The Cat's Surprise!

Stepping out of the barrier, Karen got into the car and said, "To the Monster Beast Research Institute." "Understood." Philomena started the engine. Sitting in the back seat and flipping through documents, Karen asked, "Do you want to go?" "Go where?" Philomena glanced at him through the rearview mirror. Her hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel. She clearly knew what he meant, but she was asking anyway. At times, this autistic girl's thoughts were remarkably easy to read. Leaving aside the lethal sharpness of her blades, she could be childish to the point of being endearing. "Didn't you say you liked that kind of life in the desert?" "Can I come along?" "If the surgery goes smoothly, you can take charge of protecting Purr." "All right." Philomena nodded. "Reluctantly?" Philomena replied flatly, "No, I am very excited." "I can't tell." Philomena raised her voice: "I am very excited!" Then she pressed the horn twice: *Honk! Honk!* "Heh." Karen shook his head and looked back down at his documents. After a moment, Philomena spoke up on her own. "Regional Chief, you treat Purr really well." "Hm?" "I mean, you give her freedom." "The way you put it makes it sound like I've been keeping her imprisoned." Purr had lived as a cat for over a century, spending the vast majority of that time in the Inmeles home. But the Inmeles family hadn't locked her up; on the contrary, they had sheltered her. "You gave Miss Eunice freedom, too." Karen knew Philomena was referring to the time during the study seminar at Allen Manor, when Eunice had gone to Sangpu City for a designers' conference, and he hadn't let Old Anderson summon her back. "Why? Shouldn't I have?" "I originally thought men—no, men like you, Regional Chief—would prefer women who are like decorative vases." "Did someone say something to you? Grandmother?" "A few days ago, after training, she chatted with me. She talked a lot about her past and about her choices." "Do you think she was hinting at something?" "I don't know." "She was probably just reminiscing on a whim. Don't read into it." Karen didn't believe his grandmother was hinting anything to Philomena. After all, she didn't approve of a daughter of the Felscher family becoming her grandson's wife. She had most likely just recalled her own youth during the training session and indulged in a bit of nostalgia. "She said I could try changing. She said a life like hers is very happy, too." "You don't need to listen to her. She only settled down and married an honest man after she'd had her fill of fun in her youth." "I understand." The car drove out of the Yorktown suburbs and approached the research institute. Up ahead on the road, a small truck sat parked by the roadside. Just as the second-hand black Ponce sedan carrying Karen pulled alongside it, the side of the truck's cargo container dropped open, revealing a spell-enhanced heavy crossbow loaded with three bolts. An elderly man in a formal suit struck the crossbow's trigger mechanism with a palm radiating a deep green glow. It was an ambush that caught them completely off guard. Karen had already pulled his eyes away from the documents and turned his head to look. Philomena mirrored his motion, but at the same time, her right hand pressed a button. A gem embedded inside dropped into its slot, activating the modified vehicle's defensive array. Three crossbow bolts shot forth, slamming into the sedan's defensive barrier. The bolts shattered on impact, but the tremendous kinetic force still flipped the sedan, sending it rolling down the hillside beside the road. If Karen had been riding in an ordinary car, those three bolts would have punched straight through in an instant. If he had been daydreaming or dozing off, a gaping hole would likely have been blasted right through his torso. No—the bolts fired by such magical artifacts would shred flesh and bone to pieces upon impact. Truly, expensive things had only one flaw: their price. And that was usually your flaw, not theirs. This sedan had been retrofitted through Neo's arrangements, and that single attack had already repaid the entire modification cost. Small wonder Neo had scraped together every penny back then to get his hands on a luxury VIP vehicle. He had probably been worried about assassins sent by his creditors. As the car rolled down the slope, figures darted out, closing in rapidly. By the time the car wedged against a large boulder and finally halted its tumble, two figures rushed forward, each holding two spell scrolls, preparing to plaster them onto the chassis and detonate them. Yet a graceful figure had already appeared behind the pair. Two daggers flew from Philomena's sleeves, impaling their torsos. Without a pause, she vanished from the spot. Muffled grunts echoed around as she eliminated the assassins one by one. Inside the truck, the elderly man sighed, knowing the assassination had failed. Silently, he raised a hand, plunged it into his own chest, and tore out his heart. With his other hand, he crushed a small token in his palm. The next instant, flames surged over the assassins on the slope below, both the dead and the living. Restrictive seals had clearly been placed on them in advance, now triggered to silence them all. Knowing the Church of Order possessed the power of Awakening, they wouldn't leave behind a single intact corpse. Once the old man finished this, the extracted heart in his hand finally stopped beating, turned black, and exploded into flames that instantly engulfed the truck. Karen sat atop the overturned car, smoking a cigarette. Philomena reappeared and shook her head. "No useful clues." "Mm." Karen gave a low grunt, not particularly troubled. He didn't even bother trying to trace who had orchestrated this attempt on his life, because he knew very well that similar attempts would hardly be rare in the future. As much fun as he had had severing heads in the desert, dealing with the resulting retaliation was bound to be just as exhausting. After all, those targets had been the brilliant youths of various churches, and the vast majority possessed prominent family backgrounds. They knew full well that assassinating him would be exceedingly difficult, but they didn't mind sending people to disgust and harass him. Perhaps the client who hired this batch of assassins had never even shown their face, merely putting forward a sum of vouchers too lavish to refuse. Philomena spoke up: "I won't go to the desert." "I'm fine." "I want to stay and protect you." "Even if you weren't by my side and I was driving myself, I would have been fine." "Still, there will be times when you get hurt." "All right, all right, we'll talk about that later. Check if the car can still run." Karen hopped off the vehicle. Philomena walked over, lifted the car with one hand, and set it firmly upright. Watching this, Karen felt that the sheer volume of their breakfast had demonstrated its value in spectacular fashion. Philomena climbed inside and restarted the engine. "It can still run." Karen nodded. "Solid build." She cut the engine, stepped out, hoisted the car onto her shoulder, and walked up the slope. Once back on the road, she set it down. Getting back in, she prepared to start it up again, only to realize the car was facing the wrong way, pointing toward where they had come from. She opened the door, stepped out, bent over, hoisted the car again, spun it around, and set it down. "Philomena." "Yes?" "You can make a U-turn from inside the car." "I didn't forget. This is just less trouble." "Mm, makes sense." After they both settled back into the vehicle, Karen remembered something and said, "Check if the coffee in the glove box spilled." Philomena opened the compartment, pulled out a can of coffee, and answered, "It didn't spill." "Good. Let's keep going." Philomena released a black crow to notify the Whip of Order to come and clean up the aftermath of the assassination attempt. Then, she continued driving Karen to the institute. Because an appointment had been made in advance, Karen saw upon arrival that the institute's director and deputy directors were actually sitting in the guard booth, chatting with the security personnel under the guise of showing concern for frontline staff. When Karen entered, he was ushered straight into the director's office. Pleasantries and courteous greetings were unavoidable. After all, he still needed to borrow the institute's facilities and experts, so proper face had to be given. Karen even promised to accommodate several directors' requests to place their younger relatives into the Whip of Order for training. This was nepotism through the back door, but not entirely so. During peacetime, the Whip of Order was the highest-risk department within the church's system. Furthermore, with the militia mobilized, alternating training cycles and personnel replenishment would still give priority to the Whip of Order. In a sense, this kind of "backdoor plea" from the directors inspired a touch of respect. Of course, this also had to do with the fact that they were facing Karen. Before a Regional Chief so young yet bearing such an illustrious record, people unconsciously tried to present a cleaner front. This, too, reflected Karen's role as a model leader. After dealing with them, Karen headed to the laboratory belonging to Ashley's parents and handed them the surgical plan. On this matter, they knew how to keep a secret. "This plan is truly detailed." "Yes, it is exceptionally thorough." Karen asked, "Do you need any additional preparations?" "Regional Chief, we originally thought we'd have to request outside help, perhaps even bring in external specialists. But looking at this now, that won't be necessary." "This plan is detailed down to a foolproof, step-by-step level. It even contains decomposed operational breakdowns. For maximum secrecy, the two of us can complete the surgery alone. It will just take a bit longer, and we'll need to go through the plan twice to familiarize ourselves." It seemed that even though he had only asked Luoya to have the sacred artifacts in the containment space draft a surgical plan, they had exceeded their quota, detailing every step as if writing a full manual. Karen asked, "So, when can we operate?" "By midnight tonight, everything will be ready." Karen nodded. "Good. Then I won't leave; I'll wait here." "Didn't Ashley return with you? I can call her back to keep you company." Karen waved his hand. "No need. Focus on your work. I'll go feed Sandy myself." Leaving the lab, Karen instructed Philomena to head to Allen Manor and bring Purr over. He then walked to the beast-rearing sector, heading straight for the large, transparent glass enclosure housing Sandy. When leaving the office, he had forgotten to ask for an escort or a token, so the door could not be unlocked. Seeing Karen, Sandy immediately flattened itself against the glass on the far side in terror. Only upon noticing that Karen couldn't seem to get in did it heave a sigh of relief. However, too lazy to go back for the token, Karen went ahead and cracked the warding himself. Before long, without damaging the lock's core enchantments, the door opened with a *click*. Karen stepped inside. With his current status, breaking into a monster beast enclosure was nothing. Even if he followed Dicarloste's old example and plucked Sandy bare to roast it, the institute director would at most report that "Sandy died of illness." Karen sat down on the wooden stump in the center of the enclosure. Sandy remained terrified, not daring to draw near. "Hey, fly a bit," Karen gestured. Sandy didn't budge. Human hierarchy clearly held no intuitive meaning for it, until Karen repeated himself: "Fly a bit and put on a show, my dearest friend." Sandy's eyes snapped wide as if struck by a panic reflex. Instantly spreading its wings, it began to dance in the air. It was, after all, a sacrificial bird bred specifically for ceremonies. Its posture was exquisite, its plumage magnificent, and unlike other foul-smelling avian beasts, it naturally exuded a distinctive fragrance. At one point in history, church dignitaries had enjoyed dipping a Sandy feather into their teacups. It had to be said that the fate of Sandy's species was quite similar to that of his grandmother's Arte family—steeped in bitter tears. After sitting for a while, Karen simply lay back to sleep, conserving his energy for the late-night surgery. Seeing Karen fall asleep, Sandy stopped flying, landed, and stood off to the side. Philomena returned with the cat. Little Kanna had tagged along with Purr. The moment she hopped out of the car, she ran toward the beast-rearing area, able to sense Karen's presence. Purr, on the other hand, lay somewhat languidly on the back seat. She had been quite busy and exhausted lately. Not only was the task of relocating the ancestral graves far more complicated than expected, but giving lessons to Eunice was also wearing on her patience. It wasn't that Eunice lacked talent. In fact, Eunice's talent was extraordinary. The family's power of faith within her could condense and circulate on its own. That meant even if she did nothing at all—even if she merely spent every day eating, sleeping, painting, and reading—she would still reach Level 7 in the family faith system by her thirties or forties. Whether it was that the Allen bloodline had diluted to a certain threshold before finally rebounding, or that Diss truly had an impeccable eye, Eunice represented the finest bloodline resurgence across several generations. However, Eunice's biggest problem was that she lacked the foundational training she should have received in childhood, and her current level in the family faith system had essentially been attained through sleeping. Purr wanted to train her to become the way she herself had been in the past, but doing so proved immensely difficult all at once. There was too much remedial work to cover. Purr could only repeatedly curse Old Anderson and the others for deliberately withholding her bloodline awakening just to make her an easier match for marriage, thereby delaying her development. Yet the most exhausting part was that Purr was a genius herself, and geniuses often lacked the patience to teach. Furthermore, having watched Diss and Karen grow up right under her whiskers, her perception of "tutelage" had become completely warped. Many times during their lessons, Eunice would listen intently, but Purr's explanation would inevitably boil down to: *"You just do this, then do that, and it's done. You get it, meow?"* Often, mid-lecture, Purr would start losing her temper—not at Eunice, but at herself. Down in her heart, she knew Karen placed no demands on Eunice's personal strength. Even if Eunice remained an ordinary human, Karen wouldn't mind in the slightest. Her Highness Ophelia of Dark Moon Island could swing her greatsword until sparks flew, but she still couldn't compete with Purr's own great-great-great-great-niece pushing open the window and smiling as she watched him return. Purr knew that for exceptional men and women, their expectations of a spouse were fundamentally different from ordinary people's. Ordinary people weighed their partner's income, family background, personal capabilities, and the like. But people like Karen had already resolved all needs for survival and security; they cared far more about whether a partner could provide emotional value. That was why wealthy men favored simple, decorative beauties, while wealthy women favored affectionate, pampered young men. In other words, Purr knew that rushing to impart knowledge to Eunice was not only devoid of practical use... it might even backfire. What if one day Karen came home looking for his fiancée, only to be told she was in seclusion preparing for a breakthrough and had no time for him? The two of them were completely comfortable with each other as they were. One was willing to shoulder every responsibility and had indeed done so; the other cared nothing for so-called "independence" or "value," thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being sheltered. Would forcing Eunice to master the family faith system and pursue breakthroughs only sow discord in their relationship? A cat who had lived for two centuries and spent her leisure reading romance novels had recently found herself lost in the gulf between ideals and reality. While searching for Karen, Little Kanna passed the cage of the Storm Wolf, Mombas. Mombas lifted his head and let out a menacing growl at her: "*Roar!*" Little Kanna pressed her hands against her cheeks, faced the Storm Wolf, and shouted: "*Wah-hoo!*" The Storm Wolf suddenly felt a shudder radiating from deep within its soul. It instantly curled into a corner, whimpering: "*Whine, whine, whine...*" Little Kanna found Karen just as he was waking up. He had slept remarkably well—so well that he felt tempted to ask Ashley's parents for some of Sandy's feathers to turn into incense for sleep aid. Karen took Little Kanna's hand and walked back to the laboratory entrance. Purr climbed directly onto Karen's shoulder, settled down, and said to Little Kanna: "All right, you've been here so many times and you're still playing around? Hurry inside for your physical examination." Karen glanced at Philomena, realizing she hadn't told Purr in advance. "She isn't the one getting examined this time. You are." "Me?" Purr looked at Karen, bewildered. "Yes, you. Once the examination shows no issues, we can prepare for the surgery." "Surgery? What surgery?" As Purr asked, her feline eyes widened, and the whiskers on her face bristled. "Could it be..." Karen turned to Philomena. "Do you know how to brew coffee?" Philomena shook her head, paused in thought, and then answered earnestly, "Richard does." Little Kanna piped up, "I do!" "How do you know how?" Karen asked. "Sister Purr taught me. She said an elegant aristocratic lady should master the art of brewing coffee." "*Ahem... meow.*" *She just wanted you to brew it for her.* Karen bent down and instructed Little Kanna, "When they tell you the surgery inside is almost finished, go brew a cup of coffee." Then, Karen reached up and stroked Purr's back. Purr habitually wrapped her tail around his finger. Karen said gently: "When the surgery is over, you'll be able to hold the cup and drink it with your own hands."