Declaring War!

Over the campfire, a sand wolf roasted on a spit, its fat dripping steadily with a persistent sizzle. Richard drew his dagger and began carving the meat. Sand wolf was generally dry and tough, but a few choice spots remained relatively tender. He sliced those sections off and placed them before Little Kanna and Philomena. Little Kanna had already shifted back into human form. Her task was complete; since nightfall, no pursuers had followed, and she no longer needed to run them in circles. She produced a pill, wrapped it in thick slices of roasted meat, and took a bite. Then, her expression froze. The savory aroma of roasted meat and the awful flavor of the pill mingled together, tasting even more revolting! Yet the table manners taught by the cat at home dictated that unless one was certain food was poisoned, spitting out something already in one's mouth was deeply ill-mannered. Tilting her head back, *Gulp.* Little Kanna swallowed the mouthful. "Is it good?" Richard asked. "It tastes terrible." "Ah, sorry. My cooking definitely can't compare to Karen's." "It's the pill that's nasty. Why does your Church of Order make pills that taste so awful?" "Maybe because if they taste bad, no one will sneak around trying to eat them?" Little Kanna nodded. "I think so too." A moment later, she added, "Do you want a bite?" "Forget it, I'll pass. It's expensive." "It's fine." "No, it really isn't," Richard said with a wry smile. "Even you get drowsy after eating one. If I took a single bite... I might just explode on the spot, understand?" This concoction was formulated specifically for dragons—pureblood dragons at that. In truth, it could hardly be called medicine; it was closer to a growth stimulant. Richard knew well that Little Jerry inside him could never stomach such a thing. When Little Kanna turned into a dragon, she stretched over a hundred meters long, while Little Jerry wasn't even a decimeter. "Sister Purr always says the family is overwhelmed just trying to feed me." Richard consoled her, "Don't worry, she's the one with the biggest living expenses in the house. Yours are paid on the public dime." Richard had seen the black cat's afternoon tea spread. Good heavens—every item was point-coupon cuisine, and that cup of coffee was at a price tier even his grandfather couldn't afford. Karen lived quite simply himself, but when it came to that cat, he spared no expense. Little Kanna shook her head. "That's because Sister Purr has made so many contributions to the family." "Contributions?" "She wears herself ragged for this household. Without her, this home couldn't function at all." "Who told you that?" "Sister Purr." "Ah, well. My grandmother says things like that all the time too. When I was little, I honestly thought that without my grandmother, all of us named Guman would end up begging on the streets." Philomena ate her meat quietly at the side, saying nothing. Richard sidled over of his own accord and asked, "Are you mad at Karen?" "My relationship with him is different." "Oh, uh, all right." Richard scratched his head. Philomena hesitated before adding, "Not the kind of relationship you're imagining." "What kind am I imagining?" Richard asked. "Do you need something?" "Just worried you were in a bad mood. By the way, want me to treat you later?" "I'm not injured." "You don't need to be. It's a new ability I just learned. Through massage, it effectively relieves fatigue in both muscle and soul." "Why would you learn something like that?" Richard spread his hands. "What I learn isn't up to me. It depends entirely on where my father's belt lands." In front of Philomena, Richard no longer felt embarrassed about getting thrashed at home, especially since she had visited him several times while he was recovering. Most importantly, Richard knew Philomena was often beaten by her grandmother as well; they were comrades in suffering, so to speak. "No, thank you." "Are you feeling shy?" "Sometimes, testing one's fatigue threshold is a form of special training." "Ah, okay. You're really strict with yourself. You know, before I met you guys—no, to be precise, before I met Karen—I didn't expect much of myself at all. I lived quite happily." "Aren't you happy now?" "It's a different kind of happy. In childhood, playing without a care in the world, and in adulthood, finding a group of friends to play alongside. I've always felt blessed, hehe, especially after meeting Karen." Philomena shook her head. "I don't know what childhood is." "That doesn't matter. In the future, just give your own child a good childhood. Think of it as making it up to yourself." Little Kanna, having just swallowed the pill, rubbed her belly and asked, "Richard, are you courting her?" "Uh, what?" "Talking about children with someone of the opposite sex—isn't that hoping to mate and produce offspring?" "No, humans are more hypocritical. We aren't that direct." "Oh, okay." Little Kanna lay down. "I'm sleeping. If you two want to mate, don't mind me." "The kid's getting more cheerful by the day," Richard laughed. He still remembered when Karen first brought her back; she barely spoke to outsiders and spent all day mimicking cat meows around the house. Philomena said, "She's sounding more and more like that black cat." That teasing tone was unmistakably the black cat's style. "Finished eating? You should rest too," Richard said. "You sleep. I'll take watch." "No need." Richard tapped his forehead. "Little Jerry will keep watch. Its detection range is vast." "Why do I feel it's evolving so fast lately?" Philomena had sensed that Richard had awakened an unusual number of new abilities recently, and it went far beyond the effects of paternal tough love. "Minister Neo once gave me a very detailed breeding manual. It helped Little Jerry and me tremendously." "I see." "A pity Minister Neo is no longer with us. Sigh." Philomena said nothing, knowing full well Neo was still alive. Mistaking her silence for mourning, Richard quickly tried to lighten the mood: "Actually, it's not all bad. I know Minister Neo owed a lot of high-interest loans before he died. Two small underground finance shops in the Yorktown black market went bankrupt outright because of his death." ... "Rest, everyone. When dawn breaks, reinforcements will arrive and extract us." Down in the desert fissure, Lango addressed the assembled youths. He had discovered this fissure and served as the organizer who gathered everyone here. By now, everyone tacitly accepted him as their temporary leader. However, few were actually willing to rest; indignation was etched across most of their faces. Indeed, what had begun as an exhilarating hunt had turned into this. Before setting out, who could have imagined such an outcome? As the hunters pursuing their prey, their numbers had been halved at a shocking rate. All of them were outstanding youths from various churches, proud and arrogant. Karen was around their age, perhaps even younger, yet his counterattack had battered them to this extent. It was an utter disgrace. In truth, they wronged Karen in this regard; Karen and Philomena had only claimed a handful of heads. The vast majority had been ambushed and eliminated by their own "allies," Daliwenluo and Lango. "I have some potions here for restoring stamina and treating injuries. If anyone needs some, I'll share." Lango began checking on each person one by one. A few accepted, but most declined. Even those who took the potions had no intention of actually drinking them; they retained a baseline level of caution. What they never suspected, however, was that with every person Lango approached, he left behind precise coordinates on the ground, making final preparations for the formation he would soon trigger. When Lango reached Daliwenluo, he asked with a smile, "Do you need any?" Daliwenluo countered, "As a Life believer, wouldn't taking your potions be slapping my own face?" Potions had long been the pride of the Church of Life. For a great span of history, mid- to high-grade potions had been largely monopolized by them, and other churches had to purchase from them whenever the need arose. Even though High Priest Budalas of Order, riding the momentum of his victory over Light, had compelled the Church of Life to open many restricted grounds and patents, Life believers still held that their potions were the finest in the religious world. Even if technical barriers were gone, the artisan spirit condensed within remained unique. "Just worried you'd run out," Lango explained. Daliwenluo shook his head. "I won't be needing them anymore." Lango nodded, rose, and moved on to the next person. Daliwenluo watched his retreating figure, hesitated, and ultimately refrained from casting any detection spells around himself. Once Lango completed his circuit, he sat down. Without any grandiose proclamation or preamble, he simply raised his hand and crushed a soul bead. *Crack!* The formation activated. Beams of gray light shone down upon every person present. In an instant, their souls were bound. It seemed effortless, almost trivial, yet it was entirely natural. Lango had exploited his status as an ally to press the barrel of a gun against each person's forehead. If anything had gone awry under such conditions, that would have been the true surprise. A beam of light rested on Daliwenluo's forehead as well. Glancing around from the corner of his eye and seeing everyone else frozen, he remained still too, thinking to himself: *Ha, lacking something really does mean lacking a vulnerability. Being soulless doesn't feel so bad after all.* Lango dusted off his hands and stood up. He felt little pride in his success; at his age, he was hardly going to pump his fist and leap around like a youngster. He walked toward Daliwenluo, genuinely curious about what agreement the Life believer had struck with Karen. Yet halfway there, he froze. He sensed someone arriving at the fissure's entrance. Turning around, Lango left the chamber and emerged at the opening. Standing there was Karen. "Minister Karen, you are remarkably punctual." Karen replied, "I hope you are as well." "Of course. I've finished. Those foolish little fellows are all sitting quietly in place. All that remains is for us to pluck their heads one by one—as simple as picking cotton." "I thought you would stack the heads up so I could take them directly." "Is that what you preferred?" Lango shrugged. "Seems I misjudged. I thought you'd enjoy the thrill of harvesting the fruits of victory yourself." "Go harvest them, then. I'll wait here." Lango laid it bare: "Minister Karen, are you afraid I harbor ulterior motives, which is why you refuse to step into this fissure? You don't trust me?" "That's right. I don't trust you." "I appreciate this directness." Lango looked around. "Yet, Minister Karen, are you aware that the array I prepared isn't just inside the fissure? There is one out here as well." "I know. I dismantled it before stepping in. I kept my movements light, so you didn't notice." Lango: "..." A wry smile appeared on Lango's face. "You truly are cautious. Still, while I knew you were adept with formations, I had no idea you were this proficient." "Not proficient. Development inside the world of the Door of Samsara is quite backward in certain areas. The formations you specialize in have practically become textbook example problems in the modern era. Solving them isn't much trouble." "Ah, so that's how it is." Karen pointed inside. "Well? Aren't you going?" "I'm hesitating," Lango confessed. "You see, here, I possess an extra measure of confidence. Perhaps I could afford to be a bit greedier." "Greedy for what?" "You mentioned earlier that this body restricts my full strength. That's true, absolutely. But it was the most suitable vessel I could find under the circumstances at the time. "Yet you, Minister Karen... your body... "When we met before, I already noticed how extraordinary your body was. Pure, clean. Seeing you again this time, I find it even more mesmerizing. "Do you know, Minister Karen? Any soul entity would find it hard not to covet your vessel. It's only because your position has risen; had you remained a mere servant, some senior official in your Church of Order might well have chosen you as a vessel for experimentation... "Oh, no, even now, you could compete to become an inheritor of a Child of God!" Karen asked, "You want my body?" "I won't hide it. I truly crave it." Karen opened his arms. "If you want it, I can forgo defense. Feel free to plunge your formidable soul power into my body." "No, I dare not. I'm greedy, but before you, I lack that kind of courage." Karen urged, "Make up your mind quickly, please." Lango's eyes narrowed slightly. Inside the fissure, the array continued to hum, drawing soul power from the bound youths and channeling it toward where Lango had previously sat. At this moment, Lango essentially had the souls of dozens of exceptional youths working for him, bearing his consumption. In other words, his strength and survivability had received a massive boost. With more trump cards in hand, his mind naturally wandered. Inside, Daliwenluo stood up and strolled over to the formation's core. He patted his bald head. He didn't understand formations well, but that was fine—not understanding them didn't stop him from smashing them to pieces with a club. Outside, Lango seemed to make up his mind. He raised both hands. "I shall fetch the heads for you, Minister Karen." Karen asked, "You've thought it through?" "Thought it through. I'm scared, hahaha. Does that make me look cowardly?" Karen shook his head. "Not bad. Just slightly disappointed." Lango turned and began walking inside. Yet the moment he turned his back, a faint trace of relief flickered in Karen's eyes. It was an exceedingly subtle emotional slip, concealed as best as possible—an entirely instinctive internal reaction. Yet a powerful soul entity's greatest strength was perception. Lango's "sight" did not rely entirely on his physical eyes. He caught it. In that split second, he was almost certain Karen was bluffing! Lango spun back around, facing Karen directly, his breathing growing ragged. Karen's gaze tightened for an instant before his muscles and expression swiftly relaxed. He chuckled, "What, having second thoughts again?" Opening his arms once more, Karen urged, "Forget it, just come at me. Don't leave yourself with regrets; stewing in resentment afterward will only ruin your quality of life." Lango's inner voice roared: *I have the array's enhancement here! Within this range, I can definitely suppress him!* "Sigh..." Lango raised his hand. Then, *Slap!* He struck his own face with a vicious blow. He said, "Minister Karen, you have entered the Door of Samsara. You should know the world inside is far from peaceful; the competition there is even fiercer and more ruthless." "Yes, it is. So what are you hesitating for? Just bring out your ruthless side." "No, what I mean is: the reason I've survived until now, the reason I could climb to high rank within the Church of Samsara inside the door, and the reason I could seize that opportunity to step out of the door into reality... at times, it wasn't thanks to my bravery, but my cowardice. "I cannot be sure whether that look in your eyes when I turned away was deliberate, but I... heh, I am truly frightened. I am merely an old rat that has lived a very long time. "Besides, let me share another piece of good news. Over these past few days of the hunting game, the desert rebels launched a series of effective offensives against various holy lands across the desert. The pawns previously planted by the various orthodox churches within the Church of the Desert played an immense role during this period. "Aside from the Machina Holy Land, three other holy lands have been breached. The investigation team you belonged to was the last batch to arrive; the three previous batches of Order investigation teams were stationed within those three breached holy lands. "Therefore, aside from a few small fish that managed to break out, the Order investigation teams have essentially been wiped out in these past few days of operations. "The objective of the orthodox churches is to use these extreme measures to force the Church of Order to enter the field in person." The Church of the Desert had originally been merely a large-scale church. Now, not only was it facing internal rebellion, but it was also contending with the coordinated sabotage of an entire bloc of orthodox churches. The collapse of the situation was virtually inevitable. Planting spies in one another's ranks was standard practice among the churches; even the Church of Order frequently uncovered moles within its own ranks. The Church of the Desert had already been riddled with holes; once an internal betrayal erupted, the entire structure fell apart overnight. The desert rebels now held more major holy lands than the Church of the Desert itself. Much like a nation's civil war where the rebels had seized most of the major cities, without forceful foreign intervention, the government forces tasked with quelling the rebellion would likely be reduced to "remnants" waiting to be eradicated. Lango bowed deeply to Karen. "Congratulations, Minister Karen. Against such a backdrop, when you emerge into Order's sight bearing dozens of heads, your glory will be unmatched!" "I don't consider this good news, though I will indeed benefit from it." "If we meet across a negotiation table in the future, I hope you will grant me some face." "So that's where you intend to spend this favor?" "You could say that." "Then you're thinking too far ahead." "Hm?" *Boom!* A powerful tremor resonated through the soul realm. Lango looked back toward the fissure in horror. "Ah... why am I still sleepy? No, not being sleepy would be the real miracle. I should have entered eternal rest long ago." Daliwenluo walked out, yawning. He reported to Karen, "I smashed the array core. The souls of everyone who was bound were annihilated in the backlash, but their corpses are preserved intact." With that, Daliwenluo raised his sapling, adopting an offensive stance toward Lango. "How did you do that?" Lango was utterly bewildered. He had confirmed the array's effect covered Daliwenluo; his soul should certainly have been bound! "I suppose it must be a miracle of life." Daliwenluo rolled his neck. "Furthermore, I didn't expect you to still possess such a thirst for knowledge right now." "Why shouldn't I? We're on the same side," Lango said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then looked toward Karen. Without the array's enhancement, facing a pincer attack from these two left him in a dreadful position. Karen waved his hand at Lango. "You may leave." "Ah, very well. Thank you." Lango nodded immediately. Leaving everything in the fissure behind, he turned and walked straight out. Karen added, "The favor is settled." "Of course, of course. Settled, completely settled." Once Lango was gone, Daliwenluo asked in confusion, "Why didn't you keep him here?" "He did provide significant help, after all. Moreover, he restrained himself and didn't cross the line." Daliwenluo had an epiphany. "Ah, I see. Now that is true propriety." Karen shook his head. "With multiple holy lands in the desert falling to the rebels, the distance between us and a safe zone has grown even farther. Right now, I don't want to sustain injuries over a single head that makes no difference whether we have it or not." "Am I going back with you?" Daliwenluo asked. "Or do you want to return to the Church of Life as an undercover agent for me?" "I could, if necessary..." "You have no soul right now; you'd be discovered very easily within the church. Most importantly, I can't go running off to the Church of Life every few days just to recharge you." "Understood. Then I'll change into a cleric's robe and put on a mask. Do I need a wig?" "I suggest against it. The dog I keep at home will probably feel a sense of kinship seeing that bald head of yours." Daliwenluo immediately felt aggrieved. "You can't do this. I may have become your Order Knight, but that doesn't mean you should insult me like this. Speaking to me this way is really too..." "The dog at my house is named Raniedal—an evil god condemned by Order last era." "...too proper!" ... After severing, organizing, and packaging, the pile of heads was substantial. Fortunately, once they rendezvoused with Richard and the others, they had the bone dragon to handle transport. After a rapid trek and search across the desert, Karen and his companions finally reached an Order secret contact station, establishing communication with the Church of Order—or more precisely, with the Whip of Order. ... The Administrative Divine Hall of the Church of Order. High Priest Norton sat in his chair, fingers interlaced before him. On the low table in front of him rested an ashtray holding a burning cigar. Below him were eight rows of seats occupied by the heads of various departments across the church system. Some appeared impassive; others looked uneasy. Everyone knew the High Priest had just concluded a Roundtable meeting of the Holy See's highest echelon, where fierce arguments had erupted over the desert crisis. "Tesencina, Avirotti, Pakur." The three named officials immediately rose from their seats and faced the High Priest. They were the individuals responsible for affairs concerning the Church of the Desert. "I have selected leadership roles for you in three frontier expansion spaces. Report for duty tomorrow. They need you there." The three spoke in unison: "Understood, High Priest." Outside this administrative hall, these three were undisputed heavyweight figures within the Church of Order. Yet their political careers were decided by a single sentence from the High Priest. This also reflected the immense grip the High Priest currently held over the Holy See. The most direct manifestation of authority was personnel appointments and dismissals, which most easily touched the nerves of various factions. Under the previous High Priest, Rasma, reassigning any one of them punitively would have required going through procedures at the Roundtable, and even consulting the Divine Hall. Now, that was no longer necessary. Rumors circulated outside that High Priest Norton was the second High Priest in over a millennium, since Budalas, to wield such formidable authority. The High Priest picked up his cigar, drew a breath, and exhaled a smoke ring before speaking: "The desert affair was a monumental embarrassment." Three Cardinals took the lead in standing, and the heads of other systems rose with them, preparing to collectively plead guilty. The High Priest waved his cigar. "Skip the formalities. Tell me how to remedy it." The three Cardinals exchanged glances and sat down again, followed by the department heads behind them. At that moment, Whip-Wielder Foden caught the eye of a certain director from the Propaganda Department—the third-ranked figure in Order's propaganda system, specifically responsible for internal messaging. Before entering the conference hall, Foden had just received word from his own Whip of Order system. The report had left the Whip-Wielder astonished; his initial reaction was to wonder if it was fake news. Yet upon seeing the signature and the list of trophies, he immediately verified its authenticity. Many things could be faked, but severed heads could not. A quick query through the intelligence network would easily determine whether those individuals were still appearing within their respective churches. Moreover, the heads were about to be teleported over; he would be able to see them with his own eyes by evening at the latest. Catching Foden's meaningful look, Nagel hesitated briefly before rising to his feet: "High Priest, word has just arrived. An observation delegation composed of youths from various churches pursued a member of our investigation team, only to be completely wiped out in a counterattack. I believe that when announcing our setbacks in the desert internally, we can heavily emphasize this achievement to offset negative morale." "A member" referred to Karen; Philomena and Richard were considered aides, so in the official report, they were momentarily omitted from consideration. "Who was it?" "Karen Silva, Head of the Law Enforcement Department for the Yorktown Region Whip of Order. He was part of this investigation team, belonging to the final batch deployed to the Machina Holy Land." "Karen Silva?" The High Priest chuckled and set down his cigar. "I remember him. Foden." Foden stood up immediately. "He is a young man whom the Whip of Order has focused on cultivating. During the Wien divine contamination incident, he personally led a team into the contaminated cavern and retrieved the divine artifact from the zone. Currently, as the incumbent Whip-Holder of the Yorktown Region must temporarily step away from her post for personal reasons, we have already resolved to let Karen succeed her as Whip-Holder." Including that detail was essential, as it set a higher baseline when distributing rewards. Foden's meaning was simple: this young man named Karen was already the incoming regional Whip-Holder, so any commendation naturally had to match that tier. Of course, bringing Karen up was not merely to advance the young man's career. The High Priest nodded. "He has indeed recovered some face for our Church. For young people like this, there is no need to fuss over age. Some people pride themselves on maturity and caution, yet panic the moment trouble arises." Foden said, "High Priest, the most urgent task now is to reconstruct our intelligence network in the desert. This crisis was caused precisely by inadequate intelligence work. In my view, external intelligence—especially in key sensitive regions—should abandon the traditional multi-department joint model. It leads to overlapping responsibilities and increases the risk of leaks." The High Priest asked, "Meaning, you wish to take it over?" Foden responded at once, "Yes. The Whip of Order is willing to undertake the reconstruction of the desert intelligence system and guarantee that nothing of this sort happens again." "Look at that. Look at him, everyone—his tail is showing," the High Priest said with a laugh. The dignitaries below laughed along in harmony. Whip-Wielder Foden also wore a fitting touch of bashfulness at having his ambition seen through. Only here, before the High Priest, did these figures—who normally appeared as untouchable, frozen peaks—display such mundane, earthy warmth. "So you see, when your subordinates produce capable talent who can get things done, you can speak with a stiff spine. The rest of you should learn from this. Before asking for benefits, put some results on the table for everyone to see first. "Foden, the reconstruction of the desert intelligence system is entrusted to the Whip of Order." "Understood! Your subordinate obeys!" The High Priest adjusted his posture slightly, and everyone below adjusted theirs in tandem. "At the Roundtable, the elders were sharply divided. Some advocated going to war; others argued this was clearly a rerun of the old confrontation between Order and Light—a pit we must not leap into. "What about you all? What are your views?" For a moment, no one dared stand and speak, unsure of the High Priest's true inclination. Then, Cardinal Kred, who held authority over foreign warfare, stood up and said, "High Priest, I believe that no matter what, our Church cannot sit idly by while the desert rebels, backed covertly by other churches, completely supplant the Church of the Desert." The moment he spoke, everyone felt as though they had swallowed a calming pill. They rose one after another to voice hardline stances, the chamber suddenly resembling a sky filled with circling hawks. They all understood that what Kred voiced was certainly the High Priest's own intent. The High Priest set his cigar down and said: "Their objective is obvious to us. "Not long ago, didn't we draft a new mobilization mechanism reform plan? It is time to roll it out across the entire Church." Foden stood up once more. "High Priest, the Whip-Holder of the Yorktown Region submitted a new reform proposal. When I reviewed it, I replied that it was overly bold and radical. But looking at things now, conventional, gentle measures may struggle to meet current demands." "A radical proposal? From the Yorktown Region again?" "Yes. After all, the Yorktown Region has always served as the pilot model for the Whip of Order's reforms. If this reform plan is implemented, the person executing it will be Karen. He is currently at one of our desert contact points; upon his return, he will assume the position of regional Whip-Holder." The High Priest nodded. "Radical reforms ought to be tested by radical young men. Let him proceed with it first. Keep an eye on him; if problems arise, call a halt." "Understood, High Priest." The Whip-Wielder sat back down. Many eyes turned toward him, brimming with envy. By leveraging the achievement of a single young subordinate, he had secured two massive windfalls for his system today. First, the Whip of Order broke free of its traditional role of internal oversight and officially expanded outward; second, this reform would further consolidate the Whip of Order's influence across the Church. Foden had personally read that radical proposal. Calling it a radical proposal was an understatement; it was radicalism embodied. Only because the Regional Chief who submitted this proposal was also the wife of a Child of God; otherwise, an ordinary Regional Chief would never have dared send up something like this. The High Priest reached out and tapped the table lightly. The chamber fell instantly silent. "I announce: our Church shall formally intervene in the desert civil war. "They wish to bleed our Church, do they? "Fine. "Then we shall use them to temper our troops!"