Oh, Darling, of Course!

What, did *everyone* know he was an evil god? Karen found himself somewhat speechless. Mr. Hoffen had called him an evil god, the cat at home had called him an evil god, and the radio spirit had said he was an evil god, too. Yet he really wasn't. He wasn't the reincarnation of some "holy child," nor was he the rebirth of some "true god." He didn't have the slightest connection to the God of Order or the God of Light. His understanding of this world had begun entirely with the everyday domestic chatter of Aunt Mary and Uncle Mason. In his past life, he was Zhou Xun, and in this life, he was Karen. Of that, there was no doubt. Still, he had grown somewhat used to it, just as he had grown used to this handsome face of his. Karen had placed the gift box on the passenger seat, but after a moment's hesitation, he stowed it properly inside the glove compartment, wedging it firmly with two stacks of lubi so it wouldn't rattle around. Barring any surprise, this box of pigments was made from Linda's cremated remains. If it were merely an ordinary box of paints, given Piaget's wealth combined with Karen's own family background, there would have been no reason to give it to him as a special present. He wasn't some destitute young apprentice obsessed with painting but unable to afford pigments. He started the car and drove forward. Cruising at a steady speed, Karen pondered: *From the look of it, Linda wasn't a follower of the Berry religion after all, but a devotee of the Church of the Mural God.* To some degree, the style of Berry followers closely resembled that of the Church of the Mural God. The former pursued gratitude toward nature and emphasized liberating one's innate disposition—to the point where their moral decline reached a stage that whenever an open-air bacchanal was heard of, people would invariably add, "It's definitely those Berry believers!" As for the latter, in an era where an enslaved class no longer generally existed, they essentially functioned as painters and artists. The former were vast in number—after all, it was easy to pose as an artist, or fool oneself into believing one was an artist—and the latter could use the massive ranks of the former to hide themselves. So then, was Linda a human or an aberrant demon? Alfred had once said that Ms. Molly could no longer be considered human, as what remained of her humanity was pitifully scarce. Even though she now used the body of the deceased nurse Nas to present herself as a person once more, essentially, Ms. Molly was an aberrant demon. Therefore, Linda, whose remains were completely burned to ashes, undoubtedly belonged to the aberrant demon category. After all, Ms. Molly at least still had two legs and a face. The books mentioned that in order to keep pace with cosmic cycles and avoid being unable to complete them in time, the Church of the Mural God would sometimes choose to create murals "in advance." Here, "in advance" actually carried the connotation of "foreknowledge." They seemed capable of foreseeing the next moves of the gods. In fact, putting aside the religious function of "recording," murals often served as vehicles for imagining the future. Much like murals in ancient tombs, where the first half often documented the tomb owner's deeds and merits in life, while the second half depicted their existence in the "realm of the dead"—or might even include curses directed at future grave robbers. No wonder this church had never truly managed to flourish and grow; an attribute like that destined the Church of the Mural God to be suppressed by the major churches. Foreseeing the future was the will of a "true god," an ability belonging to a "true god." It required guessing and deciphering fragmented revelations obtained through god descent rituals. How could a tiny church be allowed to steal the livelihood of true gods and major churches? Karen felt this was likely the real reason Linda needed to hide behind the identity of the Berry religion. Then just how strong was Linda? Compared to Alfred? Without realizing it, Alfred had become Karen's unit of measurement for gauging the strength of aberrant demons. Or perhaps the abilities of certain aberrant demons couldn't simply be categorized as "strong" or "weak"? Just like Purr, who could easily tear apart an illusion created by a beguiling aberrant demon with her claws, but against a possessed puppet, could only get kicked flying. Unfortunately, the books didn't record this in much detail. For the specifics, he would have to wait until he went back and asked Diss; Diss was bound to know more. "All right, the Lord Evil God is driving home now." Karen gave a self-deprecating chuckle. Then, his expression froze. He slammed hard on the brakes! The sudden deceleration threw Karen forward, the seat belt snapping tight and cutting roughly into him. *Who knows I'm an evil god?* Mr. Hoffen and Purr—they were direct participants in the god descent ritual and knew the previous "Karen," so it was only natural they knew he was an "evil god." Alfred had explained later that Karen had inadvertently used Jeff's remains to project his consciousness onto the mental bridge between Alfred and Ms. Molly, and that Karen's singing of *The Internationale* in Chinese—what Alfred termed the "sacred hymn"—had deeply shaken him. Furthermore, Alfred had clashed with Diss, whose mysterious strength led him to connect Karen with the illegal, beyond-scale god descent ritual that had occurred in Belwin not long ago. In short, Alfred had reached this conclusion only through extensive contact with him and his own sharp deductions. To a certain degree, Diss had even indulged Alfred's conjecture, accepting him and Ms. Molly when they applied and granting them official status as aberrant demon assistants registered with the Church of Order. Aside from them, who else could possibly know he was an evil god? Could someone tell he was an evil god just by looking at him? Was Linda that powerful? Purr and Diss had both told him that so long as he wasn't in the state he had been in down in the basement when reanimating a corpse, he was an ordinary person through and through in his daily life. He had never been initiated into any church, nor had he undergone purification. Aside from occasionally triggering those special abilities, he was genuinely just an ordinary human. So, how did Linda tell? More importantly, look at how Mr. Hoffen and Purr had reacted to his identity as an "evil god." Right up to his death, Mr. Hoffen believed that having Diss kill him was the wisest course of action. Purr seemed friendly toward him for the sake of getting fish, but deep down, she fiercely resisted any connection between him and her family descendants, terrified that his status as an evil god would bring misfortune upon her family. And Linda? She was grateful that he had become friends with her husband, grateful that he had spent time accompanying her husband to help him move forward during this period of depression after losing her. *Did you have some kind of misunderstanding about what an "evil god" is?* However, if she didn't misunderstand, did that mean... she actually understood him very well? Then who else could understand him? ... "In a few days, another beyond-scale god descent ritual will be held in Belwin. A powerful aberrant demon will attempt to summon their progenitor, who was suppressed by the God of Order in the previous epoch." "Yes. I help them fulfill their long-cherished wish, and they help me strip away all guilt and suspicion from the previous god descent ritual." ... What Grandfather had said inside the hearse when bringing Mr. Hoffen home surfaced in Karen's mind. There was someone else— no, there was another aberrant demon who also knew about Grandfather's beyond-scale god descent ritual, and that aberrant demon was preparing to replicate it, an act that would clear the Inmerlais family of all suspicion. Karen restarted the car and turned the steering wheel all the way to make a U-turn. Once again, the car pulled up outside Piaget's house. To Karen's surprise, Piaget's car, which had been parked beside his own when he left earlier, was now gone. Karen got out, pushed open the courtyard gate, and found the front door of Piaget's house still unlocked—in fact, it was standing ajar. "Piaget? Piaget?" Karen called out in the living room. On the dining table, the breakfast plates had not yet been cleared away. Karen went upstairs. He searched the master bedroom, the guest room, and the study, but Piaget was nowhere to be seen. Finally, Karen came to the studio. He pushed open the door. Inside, there were only paintings; no one was there. Yet, unlike his last visit, the wall that had once been pristine white was now covered in a mural, just like the guest room ceiling last night. Karen walked up to the mural and took a few steps back. In the painting, a woman floated in midair. Below her stood a cluster of buildings. On the rooftop of the tallest building, there was the figure of a man holding a box in his hands, looking up with a smile at the woman suspended above. And the woman, with tears streaming down her face, reached her hand toward the sky. Up in the sky hung a dark cloud, but deep within it, a towering, majestic figure loomed indistinctly—the figure of a female giant. Her hair was long, like entwined vines, surrounded by a light reminiscent of stardust. Reaching out from the dark cloud, one of her hands held a pool of water, while the other held an enormous goose feather. The Church of the Mural God! The evil god Linda intended to summon... was the true god of the Church of the Mural God, the deity in the form of a female giant he had dreamt of last night. Was this her progenitor? Was this female giant her ancestor? Or perhaps, in Diss's description and understanding, for a true believer, the true god of their faith was inherently an existence closer and grander than their own bloodline progenitor? After all, how many people could readily name their grandfather's father? Yet the vast majority could recite the honorific title of the true god of their faith, separated by thousands of years or even more than an entire epoch. Karen lowered his gaze. At the very bottom of the mural, depicted in an artistic style of exaggeration and enlargement that defied ordinary convention, was an altar. Karen took a deep breath. So the relatively powerful aberrant demon Grandfather had spoken of—the one preparing to help clear their family of suspicion—was Linda! Why did Linda need to conceal her identity and falsely claim to be a follower of the Berry religion? Because the Church of the Mural God was taboo. And the one who had suppressed the true god of the Church of the Mural God was none other than the God of Order! Why did Grandfather know Linda? Grandfather was someone who could say right to his face, "The God of Order is a whore's spawn." So was it really strange that he knew a devotee of the Church of the Mural God who bore a blood feud against the Church of Order, maintained a good relationship with her, and even conspired together with her? No. It wasn't strange in the least. Karen sat down on the floor and hung his head. He felt he ought to waste no time finding Piaget right now to tell him that his split personality—or simply his wife who wasn't entirely dead, having merely lost her physical body—was preparing to carry out a god descent ritual with no return. Diss had said so himself: she was doomed to fail, doomed to perish alongside the altar. After the ritual, Piaget would lose his wife forever. She would no longer be able to stay by his side, no longer prepare breakfast for him, no longer help him bathe, no longer emerge while he slept to look after him. He would have to accept and confront the cruel reality that his beloved wife had left him forever. As a friend, this was what Karen should do. He could go through the police, put a notice in the papers, or simply drive to Belwin himself to find the location of the building in the mural and wait for Piaget. Piaget might not be able to stop it, but at least he would have a chance to try. And yet, Karen could not do that. Because this was an arrangement made between Diss and Linda, the closing loop that would pull the Inmerlais family out of the vortex after Diss completed his beyond-scale god descent ritual. Karen genuinely wasn't worried about his own identity as an evil god being exposed—at least right now, he wasn't thinking of himself. Rather, if he truly exhausted every means to try warning and helping Piaget stop it, then would future searches by the Church of Order and follow-up investigations by other orthodox major churches plunge his uncle, aunts, Mina, and the rest into danger? On one side was his family; on the other was a like-minded, good-natured friend. He didn't agonize over how to choose. In fact, the very fact that he sat here right now instead of rushing to drive off in pursuit meant he had already made his choice. He had chosen his family. "Sigh..." After sitting in the studio for about twenty minutes, Karen stood up, walked slowly out, and headed down the stairs. As he pushed open the front entryway door and stepped into the yard, Karen saw Mrs. Seymour, who lived next door to Piaget, standing at the gate and peering inside. "Karen." "Mrs. Seymour." "Here's the thing." Mrs. Seymour took out a letter. "Mr. Adams gave me a letter just a moment ago. He said when I next go to your house for psychological counseling, I could pass it along to you, or if I saw you come by to visit him, I could hand it over directly. "The date for my next session with you is still a ways off, so I wasn't in any rush, but just now on my balcony, I happened to see you drive back. At first I wasn't certain, but it looked like you behind the wheel, so..." Mrs. Seymour handed the letter to Karen. "I was supposed to give it to you next time anyway, so even if it's a bit early, it counts, right?" "Thank you, Mrs. Seymour." Karen reached out and accepted the letter. Mrs. Seymour added defensively, "I just figured that if it was something important, it'd be better to hand it to you sooner, right?" "Yes, Mrs. Seymour." "Well then, would you like to come over to my place and sit for a while?" Mrs. Seymour asked with a trace of anticipation. "I'd like to read this letter in peace first." "Of course, of course you should. I'm in no rush, no rush at all. You read your letter. I'll head back; I'll just sit in my yard. The sun is lovely today, and I'd like to soak up some rays, hehe." Carrying the letter, Karen walked back into Piaget's house, sat down on the sofa where he had slept the previous night, and tore open the envelope. The letter was very short, even shorter than the one Linda had given him. The handwriting was also quite scrawled, clearly dashed off in haste, which meant that Piaget had acted on a sudden impulse. No. Since the one who had handed the letter to Mrs. Seymour was Piaget and not Linda, it proved Linda hadn't taken control of Piaget's body; it was Piaget's own choice. It was Piaget himself who had driven off toward Belwin. He unfolded the letter: "Dear Karen, Linda told me in a dream last night that she wants to complete a work she has dreamed of finishing all her life, but the price is that she will leave me forever. She asked if I agreed. I said: Oh, darling, of course!"