Our Power!

Karen's entire sequence of actions was seamless, without the slightest hesitation. After all, the defensive array he had painstakingly arranged had been set up to protect Gisen. As an array master, whenever a problem arose within his own array, it naturally had to be resolved: wherever something jammed, you excised it—regardless of whether it was a low-level spell or a sub-forbidden curse. Mr. Hoffen had explicitly written in his array notes: an excellent array master must possess their own brand of confidence. Karen could not yet attain that realm of a "servant sealing an evil god," but at the very least, he could first attempt to treat a sub-forbidden curse like a straw dog. Gisen twisted his head around to look at Karen standing behind him, his facial expression severely contorted. It was not that he had never suspected Karen was tied to this assassination, but he had deliberately maintained that final veneer of civility, refusing to tear it away. Yet he had truly never imagined that Karen would be the first to ruthlessly rip that mask off. He did not bother reflecting on whether the provocation in his final words had successfully set Karen off; there was no need to reflect. Karen had stood behind him from the very beginning, which meant that from the moment the young minister arrived here, his mind had already been made up. "Karen, everything... everything is negotiable." Stripped of pride and bereft of dignity, having his trump card shattered before it could even take effect, Gisen took the initiative to yield. Karen had seen similar transformations many times. Once stripped of their aura of status, the vast majority of people were actually identical. It was just like in a public bathhouse before undressing, where the supposed "disparity" between people could still be discerned; but once everyone stepped into the pool stark naked, they were all basically the same. "Heh." Karen merely wore a faint smile. "Whatever conditions you have, just name them! So long as you can guarantee my safety!" Karen still did not speak. He did have conditions, but he had no need to state them himself, much less did he need this middle-aged scion before him to grant any promises. Karen's attitude caused Gisen's heart to plummet straight to rock bottom. Like a drowning man, he cried out in frantic desperation: "You can name any terms—truly, anything! I'll pull strings for you so you can be promoted out of the Yorktown Region! I'll pour my family's resources into you! You're still young, you have a far brighter path ahead of you, really, Karen..." Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, Gisen immediately yelled: "I'll overturn the results of this conference! I'll arrest that bunch from the Church of the Desert! I'll hold them accountable for what happened to Wolflen! I'll make sure they die miserable deaths!" Karen still offered no response. In a way, he had to thank Lord Theisen for that scathing rebuke before his death. The old men associated with his grandfather's generation were truly fascinating; even their rebukes toward the younger generation carried a subtle kind of "indulgence." The old lord had told him to adhere to the Code of Order. Looking at it from another angle, holding the Code of Order meant holding the ultimate justification—and under that principle, he could completely disregard everything else. How was this a restraint? This was practically another form of indulgence. At this moment, the attackers launched their assault. It was still the previous pattern: the giant warrior spearheaded the charge, the assassin fluttered around the periphery, and that old acquaintance remained standing in place. They were likely a small team assembled on short notice. To put it nicely, they fought with great caution; to put it bluntly, they were cowardly. If Karen hadn't provided that assist earlier and broken through Gisen's protective spell, their ambush tonight would have already ended in failure. At this point, Karen finally responded to Gisen: "Rest assured, I will protect you well." Having spoken, Karen's feet lifted off the ground as he drifted three meters backward, standing further behind to provide "better protection." The giant charged into the pavilion. Lying on the pavilion steps, Drew parted his lips like an old horse struggling on the verge of death. But his injuries were simply too severe; because the enemy had that "old acquaintance" present, even though Drew had accomplished a great deal, those accomplishments were ultimately neutralized. Drew had wanted to use his last shred of strength to help his young master fend off the danger. Though he should have been thoroughly enfeebled, his chest suddenly caved in completely, as if his ribcage had been entirely corroded away. This meant a gemstone had been embedded within Drew's body all along. The gemstone's effect manifested: a ring of yellow halo rippled outward with Drew at its center, forming a quagmire-like vortex. As the giant stepped into it, his feet ground to a halt. Gisen immediately channeled an advanced spell. From beneath the vortex, an extraordinarily thick black tree instantly erupted; the moment it surged upward, it completely mangled his valet Drew's body. The tips of the tree's branches pierced into the giant's flesh one after another, and the giant let out an agonized howl. To be able to unleash an advanced spell in such a short window meant Gisen possessed considerable personal strength; he certainly had talent, which was likely why his family's ancestor had chosen him. Having landed a strike, Gisen continued to drive the spell, sending more branches plunging into the giant's body in hopes of inflicting even heavier damage. Standing behind him, Karen saw through the flaw at a glance: this Director truly had no idea how to fight. Half the purpose of the giant's earlier howling had been to bait him into pouring more power into the spell, when in reality it was to create a better opening for his assassin comrade. The assassin still appeared to be flitting in the distance, but that was merely a shifting phantom; in truth, he had already closed in. He really is quite similar to my uncle. The assassin materialized at Gisen's flank, his right hand brushing lightly toward Gisen's face, four long needles held between his five fingers. If that touch landed, Gisen's head would blow apart on the spot. Gisen had not expected the assassin to arrive so abruptly. He had thought he was tracking the assassin's movements closely, never anticipating he would still fall for the trick. However, his subsequent reaction was still fast: a barrier instantly sprang up before him, its colors stratifying to reinforce the targeted area. The assassin abandoned the strike to the face, his arm flicking downward—everything happened in a flash. Once a full-body defensive barrier acquired a focal point, it naturally developed weak spots. The assassin's four long needles punched straight through the weakened defense and plunged into Gisen's body. Gisen was swept backward by a tremendous force. The assassin clenched one hand with distinct elegance; behind his black mask, his mouth probably formed a silent "pop." Yet the anticipated detonation of the needles did not occur, because Karen caught Gisen. The Fire of Order swiftly formed a membrane around Gisen, severing the link between the assassin and the needles. Having done this, Karen released his grip, and Gisen tumbled to the ground. Though the needles in his chest hadn't exploded, every single point of entry was treacherous. Gisen's body began convulsing uncontrollably, frothy blood bubbling continuously from his mouth. Alas, a quite capable... weakling. The valet Drew's realm and raw strength were actually lower than Gisen's, yet the servant had held out for so long, whereas Gisen had been knocked flat in a single exchange. Karen held the Sword of Diamans across his chest, his gaze fixed on the assassin. The moment the needles failed to detonate, the assassin had already made three attempts to launch a secondary assault. Yet each time his intent surfaced before his body could follow through, he immediately sensed Karen's aura locking onto him in advance. Thus, though neither side had actually traded blows yet, a contest of awareness and combat instinct had long since begun. "Roar!" The giant broke free from the spell's constraint, but this time he did not retreat, because that "old acquaintance" appeared behind him, casting a healing spell directly onto his body. The "old acquaintance" spoke: "Step aside. You won't be held responsible for his death." Karen shook his head and said, "If he dies, my superior will be held responsible." Upon hearing this, the old acquaintance seemed to freeze. Even obscured by the mask, his expression was surely stiff. Karen turned his head once more to glance at Gisen, who was still convulsing behind him, and cast a healing spell: "Deep Slumber!" This was an anesthetic-like spell. Once it landed on Gisen, though his body continued to twitch, he slipped into an unconscious stupor. Immediately afterward, Karen fixed his gaze back onto the three attackers in front of him. He planted the Sword of Diamans into the ground and rested both hands on the hilt, adopting a posture that clearly declared: I am right here; come at me if you dare. The old acquaintance said, "Then we will kill you... as well." Karen smiled faintly. "Agreed." *** "My dear, is there really any need to be in such a rush?" When Old Master Delon returned home from work tonight and opened the door, he had expected to be greeted by a pot of delicious soup his wife had lovingly prepared for him. Who would have thought his wife would hoist him up with one hand? The last time he had been hauled through the air by his wife like this was a very, very long time ago. Back then, before they had confirmed their romantic relationship, his persistent courtship had annoyed her, so she grabbed him just like this and dumped him straight into a zone where powerful monster beasts roamed. Several hours later, however, his wife returned. Seeing that he hadn't yet been devoured by monster beasts as a midnight snack, she let out a sigh of relief and hoisted him right back. Going out had been terrifying; being hauled back had been sweet. Yet Old Master Delon truly never anticipated that, at his advanced age, he would unexpectedly have to relive his youth. One could only say his wife's physical constitution was truly formidable. Even in her later years, a martial artist was simply not someone an array master could dare compare himself to. Ahead lay the Wien Royal Palace. On a rooftop, Madame Tangli dropped Delon and instructed: "Do you see the array over there?" Delon shook his head. "No." "No array?" "Segmented pieces have been laid out, but they lack a core array sacred relic to link them together. As long as it lacks 'complete vitality,' it doesn't count as an array." "Are you lecturing me on theory?" "No..." "Find a way to break it." "It hasn't even been activated yet..." "Can't you prepare in advance so you can break it faster once it activates?" "I can, certainly, but doing so will be very draining. My dear, shouldn't I at least know why?" "Do as I tell you. This is what you ought to be doing, Delon." Hearing his wife call him by his full name, Delon immediately drew his neck in. Though he had no idea why she was in such a foul temper, he immediately condensed a large Rubik's cube to begin his deductions. Such was the self-awareness expected of a whetstone ground into its knife's favorite shape. Beside Old Master Delon, Madame Tangli quietly produced a kitchen cleaver and began sharpening it against the rooftop railing. Her Dream Demon Blade had already been given to Philomena. After decades of being a housewife, she naturally had no interest in forging a second blade, so when it came time for action, she simply grabbed whatever was handiest at home. A cleaver was fine. At her realm, choice of weaponry could truly follow whatever she pleased. Although the old man thought his wife was in a terrible mood, in reality, Madame Tangli was thrilled. Because her grandson had asked her for help for the very first time. A phone call had come through, opening with: "Grandmother, please do me a favor." Hearing those words, Madame Tangli's heart had practically melted. As an elder, the state one dreaded most was feeling useless. It had nothing to do with whether one's children were filial; it was a disorientation and loss of self-worth. What was more, her grandson was simply too outstanding—so outstanding that even when she wanted to help, she could rarely find anywhere she was needed. As your biological grandmother, I'm clearly a formidable fighter, yet the only thing I ever get to do for you is buy seasonal clothes; Sometimes I want to cook something nice for you... only to know your culinary skills are better than mine. When other grandmothers cook delicacies for their grandsons, it's called showing love; around here, it's making a fool of myself! How infuriating is that! In short, this was a rare opportunity. And the reason Madame Tangli had shown such irritation at her husband's earlier questions was that what she ought to do was also what her husband ought to do. The grandson wasn't hers alone! When helping your own daughter's child, your own grandson, why all the useless chatter! It had to be said that the old man's mastery of arrays was truly profound. Before long, he had mapped out the operational mode of the array sacred relic enveloping the palace, and even deduced twelve additional variations. Next, all that remained was inscribing the corresponding array scroll. Like a locksmith picking a lock, once the internal mechanism of the cylinder was understood, the rest was routine procedure. Madame Tangli flicked the cleaver with a fingertip, thoroughly satisfied with its sharpness. Beside her, Delon asked as he drew the array scroll, "Is this for Karen?" "Mhm," Madame Tangli replied. "Oh." Old Master Delon merely nodded and asked nothing further. Though he did not know Karen was his biological grandson, Karen's relationship with the Guman family had long become so close that there was no need to ask for reasons when help was requested. With the scroll finished, Delon sliced his palm with a fingernail, letting his fresh blood soak into it. This was done to guarantee the scroll's quality and minimize the risk of defects. "Phew..." The old man plopped down onto the rooftop. A dignified Bishop of the Church of Order's Yorktown Region, dragged out in the dead of night to be worked like an apprentice—aside from his wife, there was probably no one else in the world who could boss him around like this. He looked at his wife and asked, "Are you planning to fight tonight too?" Madame Tangli nodded. "I'd like to. It just depends on whether Karen gives me the chance." Immediately after, Madame Tangli looked at her husband. "In a bit, your only job is to break the array. Don't worry about anything else." "Should I cover my own eyes too?" "That works." "What could there be that I'm not allowed to see?" "Everyone has their secrets. Don't I?" Delon hesitated for a moment before replying: "Alright. I'll obey." Madame Tangli smiled. The old man was instantly captivated. *** "I'd like to know the mission plan, Mr. Alfred." Before the hotel's floor-to-ceiling window, Vic walked up to Alfred and asked. This hotel was separated from the palace by only two streets. Whenever the royal family held major ceremonies, it was fully booked, though on ordinary days business was relatively slow. At this moment, only Alfred and Vic occupied this suite. In the two adjacent rooms were squads of Light remnants led separately by Vernon and Helen. Alfred gazed up at the moon and answered, "Events have shifted, forcing our plan to change as well." "Is the shift... good or bad?" "Neither good nor bad; it has simply become more complicated." "What can I do?" "This time, you are the key." "Do you mean my identity as a student of the former High Priest?" "Yes, precisely. It is far more valuable than you imagine." "Understood." "Ah," Alfred let out a sigh. "Do you remember last time? When the young master faced Bernie's sudden attack, we could only counter with the most extreme measures—we practically flipped the table." "And this time...?" "It's different now. You cannot flip the table every time, or sooner or later you will slip up. Besides, resorting to flipping the table at every disruption only proves we have never matured. "This new operation was drawn up in haste. Because the other party is also a faction within our church, to avoid putting them on guard prematurely, we cannot mobilize the region's resources; we can only rely on our own inner circle. "Yet when we gather our trump cards and connections and sort through them, we find they are actually more than enough. Truth be told, the young master dislikes internal church factional struggles, but often he has no choice." "I know. The minister wants to avenge Wolflen." "The assassins also came to our home. The young master is avenging himself." "I... I hadn't thought of that." "It's normal not to think of it, because the young master is far more pragmatic than you imagine. Ideals, conduct, factions, power—all of these are shaped and put into practice through action. "Vic, this is a test for you." "A test for me?" "Yes. If you pass this test, I will give you a reward—one beyond your expectations." "Like what Philomena, Ventura, and Muri received?" "Yes. Trust me, if you make the right choice, when your teacher returns in the future, he will be very gratified. "In the past, you were never able to take pride in being your teacher's student, but in the future, your teacher will be proud of you." "I will seize this opportunity, Mr. Alfred." "Good." Alfred produced his notebook, turned to a blank page, and began sketching the background with a fountain pen. "Do you know what I am drawing?" "I'm sorry, I can't tell just yet." "You will understand in time, and you will be grateful to me." *** In the communications room of the Ankara Hotel, Sus had dismissed everyone and sat alone. Before him was an active communications array, with a memory crystal prepared beside it—something usually deployed only during pivotal remote conferences to record the entire proceeding. Sus's gaze was sullen. His small body was curled up on the sofa, gnawing at his fingernails every now and then. He was tense. He was terrified. Yet he was also thrillingly excited. *** Behind a desk in the corner of the Chief's office in the Yorktown Region Church Affairs Building, Bern sat holding a teacup, sipping slowly. In front of him, a communications array was also active, with a memory crystal positioned in place. On the sofa opposite him sat an old man wearing slightly worn clerical robes—none other than Davins. Davins said, "I originally thought you would be delighted to see that new Regional Chief get kicked out. That way, the Whip of Order would take a blow, and the Regional Administrative Office under your command would have the chance to reclaim the authority conceded during the Whip of Order's recent rise." "You underestimate me, Davins. I'm not like you all. Struggle is meant to secure a better environment to get things done, not for the sake of struggling itself." "Are you criticizing me?" "Not quite." A smile appeared on Bern's face. "It depends on the person." "I'm surprised that you appreciate him so much." "He is my colleague, Davins. A colleague. Before Wolflen passed away, I was already prepared to manage this region alongside him." "Fine. So while I'm not surprised you saw through our plan, I am puzzled why you actually told him. Are you so certain he has the capability to resolve this matter? "I can see he is very stubborn. When it comes to that bunch from the Church of the Desert, he is dead set on killing them." "Shouldn't he be?" Bern countered. "What are you people doing?" "Us?" "Indeed. You people should be the ones dead set on killing that bunch from the Church of the Desert. So I'm genuinely curious: between you all and Karen, who is the real fanatic?" "He is doing it for revenge." "No, he is acting in accordance with the Code of Order." "Heh, hypocritical." "I won't arrest you, Davins—not because I fear the chain reaction arresting you might trigger. I admit your existence has value. But tonight, until the outcome is decided, you have no choice but to sit here and drink tea with me." "So you've finally noticed the fact that I've been sitting here all this time and you still haven't poured me a single cup of tea?!" *** "Meow-la-la, meow-la-la, meow-la-la-loo!" Purr sat atop little Kanna's head. Little Kanna was sprinting while hauling a wooden handcart behind her. Aboard the handcart sat Ashley, a dog, and a skeleton clad in a woman's human skin. Small stature, enormous cart—yet that tiny body burst with tremendous power, pulling the cart at blistering speed! If anyone else dared ride atop the little bone dragon's head, the dragon would fight them to the death; yet Purr could order the little bone dragon to haul a cart. This was probably Purr's true "talent." At this moment, Purr looked back at Ashley and asked once more, "Your Highness Ashley, the greatest summoner of this era, are you sure sneaking out like this won't get noticed?" "It won't. That underground tunnel was the path I used to sneak out in the past. Aside from Sandy, no one in the research institute knows about it, and Sandy would never snitch." "If it dares snitch, I'll pluck all its fur bald when we get back, meow!" "Woof woof!" Purr shouted to Kanna below her: "Faster, little Kanna! Our little Karen needs us, meow-meow-meow!" "Meow!" *** Snap! Under a streetlamp, a man lit a cigarette, took a drag, and slowly exhaled before tossing the cigarette butt to the ground and grinding it under the sole of his boot. Neo rubbed his face, adjusted the angle, and then with a crisp shrrk, peeled off his own face, revealing a scarlet visage underneath. "How could something this fun leave me out?" Neo lightly cracked his neck: "Vacation's over. Back to work!"