Suicide Note!

The VIP car pulled up along the outer perimeter of the Norton villa, going no deeper. Neo shut off the engine and said, "When we're not actively on a mission, don't leave the concealment formation running while driving. Do you have any idea how many spirit stones that burns?" Karen didn't answer. He rolled down the car window to get some fresh air. Neo continued lecturing. "Besides, the war between the Moon God Church and Samsara isn't over yet. Those two churches happen to be the primary producers of the two main elemental spirit stones, and the fighting has driven spirit stone prices up across the board. Times have changed; you have to cut corners where you can. Just looking at your smoking habits tells me you've never lived through hard times, so you don't understand the value of restraint." Karen could only counter, "I just feel that as long as I don't trade on leverage and keep my spending normal, I'll never find myself standing on the edge of a rooftop ready to jump." "Listen to you—there you go again. Here I am, your superior, trying to reason with you, and you resort to personal attacks. Who did I leverage up for? Wasn't it so I could lend you point coupons sooner to buy back all those war artifacts on Black Prison Castle? Wasn't it to decorate your office so nicely so you could live in comfort?" "If you're truly going to be this shameless, I have nothing to say." "Facts speak louder than endless debate." "By the way, when is the modification on my second-hand Ponce finally going to be finished?" "Soon, soon. What's the rush? Once this string of cases wraps up and our standing is higher, those favors will be worth far more as discounts, won't they? Even where there weren't favors before, won't people suddenly be eager to offer them?" "Doesn't that count as graft and bribery?" "The better your ride performs, the better equipped you are to carry out your work and crack down on illegal and criminal acts within the Church, isn't that right? When it's born from public spirit, calling it graft and bribery is just so petty." Neo waved a hand, picked up his cup, and took a sip of water. Right then, a black crow fluttered down by the car window. Seeing it, Neo remarked, "See? I told you we should have shut off the shielding formation sooner. If you'd kept it running, the message crow might never have found you. Good thing this crow is high-grade and written on very expensive ritual paper. Damn it, one look and you know it's Bernie's! Honestly, I really dislike wealthy bosses. When they're loaded, they tend not to care about money, which leaves me no loopholes to exploit. Now look at you—having a superior like me, aren't you blessed?" "Yes, I'm blessed indeed." Karen reached out, took the black crow, unfolded it, scanned the contents, and handed it to Neo. The crow had been sent by Bernie to Neo in the first place. After reading it, Neo immediately grinned. "Ha! What did I say? The most convoluted problems often hide the simplest solutions. Let's go to the restaurant and meet our poor Mr. Dalis." "I don't think it will be that simple." "Doesn't matter. When we meet him, watch closely and see what his real angle is. In any case, we won't come out on the losing end, will we?" "Right." Karen restarted the car and drove toward a nearby upscale restaurant. After giving Dalis's name to the waiter, they were escorted into a private dining room. A middle-aged man was sitting at the table, menu in hand, placing an order. Seeing Karen and Neo enter, he stood up and smiled. "You two certainly got here quickly." Neo stepped forward to shake his hand. "That's because we originally wanted to have a chat with you anyway, Mr. Dalis." "Then great minds think alike. Please, take a seat." Dalis poured water into glasses as he spoke. "I noticed Captain Karen during the broadcast. Seeing you in person, I find your presence truly enviable. Perhaps a career as a diplomatic priest would also be a fine path for you." "Thank you. I've always been rather curious about diplomatic affairs." Once seated, Dalis handed the menu to the waiter standing nearby. "Everyone is here. You may serve the dishes now. Let the kitchen know to hurry." "Right away, sir." After the waiter left, Dalis took a cigarette case from his pocket and introduced, "These are favored by senior priests of the Thunder God Church. They've always been strictly internal supply, with only a negligible amount trickling out, practically impossible to buy through ordinary channels. Do you gentlemen smoke? Care to try one?" "I've heard of these," Neo said, standing up. "Whenever they leak into the market, they're outrageously expensive." He took the case from Dalis, pulled out a cigarette, and offered it to him. "Here." Dalis accepted his own cigarette from Neo. "Thank you." "Don't mention it." With that, Neo pulled out two more—one for himself, one for Karen—and set the case down in front of the two of them. Karen pulled a lighter from his pocket and sparked it. With the first drag, an intense potency surged straight into his body. A subtle numbness immediately stimulated his nerves—no, to be precise, even his soul perceived a delicious, tingling ache, like fingertips gliding languidly across his back. It was utterly intoxicating. As he slowly exhaled, that sensation gradually receded, carrying his emotions with it in a way that left him craving more. From just that one puff, Karen was convinced these cigarettes were exceptionally expensive—immeasurably more so than the coupon cigarettes Ventura used to grab for him from the hotel. This no longer belonged to the category of tobacco; it was closer to a high-end spiritual concoction. "Ooooh..." Beside him, Neo let out a long, blissful groan. Neo had always been searching for spiritual concoctions of this caliber, but the vast majority of low-to-mid-grade ones could no longer provide the stimulation he needed. "The strength of your souls commands my admiration." Dalis used his lighter to ignite the cigarette before him, placed it on the table, waved his hand gently to fan the rising smoke toward himself, took a faint wisp of an inhale, exhaled softly, and set the cigarette aside. Seeing this, Karen and Neo exchanged a glance. How embarrassing. Dalis smiled. "Since it's fashioned in the shape of a cigarette, it can certainly be smoked directly, but it demands an exceptionally high soul fortitude from the user. I cannot bear direct inhalation. If you two enjoy them, I have another opened carton with ten packs left back home. I'll give them to you later; smoking them the way I do is simply a waste." Neo said, "That would be too much trouble. Mr. Dalis, you can just have them couriered to our headquarters building, addressed to the Disciplinary Inspection Office." "No need to make it so complicated. I received the notice to assist in an investigation sent by your office. After we finish this meal, I'll head home to fetch a few things, and when I accompany you back to headquarters, I'll hand over the gift." Neo smiled. "Since it's merely assisting in an investigation, the location isn't strictly confined. Returning to headquarters is just for convenience. If we achieve the desired investigative results here, it makes no difference where we are." "Is that so? Thank you." Dalis laced his fingers on the table. "Then let us begin. Please rest assured, our conversation here is entirely secure and will not be wiretapped. Besides, I am the subject of the investigation, and you are the investigators. There is nothing in our conversation that needs to fear being overheard, is there?" "Alright, let's get started then. The food isn't here yet anyway." Neo glanced at Karen, who produced a notebook and a fountain pen. "I will cooperate to the best of my ability." "Very well, Mr. Dalis. First, we..." Neo hesitated, then leaned forward across the table, bringing his face as close to Dalis as possible, and asked, "Mr. Dalis, how about we just get straight to the point?" "Of course. As a diplomatic priest, I have long grown weary of meaningless, repetitive diplomatic pleasantries." "We need your help to bring down your father, Bishop Dolph. We want Bishop Dolph to enter prison, face trial, and ideally, receive the ultimate penalty." "If my father is truly guilty, I believe assisting your investigation is my bounden duty. After all, while he may be my father, I am first and foremost a devout believer of Order." "Good. Then what is your view regarding Vicolai and your brother Trisen?" "Vicolai has already stood trial. I have full faith in the majesty and sanctity of the Whip of Order's tribunal. As for my brother Trisen, is he not currently under investigation? I trust the forthcoming findings and judgment." Neo nodded, signaling that things looked promising. Karen wrote in his notebook: Excessively composed, like an outsider looking in. Does not appear to be seeking vengeance over his wife; looks more like he has another source of backing. Neo casually glanced at Karen's notes, as if checking Karen's record-keeping before proceeding with the questioning. "Mr. Dalis, do you hold any criminal evidence against your father? As a member of the family, I imagine you must possess leads that outside investigators like us would find very difficult to obtain." Dalis shook his head. "My father's temperament has always been domineering and arrogant, and his methods have always been self-serving, but he has largely operated within the scope of an ordinary bishop's authority. As for the kind of criminal evidence you seek... there is very little that links directly to him. You could even say there is practically none. Because he merely needs to sit there; he almost never has to do anything himself." "Not a single piece?" "Vicolai's deeds, Trisen's deeds, and the deeds of those who attach themselves to our family—my father likely knew of more than half of them. But criminal liability cannot be pinned on him. At most, it terminates with his sons and subordinates. Therefore, trying to convict my father from that angle will be extraordinarily difficult." Neo changed his angle of questioning. "Can you offer us any insight or ideas, then?" "I wouldn't call it insight; in truth, it is what you would have ended up doing next anyway. My suggestion is to skip the intermediate steps. Since it is truly difficult to tie my father to the misdeeds of his subordinates and family, why not directly frame major charges onto his head? For example, suspected collusion with other churches, selling out our Church's interests—heresy and apostasy, among the gravest crimes possible. From there, you can connect the crimes of those around him directly to him. Working top-down is always simpler than building bottom-up." Neo shook his head. "We would still prefer to secure concrete evidence." "Sometimes evidence is necessary; sometimes it isn't. I know that the Regional Administrative Office and your Whip of Order have joined hands to sacrifice the Norton family. The Norton name, and my father's reputation, are currently at rock bottom. No one above will step in to fish him out at a time like this. At such a juncture, political maneuvers yield far better results than procedural justice. Purely from the perspective of his son, I feel my father has failed his office and failed his faith. Being brought down is only what he deserves." Neo caught the underlying implication and pressed, "What are you getting at?" Dalis nodded. "I am willing to act as a tainted witness to report my father for secret collusion with the Thunder God Church and intention to apostatize." As soon as he said this, Dalis drew out a document, laid it on the table, and slid it toward Neo and Karen. "Here are the records of interest exchanges I conducted on behalf of the Norton family with relevant figures from the Thunder God Church. Some involved covert cooperation; others were tacit understandings out in the open. How should I put it? There are instances of exploiting official convenience to rake in profits for the family, but more than half are unspoken industry rules. However, these unspoken rules cannot bear the light of day. In truth, bringing down my father right now only requires a suitable pretext. I will provide that pretext, and I will be that witness. Furthermore, the Church will likely not want to strain relations with the Thunder God Church over this, so the trial will probably be held in secret. That way, everything can be processed very quickly—at the very least, there won't be another spectacle where Captain Karen has to summon a sacred artifact to testify. What do you think of my proposal?" "I think it's excellent," Neo said with a nod. "Far better than the best-case scenario I had envisioned." Karen wrote in his notebook: His true objective is not to avenge himself against his father, but to destroy his own family. Neo scanned the note and continued, "If we proceed this way, we will need you to go through the formalities so we can take over the case as soon as possible. Does that work for you?" Dalis nodded. "We must be swift, because my father is likely attempting to contact a great existence with historical ties to our Norton ancestors." "I've heard both Trisen and Vicolai mention that. They claimed a Temple Elder stands behind the Norton family." "They were boasting. While that Temple Elder does exist, and reportedly even put in a word when my father competed for the bishop's seat, in truth, that figure merely shared a past acquaintance with our ancestors—probably my great-great-grandfather. Nothing more. I do not believe that if my father manages to contact him, he will speak up for this matter again. Even in the worst-case scenario for you two, it hardly matters, because the person stepping forward to report my father is me. From the perspective of that great existence, even if everyone in the Norton family who deserves arrest is arrested and everyone who deserves sentencing is sentenced, I, as the informant and tainted witness, will at least be spared—and perhaps even credited with merit. As long as the Norton family line isn't completely severed and wiped out, that great existence will likely turn a blind eye." Karen pressed his lips together and stopped writing. He believed Neo could also sense how terrifying this Dalis Norton seated before them truly was. To still believe he was doing this purely to avenge his wife would be an insult to their intelligence. He had even factored in the response of the family's ultimate trump card. He truly wanted a complete purge of the entire family. Footsteps sounded outside the private room. The waiter began serving the courses. Once all the dishes were laid out, Dalis picked up the red wine bottle and asked, "A glass? To toast our upcoming success in advance?" Neo nodded with a smile. "Why not?" The three raised their glasses, clinked them lightly, and drank in one gulp. Pouring more wine, Dalis said, "If you gentlemen have any further questions, please, do not hesitate to ask." Neo shook his head. "Nothing more. We just want to focus on the work at hand. Of course, if we become friends in the future, we can chat much more casually." "Certainly. You're welcome anytime." They began to eat. Karen and Neo merely picked at their food, while Dalis ate quickly and intently. Soon, he finished, picked up a napkin to dab his mouth, and said apologetically, "Pardon me. It's been too long since I tasted food from home, and I couldn't help myself. I originally meant to finish eating before you arrived, haha." "Serving as a diplomatic priest stationed abroad year-round must be arduous," Karen said. "Not particularly. Within the Church, there are far too many people contributing under much harsher conditions; my burden is nothing. Oh, right, there is one more matter." "Please, go ahead." Neo shifted in his seat. "If you wish to bring down my father with greater certainty, it would be best not to seek the ultimate penalty when filing charges. I am not pleading on my father's behalf; rather, I want to avoid accidents and refrain from jarring the sensitive nerves of other factions within the Church. To facilitate better cooperation between the Whip of Order and the Regional Administrative Office, I recommend making the primary demand the stripping of all his posts coupled with house arrest for reflection. Such an outcome is acceptable to all parties and can be executed much more smoothly. Naturally, I understand that from your perspective, you would love nothing more than to see my father sentenced to death, preferably with total obliteration. It is only natural for you to hope for that, but I suspect your superiors might not see it the same way." "Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Dalis," Karen said. "You're welcome. It's what I ought to do. In truth, I rather wish my father could die—really. But unlike other bishops who might write a suicide note to preserve their final shred of dignity when faced with such humiliation, my father is not the type to take his own life. Out of sheer spite, he will do everything he can to stay alive and healthy. Therefore, there is no need to hope that he will pen a suicide note declaring his intent to end his life after being convicted, stripped of office, and confined. Such a convenient outcome simply will not happen." At this, Dalis raised his glass once more. "Once we finish this drink, we will all have our hands full. I hope this ends quickly; I'd like to read a book in peace." Karen and Neo raised their glasses as well, and they downed the final drink together. Dalis put on his coat and said, "You two may wait for me here. I'll return home to retrieve a few things and come right back. It might take a little time; I'd like to bid farewell to my family as well." "Take your time, Mr. Dalis." "Thank you for understanding." Dalis walked out of the room. Soon after, a waiter brought in a fruit platter and beverages, presumably ordered by Dalis when settling the bill. Neo waved a hand, erecting a simple barrier. "It turns out the clearest head in the entire Norton family belongs to a man wearing a green hat." In the Wien linguistic sphere, wearing a "green hat" carried the same meaning of being a cuckold as Karen was familiar with, though its origin differed. The term traced back to an old tale of the Wien royal family: to satisfy her desires, the queen frequently summoned male attendants into her bedchamber to serve her. Because the crown had been inherited by the queen, her earl husband held little status and was forced to compromise in such matters. To avoid embarrassment and practice mutual "tolerance," the queen's handmaid would signal the arrangement using hat colors during the couple's morning breakfast. Wearing a green hat meant an outside gentleman would be visiting that day, prompting the earl to politely excuse himself after breakfast to vacate the "workspace." Once this story spread, "green hat" took on its unique connotation. Karen took a sip of iced water and said, "I'm even beginning to suspect that his father had his own bitter reasons for doing what he did to his wife." Neo looked at Karen with disbelief. "Oh, heavens. Do you have any idea how twisted and perverse that sounded?" "Have you read the files? The ones his superior sent to our headquarters. Unlike Trisen's case, which is a massive pile of filth, his record appears almost too clean. Just like the evidence he handed us—the vast majority of it consists of standard unwritten-perk kickbacks, no different from the tea money we used to pocket from clients during security assignments." Neo pulled out another cigarette to light, remarking, "In an abnormal family, does being too normal make someone abnormal instead?" Karen replied, "Sometimes, the one who appears the most normal might actually be the most unhinged." "Then we'll just keep waiting here. Barring any surprises, this should wrap up quickly. By the way, Trisen will likely be sentenced to obliteration. Leave him for me to practice on; don't go grinding him into dust for fun again." "A pity. Can we really not put Dolph to death?" "You're worried that leaving him alive will cause trouble down the road? There's nothing we can do about that for now. Let's bring him down first, just like with Vicolai. In a few years, once the dust settles, we'll find a way to finish him off. As long as we keep rising through the ranks, we don't need to worry about those glaring at us with hatred in the shadows. People like that only dare to jump out and take a bite when you're down on your luck; otherwise, they're more cowardly than anyone. Alright, alright, want another one? Stop worrying about it. His own son said it himself: Dolph would never write a suicide note to preserve his dignity." *** "Tired?" "No." "Honestly, you should have listened to me and rested over there. I could have handled this alone." Philomena looked at Richard and said, "You have no right to order me around." Richard shrugged. He had long grown used to her way of speaking. Still, without her help, disposing of these corpses by himself would have kept him busy until dawn. With everything finished, Richard stretched his back and said, "The night market isn't far from here. Want to grab a late-night snack?" Philomena stopped in her tracks. Richard continued, "I'm starving. I really want some food." Philomena still didn't respond. Huh? What's wrong? Richard stepped forward and saw that Philomena was staring intently at a corner by the roadside ahead. An old woman stood there, leaning on a cane, clad in a brown robe, looking right back at them. "Who is she?" Richard asked. "My grandmother." "Your grandmother? Oh, she's the..." Just then, Richard sensed a gust of wind at his side and immediately continued, "...she's the beloved, kindest grandmother you're always talking about?" "Young man, I hardly believe my granddaughter speaks kindly of me out there. Do not attempt to drive a wedge between grandmother and granddaughter." "How could I, Grandmother?" Richard scratched his head, putting on a harmless, innocent expression as he turned toward Madame Felscher. Madame Felscher took a breath. Her peripheral vision caught the crest on Richard's palm, and she asked, "The good-for-nothing little snack from the Guman family?" Richard immediately chimed in, "Yes, that's me! Hello, Grandmother. I've always wanted to pay you a visit, but never found the chance, hehe." "Your grandmother certainly wouldn't want you visiting my home." "Doesn't matter. I can come sneak over without telling her." Hearing this, Madame Felscher chuckled aloud. "Your grandmother is such a fiercely proud woman, yet she hasn't dropped dead of fury with a grandson like you? Heh." "My grandmother's temper has mellowed a lot lately; she's learned to let things go," Richard replied. Nowadays, his grandmother looked at Karen like her own flesh-and-blood grandson. The last time she bought a clerical robe, she had even bought it in Karen's measurements instead of his. Still, that was fine. Richard figured that since he couldn't make his grandmother proud, letting her derive pride and satisfaction through Karen was just as good. Philomena spoke up. "Grandmother, what did you come out for?" Madame Felscher looked at her granddaughter, puzzled. "Am I forbidden from stepping outside?" Philomena shook her head. Richard chimed in at once. "Of course not! Elderly folks should go out for walks, breathe some fresh air—it's great for health and longevity. Grandmother, you should take walks more often." "Shameless creature. Who are you calling Grandmother?" "Don't you and my grandmother get along well? It just felt natural to say it—sounds closer that way." "Heh. My relationship with your grandmother was never good. It's just that so few of us old folks survived that those left to talk to grew scarce. In the past, the relationship between your grandmother and me was dreadful." "That was all in the previous generation. There's nothing that can't be put behind us, right?" "Your grandfather wasn't nearly as smooth-tongued back then. All he knew was rolling up his trousers to catch loaches for a barbecue. If he had possessed a tongue like yours, he would have saved himself a lot of trouble." "Hey, my grandfather was genuinely wise. Playing the clumsy, quiet type earns impressions too, doesn't it?" "I suppose that's possible. At least he managed to coax your grandmother into his arms. To this day, I still can't fathom why she settled for him. Having seen a great dragon soaring across the heavens, how could anyone resign herself to choosing a frog on the ground?" Richard replied, "Probably because my grandmother understood what truly suited her—and that the dragon would never belong to her." At those words, Madame Felscher's gaze turned chillingly cold. Richard's feet left the ground; he was completely immobilized in midair. Those exact words had once been spoken to her by Madame Tangli. Now, her grandson was repeating them to her face. This pair of grandmother and grandson truly possessed an uncanny knack for mocking her! "Boy, I wouldn't mind twisting off your head and having it delivered to your grandmother in a fruit basket." Philomena stepped in front of Richard, meeting her grandmother's gaze. "You didn't come out tonight just to see me." "Of course not. I came out to meet a young friend, and dropped by to see you on the way. Well, I should be off. You haven't been home in a while; when you finish your business, come back and visit. Feed your father." With that, Madame Felscher vanished from where she stood. Richard's restraint shattered, and he landed on his feet. "Your grandmother has a terrible temper," Richard muttered. "Um... let's go get that late-night snack." "Wait." "What is it? Something else?" "I wasn't the one who told my grandmother you were a good-for-nothing." "Oh, haha... right." *** "You've grown up. You're no longer that little Dalis who knelt before me." Dalis walked up to Madame Felscher and fell to his knees. "You don't appear to have aged at all." "Spare me the insincere flattery. I have no taste for it." "Understood." "The Norton family is about to fall, isn't it?" "No, it is about to collapse entirely." "You truly are a fine child of the Nortons," Madame Felscher remarked as she strolled forward. Dalis rose and followed her. "I don't know what possessed me back then to help you. Perhaps it was because your grandfather made me so uncomfortable, heh." "I imagine it was simply fated." "Perhaps. Fate. Sometimes, living a little selfishly isn't wrong, is it?" "Indeed. Not wrong at all." "Even if, because of you, the talents and fortune of your kin were drained, turning the Norton family into an anomaly across the entire district—a pack of rabid dogs—it was still worth it, wasn't it?" "Yes. As long as it benefits me, it is worth it." "Mm. Now I remember why I stopped before you all those years ago, why I spoke to you, why I asked if you wanted to do this. Because even though you were just a child, beneath that gentle gaze of yours, I saw an overwhelming, profound selfishness." Hearing this, a smile touched Dalis's lips. "I believe nothing in this world can escape your eyes." "Now, only the finale remains. The flower that is the Norton family is about to wither, and from it, a brand-new you will be born." "All of this is thanks to your benevolence." "Go thank your family instead. They contributed so much for your sake, even if they likely had no idea. No—your father must have sensed something, didn't he?" "Yes, he did. He told me that ever since I turned eight, whenever he spent too much time with me, he felt an uncontrollable irritation. He even said he wanted to kill me. But with your wisdom and secret arts, how could he ever truly discover the truth? He couldn't." "He didn't spare you because he failed to notice or couldn't do it, but because, as a father, he couldn't bring himself to strike you down. Your grandfather was scum, and your father is scum as well. But they shared one trait: when it came to their own family, their conduct was beyond reproach. For a scoundrel to avenge himself against you by merely sleeping with your wife and having her bear his child, yet still refusing to take your life—that truly is a father's love, steadfast as a mountain." "Perhaps." "Have you ever regretted it? Even for the briefest instant?" Dalis shook his head with a light chuckle. "It's all merely a dream. Why bother caring?" "Good. Excellent. The most crucial part of this path is remaining unwavering to the very end. One day, dream and reality will invert: the you in the dream will awaken, and the you in reality will return. Dalis, I am very pleased with you. You are my finest successor." "Everything I have is a gift from you. I thank you from the bottom of my heart." "Don't thank me. I merely used you as an experiment. Witnessing your success is the greatest validation I could ask for." Madame Felscher produced a scroll and a black stone. "This is the final scroll of the secret art. This stone will help you better distinguish dream from reality during the finale." "Yes. I will succeed." "I believe you will." "I also hope that you will succeed." "Naturally. Even now, I believe the curse hanging over my family was placed there by him specifically to help me. Heh, he was always like that. Even when he liked something, he refused to say it aloud. But I could feel it: he still cared for me, he still indulged me, he loved me." Dalis said nothing. When a woman was reminiscing about a love she had never obtained in the past, it was best not to shatter her reverie. She did not need anyone to tell her it was an illusion; deep down, she knew full well. Yet Madame Felscher asked, "Aren't you curious who 'he' is?" "Madame, is that something I am permitted to ask?" "You may ask, but I won't tell you. In fact, he had ties to your family as well." "Ties to my family?" "Do you remember where I first met you?" "At a very unusual funeral in my memory." "Mm. I originally intended to go see him." "Was it his funeral?" "Hahahahaha... hahahaha..." Madame Felscher burst into wild laughter, doubling over at the waist. Dalis stood by, feeling somewhat at a loss before this terrifying old woman. Finally, Madame Felscher subsided. She drew a deep breath and gazed toward the dark sky in the distance. "Don't tell jokes. No one could attend his funeral, because no one could kill him. He was a great dragon soaring through the sky. Once you've seen his true form, looking at anyone else makes you feel they've lost all color." "He was a great man." "Alright, you can shut up now. I don't particularly enjoy sharing thoughts of him with others. How I wish he belonged only to me forever." You were the one who invited me to ask; I was merely playing along. Even so, Dalis could only offer an apologetic tone. "Forgive me. I spoke out of turn." "Go prepare for the finale. I await your results; do not disappoint me. Though you will lose your family, you will gain a far more powerful self. Sometimes, family carries no meaning—in fact, it can be a burden. When you become powerful enough on your own... you alone are an entire family!" "Yes, I understand." Dalis bowed to Madame Felscher, then turned and walked toward home. Madame Felscher stood in place for a long time. She dearly wanted to gaze upon the moon tonight, but the foul weather kept it concealed behind dark clouds. "Sigh... On the rare occasion I find an excuse to step out, they won't even let me see the moon. What a bully..." *** A middle-aged man sat by the beach, busily tending to a barbecue grill. His movements were rusty, yet his attitude was meticulous and earnest. Beside him stood a woman in a dignified, luxurious black gown. If Purr were here, she would have recognized her instantly—Xiti. Whenever Purr spoke of her, she always tacked on a pirate-style moniker: "Faceless Xiti." Meaning: that woman is utterly shameless! Over a century ago, she had clashed with Purr, causing Purr to suffer no small grievance. More than a century later, to vent Purr's anger, Diss had personally strung Xiti up on the cross atop a church cathedral before the very eyes of numerous Church of Order priests hunting him down, leaving her to sway in the wind for quite some time. When a woman suffered outside, turning to the man of her household to vent her grievances was only natural. Back during the cat-and-mouse chase between Purr and Xiti, Xiti had called in people from the Church of Order to corner Purr; otherwise, Purr might never have been caught. Thus, Purr felt completely justified in having someone stand up for her! After all, Xiti had been the first to break the rules and call for help, and the backup Purr called had been Diss, the junior she had watched grow up. In short, whenever Purr spoke of her to Karen, Xiti was always painted as utterly shameless! "I'm sorry, Xiti. My grilling technique has degraded far too much. Once upon a time, I was quite confident in my culinary skills." "Don't say that, Rohan. The aroma of your barbecue has already caught the attention of a hound's nose. It even drooled its way here." The middle-aged man, Rohan, turned around to look behind them. Foden's figure stood there. "Our Whip-Wielder truly has refined tastes. What, did you travel all this way just to mooch a skewer?" Foden bowed respectfully to Rohan, then to Xiti. Although he was the exalted Whip-Wielder, the status of these two within the Church could no longer be measured by simple bureaucratic titles. "Greetings, Elder Rohan. Greetings, Elder Xiti." Xiti had no fond impressions of Foden. She turned her profile away, ignoring him entirely; she certainly possessed the standing to give the Whip-Wielder the cold shoulder. Foden retrieved an official notice and said, "I originally planned to have someone deliver this to the Temple, but learning that the two Elders had departed, I had no choice but to come in person to deliver the dispatch." Xiti sneered, "It seems our whereabouts truly cannot escape your notice, Lord Whip-Wielder." "Safeguarding the Elders' security is the duty of the Whip of Order. I shall leave the dispatch here; please review it when you find time." Foden placed the document onto a small pile of luggage. He also noticed a silver mask resting on top of the pile. The silver mask was radiating distinct fluctuations of an active formation, as if someone were summoning it. "I will not disturb the two Elders' leisure further. I take my leave." Rohan raised a skewer of squid and flicked it backward. Foden caught it cleanly. "Since you're here, have a skewer." "My thanks, Elder." Chewing the squid, Foden dissolved into thin air. Xiti looked out over the azure sea and chuckled coldly. "I never imagined the day would come when, stepping out of the Temple to catch some fresh air, a hound would follow right behind us. Rohan, it seems the times truly have changed. But blame Rasma—stepping down so abruptly and so completely, leaving us no time to prepare or position ourselves. Sigh... that High Priest truly wants to pen the Temple up like a pigsty." Rohan smiled. "Do you really think Rasma stepping down so quickly was an accident? Why should he give us time to prepare? I, for one, think he did it deliberately." "Was the matter on Mink Street deliberate as well?" "Without Mink Street, Rasma would have found some other street to catch us all off guard and execute a swift transition of power. Everyone says Rasma was a traditionalist, but I never believed it. A boy raised by a prostitute is bound to have rebellion deep in his bones." "So he intentionally hid on Mink Street?" "The most convincing lie is one woven from partial truths. The most credible accident is an intentional design brushing against coincidences. But analyzing this carries little meaning now; we cannot go to Mink Street to demand answers from Rasma. By shielding all probing there, he is telling us not to bother him. Heh, unimaginable, isn't it? A High Priest who dared not even sit before you has turned out to be so resolute. Oh, right—everything on Mink Street cannot be penetrated even slightly by the collective divination of the Church's finest diviners. Though that man has fallen asleep, the blanket he pulled over himself is rather enormous." Xiti said, "He stated that he wished for his family to live in peace." "Then indulge him. His demand is not unreasonable. At most, it will only last several decades, which isn't very long for us. I never hold grudges against people with temperaments, provided they possess the capability to make me tolerate them. Evidently, our 'Elder Diss' possesses just that, hahaha." "It truly is a pity he never entered the Temple." "Don't you hate him, Xiti? I thought you would despise him to the bone." "Being humiliated by someone capable of condensing three godhead fragments is simply taking the humiliation. What use is hatred? My fists couldn't match his, and I didn't dare tear away all decorum, so I could only endure it." "Sigh, your temper truly has mellowed compared to the past." "And yours?" "Me? I never had much of a temper to begin with." Rohan reached out, and the silver mask on the luggage hovered up, drifting before him. "It's summoning you. No, someone is summoning you through another mask. Yet I recall you had no descendants and left no legacy outside." "Indeed. But I had friends. There were three such masks in total, belonging to three life-and-death companions who explored, traveled, and undertook missions together in our youth. All exceptional individuals. Strange, isn't it? Though I have resided in the Temple for so many years—far longer than my years outside it—the clearest memories in my mind remain those from before I entered. The days spent with my companions feel like yesterday. Sigh." "Only you entered the Temple, right?" "Mm. One perished in an accident in his middle age. The other, 'Norton,' had a strong chance of condensing a godhead fragment after me. It was not easy for him—truly, not easy at all. To successfully condense a godhead fragment, he tried every possible method to prolong his lifespan, chasing that sliver of possibility. Having already entered the Temple, I used my connections to assist him greatly. He was fortunate, for before his lifespan completely dried up, he finally glimpsed the dawn of condensing a godhead fragment. Had he succeeded and been ushered through the Gates of the Temple, he would have received an immense extension of life; all his past sacrifices and endurance would have borne fruit. Yet he was unfortunate: on the eve of the dawn, an accident befell him." Xiti asked, "He failed to condense it?" "It was an accident." A trace of reminiscing and helplessness surfaced in Rohan's eyes. "To this day, I haven't uncovered the cause of that accident. In short, he died." "Did he fail?" "I don't know. But I remember that when his accident occurred, the Gates of the Temple seemed to tremble, as though preparing to receive someone." "You suspect he actually succeeded?" "I cannot be certain. Either he failed, or he succeeded. But he died. I only saw his corpse; I never saw a godhead fragment. If he succeeded and was still killed... heh, who could have slain him, and done so almost without a sound? I can only presume he ultimately failed. Otherwise, I would have to accept another reality: that he was murdered right after condensing it, and his godhead fragment was stolen. Not only could I not accept such a truth, but neither could you, nor the Temple." "Indeed. That would be too horrifying." "There were three silver masks in total. Back then, the three of us had one each. The one who perished in middle age had no descendants either, so I took his mask back." "Then is it the descendant of the one who failed, summoning you through the mask left by their ancestor?" "Actually, no. The mask they are using to summon me was the one belonging to the friend who died in middle age—the one I gave them. As for their ancestor's mask... I never found it." "Never found it..." "Perhaps he concealed it somewhere, and departed too suddenly to tell his descendants. I can only assume that." "Yes, that is all one can assume." "Do you want to read that official notice? I can read it for you. Anything brought in person by that hound must represent his master's intent." "I don't even need to read it to know what it says. Did you watch the broadcast of the trial the other day?" "I had just finished my duty shift when I came out to relax with you. Do you think I watched it?" "I watched it, heh. Seeing that surname, I tuned in. Norton—the surname of my old friend." "I heard a bit about it. Seemed rather interesting." "Yes. When he competed for the bishop's seat, I sent word down. As descendants of a former friend, they deserved some care." "And this time?" "Our High Priest sent that hound to warn me not to meddle in this matter again." "What is your own intention?" "Things have deteriorated to this point; why would I reach out? A bunch of disgraceful wretches whom I can't even associate with their ancestor—it only infuriates me further. Besides, that High Priest has been deliberately provoking the Temple, waiting for a reaction from us relics. Rather than reforming the lower ranks, he would prefer to cut into the top. Yet unlike Rasma, he is no push-over. We could bully a boy raised by a prostitute, but we cannot bully him—nor do we dare!" "Is he truly... Lord Tyrannus's successor?" Tyrannus, founder of the Church of Order, had personally penned Light of Order and built the system that endured to this day. If any branch god held an absolute, transcendent status within the Church of Order, it was Lord Tyrannus. To deny him was to deny the Church of Order itself. Successors were not rare within the Church, and plenty existed in this generation, but a successor of Lord Tyrannus was an entirely different matter. "Nobody knows. Divinations yield no result, deductions lead to dead ends, and divine oracles are ambiguous. Even the higher-ranking Elders, Protectors, Maintainers, and Guardians cannot provide a definitive answer. He might be, or he might not. But who can—who dares—tear away all pretenses with him? If he truly is, the consequence of a fallout is that everyone in the Temple of Order, high and low, would have to kneel at his feet and reaffirm their loyalty to the Church of Order! Hahaha, hehehe. Never mind. Why not just treat him as one? Isn't that better?" Rohan reached out and pressed down on the silver mask. A layer of frost instantly sealed it, severing all summons. "I shall obey our High Priest's will and refrain from contradicting him. My friend's descendants have rotted beyond recognition; my old friend wouldn't blame me for holding back. In fact, he would be the first to advise me not to spare another glance at that filth—too dirty, too humiliating." "You are still troubled inside, or you wouldn't have come out specifically to fish and barbecue." "Because this was the activity the three of us loved most. After completing an arduous mission, the three of us would fish, catch game, grill it, and share a bit of wine—not too much. Fatigue, fear—all of it vanished." "And now? Can you still find that feeling?" "Not at all. Not a single trace. That is why I finally understand why so many mighty deities in the records pursued forbidden research on time. The longer one lives, the more one longs to return to the past." *** "Master." The old butler led three maidservants into the room. "Mm," Dolph grunted. The butler understood and quietly withdrew from the basement. The three maidservants stood respectfully before Dolph. Dolph raised his hand, and three plumes of black mist instantly engulfed them. They instinctively thrashed and screamed, but neither their bodies nor their cries could pierce the shroud of mist. Watching their struggle, Dolph's anxious and uneasy heart finally found a measure of release and solace. Eventually, the mist dispersed, leaving three corpses behind. Immediately after, three sparkling beads were drawn into Dolph's hand. He popped them into his mouth one by one like candy drops. No chewing required; they melted upon entering his mouth. Though they were ordinary mortals and devouring them brought no substantial enhancement, the process itself provided him comfort. Children merely mimic their elders. Vicolai's aptitude had been abysmal—so terrible that Dolph found it unfathomable. To pave the way for him, Dolph had personally taught Vicolai to infuse himself using this method. Alas, his grandson... heh, his son, had ultimately met such an end. However, it was no longer time to fret over him. What he needed to consider now was preserving his family. Therefore, O Great One, please answer my call. With a wave of his hand, Dolph banished the three corpses outside. He adjusted his attire. Having replenished his soul, his complexion looked slightly rosier and more composed. Like bathing and changing robes, Dolph wished to present himself in his finest state before that great being. Once satisfied with his appearance, Dolph knelt and began chanting. The mask floating before him began to circle around him. "O Great One, hear the plea from the Norton family..." "O Great One, save the Norton family from our distress..." "O Great One, grant me and the Norton family one more chance..." *** Inside the restaurant's private dining room, Karen, who was sipping iced water and chatting with Neo, suddenly felt the silver ring on his finger turn burning hot. This had never happened before. "What's wrong?" Neo asked with a trembling sigh, having just taken a drag of the cigarette. "The ring is hot." "The mask ring?" Neo let out a long breath, finally recovering his composure. "The mask my grandfather left me merged into this ring." "Oh, no, your phrasing is off. You should say the silver mask your grandfather left you conquered this ring." "Either way." "How could it be either way? Wearing the mask your grandfather left lets you impersonate a Temple Elder outright. The mask Lemar crafted was exquisite, but nowhere near that level." "Can we discuss something useful?" "Right. Why is it hot?" Neo leaned close to Karen's ring and sniffed. "I detect formation energy, but it's faint. I might be mistaken." With a thought from Karen, the silver mask manifested and floated in the air. Neo immediately said, "Now it's obvious! Communication formation energy—an exceptionally advanced communication formation, brilliantly designed." "Which means someone is summoning me?" "Yeah, looks like it." "Who could it be?" "Maybe it's your grandfather? Perhaps he woke up?" "If my grandfather woke up, would you like to take his place lying there?" "If it carried the same deterrent effect, I really wouldn't mind sleeping in his place. I'd feel accomplished even in my dreams." "It can't be my grandfather." "You're that sure?" "Because Uncle Mason has the phone number to my funeral parlor." "Oh, right. Advancements in technology truly are great; making a phone call is much easier than laying down a communication formation. But who could be summoning you right now? Well? Are you going to answer?" "I'll know once I answer." Karen pressed his lips together. He was a little nervous. Compared to the vast collection of books Mr. Hoffen had left him, the items his grandfather had bestowed were few, but every single one was shrouded in mystery. To Diss, it might have been a trifling little trinket, but to the current Karen, it was like a toddler playing with a live grenade. "Go on, answer it. What are you afraid of? You'll be wearing the mask anyway," Neo urged. Faced with something so amusing and thrilling, Neo could never choose the boring path. Karen took a deep breath and nodded. He hadn't been hesitating over whether to answer, but merely steadying his emotions, because answer it he must. "Or I could answer it for you?" Neo suggested. "If you're feeling nervous." "Aren't you worried about what might happen if you put this mask on?" "Nonsense! Of course I am! Can't you tell I was being sarcastic? My surname isn't Inmerles! I meant hurry up and answer it!" "Quiet." Neo zipped his mouth shut, though his eyes continued to urge Karen on. Karen took hold of the silver mask, took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and gradually fitted it onto his face. The next instant— Karen felt his consciousness pulled into a profound vortex. As his awareness plunged deeper, the vortex rapidly contracted. Finally, his field of vision grew dim, as though his mind had been drawn into a brand-new, unfamiliar environment. Soon, he saw an old man kneeling in fervent prayer before him. When the old man lifted his head, Karen recognized him—Bishop Dolph Norton! What is going on? Bishop Dolph had prayed and summoned, and the one answering his call was... him? Karen suddenly remembered: Vicolai and Trisen had claimed their family had ties to a great existence, and Dalis had mentioned that his father was attempting to summon a Temple Elder with ties to their ancestors. So... why wasn't that Temple Elder summoned? Why was it me? What kind of secret does this silver mask left by Grandfather hold? No, now is not the time to ponder that. Deal with the present first! Which means... Bishop Dolph is currently... begging me for help? Heh. Haha. What a damn absurd world. *** Dolph looked up and saw a massive crimson orb manifest at the center of the formation, etched with shimmering golden veins. Yes! It was identical to the response he had received when competing for the bishop's seat years ago—the same aura, the same nobility, the same inviolable sanctity! A Temple Elder, a great being, had finally answered his call! Dolph wept tears of joy. Genuine tears streamed down his cheeks as he spoke with heartfelt sincerity: "Thank you for answering my call! Thank you for not abandoning the Norton family! Thank you for your benevolence and mercy, thank you for your grace! The Norton family is saved! Please, I beg of you, save the Norton family! Please save the Norton family!" Just then, a frigid voice echoed from within the gilded crimson orb: "You have disappointed me greatly." "Yes, yes! We are unworthy, we are disgraceful, we are useless and foolish! Please, give us one more chance—give the Norton family one more chance! They intend to tear the Norton family to shreds, ensuring we can never rise again! I beg of you, grant the Norton family another chance, I implore you!" Dolph knew full well that since this great existence had answered his summon, it meant he would intervene. The voice within the gilded orb spoke once more: "One final time." "Yes, yes, yes! The final time, the very last time! Please believe me, after this lesson, the Norton family will rectify itself completely. We will never trouble you again, never bring shame to your name, and never disappoint you again—I swear it!" "I will maneuver this from above..." "And what of me? What do you need me to do? As long as it preserves the family, I will do anything! No, your will is my mission, which I shall fulfill at any cost!" "You must escalate this matter further so that I may maneuver from above. It can no longer remain a squabble between the Whip of Order and the Regional Administrative Office; it must be framed as a conflict between the High Priest and the other factions. This is the sole method to preserve the Norton family." "What must I do? Please instruct me! I will carry it out to the death!" As long as the family could be preserved, Dolph would not hesitate even if it meant stepping into the political maelstrom surrounding the High Priest. At this point, the Norton family had nothing left to lose. He knew his second son had been right: the Whip of Order would soon strike at him, while the Regional Administrative Office clearly intended to abandon him. After waiting for a time without hearing further instructions, Bishop Dolph cautiously stole a glance upward. Seeing the massive gilded orb still hovering there, his heart settled completely. He lowered his head again, his expression devout and agitated. "Make your suicide note public to the entire Church."