the purity of order within our church." Hearing this, Karen frowned slightly. To his thinking, Bishop Bourne conceding defeat at this stage was no surprise, but was there any need to concede so thoroughly? Pleading guilty on Vicolai's behalf was normal enough, but his recent words carried the clear weight of a political statement. Did he speak on behalf of the regional bishops? Or had a political accord already been struck before this trial even began? Putting those thoughts aside for the moment, Karen replied: "Order requires our collective vigil." ... "You're right, Neo. He's very well suited to be the external spokesperson for our headquarters." Many believed speaking in official platitudes was simple, nothing more than reciting boilerplate rhetoric. In truth, deciding when to speak, how to phrase it, and what tone to strike involved profound nuance. Especially now, with victory firmly in hand, Bernie appreciated Karen's prudence in knowing when to quit while ahead. The higher-ups permitted—and even encouraged—the Whip of Order to contest power with the local regions, but they would never allow the Whip of Order to act like a rabid dog savaging its own allies to death. Neo chuckled. "Indeed, that's just how he is. Everything he says and does is unfailingly proper." "Yes, very proper." Bernie looked at Neo. "I originally thought he was just like you. Now it seems he isn't." "Well, looking at people just like oneself gets tiring after a while." Bernie nodded. "There's wisdom in that. All right, I believe we can prepare for the next step. Let's initiate the investigation into Vicolai stealing Inquisitor Pavaro's credit. "The regional Law Enforcement Department holds authority that originally belonged to us. Now, using this opportunity, it's time to make them cough it back up." "Yes, Minister." Bernie produced a card and handed it to Neo. "My lord, we're all working for our own department. There's really no need for you to give me an allowance; you're far too kind." "You misunderstand. This isn't an allowance from me. It's event funding approved by the Regional Chief. Quite a few reporters showed up today, and they all need to be greased so they work harder on their coverage." "But... under the current circumstances, even without kickbacks, those reporters and everyone else will scramble to publicize this story." When manufacturing hype, one had to slip red envelopes to media channels; but when an explosive scoop erupted, they were like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves. Even if you drove them away with guns, they would throw themselves at it regardless. "I don't care about that. The funds were approved under this title by the department. All we care about is results. If the results are good, the funds weren't wasted." "Understood. Thank you, Minister." So it *was* an allowance after all. Neo didn't bother asking Bernie if he wanted a cut, having realized long ago that his direct superior cared little for such petty gains; his sights were set on his political career. With a prominent family background, Bernie wasn't short on church points. Still, if Bernie didn't want it, Neo was happy to take it. *Sigh, I still need to help Karen modify his car.* In Neo's eyes, Karen was not only proper, but also someone who held grudges. How could someone who perpetually kept track of what others owed him not hold a grudge? "My lord, the 'acting' tag on your title as Minister of Law Enforcement should be dropped soon, right?" "Yes, most likely." "Then congratulations, my lord." "Do your work well. Once the Regional Chief retires to the Dinge Region, you'll take over my position." "Thank you for your patronage, my lord." Bernie was in high spirits and made a rare joke. Patting Neo's shoulder, he laughed: "Don't get the wrong idea. It's mainly to make room for Karen." ... "We can't let this happen! How could it end like this?! Head Bishop, think of something! If we lose this disastrously, won't the Whip of Order walk all over our regional administration from now on?" "What can be done? Are you going to go down there right now and declare your disagreement?" Wolflen countered. "No, Bourne must still have a trick up his sleeve! This is his specialty! I'm certain he has a way; I even suspect he didn't give it his all! Head Bishop, please put pressure on him right now! He definitely held back!" "Dolph, wake up." "My grandson cannot fall! He absolutely cannot!" Dolph nearly growled. *Hah.* *Still fretting over your grandson?* *What you should be worrying about now is your entire family.* Head Bishop Wolflen felt quite content. He was sure that the Regional Chief—the Whip-Holder—was feeling anything but comfortable right now, probably anxious and full of regret. Heh. As for the Nadon family... what did they have to do with him, Wolflen? The head bishop raised his teacup and took another sip. The night before last, his grandson Leon had mentioned that Karen phoned him, inviting him to join his squad, saying there happened to be one spot left. *Ptui.* Wolflen gently blew away the tea leaves clinging to his lip. From his official standpoint, he had done what was required and made all the expected efforts. As for the rest, whatever happens, happens. In any case, having hedged his bets on both sides, he couldn't lose. Judging by the look of things, the future prospects of the Whip of Order would remain exceptionally bright—at least throughout this current High Priest's tenure. Wolflen had always harbored a regret: the reason his advancement had hit a ceiling at his current position was largely due to a lack of backing—his network of connections was neither broad nor tight-knit enough. Otherwise, he might have had the chance to become a top-ranking bishop in the Wien Region, or even take up a post at the Holy See in the Dinge Region, rather than reaching this point and knowing he had to stop and rest. He wanted his grandson to have far greater prospects and room for advancement. Wolflen's gaze settled on Karen, then on Vic and Alfred, before sweeping over the members of Karen's squad seated in the gallery. Young, exceptional, united... What a marvelous circle. He only hoped his grandson could integrate into it. ... "That was exhilarating!" A flush of excitement rose on Richard's cheeks. Philomena looked at him, slightly puzzled. "You're genuinely happy for Karen." "Of course! He's like a brother to me, heh. Oh, I see what you mean. But would you be jealous of Karen?" "No." "Why? Because the gap is too vast? And I don't just mean strength. Actually, I've always thought the gap in pure strength between you and Karen isn't very large." "In terms of strength, he is a ten and I am a nine. In every other area, he is still a ten, while I am practically a zero." "Right? So there's no room for jealousy, is there?" "Actually, I'm not particularly interested in hearing your analysis." "My grandmother once told me that being able to face a disparity without feeling envy..." Philomena asked, "...is the key to improvement?" "No. My grandmother said it means you're acutely aware you'll never catch up to that person in this lifetime." "So that's how your grandmother educated her grandson?" Richard nodded. "My grandmother has always been very open-minded about these things." "My grandmother is different. The exact opposite of yours." "That's not good. It places too much pressure on a child. I'd never want my future child to grow up withdrawn and closed off. I want her to grow up happy. "That's why the first time I saw you, I felt you were... a lot like my father. My father has always had issues similar to yours. In fact, his problems were far worse than yours, and he only started getting better recently." Philomena asked, "How did he get better?" Richard: "Uh..." "Tell me." "He learned to redirect his attention." "Redirect his attention? Through what?" "Well, like cultivating some hobbies and interests." "I don't have any hobbies or interests." "Don't worry, I can help you cultivate them! If my father could get better, you definitely can too. Truly." "First of all, I have no intention of 'getting better,' nor do I consider myself ill. Second, I am a woman. Comparing me to your father feels inappropriate." "Mother." Philomena: "..." ... "I shall now pronounce the verdict—" "Presiding Judge." Gasper looked at Karen and asked, "Do you have something more?" "Regarding this case, there remains an unresolved matter that I believe warrants further, in-depth investigation." "Oh? Which part?" "Since the first charge has been firmly established, I cannot help but wonder: how did Adjudicator Vicolai—no, Vicolai before he was an adjudicator—manage to successfully steal the credit that rightfully belonged to Inquisitor Pavaro? How did he leverage that stolen credit to transfer and secure a promotion to Adjudicator?" With that, Karen turned to face the entire courtroom. Old Master Delon and Mr. Aisen worked in unspoken harmony, adjusting the broadcast array to focus entirely on Karen. As a result, Karen's expression and words would be broadcast with pristine clarity to every viewer. Karen already possessed striking poise and charisma; having just won this legal battle by summoning a divine artifact, coupled with what he was about to say, even he felt a bit like a "star prosecutor." Yet his intention was not mere grandstanding; he wished to use this rare opportunity to pave the way for the next phase of the investigation. "It is difficult to imagine that within our Church of Order, there could exist a crime as heinous as embezzling the merits of others! "Indeed, countless believers among us are willing to sacrifice everything for the church, everything for the God of Order, asking for nothing in return. "Yet what we can never accept is that their devotion and sacrifice should be buried, desecrated, or stolen by filthy hands! "Such an act is a blasphemy against the church, a blasphemy against our sacred doctrines, a blasphemy against every faithful servant of Order—and an even greater blasphemy against our sacred, glorious First Knight Order!" Karen walked toward the cage, stopping directly in front of Vicolai. The father-and-son duo, Delon and Aisen, smoothly panned the broadcast array to track Karen's stride. Vicolai glared at the approaching Karen and roared, "Karen, you bastard! You framed me! How dare you frame me?! I didn't kill Pavaro! Pavaro wasn't killed by me! How dare you frame me, you scoundrel?!" Vicolai felt deeply wronged because he truly had not killed Pavaro; he was furious because he genuinely had been framed. Karen stared down at this man—an embodiment of selfishness, greed, and stupidity—and questioned him coldly: "Who gave you the courage to steal the credit of others? "Who gave you the license to commit such vile, filthy deeds? "Who made you believe that even while standing in this tribunal, you could remain arrogant, certain that you would walk out acquitted? "Who gave you the backing that prevents me, even now, from seeing the slightest shred of remorse or regret upon your face?!" Karen paused, then raised his voice, shouting into Vicolai's face: "Is it because your surname is Nadon?! Because your father is a diplomatic priest?! Because your uncle is the deputy minister of the regional Law Enforcement Department?! Because your grandfather is a regional bishop?! "Even when Ankara committed an error, the God of Order punished her! "So tell me: "Who "do you, "Vicolai Nadon, think you are?!" ... "Whew..." The High Priest exhaled a ring of smoke. He held out the nearly finished cigar. Foden reached forward, took it, and laid it horizontally across the rim of the ashtray. The first time he put out a cigar for the High Priest, he had stubbed the tip directly into the ashtray, prompting the High Priest to remark that doing so was disrespectful to the cigar. After that incident, Foden had devoted considerable effort to studying such nuances. He felt neither annoyed nor burdened by the High Priest's particular habits; the truth was, having certain hobbies and quirks gave subordinates an easier way to keep company and build familiarity. At any rate, it was far better than sitting in terrified, rigid silence. "Foden, you were right. Watching this trial was not a waste of time. The Yorktown Region's Whip of Order did exceptionally well in this matter; the breakthrough has been made. "So, do you regret it?" A wry smile crossed Foden's face. "Sometimes, knowing when to quit while ahead is the wisest course. The middle and lower ranks of the Whip of Order have been neglected for too long; fully restoring them in the short term is virtually impossible. Any progress is a gain." "It's good that you think so. However, you overlooked one thing." "High Priest, please enlighten me." "How can a blade have thoughts of its own? If a blade can decide for itself how hard to strike, when to halt, and when to retract... who would dare reach out and hold it?" Foden shuddered and immediately dropped to his knees beside the coffee table. "High Priest, I took it upon myself to approve the decisions of my subordinates in certain matters. Please punish me." The High Priest glanced down at the Whip-Wielder kneeling before him, quietly picked up a piece of candy from the table, popped it into his mouth, and murmured as he chewed: "What I wanted was a rabid dog—so that I could scold it in front of outsiders and assure them it is well-behaved and won't bite. Yet you took the words right out of my mouth. What am I supposed to say now?" "High Priest... I was wrong. I am guilty." "I dragged the half-dead Whip of Order back to its feet to counter those entities that were far too preoccupied with their own agendas. Yet now, you've shown me through your actions that you, too, are developing an agenda of your own. "Sigh. "Foden, we are old friends by now, aren't we?" "Indeed... indeed, I have followed you for a very long time, High Priest." "There won't be a next time?" "Yes! There will never be a next time, absolutely never!" "No—if there is a next time, there won't be a *you*," the High Priest said, his gaze turning profound. "What I want to build is a true Church of Order. In this church, even I should not harbor excessive schemes and selfish thoughts. Do you understand?" "I understand." "No, you don't. No one understands me. Theisen understood a little, but he is dead." The High Priest reached out, picked up another cigar, took up the cigar cutter himself, and snipped off the cap with a crisp *click*. "I am so lonely..." "My lord..." Foden was at a complete loss for words. Yet very quickly, the High Priest's composure returned. Picking up a fire spirit stone, he asked casually: "The Nadon family, was it? How did such a foolish family ever rise to the rank of bishop?" "The Nadon family has ties to someone in the Temple." "A direct relation?" "No, a patronage connection." "Hah." The High Priest drew on his cigar and slowly exhaled a plume of smoke. "Send a warning to that person in the Temple. Tell them to keep their claws to themselves." "Yes, High Priest." Foden knew that the High Priest cared nothing for a mere bishop's family in a local region. It was simply that the High Priest's anger at him needed an outlet. This "Nadon family" was merely the cigar the High Priest used to tap him into line. ... In the VIP gallery, Dolph sat frozen. He had finally awakened to reality: he could no longer afford to worry merely about the trial of a grandson. The flames had already spread from his grandson to the entire family—and directly onto himself! Wolflen cut his eyes toward Dolph beside him, thinking: *Fool, you only realize it now?* Karen turned to face the presiding judge and spoke: "Presiding Judge, I request permission to conduct further investigations into this case. Preserving order within the church and wiping away the dust that taints order has been the sacred mission bestowed upon our Whip of Order by Lord Tyrannus since its founding." Gasper replied, "My recommendation is to conclude and render judgment on this present case first. Because there remain unresolved crimes tied to this case, of an exceptionally egregious nature and gravity, a new case may be filed for a subsequent round of proceedings. "If you have target suspects to indict right now, you may prepare the indictment documents and submit them to me." Naturally, the current case had to be locked down first. Gasper understood Karen's intentions perfectly well: he was striking while the iron was hot to lay the groundwork for the next phase of investigation, and she was more than happy to cooperate. "Presiding Judge, the indictment documents are prepared. I shall submit them to the tribunal at once." "Very well," Gasper nodded. Karen turned his head toward Alfred and Vic. Alfred glanced over his table, unable to find an appropriate document. Vic, however, bent down, picked up the file folder that had previously held the suicide note, and exchanged a glance with Alfred. Alfred nodded in assent. Vic stood up, cradling the empty file folder in both hands, walked over to Karen, and handed it to him. Taking the empty file folder, Karen walked toward the presiding judge. A clerk stepped forward intending to take it, but withered under Karen's gaze and stepped back silently. Karen laid the empty folder before Gasper. Gasper took it and immediately realized it was empty. However, with the high edge of the bench obstructing the line of sight from below, no one in the hall could see, and no one dared use their spiritual consciousness to scan the presiding judge's bench—that would be utter sacrilege! Feigning extraction of documents from the empty folder, Gasper casually picked up papers already resting on her desk, sweeping her eyes from left to right and steadily downward. Having "finished" reading, Gasper announced: "The tribunal grants approval. A verbal notice is hereby issued requesting Deputy Minister Trisen Nadon of the Yorktown Regional Law Enforcement Department to assist in the investigation." As presiding judge, she had naturally studied the case files meticulously and was thoroughly familiar with the Nadon family's circumstances. *Still, this kid actually dared to trust my professional competence this much—at the very least, you could have scribbled a name on the empty folder!* Yet Gasper took no offense. On the contrary, flattered by Karen's "trust," she thought rather well of the young man for recognizing how sharp she was. Yet few noticed that Luoya's gaze had been fixed on Vicolai for quite some time. Her true form was not here, and above the spatial communication array, personnel from the containment space were keeping close watch over her, so the power she could exert was limited. However, that did not hinder her from focusing her influence on a single individual. After all, she was the Laks copper coin—the Source of Sin! The evil and desires deep within a mortal's heart were like a dandelion in her hand; with just a gentle blow, they would scatter and dance across the sky. *Whoever Brother Karen wants to ruin, of course I'm going to help!* Luoya pulled her gaze away and looked upward. To onlookers, the artifact spirit appeared to be preparing for retrieval back to the containment space, but beneath her sleeve, Luoya's finger quietly traced a circle. Inside the cage, Vicolai's body suddenly shuddered. A violent surge of emotion boiled within him, and he grew even more frantic than before. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I don't want to die..." Gripping the bars with both hands, he jammed half of his face desperately into the gap between two iron railings. The instinct for survival completely overrode what little reason remained in his mind. Staring toward the VIP gallery, directly at Bishop Dolph, Vicolai shrieked hysterically: "Save me, Dad!"