PS: (Philias is the surname of the Mad Pope's lineage. The Mr. Philias whom Neo first met was a descendant of the Mad Pope, which is why the Mad Pope's classmates and roommates also call him Philias in this memory scene.)
...
The Church of Light had perished over a thousand years ago, its death knell sounded by the final, mad Pope's roar from atop the Tower of Light.
And what this mental imprint recorded was the Mad Pope's student days, meaning it took place even earlier.
Yet as Karen was "watching" this scene from over a thousand years ago, the figure within it had actually taken the initiative to interact with him, the "spectator."
Karen's first thought was whether a student from the neighboring dorm room had happened to be standing where he was at the time, and Ukonga was simply talking to that student from back then.
However, Ukonga's gaze was undeniably fixed on him, locked in direct eye contact.
It didn't seem like a coincidence at all. After all, how could things possibly line up so neatly? For him to synchronize so perfectly with someone from over a millennium ago who had just dropped by from next door was beyond improbable.
Verifying it was actually quite simple.
Like someone walking down the street hearing an indistinct shout, turning around, and pointing at their own face:
Karen asked, "Are you talking to me?"
Ukonga grinned and retorted, "Obviously. Who else?"
This was no coincidence.
He saw him. He truly saw him!
After all, no matter what, whoever had dropped by the dorm a thousand years ago couldn't possibly have synchronized so precisely as to point at himself and ask such a foolish question.
So what was he doing?
On an afternoon over a thousand years ago, sitting in his dorm, did he suddenly get a whim to chat with whoever would walk into this room more than a millennium later?
Even knowing you'd become a Temple Elder in the future, it's impossible to possess such terrifying power, right?
After the cavern incident, Karen had vaguely guessed that the God of Eternity's pursuit of the temporal taboo had not been a total failure as recorded in divine history. He had also dimly realized that perhaps even the previous God of Order had dabbled in this forbidden power.
The Raniedal in his own home was not the sole traveler on this path toward the taboo. Although he was a god, there were chief gods grander and more powerful than he was in his prime who had walked this same path—and had even ventured further ahead of him.
Yet that was the pursuit of gods. How could you possess such a thing?
Gradually, Karen thought of a possibility—no, the only plausible explanation for this "interaction"!
Ukonga, that Temple Elder from over a thousand years ago... had not died.
Only if he were still alive, with the mental imprint left here maintaining an active resonance with his true self, could an interaction detached from the recorded memory take place.
Granted, this was shocking and baffling in its own right. The lifespan of a Temple Elder was around four hundred years, rarely exceeding five hundred. According to the teachings, this longevity was the divine blessing they received for serving the great God of Order.
But had this man lived for over a thousand years?
All the way from the era when the Church of Light fell, surviving to the present day?
Still, this explanation was far easier to accept than Ukonga having mastered the taboo of time.
So was he currently in a mental imprint environment governed by Ukonga?
Then were all the people and events around him constructed from Ukonga's memories and perceptions?
"Hey, say something. What, you came all the way here and suddenly got shy?" Ukonga's lips curled in an enduring cynical smirk.
Just then, the Mad Pope chimed in, "If he's here, let him be. We're all classmates, after all."
"Sigh," Ukonga said, sounding somewhat helpless. "Philias, are all you Light believers such big philanthropists?"
The Mad Pope replied, "When provisions are plentiful, sharing brings joy in itself."
Ukonga shrugged. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to get that five-colored turkey? That's an exceptionally precious delicacy, something we ought to cherish. When Dicarost was slaughtering it just now, its squawks sounded to me like a student weeping over a lost graduation thesis."
Dicarost poked his head out from the washroom and said, "This one wasn't a graduation thesis. It's a professor's academic paper, probably meant for her promotion review."
Hearing this, Ukonga immediately asked, "Which professor? Is she a woman? I think her wounded heart might need some comfort right now—the perfect chance for me to make a move."
"Professor Marlena. There was a tag around its neck with her name on it. Took me forever to crack it. Can you believe she even laced the tag with a self-destruct restriction? Wanting to blow up a chicken thief over a bird—talk about a complete lack of teacher ethics!"
"Oh, isn't she in her sixties?" Ukonga frowned. "Thirty is great, forty has flavor, fifty can still radiate refined charm if she takes care of herself. Sixty... ah, what a pity, that's outside my dietary range."
This revered future Temple Elder really had set his moral bar astonishingly low in his youth.
Still, if he was likely still alive today, his achievements had to be far greater than those of other Temple Elders.
Dicarost said, "That's why we have to polish it off fast and finish it in one sitting. What, do you want to find a freezer and save it for a second meal? So move it! I'm almost done prepping it in here, get moving out there! Destroy the evidence before the Security Section starts a dorm search!"
Ukonga clapped his hands. "Alright, alright, get to work. I'm looking forward to its benefits. Eating graduation theses and research papers usually gives an enhancement down there."
With that, Ukonga bent down and pulled a box from under a desk, containing barbecue tools and fire-elemental crystals. He began assembling the grill with practiced ease. Evidently, this dorm room had pulled this stunt more than just once or twice.
"I'll head to the cafeteria to pick up some side dishes," the Mad Pope said with a smile.
Dicarost chimed in, "Oh, Philias, hurry up! All those free healings and massages you gave the cafeteria staff need to pay off right now."
The Mad Pope patted his coin pouch. "I'm bringing meal vouchers, because my treatments didn't achieve true success."
"Didn't succeed?"
"Yeah. Their shaking hands whenever they ladle out food—I could never cure that habit."
"Hahahahaha!"
"Hahahahaha!"
Everyone in the dorm burst out laughing.
Budalas pointed at Karen and said, "Hey, you, come with me to the communal washroom to wash dishes."
Each dorm had its own private washroom as well as a large communal one per floor. Since their room's washroom was currently occupied with slaughtering the turkey, they had to go outside.
"Oh, alright."
Karen picked up a basket of tableware and subconsciously glanced at Ukonga, who was busy nearby.
If he left this dorm room, would this "scene" vanish?
Or perhaps once he stepped outside Ukonga's line of sight, he would detach from the scene?
"Let's go."
Budalas picked up a basket as well and walked out, Karen following behind.
After stepping out of the room, Karen was surprised to find Budalas still in front of him. His surroundings hadn't dissolved, and the dormitory building before his eyes was not abandoned. In other words, he had not returned to reality.
Was it because Ukonga's spiritual power was so formidable that it could sustain such a vast range? Or was it due to some other special cause, such as the so-called leak?
Still, for now at least, Karen had unlocked an achievement: washing dishes alongside a High Priest of the Church of Order.
And this High Priest was universally acknowledged as the most influential and capable in the history of the Church of Order, whose administrative legacy continued to exert a profound impact even now, over a thousand years later.
"Today is a day worth celebrating. Help me wash a few extra cups. I plan to raise a toast from afar to the warriors of the Church of Rest, paying tribute to their courage in defying Light."
"Alright."
Karen lowered his head and got to work. He had already noticed that as water from the faucet washed over his fingers, he didn't feel much cold, and the tactile sensation was somewhat hazy.
Karen immediately realized that this was likely his instincts resisting the influence of the mental imprint.
His mental willpower had grown even stronger after being tempered by the hunger addiction.
Karen settled his mind and actively suppressed this instinct, much like stooping down and playing short just to fit at the dinner table.
With this adjustment, the "synchronization" rose again, and the chill of the water from the faucet suddenly turned distinctly sharp.
However, this introduced a new issue: in creating and sustaining this "scene," he was now contributing effort of his own.
Originally he had merely been a "spectator," but now he had not only stepped in to interact, but had actively taken on part of the burden of maintaining its operation.
So just what kind of bizarre state was this?
It wasn't time travel, nor was it temporal reversal. Could an imprint left behind by spiritual power truly be this open-ended?
Budalas continued, "The campus journal editor already invited me to submit articles. I'm going to write a series of pieces building momentum around Light's invasion of Rest, extolling Rest's bravery and inspiring admiration, rallying support for the Church of Rest to fight until the very last man in their war against Light."
Seeing Karen remain silent and focus intently on tinkering with the "faucet,"
Budalas furrowed his brow slightly and asked, "Are you listening to me?"
"Ah, yes."
"Not interested in politics?"
"No, I am."
"We should be interested, at least right now." Budalas looked Karen up and down and said earnestly, "Because only by truly winning this confrontation against the Church of Light can the Light of Order genuinely shine across the entire church world."
It was evident that Budalas possessed boundless energy, passionate about expressing his political views to everyone around him and conveying his perspectives and theories.
"Yes, you're right. Only when the Church of Light falls can the Code of Order become the standard for the entire church world."
Karen's response clearly resonated with the ideal blueprint in Budalas's mind. He raised a plate, waving it about. "Whatever customs, styles, or traditions other churches have, step aside! From now on, the sole guideline governing this world will be the Code of Order. It can be thick, or it can be thin. We don't even have to care what's written inside, which volume, chapter, or clause. We'll hold it in our left hand and clench our right fist, completely free to dictate its contents on the fly as needed! Haha."
"That will lead to problems," Karen remarked. "Unchecked power will inevitably turn back and consume you in the end."
Budalas frowned. "You're so pedantic."
"It's not pedantry. The Church of Light is a mirror right now. We defeat Light not so we can become the next Light. Great absolute power does not conflict with theory and rules. Restraint upon oneself is not inherently negative. It's like a dam: its presence blocks the rushing torrent, yet its regulation reduces the damage of both floods and droughts."
Budalas stared at Karen and said, "What you're talking about is too far off. Right now, the Church of Light still looms before us."
"Only the side that sees the future in advance can win the present."
Budalas fell silent and resumed scrubbing dishes.
When they had washed all the plates clean and were ready to head back, Budalas lifted his basket and said, "I admit, what you said makes a lot of sense. Even if it's theoretical, it can indeed guide our direction in reality."
"I was just speaking off the cuff."
"Are you Philias's friend?"
"Me?"
"Aren't you? I thought you were invited over by Philias. He loves making friends—or rather, he can become good friends with anyone. That's a trait typical of Light believers."
"Philias is a good man."
"Yes, a good man. If he weren't returning to the Church of Light, I'm sure we'd be lifelong friends. Too bad..." Budalas tugged at Karen's clerical robe with one hand. "Too bad the color of our robes is ultimately different."
To keep a low profile during class at the university, Karen was wearing an ordinary clerical robe of Order.
If he were currently wearing his ministerial-grade robe, what would the "plot" look like?
Would Ukonga ask, "Hey, boss, are you here to inspect our dorm or just mooching a meal?"
By the time they returned to the dorm room, Ukonga had already set up the barbecue grill and ignited the fire-elemental crystals. A plucked turkey was impaled on the spit, "eyes closed," spinning and sizzling.
Brushing spices over it, Ukonga remarked, "This five-colored turkey doesn't look like anything special once plucked. Does its defining trait really just lie in the feather color?"
Dicarost spoke up, "Feathers of different colors carry powers of different attributes."
As he spoke, Dicarost raised his hands, which were covered in bloody cuts, as though he had just gripped a fistful of razor blades.
"Fire- and thunder-attribute feathers were murder to deal with. I hope the meat makes up for my sacrifice."
Ukonga shook his head. "I think you're going to be disappointed. The meat looks a bit dry. That's why turkeys will never become mainstream on dining tables, no matter how many colored feathers they grow. Dicarost, if you're free tomorrow, go steal a Sandy bird back. Its meat is decent, and its feathers are far prettier and holier—perfect for blankets and mattresses. Last time I brought a mattress stuffed with Sandy feathers on a date, that bounce saved my lower back a whole lot of strain."
Sandy was the species name for the sacrificial birds of the Church of Order.
Hearing this, Karen realized that Sandies had it rough in every era.
Budalas said, "If you steal another Sandy, the Moral Education Department will have to use turkeys for the opening ceremony at the next school anniversary. They'd lose their minds."
"I'm back," the Mad Pope announced, carrying two large bags of side dishes as he entered the dorm.
"Did they take your vouchers?" Ukonga asked.
"No."
"At least they have some conscience."
"I insisted on leaving the vouchers behind anyway."
"Oh, Philias, you really are an idiot!" Ukonga stared at him in utter incomprehension. "If you're so kind-hearted, why don't you go back, become the Pope of Light, and disband the Church of Light? That'd bring world peace!"
Budalas joked, "If that really happened, Philias would have to conceal his identity to attend classes here, lest he get arrested as a Light... Light remnant! Hahaha."
Everyone burst out laughing once more.
Karen chuckled along with them.
The four roommates in the room took it as a mere joke, yet in reality, a thousand years later, hunting and purging Light remnants had indeed become an unquestioned red line for the Church of Order.
"Is it done?" Dicarost asked. "I'm starving."
Ukonga shook his head. "Don't rush, don't rush. It's just like flirting: if the heat isn't just right, you won't get true deliciousness."
Karen found a chair and sat down.
Dicarost pointed at Karen and asked, "Hey, can you tell me how you take care of your skin?"
"Oh God, Dicarost, what do you mean by that?" Ukonga cried out dramatically. "No wonder you can never find a girlfriend no matter how much I help you! Turns out your track ran in a completely different direction from mine from the very start!"
The Mad Pope spoke up, "Ukonga, you're crossing the line."
"The guy himself doesn't mind, so what are you on about, Philias? Right, classmate? What was your name again?"
"Karen. Karen Silva."
Ukonga might still be alive, so Karen dared not utter the surname "Inmeles."
"Never heard of that family."
"My family is a lineage of Inquisitors."
"A lineage of Inquisitors?" Ukonga licked his lips. "Sounds pretty high-class. Haha."
Budalas warned, "Ukonga, you really are crossing the line. As a believer of Order, have you forgotten our most fundamental dogma?"
"Dammit all!" Ukonga threw his hands up. "I surrender, I surrender! What sins did I commit in my past life to have you two lecturing me on ethics every single day? I swear, since you love preaching so much, one of you should become Pope and the other High Priest in the future! If you don't make it, don't blame me for looking down on you!"
Dicarost rubbed his chin, where the beginnings of a beard were already taking shape, and asked Karen, "I just wanted to discuss how to take good care of my skin. I feel like it's getting rougher and rougher."
"You need the nourishment of love," Ukonga said.
Dicarost countered, "But the girl I chased last time seemed to have rougher skin than mine?"
"Who told you to chase an international student from the Church of Thunder? Every couple of days they channel lightning into their bodies! Their pores are stretched wide, and their body hair grows so thick and stiff it looks like lightning rods."
Dicarost retorted, "That's a wild, healthy kind of beauty!"
Ukonga nodded. "Right, right, right. I dated a female believer from the Church of Thunder once. She gave me my very first taste of an actual electric shock while getting down to business in bed—and that's no poetic exaggeration."
Budalas asked, "Is that the time you returned to the dorm sporting an afro?"
Ukonga: "Only because you didn't see down below. Looked like a porcupine down there."
Dicarost scoffed, "Why am I even discussing love with a breeding boar like you?"
"At least I didn't take the girl I was courting to steal dragon eggs in the containment breeding zone, soaking her in dragon shit for three days and three nights until she was thoroughly marinated!"
"That was an accident! An accident! And we supported each other through it and got out safely without being caught!"
"Which is why she refused to be your girlfriend—every time she looks at you, she's reminded of that swamp of shit."
Karen reminded them, "It's done roasting."
Ukonga looked down. "Mm, spot on. Time to carve. Little ones, set out your plates, daddy's going to feed you."
Dicarost retrieved the boiled blood sausage, sliced it, and plated it.
The Mad Pope arranged the side dishes.
Budalas poured the drinks.
Once everything was ready and they raised their glasses, Budalas cheered, "Come, first a toast to our brave warriors of Rest!"
"Cheers!"
"Cheers!"
After drinking, Ukonga teased, "Budalas, you should really thank Philias for his good temper. Otherwise he'd have spiked your glass and sent you straight to report to the First Knight Order."
The Mad Pope replied, "We're classmates, and friends." Pausing, he added, "He's not yet qualified to join your Order's First Knight Order anyway. Poisoning him to death now would be a waste. At least wait until he's qualified later, then poison him and purify his corpse on the side—now that would be satisfying."
"Hahahaha," Budalas laughed. "Seriously, I'm actually really looking forward to when your Light grows some spine, sheds the polite facade, and goes to all-out war with us in Order. I'd love to see just how formidable our First Knight Order truly is."
The Mad Pope said, "You in Order are free to initiate the war."
Budalas shook his head. "Are we stupid? Time is on our side."
"Tastes good," Dicarost said after taking a bite of turkey.
"Indeed, not bad at all," Ukonga revised his verdict. "So was Professor Marlena's paper titled 'On Breeding Improvements for Better-Tasting Turkey Meat'?"
Karen took a bite and found it surprisingly tender and juicy.
Even though he knew what he was eating was illusionary, when the sensation was indistinguishable from reality, the boundary between real and fake blurred.
"Right, what class do we have this afternoon?" Ukonga asked.
"Skipping class again? Looks to me like you don't plan on graduating," Budalas said.
"I don't care. I'm not cut out for academics, and I don't plan to go into politics. My only virtue is having that tiny bit of talent in cultivation. Heh, that's the only reason my dad didn't choke me to death at birth."
Dicarost said, "Your dad really is merciful. If it were me, I'd find a way to reverse time and shoot the load that made you right against the wall."
"Hehehe," Ukonga chuckled. "First time I've heard an insult involve a taboo."
Karen asked curiously, "What happened?"
The Mad Pope answered, "Ukonga's family originally recommended him, and he passed the screening, earning the eligibility to inherit the legacy of your Church of Order's 'Master.' But in the end, he turned it down himself."
Budalas said, "Good thing Ukonga didn't become the Child of God, or we'd have to kneel while eating with him right now."
"Hey, hey, what's so great about being a Child of God? A person only gets one life. I reckon I'll only live to seventy."
Dicarost remarked, "With your lack of restraint, you'll be lucky to reach fifty."
Karen thought to himself: *No, he lived for over a thousand years.*
Ukonga said, "Exactly. In this hard-earned life, why should I become someone else's replacement, a puppet bearing someone else's label?"
Budalas asked, "Even if it's the 'Master'?"
Ukonga countered, "Who was it that just lectured me that everyone is equal under Order?"
Budalas said, "Yet the existence of a Child of God serves a vital purpose for the church."
Ukonga: "Then I'll strive to ensure my future existence serves a purpose even greater than that of a Child of God."
Dicarost quipped, "You mean in terms of sowing seeds?"
"What, is that not allowed? All the girls dating me now will definitely regret using contraception when they were with me in the future."
Budalas rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "Ukonga, you picked the wrong major. You should have gone to the Monster Beast Breeding Academy to solve the breeding difficulties of powerful beasts."
"Not the same thing."
"No, I genuinely think your abilities are strong enough to break reproductive barriers."
"Thanks for the compliment. I'll take that as your worship of my prowess in that department."
"Whatever makes you happy."
"So you still haven't answered me. What class is this afternoon? I need to know if I should juggle my schedule and manage my time."
The Mad Pope said, "Our electives are shared. This afternoon is Artifact Perception Class. The people from the containment space should have arrived by now."
Ukonga said, "What's the fun in looking at divine artifacts in class? They treat them like treasures, keeping them locked under covers so you can only gaze from afar. Total bore. If only we could wander around inside the containment space—maybe even chat with a gorgeous artifact spirit lady. Even though they're soul entities, powerful artifact spirits can manifest nearly solid bodies. I'd love to experience that wonderful feeling. Dicarost, what do you think?"
"Count me in. I'll go anywhere," Dicarost thumped his chest. "I'm genuinely not afraid. But the question is, how do we get in?"
Budalas warned, "Have you lost your minds?"
It wasn't that he couldn't take a joke; rather, he knew all too well how utterly lawless his two roommates could be.
Past experience had taught him that astonishing stunts in this room often started as jokes.
Ukonga said, "Actually, getting into the containment space is simple. We start with their personnel. Are there any female professors or priestesses coming for this open lecture? I can sacrifice my good looks to pry out some intel."
Dicarost said, "Getting in is too difficult. That creature guards the place, its eye sweeping across the containment space without pause. That's what happens when your God of Order slew so many gods back then—the containment space houses far more divine artifacts than any other church. Still, we could take a different approach: we don't have to go inside, but we could summon an artifact out to play with."
Ukonga said, "That's why I'm saying, I'll take charge of snagging the schematics for the summoning altar. Budalas, Philias, you two arrange the altar. That shouldn't be hard for top students like you, right?"
Budalas shook his head. "I'm not doing something like that."
"Then don't eat the turkey!" Ukonga snapped.
The Mad Pope spoke up, "With the schematics, setting up the altar isn't hard. But the issue is, no matter how you arrange it, you need a relay point inside the containment space. Dicarost, do you have a way to get inside first?"
Dicarost smiled faintly and said, "Unless you give me a holy angel and a fallen angel to command, I really can't imagine any way I could break into the Church of Order's containment space."
Karen reached down and touched his ring.
Ukonga sighed. "Then game over. Forget it, I'll just skip class and head to the grove."
Dicarost let out a sigh. "Looks like the containment space is still too high-level for who I am right now. But down the line, I'll definitely try to get in and see your God of Order's trophy hall."
The Mad Pope took a bite of blood sausage. "Let's just attend class. Be good, attend class, and learn."
Budalas chuckled, "Look, look, it's not that I'm unloyal and refusing to help. There's simply no way, haha."
Karen chewed on the turkey while pondering: could this mental imprint scene actually expand outward?
Even if it wasn't reality, even if it was illusory, just how far could it extend?
Originally Karen had thought that after lunch, he might tag along to audit the lecture with them, but here they were plotting to stir up trouble in the containment space!
So, should he test it?
See whether it could really expand outward? And at the same time confirm whether what expanded was the "memory and thought" of Ukonga, the living Temple Elder, or... the collective memories and thoughts of everyone in this dorm.
Because from his interaction with them during this time, each of them seemed so vivid and alive, not at all like secondary characters fabricated solely from Ukonga's impressions.
Karen spoke up:
"Um... if you really want to get into the containment space, I have a way."
All at once, the other four fell silent, four pairs of eyes locking onto Karen.
Karen added, "If you need a relay point inside, I can place it. The rest will be up to you."
Ukonga abruptly stood up, walked over to Karen, and stared at him intently at close range.
In that instant, he gave Karen the feeling that he was about to step right out of the "scene."
Yet soon, Ukonga wrapped an arm around Karen's shoulders. "Classmate, you're not kidding, are you?"
"I'm not."
"Daddy, you're really not kidding?"
"I'm not."
Ukonga threw a friendly punch into Karen's chest and laughed, "Your son believes you!"
Dicarost whistled. "Whoa, I can feel my soul of adventure blazing!"
The Mad Pope said, "We can start gathering materials."
Budalas frowned and spoke to Karen in grave earnest: "I'll assume for now you truly possess that capability, but do you realize the consequences of doing this? Do you understand the sheer gravity of this matter?!"
Karen wasn't sure how to reply for a moment.
Budalas immediately broke into a grin. "Just don't make a habit of it!"
This was a dorm where roommates could be chosen. Living together was, to some degree, a reflection of shared interests and kindred spirits. Budalas's earlier uprightness had probably been a facade; deep down, he too wanted to join in the fun, relishing the thrill of order being temporarily shattered.
In the future, they would all become monumental figures who steered the course of eras. Most importantly, right now, they were still young.
Yet ordinary people could hardly imagine how top-tier the mischief could get when a group of future titans gathered in their youth.
Ukonga shouted, "Come on, raise your glasses again! Regardless of whether we succeed in the end, before reality dampens our excitement, while the adrenaline is still pumping, let's have another round!"
The group raised their glasses once more. "Cheers!"
As the liquor went down, Dicarost nudged Karen, making him choke.
"Cough, cough, cough..."
"Hahahaha!"
Karen took a napkin from the Mad Pope's hand, laughing even as he coughed.
In that brief moment,
Karen suddenly had the illusion that they... were all still alive.
Chapter 732