Temple of Order!

Behind Karen was the highway boundary marker; no one was there. Behind Foden was a crowd of people, but they stood far off, and no one dared extend their divine sense to probe the Whip-Wielder. Even those with exceptionally sharp hearing would consciously "cover" their ears at a moment like this. A disparity in rank and status often provided far better isolation than any barrier of concealment. Thus, only the two of them could hear the exchange between Foden and Karen. This was precisely the solution Karen had proposed to Purr—the simplest and most efficient. Just like the female dragon, a portion of his memories had supposedly been "sealed" or "erased." This way, you no longer had to take a needle and gingerly mend a spiderweb, because you had already torched it to ashes. He said... yes. A single simple phrase was equivalent to sealing the verdict on this matter: First, the assassin wasn't killed by me. Second, the assassin was killed by the former High Priest. Third, the former High Priest instructed me to tell you that, publicly, it must be claimed I killed him. After working in the Whip of Order for so long, Karen was already a true professional. Simply pivoting his day-to-day work mindset naturally made him understand how to make it hardest for an investigation to find fault with him. Foden remained silent for a moment, then turned around to face everyone and declared, "The assassin has been slain!" Everyone was momentarily stunned. Clearly, the abrupt outcome caught them all off guard, but before long, they all raised their arms in ragged cheers. A lingering trace of "confusion" remained in Karen's eyes, though inwardly, he was still somewhat dissatisfied with how things played out. If only Whip-Wielder Foden could have raised his arm and shouted to the crowd, "Let us congratulate our Battalion Commander Karen on successfully slaying the assassin!" And then everyone raised their fists in unison, chanting, "Karen! Karen! Karen!" That would have been truly perfect. Yet... that was obviously impossible. It suited neither the Whip-Wielder's status nor the cultural atmosphere of their church. Fortunately, Foden's declaration had officially defined this "merit" as his. Now, he could genuinely begin anticipating what kind of reward he might receive. It likely wouldn't be limited merely to publicity and point coupons; in all probability, he would earn a promotion. Karen truly felt no shame in taking the credit. Even if he ran into Bishop Wolflen and Leon later and they expressed their most heartfelt gratitude, he could accept it with an easy conscience. The assassin had been killed by Rasma, that was true, but why was Rasma here in the first place? So when all was said and done, the assassin's death ultimately had to be credited to his grandfather, and Karen, as the grandson, was merely accepting it on his behalf. A carriage drawn by undead warhorses and enshrouded in the Fire of Order approached from the distance. Driving the carriage was a bare-chested man. While this looked somewhat unseemly, mysterious runes densely covered his muscles, and when his gaze swept over, Karen felt the air around him turn invisibly thick and sluggish. Three people stepped down from the carriage: one clad in clerical robes, one in armor, and one holding a priest's wand. Together, they bowed to Foden in salute: "Greetings, Whip-Wielder." Foden gave them a nod, then walked straight onto the carriage. The three then used voice-transmission arts to announce their identities before organizing an orderly evacuation of all the priests present and the continuous stream of priests arriving afterward. Purr, perched on Karen's back, tapped his neck gently with her tail, as if to ask: *Are we just being left out in the cold like this?* Karen cleared his throat softly, signaling her not to be impatient. After all, the carriage hadn't departed yet. Before long, another carriage arrived. The standard of this carriage was clearly a tier lower, and Karen had seen its kind before—outside the teleportation array halls of every region, carriages of this model were parked. Yet Karen had never ridden in one himself, nor had he ever seen anyone else take it. The reason was simple: it was too expensive. For most priests stepping out of a teleportation array, they would rather hail a mundane taxi outside; only someone who had lost their mind would use a carriage like this. At that moment, two such people who had apparently lost their minds stepped down from the carriage. They were Marin, Foden's personal secretary, and Harry, the York City Region Whip-Holder and Karen's highest direct superior in the region. It was evident that Harry was thoroughly bewildered, completely unable to make sense of the orderly evacuation unfolding before him. However, when his gaze landed on Karen, his expression noticeably relaxed. Much like Philomena, he had finally found a "place" where he could anchor his attention. Harry stepped forward, intending to speak with Karen. Karen had already prepared to salute, but over there, Marin—having just walked to Foden's carriage to receive instructions—came over: "Regional Director Harry." "Yes." "You may return." "This..." An awkward look crept onto Regional Director Harry's face. The assassination had occurred in his jurisdiction, and as the head of the York City Whip of Order, he had rushed all the way here, only to be sent back without explanation. Once he stepped out of the teleportation array, when his department heads and regional bishops asked him, how was he supposed to explain what he had even come here to do? "The assassin is dead. Karen killed him," Marin offered by way of answer. "Understood." Harry nodded and looked toward Karen, preparing to offer a few words of encouragement in his capacity as top superior, but Marin interrupted him once more: "Regional Director Harry, obey orders." Harry shut his mouth, turned around, and walked to Foden's carriage. Standing outside the door, he bowed to it in salute before climbing back into his own carriage. Karen, still standing where he was, began to wonder whether the expenses for their regional director taking that carriage back and forth would be reimbursed by the regional office. Marin bent down, hoisted Augie over one shoulder with a single hand, and picked up the bones from the ground with the other, even holding them up to her nose to take a sniff. Originally, a thick residue of the aura of Light should have remained on the bones, but Karen naturally wouldn't make such an amateur mistake; on the way back, he had repeatedly worked them over with Order purification. "Battalion Commander Karen." "Yes." "Board the carriage." "Understood." Karen nodded. As he passed Foden's luxurious carriage, he stole a glance at the Whip-Wielder sitting inside. The Whip-Wielder had his back against the cushion, arms folded over his chest, eyes closed. Quite composed. Truly, everyone here was a consummate actor. Karen continued walking toward the carriage Regional Director Harry was in. "Battalion Commander Karen," Marin's voice called out again. "Yes," Karen stopped and turned around. Marin pointed to the carriage the Whip-Wielder was in. "Please board this one." Purr's tail thumped hard against Karen's back, conveying awkwardness on his behalf. "Yes, of course." Karen walked back and stepped into the carriage. The carriage was very spacious. Karen chose a corner seat opposite Foden. Purr hopped down onto Karen's lap, acting incomparably well-behaved and docile. *Thud!* Marin tossed Lady Augie into the carriage compartment like a whole pig fresh from the meat market. Immediately afterward, Marin climbed in as well and shut the carriage door. Foden opened his eyes, casting a glance at Augie lying before him. Marin took the initiative to report, "I've checked her. She's in rough shape, but there is no serious harm." Foden nodded. Opposite him, Karen couldn't help but think: *The seal personally placed by the Whip-Wielder is truly formidable. Even after being battered like this, Lady Augie remains in human form without turning back into a dragon.* "May I examine and treat Battalion Commander Karen?" Marin asked. Foden shook his head. Marin took her seat. Next, the carriage began to move. It had to be said that the only flaw of expensive transportation was probably its cost. Sitting inside and watching the scenery outside blur past into phantoms was enough to show just how fast this carriage was moving, yet from within, not the slightest tremor could be felt. Moreover, when the carriage began to slow down, Karen realized it had entered the Church Affairs Building. Then it levitated, sailing not only over all the stairs but also past all the security checkpoints. No one dared stop it, nor did anyone dare question it, as it parked directly inside the glowing circle of the teleportation array within the array hall. Through the carriage window, Karen saw quite a few priests standing outside. More than half of them wore red bishop robes, all standing respectfully outside. The Whip-Wielder did not step out to greet them, remaining seated against the cushion with his eyes closed, resting his mind. With virtually no waiting time, the array activated. Even if no such "flight" had originally been scheduled, an impromptu one would be arranged. Karen thought to himself: *I wonder when I'll be able to travel with such "convenience."* Teleported along with the carriage and driver, once the transfer concluded, Karen realized he had likely arrived in the Dinge Region. Foden sat up, Marin opened the door, and he stepped out, with Marin following behind. Karen had originally prepared to stand up as well, but seeing that Marin hadn't hoisted Augie out, he remained seated. Sure enough, Marin shut the door, and the carriage set off again. Foden stood where he was, watching the carriage recede from view, his brow furrowing slightly. Originally, he had come to the York City Region because he received a report, and the decree the High Priest gave him was: *Something happened in York City. Go take a look.* And having already been in York City, he could originally have remotely directed the manhunt from there, mobilizing forces across various regions in his capacity as Whip-Wielder to encircle and intercept. There was no need for him to intervene personally, as his status was far too special and could easily trigger outside tension and misunderstandings. Yet he had received two decrees. One from the High Priest, and one from... the Temple of Order. When he first received the decree from the Temple of Order, Foden was quite surprised. The High Priest had strictly warned the temple not to interfere in the specific operations of the church, yet now the temple had issued a decree directly to him, the Whip-Wielder—who was also an almost openly acknowledged confidant of the High Priest. Foden didn't think them overly arrogant; instead, he immediately realized the gravity of the situation—a severity that transcended internal factional conflicts within the church. Opening the decree, he saw the command for him to step in personally and prevent all pursuit forces from entering that area. Then came the High Priest's decree: the same order, but the High Priest had provided a little more information. In truth, Foden did not know the specific circumstances inside that area. But at his station, his ignorance of certain matters was predicated on his deliberate refusal to guess. "Marin." "Present, Whip-Wielder." "Prepare a commendation decree. Ensure its rewarding effect is unmistakable." Marin cautioned, "Whip-Wielder, he is still very young, and his current position is already exceptionally high for his age. Subordinate worries that promoting him further at this time might invite unwelcome trouble. If we offer material rewards instead..." "Marin." "Present." "I am very young too." ... The carriage carrying Karen drove into a corridor and entered a separate area where another teleportation array stood. The carriage came to a halt inside it. *Where else am I being sent?* Purr seemed to have guessed something, tracing a few characters against Karen's chest with her tail. *The Temple?* Karen nodded, indicating he understood. It appeared anything concerning Mink Street was truly a top-level taboo. He and Augie were being sent to the temple first for investigation. Karen was not worried about an investigation. First, he had already completed his personal Order transformation; in the entire Church of Order, probably very few people could be cleaner than him. Second, one could deduce from Rasma's reaction that—putting aside someone like Lord Theisen—in the entire church, Rasma was likely the only person who knew of his existence as Diss's grandson. Those figures at the very top only knew of Diss; they had no idea Karen existed. At this moment, Purr's body began to tremble slightly. Karen lowered his head to look at her. Before long, the glow in Purr's feline eyes grew dimmer than before, and even her fur seemed less lustrous. She was carrying out a "self-sealing" in advance. Ever since meeting Ashley's parents, Purr had been undergoing continuous "treatment" and had made tremendous progress. Although she could not truly restore her power, her command of techniques had become far more adept. Karen noticed the tip of Purr's tail was somewhat warm. He reached out to stroke it, and soon, the heated area returned to normal. She stood up, shook out her fur, licked her paws, and looked at Karen with an air of unfamiliarity, letting out a meow: "Meow~" Karen reached out to stroke her. She resisted slightly, but did not dare pull away. It felt as if she had become a completely different cat—even the tactile texture seemed distinct. Outside, the teleportation array activated once again. When the brilliance faded, Karen found himself atop a massive elevated platform. A squad of knights clad in black armor appeared on either side of the carriage, escorting it downward. Karen did not hide his curiosity, leaning against the carriage window to take in the scenery outside. The carriage seemed to be descending from the waist of a massive pyramid. Below, Karen saw even more knights and encampments, and in the distance, the faint silhouettes of massive war apparatuses. The surroundings were permeated with an intense aura of solemn slaughter. This was the encampment of the Order Knights. Among the twelve Order Knight Orders, aside from the First Knight Order which could not be mobilized, the others were rotated on a regular schedule, yet it was always ensured that one knight order remained stationed outside the Temple of Order to guard it. The carriage was traveling through what seemed to be the outer camp. About fifteen minutes later, likely having cleared the camp's boundaries, Karen heard the sound of a river, surging and roaring vigorously. On the riverbank, the figure of a young boy appeared. The clerical robes of Order he wore shimmered with a silver-gray sheen. His feet hovered above the ground as he floated in midair. Behind him stood a group of priests, each bearing an emblem of a silver flower on their chest. The knights who had escorted the carriage wheeled their horses around and began their withdrawal. The boy drifted closer, but the bare-chested carriage driver raised his horsewhip. "Hmph." The boy let out a cold snort, refraining from approaching the carriage any further, and instead turned around to lead the way. The carriage continued forward, likely crossing the river. The river surface gradually rose, soon submerging the carriage entirely. Only then did Karen realize this was no river at all, but a dark luminous mist, yet its "flow" genuinely produced the sound of a rushing river. The sensation reminded Karen of a nebula. If necessary, this river of luminous mist could transform at any moment into the most terrifying defensive barrier, vaporizing any existence that dared attempt entry. When they came ashore once more, Karen looked through the window and saw a towering black gate standing ahead. The Gate of Order! Compared to the Gate of Samsara above Samsara Valley, it appeared somewhat smaller, perhaps only a tenth of its size, yet it was still towering, solemn, and majestic. Rich, intricate patterns were carved upon the gate, and they were dynamic, as if ceaselessly recounting stories belonging to the Church of Order to the world. Any believer of Order who laid eyes upon this gate would feel a surge of pride in their heart, and Karen was no exception. Soon, the carriage climbed the steps and came to a stop at the very top. The driver stepped down from the carriage and prostrated himself beside it, as if performing an act of worship. The boy drifted over to the carriage door and made a gesture inviting Karen to step out. After Karen opened the door, he pointed toward Augie. The boy nodded. Karen carried Augie on his back as he stepped down from the carriage, while Purr remained seated on his shoulder. *Exhale...* Stepping out of the carriage and gazing upon the Gate of Order before him, he instantly felt a completely different sensation. The carriage had possessed protective arrays; now that he was out, he faced the majestic pressure emanating from the Gate of Order head-on. Ahead stood a towering stone stele, constantly squirming like a living organism. A line ran down it, with names engraved on both its left and right sides. The boy spoke: "You are about to enter the temple for an examination. Please do not be nervous." "Yes, I will cooperate." So he and Augie were to be examined, and inside the temple itself. "Mm." The boy pointed to the stone stele ahead. "According to tradition, any youth within the church under twenty-four years of age entering the temple may carve their name upon this stele, regardless of the reason." "I may as well?" "Of course. Even criminals brought to the temple for execution may do so. After all, to be brought here for execution before turning twenty-four is quite an extraordinary feat in its own right." "All right, I understand." Karen stepped forward and drew the greatsword from his back. Just as he prepared to carve his name, he asked, "Excuse me, should I carve it on the left or the right? Is it divided by gender, or by region?" "Oh, you don't need to pay mind to that line." "No need to pay mind?" "Mm. Several decades ago, a group of youths were selected by the church and granted the opportunity to enter the temple for enlightenment. When required to leave their names, one of them directly split the stele in half with a sword. It was repaired later." "Split in half? Surely that was a grave desecration." "No, he said he didn't do it on purpose." "And they believed him just because he said it wasn't on purpose?" "Mm, it alarmed a Temple Elder at the time, who came out to handle the matter." "And the Temple Elder also thought he didn't do it on purpose?" The boy smiled and replied, "Not quite." Then, the boy shrugged and continued, "The elder said the stele was simply too old and had become brittle on its own."