"Yet I don't feel I have much need of you right now. What use could you possibly offer me that would surpass the pleasure of harvesting your head?"
Lango suited Karen's "promise" to the hunger addiction very well; he would make quite a potent soul banquet.
Feeding the hunger addiction carried the risk of strengthening an enemy within, but if Karen could use this method to purchase its temporary docility, he felt it was still worth the trade. One had to attend to the primary contradiction first, after all.
"Minister Karen, your questions are truly direct. I don't know what deal you struck with Daliwenluo, but whatever he is doing for you now, I can do as well. If handled properly, I could even help you nearly wipe out this observation delegation made up of outstanding youths from the various churches!
"From past reports about you, I can tell you need this. You have an extremely high craving for advancement within the Church of Order.
"You want to climb higher through every possible means, not hesitating to chase quick gains while disregarding the negative fallout.
"Fortunately, by risking your life to enter that cavern, you managed to erase the previous negative impressions. Now, you need these dazzling achievements even more urgently to provide the capital to keep climbing.
"Take right now, for instance. As the world's foremost church, the Church of Order has always placed immense weight on its own dignity. This time, the Church of Order's investigation team fell in Makina, which was effectively having its dignity trampled into the dust by desert rebels.
"If at this moment, as a member of the investigation team, my dear Minister Karen, you can pull off the magnificent feat of turning the tables and wiping out your pursuers on the run, it won't just wash away the slight blemish of you escaping alone—it will also be widely publicized as an inspiring, monumental achievement throughout the Church of Order.
"After all, people dislike cold casualty figures; everyone is eager for thrilling stories of personal heroism that make the blood pump.
"Minister Karen, isn't that exactly what you intend to do right now? To transform this crisis into the most brilliant rainbow on your résumé? I can help make that rainbow's hues richer than ever."
"Then you could simply hand over your own head to me."
"Oh, how boring would that be? Between Daliwenluo, myself, you Minister Karen, and whatever personnel you brought along when escaping—with Daliwenluo and me acting as two insiders, even if they realize the danger and begin to gather, contract, and play defensively, we could strike straight at their camp and coordinate from within and without."
Karen looked at Lango and asked, "What do you want in return?"
"In return? I haven't thought of anything yet. Please don't think it laughable; I genuinely can't think of any terms to negotiate at the moment. But I don't believe I'll come out on the losing end, whether from my personal perspective or that of the Church of Samsara.
"Two wars have already severely depleted Samsara's vitality. So in many matters, while we participate in name, we don't actually intend to take any real action.
"How about this, Minister Karen: just agree that you owe me a favor. Would that work?"
"A favor? Lango, aren't you afraid I won't honor it?"
"In this regard, I trust your character. A man willing to venture into that cavern himself to resolve a pollution crisis; a man willing to confront a bishop's family for the sake of an Inquisitor.
"I know there was undoubtedly an element of deliberate showmanship involved, but I don't doubt the character you have demonstrated in these matters, Minister Karen.
"You know, I don't want a clean, transactional exchange with you where debts are settled on the spot. I want to elevate our relationship to the bond of mutual favors."
The essence of mutual favors was a stable, trusting exchange of interests.
"Mm..." Karen nodded. "Very well, I agree."
"Thank you." Lango sheathed his twin scimitars. "In that case, I'll go get busy. If there's a suitable straggler, I'll kill him myself and take his head. If an opportunity isn't right or they start clustering together, I'll make arrangements and contact you in advance."
"Alright."
"Then I will see you later."
Lango's figure vanished, leaving Karen standing in place.
In truth, Karen did not place too much expectation on this deal; it was just that the vision Lango laid out was something Karen could not refuse.
The investigation team was meant for gold-plating one's credentials in the first place. If he could return with a string of severed heads, not only would his position as Regional Chief be completely solidified, but it would also pave the way for his future rise.
Though thinking this way seemed somewhat unfair to the members of the investigation team trapped in Makina, what was done was done. While he was seizing merit and credentials for himself, wasn't he also avenging them at the same time?
Karen shook his head slightly. He knew that when facing events and choices, he easily fell into a tangle between his perception of self-interest and his moral self-perception, habitually seeking justifications for his actions.
Yet Lord Theisen on Fire Island had already given him the answer long ago—the simplest and most irrefutable answer of all:
"Your actions have violated the Code of Order, and you must be punished."
***
Night fell.
The nighttime desert temperature dropped sharply, yet in one spot, things were literally blazing hot.
Pillars of flame surged into the air, and fiery serpents coiled aloft, seeking prey to devour. The firelight illuminated the area as though a fresh layer of sunset glow had been cast across the sands.
Below, a young man clad in a divine robe bordered with flame clouds shouted with his hair disheveled:
"Come out! Where the hell are you? Where are you?!"
No one answered him, but he was certain an assassin was hiding in the nearby darkness, waiting for the chance to strike a lethal blow.
Earlier, if not for the activation of a precious protective sacred artifact passed down in his family, he would likely already be a corpse on the ground, its warmth long faded.
He had no choice but to use these wide-area spells to try to blanket wherever the assassin was hiding, but evidently, he had not succeeded.
Unease and anxiety piled up in his heart, stretching his nerves taut.
His name was Hosid Wade, a follower of the Church of Spirit Fire. His family held an extremely high status within the church. In name, the Church of Spirit Fire was a major church, but in truth, its power exceeded that of ordinary major churches.
Given perhaps another millennium of growth, the Church of Spirit Fire might develop into an orthodox church.
In the previous era, the Church of Fire Worship had been an orthodox church, and the Fire God was a true Main God. But during the War of the Gods, the Fire God fell, and like the later Sea God Church, the Church of Fire Worship shattered into pieces.
Fortunately, compared to the Sea God Church, the Church of Spirit Fire—as a branch of the Fire God Church—inherited the vast majority of the legacy and rose once again in this era. In contrast, none of the offshoots from the shattered Sea God Church ever gained prominence again.
Later divine historians often compared and analyzed the two churches. After all, both had possessed a Main God, and both church factions had once been immensely formidable. So why was it that after their collapse, one could rise anew while the other could never amount to anything?
Historians concluded many reasons, clearly organized and thoroughly argued.
In reality, the true reason for the developmental disparity between the Fire God Church and the Sea God Church lay in a single dog.
That dog's vengefulness was terrifyingly severe. Not only had he organized and plotted the suppression and slaying of the Sea God, but he had personally struck, scattering the church's orthodox lineage so that even after an entire era, it remained nothing more than loose sand.
Hosid began steadying his breath, calming his emotions. Just then, a silhouette appeared out of thin air.
Hosid immediately aimed his palm at her, unleashing a fiery dragon that completely engulfed the figure. Yet there was no joy on his face; from the spell's feedback, he could tell the apparition was a fake.
Immediately afterward, a second figure appeared. Hosid cast another spell to incinerate it—still a fake.
A third, a fourth, a fifth...
Silhouettes kept appearing, each one within close striking distance. Hosid dared not gamble; whenever one appeared, he had no choice but to incinerate it.
As the count grew, fatigue began to set in, and cold sweat dripped down his face.
Yet the more exhausted he became, the less he dared be careless. He knew his opponent was also in the final stalemate and was equally weary, so the next attack might very well be real.
What was supposed to be an assassination had now turned into an arm-wrestling contest of pure stamina.
The spiritual power within Hosid began to run dry, yet the anticipated genuine attack still had not come.
Driven by necessity, Hosid dialed down the power of his spell against the next apparition.
*Hum—!*
Yet this very first lapse invited the real attack.
Holding a blade, the silhouette cleaved through the blocking fire serpent and closed in right before Hosid. Her blade plunged into his chest, but a clump of molten lava welled up at the wound, solidifying the edge and preventing it from driving any deeper.
Having previously seemed panic-stricken and desperate, Hosid finally let out a long breath, a triumphant gleam showing in his eyes.
A flash of light appeared behind Philomena. A girl clad in an earthen-yellow divine robe materialized, wielding an axe that chopped toward Philomena's back.
Yet Philomena did not pull back to defend. Ignoring the ambush from behind, she channeled all her strength into the Nightmare Blade.
*Bang!*
The lava shattered, the confinement vanished, and to Hosid's stunned gaze, the blade was driven fully into his body.
*Clang!*
Just as the axe of the girl in the earthen-yellow divine robe was about to strike Philomena's body, a greatsword intercepted it. Karen's figure appeared between them; he had parried the axe on Philomena's behalf.
Karen immediately swept the greatsword upward, unleashing dense Fire of Order like an erupting volcano that engulfed the girl. She chose to retreat, putting distance between them before landing on the ground.
Karen pursued closely. Extending his palm downward in midair:
"Order—Thunderous Annihilation!"
A bolt of black lightning coalesced in Karen's palm, striking down instantly at the girl below.
The girl slammed one palm against the sand. Instantly, an earthen wall rose, solidifying into a barrier.
*Boom!*
The lightning struck the barrier. Chunks of the earthen wall crumbled away in large sheets, but the girl inside was unharmed. Instead, she looked up at Karen with a slightly relaxed smile.
Yet her smile quickly froze, for she saw another bolt of black lightning gather in Karen's palm and strike down instantly once more.
She had no choice but to repair the defensive earthen wall to absorb the second lightning strike.
But this was only the beginning, not the end.
For next came a third, a fourth, a fifth...
Lightning shattered her earthen wall time and again, forcing her to repair it over and over. The stray lightning energy pooled around her into a sea of Order flames, leaving her trapped dead in the center.
While keeping her suppressed with continuous lightning, Karen began weaving a formation below.
If she hadn't immediately chosen to retreat upon their first clash, if she hadn't opted solely for defense against Karen's spell attacks after retreating, and if she hadn't lingered out of over-caution after defending so many times without monitoring the changes in her surroundings, she likely would not have fallen into such an inescapable disadvantage.
Karen finished laying the formation and activated it.
The surrounding Fire of Order surged inward against her earthen wall. Combined with the relentless lightning raining from above, flames of Order finally ignited across her body as she tried once more to repair the wall.
She began to shriek and wail; faint pleas for mercy could be heard.
Yet Karen, standing above, completely ignored them.
Perhaps when the rebels stormed the teleportation array hall at the holy ground of Makina, those Order priests experienced something very similar.
This was war. Before total victory was achieved, one had no right to indulge in mercy or pity.
In this match, thanks to his opponent's foolishness and lack of experience, Karen won with utter ease. She had remained purely on the defensive throughout, never finding an opening to mount any offense.
On the other side, having been freed by Karen's intervention, Philomena seized the momentum to launch an even fiercer assault on Hosid. Hosid's lips moved rapidly as flames flared in his eyes, a terrifying incinerating power poised to shoot from his pupils.
Philomena whispered, "Enter dream."
Instantly, Hosid's eyelids grew heavy, and his eyes actually slid shut. Not only was his offensive severed, but his body began to self-combust—the backlash of an interrupted spell.
*Hum—!*
Drawing the Nightmare Blade, Philomena thoughtfully severed his head before his body could be entirely consumed by fire.
She then kicked the burning torso down. A fireball struck the ground, sending sparks scattering in all directions.
Without a moment's delay, Philomena wheeled around and plunged directly into the earthen wall below. Facing the screaming girl, she delivered another slash, cleanly severing her head.
Karen clenched both fists, retracting the lightning and shutting down the formation.
By the time Karen descended from the air, Philomena had already dug another head and a bundle wrapped in clothes out of the sand nearby. That was her first prey; fearing it might be damaged during her second hunt, she had buried the head beforehand.
Carrying three severed heads, Philomena stood before Karen.
Karen raised his greatsword, and Philomena instinctively gave her waist a slight twist to the side.
Karen lowered the greatsword and raised his hand, and Philomena instinctively turned her face slightly away.
This sight amused Karen.
She knew he was angry. She knew he wanted to hit her. She had even prepared herself to cooperate in advance—whether it meant getting smacked aside by his greatsword or taking a slap from his palm.
What mattered most was that she actually dared to show how perfunctory her cooperation was!
Karen sighed and said, "You knew there was a second person providing support and waiting to strike. You knew it was a trap."
Philomena nodded. "Yet I believed I could kill him without being killed by her. At most, I would be severely wounded. Even if I were badly hurt, I could still escape."
"Did you forget we are being hunted?"
"I did not forget."
"In a situation like this, a severely wounded companion is more of a burden to the entire team than if she simply died."
"Yet you said I am not allowed to die."
"I said you aren't allowed to die, so being severely wounded is fine?"
"For the heads," Philomena explained obstinately. "I would have marked the coordinates of the heads. After being severely wounded, I wouldn't have come looking for you or Richard. I would have led the pursuers away for you."
"I'm deeply moved."
Hearing this, Philomena felt at a loss. She was not suited to warm, affectionate atmospheres.
Fortunately, what happened next made her feel far more comfortable and in her element.
Karen gripped her chin with one hand, forcing her to lift her head and face him directly.
"Listen to me. Our situation isn't great, but it's not that desperate. Why did you take matters into your own hands and throw yourself into such danger? Or do you think I am so emotionally hollow that I need you to warm and touch my heart with this sort of sacrifice?"
Philomena shook her head. "No."
"Next time, you do what I tell you to do. Don't add your own drama. Understood?"
"Understood."
Karen let go of her. He now somewhat understood why, back at Allen Manor, Grandmother would slap Philomena across the face the moment she did something wrong.
In the past, Philomena had always stayed by his side, following simple instructions. Given free rein on her own this time, she had immediately gone to extremes.
If he hadn't arrived in time earlier, her best outcome would have been hiding somewhere while severely wounded, drawing her final dying breaths—even if she managed to secure two heads in the process.
No wonder Alfred had assigned everyone else independent roles—even Richard had become an office director—while Philomena's duties remained limited to serving as Karen's personal bodyguard.
"By the way, when Madame Tangli used to hit you, did you do that too?"
"What?"
"Preparing defensive postures before being struck."
"Because it reduces the damage."
"Don't do it next time. It'll only hurt more."
Karen could hold himself back, but bracing evasively before Grandmother struck? With Grandmother's fiery temper, wasn't that basically shouting right in her face: *Hit me! Come on, hit me!*
"Let's take inventory of the spoils."
"Alright."
Philomena lined up the three heads. Karen had one head as well, making four in total. The girl Karen had trapped and finished off was a follower of the Church of the Earth; among her belongings, they found a smooth, rounded stone—an exceptionally precious material known as the "Heart of the Earth."
"I can keep killing," Philomena said earnestly.
"A bit more subtlety, please."
"I can keep collecting heads."
"Mm. But for now, take these heads and spoils and go find Richard. Tell him the next task is still to run in circles around this area and bait them around as much as possible."
"I think I can still—"
"Obey."
"Understood."
"Remember, once you meet up with Richard, follow his orders."
"Alright."
Agreeing so readily?
That surprised Karen a little, though he said nothing more.
After Philomena departed with the heads and trophies, Karen saw a wandering soul emerge from the sand before him. Holding a letter, the soul handed it to Karen.
Karen opened it and gave it a glance. It was a message from Lango stating that everything was ready on his end to reel in the big net, complete with his operational plan.
Upon seeing the letter, Karen felt no joy. Instead, resting his chin on his hand with keen amusement, he fell into thought:
*Lango, do you truly value mutual favors that much?*
***
Daliwenluo crouched on the ground. A pile of severed heads was already stacked before him.
He couldn't help rubbing his bald head in helplessness. "Why is it that not a single one of you would lend a helping hand, and instead every one of you wanted to murder me for my treasure?"
As one of their own on paper, he could approach targets with ease. He hadn't even changed his script: every time, he appeared on the verge of death from grave injuries while clutching that sapling in his hand.
Without exception, not a single "companion" was willing to save him. Every last one chose to kill him and seize the sapling.
And so Daliwenluo had seized the opportunity to ambush and turn the tables on each of them.
After all, they had clear motives to kill Daliwenluo: take advantage of his severe wounds, pin his death on Karen, and embezzle the precious sapling. Meanwhile, Daliwenluo had no ostensible motive to strike at them. Who could have imagined that a nominal comrade would suddenly run an entrapment operation at a time like this?
However, the wonderful harvest of heads had to come to an end, for Daliwenluo had received two messages. One was from Lango, who, acting as temporary organizer, demanded that all delegation members outside quickly gather and group up, even marking the rally point.
The second message came from Karen, carried by a black raven.
"Sigh, the message tokens of the Church of Order are genuinely ugly."
Complaining under his breath, he opened it. The words inside were very simple:
"Watch out for Lango."
***
At a desert fissure, Lango stood at the upper entrance, exchanging brief greetings with every young cultivator who had received the transmission and arrived to group up.
Over the past two days, far too many members had lost contact—nearly half of them. The remaining youths could not help feeling panicked. No matter how slow their wits, they had realized things had veered far beyond their expectations—no, had been warped beyond recognition.
The proud young lone wolves had to lower their heads and choose safety in numbers, initially in pairs and trios, and now organized collectively.
They were to wait here for the nearest rebel unit to arrive and provide backup, which would take about a day.
Lango cracked his neck slightly. Deep within the fissure, he had already laid down a high-tier Samsara formation in advance. Once triggered, provided these people remained entirely off guard, it could instantly shackle all their souls.
Daliwenluo's figure appeared, surprising Lango somewhat.
Once Daliwenluo drew close, he deliberately leaned in and asked Lango, "Hey, why aren't you running away this time?"
Lango smiled faintly. "Please, head inside. Everyone is waiting for you."
"You coward, getting more timid the older you get."
"The reason I could grow old is precisely because I am timid. Those who are bold rarely get the chance to grow old."
"Heh." Daliwenluo stepped into the fissure.
Turning his head to glance at the bald young man, Lango thought to himself: *In just a little while, I'll be able to learn from your soul exactly what deal you struck with Karen.*
Meanwhile, Daliwenluo patted his bald head as he walked inside, thinking to himself:
*Heh, bet you didn't see this coming: I don't have a soul right now.*
Chapter 745