Flip the Table!

The entire hall fell dead silent. It was like a sumptuous banquet—perhaps the flavors were not astonishing, but the sense of ritual had reached the absolute peak. Yet, while just a second earlier plates were being meticulously arranged to ensure every knife and fork sat in neat, flawless alignment, the very next second, someone seized the tablecloth and flipped the entire feast over in an instant. Knives, forks, bottles, and jars crashed to the floor. The piercing din of shattering glass pierced the ears of nearly everyone present, leaving them frozen in stunned disbelief, unable to process what had just happened. In the front row, Regional Head Harry maintained his prior posture, his facial expression barely shifting, as if everything happening around him had nothing to do with him. Head Bishop Wolflen held a teacup in hand, sipping in silence. The tea had been brewed by his aide from personal tea leaves. Bitter and astringent, it scratched the throat upon swallowing, earning it the moniker "Falcon Tea." Although Wolflen's physical condition appeared unchanged from the outside, his faculties had suffered severe internal degradation. Only this sharp brew allowed him to taste anything at all. Thus, the surrounding events seemed unable to touch him. As he drank, he habitually closed his eyes, as though his duties for the day were done and he was merely dozing off until it was time to clock out. And yet, ripples constantly stirred across the surface of the tea in his cup. No one knew that he was fighting an impulse—an urge to throw the cup of tea straight into the face of the regional head sitting beside him. Facing death, he had wanted to do something for the church out of the goodness of his own heart. His intentions were pure. Unfortunately, others were far from pure; they even sought to scribble graffiti over his purity. Still, that was understandable. After all, their families hadn't all died. Bernie let out a quiet yawn. Beside him in the second row sat several ministers from the Whip of Order as well as bishops from the Regional Administrative Office. Unable to see the expressions of the two dignitaries in the front row and not daring to extend their spiritual senses to check, everyone turned their eyes toward Bernie. Bernie frowned slightly, revealing a hint of displeasure. The others in the second row caught this "message." When their gazes shifted back to Karen on the stage, their expressions turned decidedly unfriendly. In the third row, Neo rubbed his chin, looking at Karen on the stage with a sigh. The fortunate thing was that they had made it to the table; the cruel reality was that they were still just chess pieces on it. Then Neo looked at Bernie in the row ahead, his eyes gradually darkening: *Normal people wait until the paste is cured before changing to a new vat. You guys haven't even let the flavor set, and you're already complaining the vat is dirty, huh?* ... "Is this the feast?" Philomena asked Richard, who was sitting next to her. "Guess so." "Did the captain—no, the director—arrange all this?" Philomena pressed. "Probably... yeah." Richard answered uncertainly, glancing toward Alfred next to him, only to see Alfred's brow deeply furrowed in grim contemplation. Then Richard looked over at Vic, noticing that Vic was gritting his teeth with fists clenched, radiating fury and discontent. Richard immediately whispered to Philomena, "No, it doesn't look that simple." Vic tilted his head slightly and asked Alfred, "Feel suffocated?" Alfred nodded. "We have to swallow it." Vic bit his lower lip hard. "Yeah, we just have to swallow it. The director is doing the same. We have no choice." Pausing, Vic added in a low voice: "I just hope they don't push it too far." ... *Click! Click! Click!* At that moment, the reporters snapped out of their brief shock. Their eyes widened, their breath quickened, and they furiously snapped photos of the presentation stage, as thrilled as if their ancient bloodlines had awakened. "Here it comes! Yorktown never runs short of sensational scoops!" "This young director is fearless. Truly, he fears nothing." "What's there to fear? Afraid nobody will dare be the guest presenter next time he receives an award?" "No, this is different. That's a Bishop. He broke the rules." "Indeed. Too young, after all." "He probably thinks he looks mighty imposing right now." "Come on, without him, what would we even write about? We should be wishing him well!" A low buzz spread through the entire auditorium as whispered conversations erupted like boiling water. ... In the living room of the Guman residence. Madame Tangli ate crab while watching the broadcast projection before her, remarking with a smile, "He truly has spirit. That presence of his—it's as if he was born to stand center stage." "Yes, Mother," Kaixi chimed in, humoring her mother-in-law. "I wonder when our Richard will ever grow to this level." "Indeed, indeed." Madame Tangli extracted a morsel of crab meat with a pick, dipped it in vinegar, and popped it into her mouth, letting the tart, savory flavor burst over her tongue. Madame Tangli smiled inwardly: *You're still hoping your son reaches this stage, but I'm already enjoying the thrill of seeing my grandson achieve it.* In Karen, Madame Tangli constantly saw shadows of Diss from back then. It wasn't that she viewed Karen as a surrogate for her longing for Diss; it was simply that, in her eyes, the true standard of excellence was what Diss had been like in his youth. What did stepping out of line matter? True geniuses had long grown numb to ordinary people's shock, even finding it rather dull. ... "You can't use a young man like this." Piro packed tobacco into his pipe as he spoke. Before him sat a projection displaying the scene from inside the auditorium. "Why can't you?" Beside him, Liwen crossed his arms, scoffing in disagreement. "Young people ought to have this drive, this daring, this desire to make a statement! If they were all like us old farts, how boring would that be?" Piro rolled his eyes at Liwen. "Do you think every corner of the church is as straightforward as the Knight Order?" "What's the difference?" "A world of difference." "Enlighten me." "Just like your blade. It's sharp, but it needs careful maintenance, or it'll snap easily. Young people are the same. You have to use them sparingly and protect them while doing so." Liwen immediately caught on. "You mean this wasn't the lad's own idea?" "I doubt it. Those fond of formation arrays are rarely impulsive. Besides, ever since I met him, he's given me the impression of being composed and prudent. I can't fathom why he'd suddenly act so conspicuously when there's no need for it." Before entering the Gate of Samsara, Karen's and Muri's squads had undergone training in the Dinge Region. Piro had been the formation instructor, while Liwen, a retired vice commander, was the close-combat instructor. Piro held an exceptionally good opinion of Karen. The young man seemed to strike the right chord with him at every step, bringing him immense pleasure, and Piro had even gone out of his way to present him with gifts. "So what if he's being flashy?" Liwen argued, still unconvinced. "That's how you grab attention, isn't it?" "Is it really just being flashy?" Piro sighed. "Let's hope so." At that moment, a figure walked in. Piro and Liwen bowed together. "Lord Mavaglio." Mavaglio held a special status. Though he could freely enter and leave the Temple, once outside, he struggled to find suitable places or circles to frequent. Therefore, ever since getting to know them during that training period, he often visited this "seniors' club." Although the old men here treated him respectfully and addressed him as "my lord," they were all men waiting to enter the First Knight Order, which lent their interactions a touch of casual familiarity—something he thoroughly enjoyed. Mavaglio looked at the broadcast projection and asked, "Did something happen?" "This old bastard Piro thinks—" Piro cut him off. "Nothing serious, my lord. Out of past acquaintance, we were just curious about that young man Karen. Since there was notice of a live broadcast for his commendation ceremony, we tuned in." Mavaglio nodded, pulled over a chair, and sat down. "I'll watch along with you." ... At first, the commendation ceremony had drawn little attention. But as news rapidly circulated through transmission arrays, more and more eyes turned toward it, gradually approaching the sensation of the live trial during the Vicolai case. Yet at this moment, as one of the focal points, Karen felt none of the joy that usually accompanied the spotlight. The next stage he, Neo, and Alfred had planned was to show off as much as possible to accumulate political capital, thereby paving the way for their future advancement. However, everything had its limits. Exceeding those limits risked a backlash. It was just like the mayoral election in Sangpu City last year: the candidate with the greatest prestige, highest popularity, and best odds of winning had gained several fanatical journalist supporters. Those reporters relentlessly promoted the candidate in local newspapers, heaping extravagant, mindless praise upon him. In the end, it sparked intense public backlash, ruining the candidate's image and resulting in his eventual defeat. Reliable word later leaked out that those journalists had actually belonged to his opponent. Although the two situations differed and could not be compared directly, the underlying principle was the same. Originally, Karen's plan was supposed to proceed with the superiors directing from above while his tier handled the hunting, creating the image of a capable young vanguard. Now, however, it was very likely to be steered toward an uncontrollable figure who sought only personal glory and defied governance. Karen sighed internally. While he had arrested Vicolai in the Church Affairs Building before a massive crowd last time, Vicolai was merely an Adjudicator. The man before him now was a genuine Bishop. Looking at the journalists, who resembled sharks smelling blood, there was no need to wait until tomorrow; by this afternoon, this explosive news would spread across the entire church, and the *Order Weekly* might even print a special edition. His performance during the Vicolai case had been well-rounded and consummate, leaving people outside the region with the impression that he was poised and composed. This time, however, he was like someone taking a needle to publicly pop a giant balloon, jolting everyone with shock. This persona was being pushed far too hard. As a rule, the harder a persona was built up, the faster it collapsed. Yet after glancing at the card and seeing the words "Announce the arrest of Bishop Yeder," Karen had still chosen to comply with the instructions. Because Karen knew full well he had no other option. To be a chess piece meant having the awareness of being a piece until you possessed the power to move yourself. Nevertheless, the feeling left Karen deeply uncomfortable. Other youths might assume their minister was intentionally giving them an opportunity to shine, even relishing it, but Karen felt only helplessness. Out of the corner of his eye, Karen swept his gaze downward—Regional Head Harry, Minister Bernie... Below, Regional Head Harry and Minister Bernie averted their gazes entirely. They knew perfectly well that acquiring political capital required action, and action inevitably brought trouble alongside benefits. Managing that boundary was the true test of skill. Make the affair utterly sensational, shift all negative fallout onto the young man, chew every last drop of juice out of him like sugarcane, and spit out the pulp. That way, the deed would be done, the political capital and institutional merit secured, and they themselves would retain their image of calm control. When you planned to use others to boost your exposure, others were using you as well. Regional Head Harry had long prepared to vacate his position for a promotion to the Dinge Region. It was a crucial leap up the ladder of his life, especially given the Whip of Order's long-standing reputation for decay in regional branches. Even if going to the Dinge Region was to "retire into an easy post," the treatment at that tier varied immensely. He didn't want to enter as an "irascible tiger," which would easily get him shunted into a sinecure by some headquarters department. After all, the Dinge Region was unlike anywhere else; any outrageous behavior reverberated everywhere, and no department wanted to take in a powder keg. As for Minister Bernie, his goal was to succeed Harry as the Whip-Holder of the Yorktown Region's Whip of Order. But he was well aware that while the higher-ups occasionally needed someone bold enough to set fires, what they needed far more was someone who could steadily control the blaze. A regional head of the Whip of Order had to possess that quality. The other ministers in this region could not compete with him in age or seniority, but what about candidates from other regions? What about candidates from the Dinge Region? Even if Bernie had backers, was he the only one with connections? When the time came to step up, someone at the table might remark: *This man might be hard to control. Too flamboyant.* The regional bishops knew enough to send their grandsons into Karen's squad, seeing clearly that this was the most fertile ground for promotion capital. What about the true high-ups? They wouldn't bother slotting people into Karen's squad; they would be eyeing the mid-to-high-level posts. Thus, Bernie lived with constant vigilance. He would never allow the opportunity he had painstakingly waited and cultivated for to be plucked away by someone else. ... The smile on Bishop Yeder's face first faded, then slowly reappeared. "Young man, do you know what you are doing?" Karen gave a bitter inward smile. Clearly, the Bishop before him viewed his actions as an act of insubordination staged by an ambitious youth looking to make a name for himself. Yet Karen could hardly offer an explanation now, nor was this bishop the one who deserved it. When Bishop Yeder's name had appeared on that card, it meant he had already been jointly selected by the major factions to be the eye of this impending storm. The Norton family had enjoyed the backing of the Regional Administrative Office, and hadn't they still fallen completely? "Bishop, please accompany me to the detention facility now. We will conduct an investigation regarding you. "Please also trust in our Whip of Order. We will not falsely accuse a devout follower of Order, nor will we overlook a single speck of dust upon Order." Karen kept his words as polite and gentle as possible, but as he gestured an invitation, a beam of silver-gray light shone down upon him. It was the defensive formation within the headquarters building. *Hum!* From above the auditorium, two thick, pitch-black chains appeared. The heavy grinding sound brought a suffocating pressure, plunging the entire hall back into solemn dread. The chains reached toward Bishop Yeder. He could have dodged, possessing the strength to do so, yet he did not move, remaining rooted to the spot. He even asked Karen: "You thought I would resist?" This was the headquarters of the Whip of Order. Even without the building's defensive formation, look how many people sat below, how many pairs of eyes watched, and the broadcast formation was active. Under such circumstances, how could he possibly "resist arrest"? *Clank, rattle...* The thick chains bound Bishop Yeder's arms. In the next instant, two streaks of pitch-black lightning snaked down the chains, crashing directly into Bishop Yeder's body. His frame shuddered. Having already renounced resistance, the devastating lightning strike overwhelmed him... *Thud!* Bishop Yeder fell to both knees, kneeling on the floor... kneeling before Karen. "..." In a flash, the reporters in the hall went wild. In this young man named "Karen," they found a sense of reliability—every time he appeared, he never disappointed! Shoot, shoot faster! This scene was utterly iconic, perfect for tomorrow's front-page special edition! More than half of the other attendees in the hall bolted up from their seats. The shock and horror of this sight shook them far more than Karen's public reading of Yeder's arrest warrant. No, it wasn't just shock—it was unacceptable outrage. One had to realize that the hall was filled not only with people from the Whip of Order, but also with members from other church departments. They had initially accepted the revival of the Whip of Order, but when a young director from the Whip of Order mobilized the defensive formation to force a Bishop to his knees, they felt terror and profound revulsion. "How can this be allowed? How could they!" "This is outrageous! Truly crossing the line!" "Who permitted him to do this? What right does he have!" Several regional bishops in the second row rose to their feet, gritting their teeth as they voiced their protests. The ministers from the Whip of Order headquarters in the second row frowned as well, some whispering: "Isn't this going a bit too far?" "Even if he's being arrested, is such excess really necessary?" "Isn't he acting a bit too insolent?" As they grumbled, they turned in unison toward Minister Bernie. Bernie sighed, shook his head, and raised both hands in a gesture of helpless resignation. As if this had nothing to do with him. As if the card he had given Karen had truly only contained an acceptance speech. "Bernie..." "Bernie, this matter..." Minister Bernie coughed behind his hand and said: "Alas, there's nothing to be done now. Let us think together about how to clean up the aftermath. But no matter what, we ought to show a bit more leniency toward the younger generation, shouldn't we?" ... "Heh... heheh..." Kneeling on the ground, Bishop Yeder slowly raised his head to look at Karen. Karen looked down at him from above. "Young man, do you think I would resist?" Then Bishop Yeder shook his head to himself. "Oh, right, you knew I wouldn't resist. Heh, but was it truly necessary to go this far?" Karen said nothing. The activation of the defensive formation had nothing to do with him; someone else was controlling it, staging the illusion that he had commanded it to make the arrest. This was no longer just exposing him under the glare of spotlights—it was tossing him into a bonfire to be roasted alive. He could already envision the scenes to follow: he had kicked off this grand purge of the Yorktown Region in the most ostentatious manner imaginable; and once the purge concluded—or rather, the very sign of its conclusion would likely be him being sidelined and disciplined, serving as a concession to appease all factions. It was a dirty art known as compromise. Earlier, he had even joked with Neo about finding a corrupt minister near the end of the purge to take the fall, providing an explanation to other factions and maintaining balance while securing a promotion for Neo. Little did he expect that he himself was the "balancing point" they had engineered. *Ha, so the clown was me all along.* He had thought they would merely use him to attract attention to make things proceed smoothly, and he was already pondering how to mitigate the fallout afterward. Instead, they had decided his fate outright—and at a commendation ceremony meant for him. At this point, Karen had no room to regret reading that card, because even if he hadn't read it, the moment he stood beside Bishop Yeder, the chains would have descended anyway to bind Yeder and force him to his knees! He had lost this round. ... "Er..." Madame Tangli put down her small pick, asking in bewilderment, "Isn't this going a bit too far?" Kaixi nodded. "It does seem so. Looking at this display, they aren't just looking to take down another Norton family—they're trampling the face of the entire Regional Administrative Office into the mud." Madame Tangli complained, "Why aren't Karen's superiors stopping him!" By now, even Madame Tangli and Kaixi realized something was amiss. A Bishop was, after all, a Bishop. It was not merely an office, but a symbol of the Church of Order's dignity. One could follow the rules to peel away his grandson or entourage, tracing the vines to topple him step by step, but one could not trample upon his status and dignity without due process or a formal verdict. The two were entirely different concepts. Even with Dolph, once his cause was lost, the various factions had tacitly allowed him the dignity of taking his own life rather than being bound and forced to kneel like a dog. "Contact your father and ask for his opinion. We might not understand this." "But Father entered a lockdown period with his project team and won't be back until tomorrow. Did you forget, Mother?" "Bah! That old codger can never be counted on when it matters!" Madame Tangli sat huffily on the sofa. After a long pause, she spat out another curse: "That old bastard Wolflen is the biggest scoundrel of all!" ... *Cough...* Wolflen coughed, placed his teacup on the table before him, and spoke: "Isn't this going a bit too far?" Regional Head Harry looked at Wolflen and replied, "This is to cooperate with you. The great purge you wish to unleash will have a vast scope and impact. We must make a decisive start to ensure the plan can proceed. We need to demonstrate our resolve to the outside world. Please understand." "Understand?" Wolflen paused, then pressed on, "And what about the person who opened it?" Harry fell silent. He could invent plenty of excuses, but he knew none of them could deceive the old man beside him, provided the old man wasn't willing to feign ignorance. "This is different from the plan you spoke of beforehand. When your Minister Bernie gave such a long speech without announcing the first name on the list, I sensed something was off. "When this young man announced Yeder's arrest in public, though I couldn't quite fathom it, I could still keep my temper in check, because while other youths might be destroyed by such excessive elevation, he should have been able to manage it. "Yet I never expected you to go this far. If you're offering a sacrifice to the banners, you shouldn't be sacrificing the future, should you? Do you really have the heart to discard him?" "He is the most suitable candidate. He opens it, and he concludes it. I assure you, no harm will come to him. This is his oath: to sacrifice everything for the Whip of Order." "Ha, isn't that your oath as well? Why didn't you, the regional head, do it? Why didn't Bernie? You will ruin this young man's future—no, you have already choked it off." "You should know that whether it is reform or a purge, a price must be paid. Someone always has to make the sacrifice. He was chosen simply because he is the most suitable. "You are dying, with no lingering attachments, and you wish to see a cleaner Yorktown Region before you go. We understand that. "However, we must consider how to bring this to a close, how to ease the conflicts after the purge, and how to offer an account to all factions. Thus, we hope you can extend your understanding to us as well." "He is the one who avenged my family." "So you still have time to make new arrangements for him. If he can no longer remain in the Whip of Order, I believe an outstanding young man like him will surely have a brilliant future elsewhere." "This is precisely why I opposed the revival of the Whip of Order back then, and why I pinched my nose to help the Norton family. Because I know that while the whip is cold, the minds of you who wield it are ever calculating. "Harry, you have disgraced your position as Whip-Holder." "What right do you have to lecture me? Did you not also reach this very threshold before letting go and acting without restraint?" Harry's expression turned cold. "Perhaps if our circumstances were reversed, I would be more devout than you, and more willing to smash all this old filth." "You dare speak to me like that?" "Back at the Pavaro Funeral Parlor, did I not say? Compared to you, I can still be considered a young man." "Are you not afraid I might terminate this operation right now?" "No, you will not," Harry said with certainty. "Because your devotion has been thoroughly aroused. Never mind a single Karen—at this point, even if your family returned from the dead, it would not alter your resolve." ... "I say, isn't this a bit over the top?" Vice Commander Liwen pointed at the image in the projection. "More than a bit." Piro took a deep drag and exhaled slowly. "They intend to treat this blade as a disposable tool." Mavaglio nodded. "It seems a massive wave will sweep through Yorktown. I'm starting to wonder just how high a wave would warrant such an extravagant opening. Could they truly be planning a grand purge?" Liwen shook his fist, cursing, "I believe it now. There's no way this kid Karen did this on his own. Back when he knocked me down with a Servant certificate, he carried himself with perfect decorum." Piro puffed vigorously on his pipe, billowing smoke like a running steam locomotive. Mavaglio rested his clasped hands on his knees. "It looks like the Whip of Order headquarters in Yorktown deliberately pushed him forward to shoulder the subsequent pressure. That way, whatever massive moves they make next, the pressure from outside will have a focal point to absorb it." Hearing this, Liwen immediately asked, "Then what will happen to the kid? Can he even stay in the Whip of Order? Don't tell me someone will kill him!" Mavaglio shook his head. "They likely won't kill him, but staying in the Whip of Order may well be out of the question." "Heh heh heh, cough, cough, cough!" Piro chuckled suddenly, then choked on the smoke and broke into a violent coughing fit, though he still wheezed, "Just as well... bring him over... have him come to me... study formations with me." Liwen immediately countered, "What's the point of him joining your department? I'll arrange for him to enter the Knight Order! I knew back then he was fantastic material—it'd be a crime if he didn't join the Knight Order." "Formation masters in the Knight Order only do mechanical, repetitive operations! You're strangling a genius in the cradle, you idiot!" "You're the idiot! Your department studies broken, pre-era formations—someone could waste a lifetime studying one ruined diagram without a single result! That's true strangling of talent!" Listening to the two old men bicker, Mavaglio rubbed his forehead with his fingertips: *Should I arrange a position for him in the Temple?* *That way, once he enters the Temple, he'll hardly ever leave, and there won't be any more situations where I go looking for him and find he's not home or too busy.* ... "Damn it!" Neo cursed under his breath, stood up, and straightened his clothes. Then he turned around, looked at Memphis sitting behind him, and pointed his finger upward. These gestures were hardly noticeable at that moment, as more than half the room was on its feet. Yet when Neo stepped into the aisle and began walking toward the presentation stage, eyes gradually began to settle on him. *Ah, Philias, I'm beginning to understand why you foolishly chose to lead a group of your supporters to wander the high seas.* *I'm sorry. In the past, I thought you had lost your mind. Now I realize you must have simply grown disgusted.* *Look at us. The plan we carefully discussed was crumpled into a ball and tossed into the wastebasket.* *While believing ourselves clever, we were played like fools.* *We hadn't even anticipated that the knife would come from behind!* *So do you think I'd grow disgusted too?* *No, I'm not disgusted. I still find it interesting. I want to keep playing.* *They use the rules to play us; we can use the rules to play them.* *So, Philias, I still think you lost your mind. Heheh.* Neo passed the row where Minister Bernie sat. As Neo looked his way, Minister Bernie met his gaze, their eyes locking. *Before the Vicolai case, the headquarters was overgrown with weeds. When you needed us to do the dirty work, you gave us your full backing, even personally healed our injuries, saying we were one of your own, men in the same boat.* *Now that the winds are favorable and conditions have improved, working together means looking out for your own skin, taking more spoils, and treating us like rags?* Neo paused in his steps, courteously bowing to several ministers seated on the aisle. Though baffled, the ministers returned the courtesy. Immediately after, Neo stepped into the second row and came before Bernie. From behind—or rather, from virtually the entire hall—gazes converged upon him, everyone seemingly anticipating what might happen next. Neo bent down, bringing his face close to Bernie's, and raised a hand to erect an isolation barrier. Then, Neo began nodding repeatedly, over and over. To onlookers, it appeared as though Neo was receiving instructions from his minister. Inside the barrier: "Are you thirsty, Minister? I'll have someone refill your tea." "Right away, Minister." "Yes, I understand, Minister." "No problem at all, please rest assured!" Bernie said nothing, staring sternly at Neo as he slowly raised his hand. A sharp glint of defiance flashed in the depths of Neo's eyes, signaling that if Bernie dared strike, he would retaliate with the fiercest resistance. The hand Bernie had raised slowly lowered. Neo straightened, dispelled the barrier, and spoke in a voice not particularly loud, yet carrying clearly across the hall: "Understood, Minister!" Bernie's face began to darken, an ominous foreboding rising within his chest. Neo returned to the aisle and strode forward. Though he cast a glance toward the front row, he made no unnecessary movements, instead vaulting straight onto the presentation stage and saying to Karen: "Step back." At this moment, Neo was no longer the Director of the Second Office; he was the Captain of the Hound Squad. Karen stepped back two paces. "Yes, Captain." Neo grinned with satisfaction. *You brat have been teasing me all morning, and now don't you still have to obediently call me Captain?* *When real trouble strikes, I'm still the one standing before you to take the hit.* *Can't be helped. Who told you to only have two years left? If you had to change places and start all over, you'd never make it in time.* *Besides, being Director of the Second Office is boring anyway. I'll throw it away to cover your ass this round!* Neo reached out, grabbing the back of Bishop Yeder's neck as he knelt, forcing his body forward like a true convict. Bishop Yeder instinctively began to resist. He could endure humiliation from one person, but he could not stomach being disgraced by one after another. Seeing that the bishop refused to comply and even dared to resist, Neo raised his boot, and kicked down hard against the bound Bishop Yeder. *Bang!* Neo's boot pinned Bishop Yeder's back, pressing his torso flat against the floor. Once again, silence fell over the entire hall! Neo took a deep breath. He had faith that Memphis was capable of manipulating the defensive formation here, because under the identity of "Aisen," Memphis had participated in every aspect of modifying the headquarters building's defensive formation—in fact, the entire initial scheme had practically been done by him alone. The only concern was whether Memphis had "read" his signal earlier. Without his cooperation, the effect would fall flat. Neo raised his arm. *Hum!* In an instant, a beam of silver-gray light shone down upon him. Excellent. Mr. Aisen might be introverted and withdrawn in daily life, but when it came to his nephew, his mind became extraordinarily sharp. Neo turned his gaze toward Minister Bernie seated below. *Hum!* An even thicker beam of light crashed directly upon Minister Bernie's seat, physically turning him into the greatest focal point in the entire hall! Neo spoke: "Pursuant to reports received, Bishop Adair, Bishop Pianis, Bishop Ferow, Bishop Renasen, and Bishop Spache are suspected of violating the Code of Order. In accordance with the law, your excellencies are hereby under arrest!" Seven regional bishops had attended today. Bishop Yeder was kneeling here, Head Bishop Wolflen sat in the front row, and the other five regional bishops—every single one of them—were called out by Neo. *Clank, clatter...* From above the hall, a dense shower of thick, black iron chains descended, binding the five bishops in the second row. "Outrageous! Utter insolence! Bernie, do you people have any idea what you are doing!" "Do you still have any sense of propriety? Do you still respect church canon? Bernie, how dare you act so recklessly!" "What gives you the right to do this!" "The Whip of Order must give us an explanation today!" The five bishops roared in fury, but for all their shouting, none dared resist the defensive formation. In an instant, all five bishops were bound to their seats by black chains. In the front row, Regional Head Harry stared wide-eyed at Neo on the stage. Beside him, Wolflen lowered his head and took several gulps of tea, using the motion of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to conceal a grin. Neo declared loudly: "Whether you are a divine servant or a bishop, no one—I repeat, no one—possesses the right to violate the Code of Order! This is the conviction that the revived Whip of Order shall convey to the entire church and all ecclesiastical circles! "Our minister, Lord Bernie, knows what doing this entails! He knows what resistance he will encounter! Yet he has no regrets! "This is why our Lord Minister brought coffins with him to take the stage today! "Either "we purge every speck of dust upon Order in the Yorktown Region, "or "he will lie in the coffin he chose for himself!" Minister Bernie: "..."