Stealing the Exam Questions

As the carriage rolled forward, Karen leaned back against his seat holding a document—not reading it, merely holding it in his hand. The bright sunlight outside felt irritating instead. When one was sleep-deprived, the very lens through which one viewed the world tended to warp. There was no helping it; as a Regional Chief whose home region had a completely inverted time zone relative to the Dinge Region, he had to get used to this rhythm. Little Kanna held three copies of Light of Order in her arms, diligently reading: One was in the Marklai language, one in Lamodine (which had a longer history of use in Church chronicles), and one in the Dragon tongue. Raising a child so that she understood basic etiquette and knew to bathe before going to bed was merely the foundation. Her cultural and intellectual education was the top priority—and by far the most mentally exhausting part. Even though she was accompanying Karen out for a meeting, Purr had still assigned Little Kanna homework that had to be completed. Watching Little Kanna clutch a pen in her left hand, clench her right hand into a fist, and knit her brows as she struggled through her reading, Karen could never suppress a smile. In truth, she didn't have to come. Normally, when he went out for conferences, bringing Richard to handle procedures and Philomena for security and errands was more than enough. But this time, it was a general assembly for the Whip of Order system, and the Whip-Wielder himself would be in attendance. Whenever the Whip-Wielder was present, it was better to bring along his little bone dragon. Andilao had specifically reminded him of that last time. St. Rosen Church came into view. The security personnel were all clad uniformly in clerical robes bearing the style of the Whip of Order. Richard handed over Karen's credentials. After saluting Karen, the guard let them through. Stepping down from the carriage, boots clicking against the flagstones of the church square, an imposing sense of historical solemnity washed over him. A sizable crowd had already gathered in the square. Those qualified to attend this conference had to be at least a Regional Chief, or the head of an expansion territory or internal department within the system. Counting everyone's entourage, several hundred people had already assembled. They were mostly gathered in small clusters, chatting amongst themselves. At a time like this, standing apart made one look awkward, like an isolated child with no one to play with. However, Karen's "isolation" did not last long. Soon, people began approaching him of their own accord. Some he had already "met" in prior communication-array meetings; after greeting him, they warmly led him over to introduce him to others. Karen handled such social scenes with practiced ease, retracting his sharp edges and striving to appear gentle and modest, carrying himself as a junior even before peers of equal rank. Gradually, the crowd around Karen grew to be the largest. Youth was sometimes a limitation that made it hard to cross the threshold, but if you managed to cross it while still young, it meant your future held boundless possibilities. Thus, hardly anyone would turn down an opportunity to interact with Karen. Even if they didn't go out of their way to ingratiate themselves, at least no one was foolish enough to belittle him or pick a fight. After all, long after they had retired, he would still be standing at the apex of power. A while later, carriages belonging to the system's true heavyweights began to arrive. The small conversational circles dispersed, and whenever a grand dignitary stepped down, the crowd collectively saluted. Yet the Whip-Wielder's carriage remained absent. Instead, the church bells rang out first, signaling the start of the conference. All retinues remained outside. Karen entered the church along with the rest. The interior was cavernous, resembling a grand theater, with position nameplates placed on every seat. Karen's seat was in the middle section. The downside was that it wasn't near the front, but the upside was that right before him lay a relatively wide aisle, offering clear visibility while making him easily visible to the dais and those around him. Taking his seat, Karen exchanged brief nods with the two fellow Regional Chiefs beside him before picking up the conference agenda packet on his seat and flipping through it. The conference had three main topics. The first was summarizing past achievements and looking ahead to the future. This was typical of an annual meeting; indeed, today's gathering essentially served as the Whip of Order's internal annual conference. The second topic was deepening reforms within the Whip of Order, reviving its functions, and providing greater momentum for the Church of Order's development. This was actually an extension of past policies dating back to the reactivation of the Whip of Order's grassroots restructuring, back when Karen, Neo, Bernie, and Harry were still in their honeymoon phase. Yet conditions varied across regions. In some, the revival of the Whip of Order had progressed splendidly—the Yorktown Region being a prime example—while in others, it remained an empty shell. Hence, this topic still needed further elaboration and expansion. The third topic was far more concrete, concerning the mobilization mechanism reforms recently decreed by the Holy See and the role the Whip of Order could play in the desert campaign. The Whip of Order's intelligence network had already stretched into the desert, but this conference clearly aimed beyond that: it concerned the "militia regiments." The High Priest intended to use the desert battlefield to train troops, so the chiefs of every system naturally had to organize their response and implement the initiative; they couldn't leave the High Priest to put on a one-man show. Seeing this third topic, Karen unconsciously rubbed the tip of his nose. While things here were still being drafted and debated within the system, over on his end, Neo had already organized and trained a thousand-strong militia regiment, ready to deploy at a moment's notice. In fact, the rosters for the second and third batches intended for rotation and reinforcement were already finalized, and their training was gradually getting underway. Karen had risen through sheer military merit. In the eyes of outsiders, the heads of promising youth from various major churches that Karen had harvested in the desert had paved his road to becoming a Regional Chief. Consequently, Karen's exemplary role had an obvious impact in the Yorktown Region. Once word of the militia regiment's formation and training leaked out, enthusiasm to enlist across the region's various departments surged, and people clamoring for backdoors were countless. Those who believed in their own ability volunteered themselves; those who felt too old or held positions unsuitable for leave pleaded on behalf of their sons and nephews. The Church of Order had always presented a rigid, severe, and cold facade to the world, yet in its bones lurked a militant gene that had never been worn away. Back in the day, their Lord God had slaughtered deities to reign supreme over the divine realm; today, they were the world's foremost church; even in death, they sealed themselves away, waiting to rejoin the battlefield in the future. Yet even the finest genetic inclination required a matching degree of organization. In the Yorktown Region, thanks to Bern deliberately relinquishing power, the new department spearheaded by Karen had consolidated virtually all functions of the former Whip of Order and Regional Administrative Office into its grasp, unlike other regions that still suffered from mutual bickering and internal friction. The Whip of Order's second- and third-in-command presided over the opening of the meeting. It proceeded with high efficiency, moving briskly through the topics in full adherence to the high-efficiency administrative model championed by the Whip-Wielder. Of course, there was another very important reason: lunch was not provided. Not only was there no meal, there wasn't even tea. If anyone wished to drag out the conference just so every internal department head could take the stage and indulge their vanity, they would have to endure the towering resentment of the regional and departmental "lords" seated below. As the meeting transitioned to the third topic, the Whip-Wielder arrived. As he stepped onto the dais, all the dignitaries on stage rose to their feet, and everyone below stood in unison. "Greetings, Whip-Wielder." "Greetings, Whip-Wielder." Foden nodded and explained, "I was pulled aside for an impromptu meeting and arrived late. My apologies to everyone." Given Foden's current grip on the Whip of Order, he had no need to deliberately make a mid-meeting entrance to assert his presence. And the only person who could drag him into an impromptu meeting was that one individual. After Foden sat down, the second- and third-in-command leaned over of their own accord to whisper a summary of the proceedings. Foden nodded upon hearing it and raised a hand, signaling for the conference to proceed. Next came the rollout of the third topic, which mainly focused on setting target objectives and formally announcing that the Whip of Order in every region would launch a "militia regiment model" to support the desert battlefield while seasoning their forces. The two Regional Chiefs sitting next to Karen reacted in turn. One offered a bitter smile, lamenting, "We're going to have our hands full after this." The other sighed, saying, "This won't be easy to handle." Then, both looked at Karen, seemingly waiting for him to join in their commiseration. Karen could only nod along to blend in. "Indeed." Foden sat in the primary seat, pressing a hand to his brow. He had just been pulled aside and reprimanded by the High Priest along with several heads of other systems. The reason was that the war in the desert had progressed more smoothly than anticipated. The desert rebels were bent on waging guerilla and attrition warfare, refusing to engage the Order Knight Orders head-on. Consequently, after completing their initial battlefield objectives, the two Order Knight Orders operating in the desert soon found themselves with "nothing to do." It was out of the question to waste precious knight orders on counterinsurgency policing and sweeping operations—that was using cannons to swat mosquitoes. Moreover, far from enhancing their combat efficacy, doing so brought only harm; no matter how many such one-sided policing skirmishes they fought, it hardly counted as "rich combat experience." Meanwhile, the follow-up training forces the Church was supposed to deploy were lagging behind. The vanguard had sprinted ahead too fast while the rear had yet to even step onto the track, creating a disjointed gap. In truth, nobody was at fault. Foden knew very well that the Church of Order's operational efficiency ranked among the highest in religious circles, but under such a system, orchestrating large-scale mobilization on short notice was exceedingly difficult. Now, the mission for the heads of every system was to scramble for time, squeeze out manpower, form militia regiments, and commit them to the desert front. At this point, Miguel, currently Foden's first secretary, laid the Whip-Wielder's conference documents before him. Foden flipped through them casually. Leafing toward the bottom, he noticed several regional work reports, one of which caught his eye because of its signatory: the Yorktown Region. Opening it, the Whip-Wielder initially assumed it was a proposal, musing internally that this young man's mind truly worked fast—not only reading the shifting winds, but possessing the drive to act. Yet as he read on, he realized something was amiss. This was no proposal; it was clearly a project implementation progress report. Personnel allocation, equipment distribution, supply provisioning... the completion rates were all at one hundred percent. What's more, as if turning in his exam early with a perfect score weren't satisfying enough, he had even drafted extra-credit questions and submitted them alongside it: the plans for the second and third rotation batches were fully laid out, and more than half of them were already implemented. Foden raised a hand and crooked his finger. Miguel immediately bent down and leaned close. "Did you take point coupons from him?" Placing this document right before him at this exact moment and place was undeniably deliberate. Miguel hurriedly explained, "Minister Andilao forwarded this departmental document yesterday. You met with the High Priest first thing this morning, so I hadn't had the chance to present it to you." In truth, it was deliberate on Miguel's part. Karen's report had been submitted three days ago, but the Discipline Inspection Committee had intercepted it, sat on it for two days, and only forwarded it late yesterday evening. The goal was to maximize the value of this report in the eyes of the Whip-Wielder. Once the report reached Miguel, he used his position to hold it for another half-day, deliberately waiting until the conference to place it on the desk. He was deliberately doing Karen a favor, but he certainly wouldn't willingly invite the Whip-Wielder's suspicion for it. Foden chuckled coldly, then added, "Those people from the academic clique sure have an excess of petty schemes." Then, Foden frowned slightly. "Why would Karen get mixed up with them?" Miguel immediately chimed in, "Perhaps he was simply too lonely—prior to receiving your summons, that is." "Heh." Foden rubbed his fingers across the report's cover several times and said, "Miguel." "Your subordinate is here." "Keep an eye on him for me. He knows how to get things done." "Understood, sir. Your judgment of character has always been impeccable." Foden tapped on the desk. The second-in-command, who was currently speaking, stopped at once and looked toward the Whip-Wielder. "Inquire about their specific preparedness. Ask about their cohorts. Cut down on the diplomatic fluff." "Yes, Whip-Wielder." Before long, the Regional Chiefs seated below sensed the sudden shift in tone from the dais. What began as broad task assignments and goal-setting had shifted into requests for concrete implementation plans, with the dais even prompting the seated "lords" to speak up. For a moment, the dignitaries below exchanged glances. Hadn't the exam only just been handed out, and now they were already expected to submit their papers? Yet Karen was obviously not the only one capable of "stealing the exam questions" in advance. In truth, the general drift of today's topics had long ceased to be a secret. And there were indeed others who, having gotten wind of the questions, had the capability to do their homework ahead of time. Take Scarlett, the Whip of Order's Regional Chief for the Dinge Region. With her orange hair pinned up in an updo, she projected an image of crisp efficiency. Speaking up of her own initiative, she began detailing the preparatory progress of her region's militia regiment. However, the Dinge Region was, after all, the Church of Order's capital region. Though people routinely poked fun at the Dinge Regional Chief for being the least noticeable, when it came to reading the prevailing winds and doing homework in advance, it was hardly surprising that she had gotten a head start. One could say that even if a pig were placed in her seat, even that pig wouldn't be slow in its political instincts. Following her, several others who had done their homework early spoke up, recounting their preparations. Then came a few unprepared daydreamers... who hadn't done a single shred of actual work, though that didn't stop them from speaking at great, eloquent length. Through it all, Karen never raised his hand, nor did he make any dismissive expressions. He simply sat there in silence. His report had already been submitted beforehand, so there was no need to seek the limelight here. So long as the higher-ups knew he had done a good job, that was enough; there was no reason to stand out and act as the leadership's "model student," as that would only draw excessive resentment. In the past, when he had been domineering and arrogant, he had had no choice. Now, he wanted to be a modest, upstanding individual. Standing behind the Whip-Wielder, Miguel watched Regional Chief after Regional Chief finish speaking without seeing Karen raise his hand once. He felt a flicker of confusion, but soon came to an understanding. This young man is even younger than me. How can he remain so composed? At first, Foden listened with some attention, but eventually, his gaze drifted toward Karen from time to time. Although Karen sat in the middle section, he was in the first row behind the aisle, making him very easy to spot from the dais. In a sea of people of uncle and grand-uncle age, a solitary young man stood out—especially one who was exceptionally good-looking. It was hard not to notice him. "This rascal..." Foden wet his lips, slid the report in front of him over toward the second-in-command, and tapped twice on the cover. The second-in-command glanced down at it and immediately called out: "Next, the Regional Chief of Yorktown Region, please present." Swish! In an instant, eyes throughout the hall searched before converging on Karen. Although those seated below could not and dared not use spiritual detection to eavesdrop on the dignitaries' whispers on stage, the movements of the leaders were plainly visible to everyone below. The Whip-Wielder's gesture, the second-in-command's reaction, and the immediate call-out that followed—coupled with the fact that the Whip-Wielder had granted Karen a private audience not long ago—made it impossible for people not to feel that everything at today's conference had been orchestrated in advance. Karen had not anticipated being called upon by name either. But at this point, there was no avoiding it. The report was already submitted; if he stood up and spoke in vague pleasantries and empty platitudes, it would look as though he were deliberately being difficult with the leadership above. Nuances of personal favor could only be wielded behind closed doors, for on formal occasions, they could not bear the light of day. Karen stood up. A staff member brought a voice-amplifying artifact before him. Karen took it and said: "The Yorktown Region's militia regiment has completed assembly, training, and outfitting. It is ready to enter the desert battlefield immediately." ... The conference ended, and the crowd began to disperse. Though everyone was famished by now, they still lingered in the square for last-minute socializing. Those with experience had long since instructed their entourages to bring along food and water, and people began sharing refreshments. A crowd of Regional Chiefs looked for all the world as if they were having an outing picnic. Richard was even more professional. He ran back to the carriage and had Little Kanna, who had remained inside doing her homework, carry over a large box wrapped in a quilt. Upon opening it, it was packed with insulated containers. Little Kanna took them out and opened them one by one: dishes, soups, and desserts—everything one could desire, an all-inclusive spread. Not only that, Richard immediately began distributing the food. Those who were closer or had direct working ties with Karen were invited over to share the meal. Those whose ties were more distant or held less investment value received a pastry offered with compliments. This was not snobbery; at times, one simply had to draw distinctions and practice differential treatment, because purely equal treatment often meant... having no close friends at all. Scarlett, Regional Chief of the Dinge Region, approached on her own initiative, seemingly wanting to speak with Karen. But just as she opened her mouth, the people around them stood and parted one after another—it turned out that Miguel, the Whip-Wielder's secretary, had walked over. His rank was arguably the lowest of anyone present, yet everyone treated him with immense respect. Miguel bent down slightly, looked over the spread, and smiled. "Chief Karen, you've truly prepared a sumptuous feast." "Yes, indeed." "I was quite astonished myself a moment ago." "Haha, in all my years of conferences, this is the first time I've seen such a banquet!" A single line from the secretary drew chorus after chorus of agreement and flattery from the surrounding Regional Chiefs. Karen replied, "Back when I did security duty in the region, I guarded VIPs during conferences and was starved half to death too many times. It's become a habit." "Oh, so that's why. Please, come with me." "Certainly." Miguel turned and led the way out, and Karen followed him over to a carriage. Miguel opened the carriage door and made an inviting gesture toward Karen. Karen climbed aboard, and Miguel closed the door. Roughly half an hour later, Miguel opened the carriage door, and Karen stepped down. Miguel smiled. "Chief Karen, if I remember correctly, you still owe me a meal?" Karen replied, "No, two meals." "Hehe, very well. Marked on the ledger. When I come to collect my debt, you'd better be ready." "When a friend comes over to eat, what need is there for advance preparation?" "Mm, I like the sound of that." Miguel opened the door, boarded the carriage, and before long, the carriage rolled away. Karen returned to where everyone had been eating. The previously bustling scene had quieted down somewhat, and the looks the surrounding Regional Chiefs directed at Karen were noticeably tinged with a distinct reverence. "Everyone, I have official business in my region, so I shall take my leave first." "Of course, if you have business, go ahead." "Chief Karen, until next time." "Official duties come first, we understand completely." After bidding farewell to the crowd, Karen boarded his own carriage. The moment he got inside, Richard asked curiously, "Karen, what did the Whip-Wielder discuss with you in private this time?" "The Whip-Wielder left long ago. His secretary only remained behind per custom to oversee the dispersal of the conference." "Then in the carriage..." "There was nobody inside. I took an afternoon nap."