The blazing Fire of Light was like a warm morning sun slowly rising into the sky, illuminating both sides of the slopes.
At the same time, it cast flickering light across Rasma's face.
"What... is this?"
Purr replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world: "This is the Light of Order, meow!"
Rasma lowered his head and looked at the black cat beside him.
The black cat returned his gaze with an expression of utmost sincerity.
Man and cat fell into a brief, heavy silence.
In truth, Rasma had never been an amiable, gentle man. Across the entire clerical world, hardly anyone would genuinely take the former High Priest of the Church of Order for a kindly, good-tempered old grandfather.
The internal political struggles within a single York City Region were already treacherous and perilous beyond measure. How many challenges had a man who climbed step-by-step to that supreme position endured? How many skulls had he trampled beneath his boots?
Under normal circumstances, if a black cat dared speak to him like that, it would have been dead long ago, regardless of its true identity.
Yet Purr still dared to look this former High Priest in the eye and talk cat nonsense with a straight face.
Earlier, Karen had shouted the title of "High Priest" toward the slope, instantly reducing Valoti's heart to dead ashes—because Valoti knew that not a shred of hope remained for him to survive.
Now, Karen had unleashed intense Light energy right in front of the former High Priest, yet Purr felt little panic.
For one simple reason: Diss was not dead yet.
Confidence stemmed from strength. Only when speaking from a foundation of strength could one indulge in the wit, humor, teasing, and cheekiness of social banter.
Rasma nodded and said with profound gravity:
"Yes, it is the Light of Order."
Purr's tail curled into an elegant arch. Pacing before Rasma with light, delicate steps, the cat turned its face toward the valley where the light shone brightest.
"So, Little Rasma, do you still want to take Karen as your student?"
Rasma fell silent.
Not long ago, he had been twirling his quill, declaring himself the true examiner and claiming that no matter what kind of score Karen achieved, he would accept him as a pupil.
Now, silence signaled the exact opposite.
Within Rasma's mind, countless thoughts violently collided—too much confusion, too much absurdity, too many contradictions.
In his original plan, granting Karen the status of his student would allow the boy to receive genuine attention from the church's upper echelons in his future development. Such attention would enable him to break free from his grandfather's influence and become a true Order priest.
Although Vic was currently being suppressed because of his ties to Rasma, once Norton's faction thoroughly consolidated the church's internal power struggles, they would give Vic double compensation out of respect for Rasma. If Karen became his student, the same would certainly hold true.
However, Rasma truly did not dare endorse a young man heavily suspected of being among the Light remnants.
Karen's identity was no longer confined to merely being Diss's grandson. He was no longer just a talented youth who might possess exceptional gifts but needed correction because of his family's ideological influence.
If he, the former High Priest, were to endorse Karen and actively propel a remnant of Light onto the fast track within the Church of Order, then he, Rasma, would very likely go down as a historic sinner of the Church of Order.
Purr stretched out its front paws, dug its rear claws into the ground, arching its back in a long stretch, and yawned. "Still lacking, after all."
Back then, Purr and Old Hoffen had helped Diss perform that beyond-specification Divine Descent ritual. When Karen woke up and they realized something had gone wrong with the ritual, both of them had frantically urged Diss:
*Hurry and kill this evil god!*
Well, in truth, neither Purr nor Old Hoffen had been wrong, because Raniedal had indeed descended. Their assessment was completely accurate.
At the time, they both thought Diss was hesitating. In reality, Diss had only been contemplating how to capture Raniedal so he could eliminate the true threat to his 'new grandson.' He had never once considered killing 'Karen.'
*Since an evil god called me Grandfather, then the prefix to his identity is first and foremost my 'grandson.'*
That was Diss's worldview.
Purr had once been utterly unable to understand Diss's bizarre logic. Even now, after sleeping in the same bed with Karen for more than half a year, the cat still found it incomprehensible.
Yet now, observing Rasma's reaction by comparison, Purr suddenly understood.
Even among geniuses, there were levels. It was no longer a contest of progression speed, comprehension of spells, or combat ability. In the end, what truly mattered was breadth of spirit.
*Little Rasma, what are you hesitating for? What are you afraid of? Why waver?*
*Take him in!*
*Accept Karen as your student, announce it to the whole church, pave the road for his future development—come on, go for it!*
"This world really is marvelous, isn't it, Little Rasma?"
Rasma nodded.
"Do you still think Diss is the church's greatest threat?" Purr raised a paw and pointed downward. "Diss just cursed the God of Order in front of you lot and threw a bit of a tantrum, refusing to go to the Temple of Order. But this boy? He dared to summon the Light right in front of you, the High Priest! Hahaha, meow!"
"How on earth did Diss raise such a grandson?"
"You'll have to ask Diss yourself. Though I imagine you haven't seen him once over the past half year. You probably haven't even dared step through the courtyard gate."
"I went inside."
Rasma's expression returned to normal, no longer clouded with gloom. He was, after all, a man who had weathered monumental storms.
Yet Purr was a chronic spoiler of serious atmospheres, immediately pressing the point:
"With both feet?"
Rasma: "..."
"So by 'entering,' you meant doing the splits across the threshold?"
"I'm starting to suspect the only reason you stay at the Inmeles house is to hide from enemies hunting you down," Rasma remarked. "A cat like you would surely find it hard to survive out in the world."
"You're half right. I do have an enemy out there—your Elder Xiti, who visited here last time."
Rasma realized what had happened and said, "Now I understand why Diss told me to come save you. Last time, simply to vent your frustration, he treated Elder Xiti with such utter disrespect."
"Go ahead and say it openly, meow! He hung that wretched woman on a cross to blow in the wind.
"Her priestly robes were probably torn to shreds, and there's a good chance she flashed quite a bit of skin. Though even if a three-hundred-year-old crone takes good care of herself, there wouldn't be much worth looking at anyway.
"Hehe, Diss even forbade you from wiping everyone's memories of that day! Haha, meow!"
Rasma squatted down, looked at Purr, and said with a solemn, utterly earnest gaze:
"Nothing was exposed."
"Oh, what a pity. The robes of a Temple Elder must be exceptionally well-made. Our little Karen definitely wouldn't like that—it completely ruins the thrill of tearing them."
At this point, Purr looked up at Rasma again. "You actually squatted down just to tell me nothing was exposed?"
Rasma spread his hands. "Because I feel obligated to uphold the image and reputation of our church's Temple Elders."
"You said it would take you two years at the fastest, or three to four at most, to condense a godhead fragment."
"Yes. What of it?"
"Then two years it is. Setting aside comparisons with Diss, you're already far more outstanding than the vast majority of people at the same stage—vastly superior even to those who exhaust every possible cost just before their lifespans end to barely condense one.
"You won't rush, will you?
"You want to steadily condense a godhead fragment of the absolute highest quality. That isn't your destination; you want to make it the brand-new starting point of your life.
"To achieve that, you even gave up the position of High Priest ahead of time. Tsk... Little Rasma, you really are something."
"Sometimes, I don't truly have a choice, because reality sits right before me. You asked me earlier whether I would make a move against Diss once I successfully condense a godhead fragment here." Rasma pointed downward toward the valley. "Now, I have yet another reason to strike."
***
"Light! Light! You're a remnant of Light!"
Valoti's roar echoed through the canyon. In this moment, an unexpected joy surged within his heart, and he suddenly felt that the moonlight tonight had grown bright and lovely once more.
*O great figure standing upon the hillside, did you see that? This is a remnant of Light!*
Compared to Valoti's excitement, Karen appeared far calmer. In truth, he didn't need to expose this; he could have followed Rasma's suggestion, using only Order's purification to endure until help arrived.
Yet humans were emotional creatures. At times, sensibility overwhelmed rationality.
Especially after Diss's phantom had appeared earlier to shatter the influence of the Wolf of Time, Karen's urge to prove himself had grown intensely fierce.
It was like a child eating dinner at home who dropped his spoon on the floor. An adult nearby told him to leave it and offered to pick it up, yet the child stubbornly climbed down from his chair, picked it up himself, climbed back up, and waited with an expectant gaze for a single word of praise from his grandfather:
*Look, what a good boy my grandson is!*
Though doing this showed rather little respect for the former High Priest... what did it matter?
Until the High Priest managed to condense a godhead fragment, he remained nothing more than an ordinary priest in the Mink Street Church.
Karen was exceptionally skilled at reading human psychology, and he could keenly sense that right now... he was getting ahead of himself.
He had drifted high, soaring on sheer momentum.
All of this stemmed from tonight's assassination attempt, which had unexpectedly brought him right back to his doorstep ahead of schedule.
In Karen's original plan, he was going to wait until he was truly strong enough before returning home.
First, he would step into the kitchen to prepare the meal and simmer the soup. Then he would go to the washroom to draw warm water into the bathtub. Finally, he would wake his grandfather, letting him wash up before coming down to eat in the dining room.
Karen had imagined and rehearsed that scene countless times in his heart and dreams.
Yet no matter how meticulous the plan, when an emotional torrent burst forth, it crumbled like paper.
Karen took a step forward. His abundant spiritual reservoir allowed him to unleash the Fire of Light to its utmost extent. Given Valoti's current condition, abandoning close-quarters combat in favor of a clash of spells was truly a losing proposition.
Especially now, when Valoti seemed to think he had seized an opportunity. He did not believe the great figure on the slope would spare his life, but he was convinced that after seeing Karen use the power of Light, the man would no longer lift a finger to save the boy.
Thus, Valoti abandoned the defensive stalemate he could have maintained. At the cost of bathing his own soul in the Fire of Light, he poured his entire accumulated corruption toward Karen in one torrential wave.
Even if he couldn't kill this youth, he would utterly cripple him. That was likely the final shred of pride and persistence left to this exceptional assassin.
Calamity, curses, degeneration—dense negative auras surged toward Karen. They were thoroughly repulsive, yet strangely familiar.
Using his own soul as bait, Valoti forcibly drew the Fire of Light Karen had unleashed around himself, carving out an opening for these corruptions to make close contact with Karen.
Karen halted his steps, looked up at Valoti whose soul was actively dissolving above him, and smiled. His smile carried pity, though not much.
In the next instant, Rasma's figure materialized beside Valoti.
Valoti: "..."
Countless curses, boundless indignation, endless emotions—Valoti wanted to voice them all, yet seemed to have forgotten how to speak.
*Why do you still show up? Why are you still protecting him? Why won't you give me even the slimmest chance?*
*Are you blind? Can't you see the Fire of Light blazing on my soul? It's burning so fiercely, so brightly!*
*You are the former High Priest of the Church of Order!*
Rasma's appearance signaled that this already unfair duel was about to reach an unfair conclusion.
Corruption had a severe impact on a person. Even if it didn't end their life, it would ruin their future.
Rasma could tolerate watching Karen get beaten bloody and battered, unable to rise, but he could not stand by and watch Karen suffer irreversible, lifelong damage. That was not a standard he had set for himself; rather, it was what he believed the old man lying in bed could tolerate.
Yet before Rasma could make a move, Karen dispelled all his defenses. He withdrew every bit of the remaining Fire of Light that could have briefly held back the incoming corruption, focusing all of it onto Valoti's soul to accelerate the assassin's death.
As for Karen himself, he was instantly enveloped—no, thoroughly submerged—in the dense corruption!
Rasma's eyes widened in shock.
In that single moment, his composure completely shattered, and he roared at Karen:
"You absolute animal!"
Rasma even wondered whether the brat had suffered some terrible trauma within the Church of Order, experiencing too much unfair treatment and suppression, and was deliberately using this opportunity to throw away his own life just to drag the Temple of Order down into the grave with him!
Yet before Rasma could draw away the corruption, he suddenly realized that Karen was standing right in the epicenter of the muck as if entirely unbothered, without the slightest hint of pain on his face.
Valoti witnessed this as well, and felt utter contempt wash over him.
In the first half of the night, he had been a dashing assassin, daring single-handedly to launch an assassination against the head bishop of the York City Region.
In the second half, he had become a ridiculous fool, kneaded and deformed like playdough, then casually tossed into a roadside ditch.
He could have accepted the trembling terror of destiny, yet his true end was humiliation, humiliation, and more humiliation!
Within the vortex of corruption, numerous human and beastly faces exerted spiritual pulls on Karen. Yet compared to the agony of the hunger addiction, these effects were far too weak.
His body had been reshaped by Raniedal and had absorbed the godbone of the Goddess of the Dark Moon; his soul had continually resisted the backlash of the laws of Order.
The corruption before him was truly nothing by comparison.
The previously injured Thousand Phantoms flew out in great excitement, devouring the miscellaneous filth in massive gulps. These were its nourishment, and it had no fear of backlash; once full, it could simply scurry back into Karen's body to digest.
Karen slowly raised his arm, reached toward the sky, and opened his palm.
The searing Fire of Light converged into an enormous hand. As Karen clenched his fingers, the massive hand of light snapped shut, and Valoti, trapped at its center, was snuffed out entirely like a mosquito!
Karen lowered his arm. The Fire of Light dissipated, the source of corruption vanished, and the wind died down, leaving only the soft glow of moonlight pouring over the earth.
Gorged to bursting, Thousand Phantoms returned contentedly into Karen's body, its left eye glowing red, its right eye glowing green, its form shimmering in a vibrant riot of colors—the spitting image of a blood leech infected with countless poisons.
This fight had been thoroughly unfair, but Karen found it immensely satisfying. Not only had he fully consolidated his mastery over his new realm, but he had also gathered plenty of extra gains.
If he needed a point of comparison, take Jurist Qihe: back then, Karen had possessed virtually no ability to fight back against him, only managing to deliver an attack like a scratch using the Spear of Punishment because of the unique circumstances at the time.
Now, although Karen was merely an Adjudicator, he could easily crush Qihe to death through close combat, spellcraft, or any number of means.
He carried too many 'attachments' and too many 'faiths' on his person, which made advancing his realm exceedingly difficult and slow. By the same token, however, each time he climbed a single tier, those attachments granted him vastly amplified power.
Even a corpse-stitched monstrosity like Valoti had failed to gain the slightest advantage when comparing versatility of techniques against him.
All in all, he had to thank Rasma for providing him with what could truly be called an extravagant sparring opportunity.
Rasma drifted down, landing beside Karen. His eyes scanned Karen thoroughly, confirming that the young man had not suffered the slightest taint from the corruption. Instead of feeling relieved, his heart leaped into his throat.
For this meant the young man harbored far more secrets that had yet to be revealed.
"Take that female dragon and leave this place. Go claim your reward from the church."
Taking him as a student was completely dropped from the conversation.
Karen did not move.
Just then, Purr came running down the slope, cursing loudly with every step: "Stupid Rasma! You left me behind when you jumped down! Don't you know running downhill is exhausting with short legs?!"
Rasma continued, "I sealed the female dragon's memories of today. When the church high command investigates this matter, they will know it was my doing. This area is currently taboo within the church, so it won't implicate this cat. You only need to accept the merit in peace."
Karen still did not move.
Rasma frowned and asked, "What? Do you have something else to attend to?"
Karen turned around to face Rasma, smiled gently, and said:
"Father, I'd like to go home and take a look."
Chapter 576