The Greatest Victory!

Karen set down his pen and rubbed his wrist. Beside Karen's desk stood a smaller study desk. At that moment, Little Kanna also put down her pen, massaging her own little wrist in identical fashion. Purr had taken Kevin to the desert, leaving behind a mountain of "holiday homework." Whenever conditions permitted while contacting Karen through the communication array, Purr made sure to carve out time to check Little Kanna's study progress and inspect her assignments. During the previous check-in, upon discovering that Little Kanna had been slacking off, Karen—who was taking a shower in the office's inner bathroom—could still clearly hear Purr's furious roar: "Kanna! If you dare slack off again, I'll drop the war, march right back, and thrash you!" Perhaps having lived as a cat for so long, returning to a battlefield environment felt like reclaiming her lost youth; Karen could distinctly sense the shift in Purr. Well, she had grown noticeably sunnier and more cheerful. In any case, ever since that incident, Little Kanna's initiative toward her studies had drastically improved. At this moment, Little Kanna looked up and caught Karen watching her. At such a tender age, hands resting at her sides, she stared down at the homework she had just finished and let out a heavy sigh that had no business coming from a child her age: "Sigh..." It was not the self-indulgent sigh of a sheltered child ignorant of the world's cutthroat competition, but rather like the sullen melancholy of a middle-aged man driven to exhaustion by a wife constantly pushing him to climb higher. To be fair, even Karen wondered whether this approach to parenting was going too far. Her elemental rank, bloodline purity, and lineage inheritance were all right there. In truth, she only needed to nibble on her medicinal pills on schedule and in proper doses to ensure healthy development, and once she matured, she would naturally become a formidable giant dragon. Yet here she was, forced not only to master multiple languages but also to become proficient in various professional disciplines. Even students at Order University didn't carry an academic workload as crushing as Little Kanna's. However, Karen had little authority in matters of education. At most, he could try to lead by example in everyday life. As for the educational curriculum, he would never make arbitrary changes on his own initiative. Since Purr was helping him raise the child, he owed her sufficient respect, just as he treated Alfred and the others in their work—striving never to overstep his authority or micromanage. In the past, he used to wonder why the Whip-Wielder had raised Augie to be so foolish, but now he understood: overburdened with work and limited by energy, the Whip-Wielder didn't have someone like Purr by his side. For an ordinary person to think of disciplining dragons—creatures untamable to the core—was pure delusion. In their perception of living things, humans were barely distinct from ants on the ground. They feared the strong, but the mighty beings capable of inspiring dread in them were no longer considered human in their eyes anyway. Still, the little bone dragon was brilliant. From learning to talk to studying introductory magic formations, it had barely taken her any time at all. "Karen, does life really have to be this exhausting?" Karen nodded. "Bitterness first, sweetness later." "But the pills are already so bitter." "Those pills you find bitter are precious treasures that countless dragons couldn't obtain half of in their wildest dreams." Little Kanna pouted. "I can't out-argue you." "That's because you know I'm right, and you're still willing to listen to reason." "What is sweetness, then? Is it just growing up properly?" "Do you think Augie has a good life right now?" Little Kanna shook her head. "That stupid dragon seems to just spend all her time huddled in the pool in the office." "Study hard, and in the future I'll give you a post so you can do real work." Hearing this answer, Little Kanna countered: "I endure bitterness now just so I can keep enduring bitterness for you later? Where is the sweet part?" "Right here with me." Little Kanna: "..." Karen rose from his desk and said, "Come on. Today's homework is done; let's stretch our legs." "Aren't you going to work?" "A guest is arriving today. I need to receive him." "Oh." Little Kanna packed her stationery and books into her backpack, pulled the zipper shut, and hoisted it onto her back. On the back of the bag, Xili had stitched an embroidery of a golden retriever. Originally, there had also been a black cat design, but Little Kanna had picked it off thread by thread while staying up late doing homework. Karen led Little Kanna out of the headquarters building and into the parking lot. As he started the car and glanced through the rearview mirror at Little Kanna sitting in the back, he suddenly had the surreal feeling of picking up a kid from a Whip of Order kindergarten after school. Driving up to the entrance of the Church Affairs Building, Karen did not step out to reveal his identity, choosing instead to wait in the car. Little Kanna had been leaning against the seat dozing off, but then her eyes snapped open. Three figures appeared atop the stone steps: one man and two women. One woman was extraordinarily tall, over two meters, with a voluptuous figure that served as the ultimate embodiment of what men conceived of as "wild beauty." In reality, she was indeed wild enough, being a fully grown frost dragon after all. The other woman was quite young: Miss Dena. Her father had once been one of the High Priest's direct subordinates, but had betrayed him midway through and was subsequently purged. The High Priest had taken her in, and she had grown up bathed in the affectionate pampering of the High Priest, Foden, and an entire circle of elder "uncles"—uncles who wished nothing more than to tuck her away in a sequestered little paradise where she could live happily without a care. The man was the actual person Karen had come to receive: the Whip-Wielder's chief secretary, Miguel. At present, the Church of Order had two knight orders deployed in the desert territories, with Daan commanding one of them. Although Dena had spent a long time living in the military camps alongside Daan, she did not belong to the official order roster. Therefore, to join the battlefield legitimately, she was taking a roundabout approach, aiming to slip into the desert under a new identity through the upcoming militia regiment rotation from the Yorktown Region. Augie remained her bodyguard. Miguel had made the trip specifically to provide an official explanation of the situation. In truth, he didn't need to come in person, but he had come anyway—he wanted to freeload a meal. Karen pulled the car out of the parking space and drove up beneath the steps. Seeing this, the nearby security guards immediately approached, intent on chasing off this violator of parking regulations, but one of them seemed to recognize the license plate on Karen's Ponce and hurriedly grabbed his colleague's arm. Karen rolled down the window. Without even stepping out to greet him, he smiled at Miguel outside. "Get in." "Haha." Miguel seemed slightly surprised by how casual Karen was being. Laughing, he opened the front passenger door and gestured for Miss Dena to slide in. Miss Dena, however, walked straight past and climbed into the back, and Augie squeezed in right after her. Clutching her backpack, Little Kanna gave Augie an utterly disgusted look as she crowded in. After settling into the front passenger seat, Miguel asked, "Do you need me to make introductions?" "No need. We're all old acquaintances." Karen raised a hand in greeting. "Dena, Augie, long time no see." No "Lord Augie," nor "Miss." Even in the presence of an outsider, there was no longer any need to follow such formalities. Dena replied, "Hello, Regional Chief Karen." Augie merely grunted. Little Kanna turned her head to look at Augie. "Have you regressed so much that you can't even speak?" Facing Little Kanna, Augie felt an instinctive discomfort and could only manage a proper response: "Regional Chief Karen." Karen turned to Miguel. "Do you need to rest first?" Miguel replied, "I'm fine, just hungry." "Mm, got it." Karen drove back to his apartment in the dormitory building. Following his instructions, Xili had already prepped the ingredients; next, Karen would cook personally. In truth, Karen had always been stingy about cooking for outsiders, but the chief secretary was clearly an exception. It wasn't that Karen was deliberately sucking up to him; rather, this secretary had repeatedly pulled strings and paved the way for him on multiple occasions despite having no prior familiarity between them. So while this looked like Karen personally cooking to entertain him, in reality, having freeloaded so many meals from the man in the past, he was now paying off a debt. Dena was far more mature than when they had first met in the Church of the Crypt, but her underlying nature remained intact. After stepping into Karen's home, she asked him bluntly: "Lord Regional Chief, why haven't you found a bigger place to live?" Karen replied, "Because the Lord Regional Chief is afraid of being assassinated." The dormitory building stood directly opposite the headquarters building and was integrated into its defensive formations. Moreover, every resident in the building was one of Karen's subordinates. Attempting an assassination here was no easier than launching a direct frontal assault on the Whip of Order headquarters. Since surviving the ambush on the road back to Allen Manor, Karen had encountered two more assassination attempts to date. One had been resolved by Philomena before she left for the desert. The other had its head wrenched off by Little Kanna with a crisp, wet snap, the little girl holding up the spurting corpse like she was setting off fireworks. Three other attempts had been foiled by the Whip of Order before they could even be launched. None of these attempts were of particularly high caliber, because truly powerful figures understood the sheer difficulty of assassinating Karen, as well as the catastrophic consequences if they succeeded. In the eyes of many outsiders, the Church of Order's ongoing war in the desert was still an act of retribution for the assassination of Wolflen's family. "You're actually afraid of that?" Dena asked curiously. "I'm afraid of the hassle." Karen tied on an apron and began stir-frying. Miguel voluntarily stood by the kitchen doorway and offered, "Need any help? I'm pretty good at cooking myself." Karen glanced at him. Confirming that he wasn't merely making polite conversation, he said, "Help me sear the chicken pieces first." "Sure thing, no problem." Dena asked, "Does Uncle Foden know that you two are on such good terms?" The instant she asked, Dena regretted it. Miguel remained silent. Karen replied, "Is that the sort of question a child like you should be asking?" "I'm not a child," Dena retorted. "If you haven't learned how to speak properly, you're still a child." Dena huffed. "I don't know what Uncle Foden sees in you anyway. Before I came, he specifically brought you up to me." Clearly, Miss Dena was trying to recover from her earlier slip of the tongue. To her, Karen was far more than just a Regional Chief. After all, while Regional Chiefs in the Whip of Order weren't countless, there were still plenty of them—yet Karen was the only one who had ever struck her and sent her flying around like a golf ball. Miguel spoke up: "From now on, there will be a regular meeting in the middle of every month. I'll notify you of the specific date and time. It's best if you don't miss them without good reason." Miguel wasn't worried in the slightest about Dena running off to tattle. He had arrived this time bearing the Whip-Wielder's explicit instructions to formally confirm Karen's entry into the inner circle. In a sense, he was carrying out orders to foster this close relationship. "Really, Chief Secretary?" Karen smiled. "I can join already?" "It's a privilege personally granted by the Whip-Wielder." "Understood. Thank you, Chief Secretary." "I didn't really do anything, haha." Dena didn't linger by the kitchen door any longer. She wandered over to the sofa, sizing up Little Kanna, who was sitting there reading a book. Leaning down, she asked Little Kanna: "Do you know that originally, you were supposed to belong to me?" Little Kanna shot back, "In your dreams?" Dena's chest heaved with irritation. Sitting beside her, Augie merely watched without uttering a word. The dishes began coming off the stove. Little Kanna slid off the sofa and started shuttling in and out of the kitchen, carrying dishes and setting the table. As she passed Augie, she snapped, "Are you a cripple?" "What?" "Do some work." "I'm a guest, not a servant." "We're the hosts, not servants either." Augie had no choice but to get up and help. Once the food and tableware were arranged, everyone prepared to sit down. Karen and Miguel engaged in polite rounds of deference, which made Dena and Augie, who had already seated themselves, feel rather awkward. "Miguel, you're the guest." "No, Karen, I'm just here to freeload a meal." Formal formalities could sometimes feel dull and meaningless, but here they were entirely fitting. Both Karen and Miguel needed them during their first private gathering to sound out each other's temperament and boundaries, establishing a deeper tacit consensus for their future cooperation. When they had first met today, they had addressed each other as "Regional Chief" and "Chief Secretary"; now, they were calling each other by their given names. Just then, the doorbell rang. Little Kanna went to open the door, then turned her head and shouted: "The real freeloaders are here!" Stepping through the door was Mavaglio, accompanied by his wife, former Regional Chief Gaspol. Miguel, Dena, and Augie all stood up immediately, bowing to Mavaglio: "Greetings, Lord Godson." Mavaglio waved a dismissive hand, strode right to the dining table to sit down, and demanded of Karen, "I was waiting at home for your invitation!" "I know. You'd show up on your own without an invitation anyway." The meal went delightfully well. Originally, Karen and Miguel hadn't planned to focus on the food, but Mavaglio and Gaspol had come specifically to eat. The couple either borrowed Karen's maid Xili or simply barged in for dinner, acting less and less like outsiders with each passing day. In particular, Chief Inquisitor Gaspol had visibly put on weight recently. However, the gain was distributed across her entire frame, not just her stomach, so there was no need to suspect pregnancy just yet. After dinner, Karen invited Miguel and Mavaglio for tea and conversation. Miguel had brought cigars of the kind favored by the Whip-Wielder, and each of the three took one. In the living room, Dena and Lord Augie sat on the sofa, ignored by everyone. Little Kanna, clutching a book of legal statutes, was consulting Gaspol, who patiently explained the details to her. Karen had previously suggested to Mavaglio that he try taking Gaspol to an orphanage to look at children, thinking it might stimulate her maternal instincts and snap her to her senses, helping her kick the syringe. By now, results had indeed begun to show—only the breakthrough hadn't come from an orphanage, but from Little Kanna. With more frequent shared meals came more frequent encounters. Sometimes when Karen had to work overtime for evening meetings, Xili would bring Little Kanna over to Mavaglio's house to cook together. Yet this arrangement carried an unintended side effect: the little bone dragon's intellect far exceeded ordinary human levels, and under Purr's strict tutelage, she was exceptionally obedient and well-behaved. Consequently, this might set Gaspol's expectations for her future child far too high, which could easily turn into profound disappointment once an actual child arrived. Augie sat there feeling profoundly uncomfortable. She had been tracking Little Kanna's every move. After all, they were identical in nature—both kept by others. Yet clearly, Little Kanna's living state was entirely different from her own memories of childhood. In her early days, Augie had only known to trail behind the Whip-Wielder. Wherever he went, she followed. Whenever the Whip-Wielder talked to people or held meetings, she would simply sit by his feet with her mouth open, babbling nonsense. Looking up toward the inner room at Karen, who was lounging, puffing a cigar, and chatting casually with Mavaglio and Miguel, Augie felt a wave of dizziness. He was climbing so fast... no, he was practically flying. Mavaglio chuckled and said, "It seems our Whip-Wielder truly thinks highly of you, Karen." Karen glanced at Miguel and said, "That is largely thanks to Miguel's introduction." "Don't be so modest. It is still because of your own capabilities, Karen." Miguel clearly remembered that emergency inner-circle meeting. When the Whip-Wielder heard Karen's seemingly off-the-wall remarks, once the communication array was deactivated, the man had been visibly thrilled. Miguel even suspected that the Whip-Wielder's subsequent speeches and proposals before the High Priest had been inspired directly by Karen. A young man possessing supreme competence, profound emotional intelligence, and impeccable social decorum. How could someone like that not continue to soar? "Alright, alright, watching you two trade pleasantries back and forth is exhausting. Tell me, Karen, why do I get the feeling you won't even remain Regional Chief for very long before you're promoted again? "Looking at it this way, if my wife gets pregnant and has a baby right now, will she be able to slide right back into her old seat by the time the child is born? "Wait, no—it seems you're getting promoted even faster than my wife could deliver a child." Mavaglio was intentionally using this banter to signal his close relationship with Karen to Miguel. He knew full well that secretaries of this sort were masters at reading the room. Mavaglio understood his own position clearly: an ornamental figurehead whose purpose was to drop by and brush a stroke of prestige wherever it was needed. Miguel remarked, "When ordinary people reach this height, they often struggle to find opportunities to produce meaningful political achievements. They can only do their duties by the book and slowly grind through seniority. Opportunities that can immediately transform one's environment upon success are exceptionally rare. You have great luck, Karen; you currently hold two such opportunities in your hands. "Next, it all depends on the results of the reforms and the combat performance of the Yorktown militia regiment in the desert. Succeeding in either one will have already paved your way forward. If you manage to succeed in both... your ascent will accelerate tremendously." The Whip-Wielder's chief secretary was personally mapping out Karen's future career trajectory. Mavaglio asked curiously, "Why are you being so enthusiastic? Tell me, could it be that when you're sent out on an external assignment in the future, you want to step down here to Yorktown as Regional Chief?" A secretary's rank wasn't extraordinarily high, but opportunities were abundant. For people like Miguel—and those two chicken-flavored skewers Augie had previously swallowed—their career path typically involved working to a certain stage before securing an external assignment to burnish their credentials. Miguel smiled. "I originally felt that day was still very distant, but with Lord Godson putting it that way, I suddenly feel it might not be so far off after all." "Haha. If you climb even higher, Karen, given your age... you truly stand a chance at contending for the seat of High Priest." Upon hearing this, Miguel stopped commenting. Certain sensitive remarks could be spoken by Mavaglio, but not by him. Karen did not chime in either. Mavaglio, however, grew even more animated, continuing, "I know that crowd in the Temple has a massive headache dealing with our High Priest, hahaha!" "Hehehe," Miguel chuckled along courteously. Everyone understood that Mavaglio was referring to the rumors that the High Priest was the "inheritor" of Lord Tyrannus. A Godson had the standing to speak on this matter because it was very likely that the current High Priest was, like him, a Godson. Lord Tyrannus was the founder of the Church of Order. That meant the current High Priest likely commanded not only the church's secular authority, but also the ultimate power of scriptural interpretation. Karen smiled faintly as well, raising his cup to take a sip of water... If he ever became High Priest in the future, the Temple would truly come to understand what a real headache felt like. *Ring, ring, ring...* "Excuse me, I'll take this call first." Karen rose, walked into the living room, and picked up the phone. Alfred's excited voice came through the receiver: "Young Master, incredible news from the desert!" "Speak." Karen took a deep breath, forcing his tone to remain steady. Then he snapped his fingers, openly casting an isolation barrier around himself in plain view of everyone in the living room. "Young Master, in the plan Commander Neo submitted earlier, didn't he mention excavating a secret realm belonging to the former Church of the Desert? Supposedly, it was a collective resting place for the ancient desert sages." "Yes, I know. Did they dig up anything good?" Karen was strapped for coupons right now and desperately hoped the "brigand crew" he had sent out would generate returns for him soon. "With Purr's assistance, they cracked open that secret realm with ease! Only then did they discover it had actually been turned into a command outpost for the desert rebel forces! They didn't dig up anything of material value... but Commander Neo led his men to capture the number two leader of the desert rebels alive! "Young Master, you must understand—both of Order's knight orders have been fighting in the desert for so long, and while their display looks grand and imposing, the desert rebels refuse to engage in open battle, so those two knight orders have essentially been spinning their wheels this entire time. "Therefore, our Yorktown Regional Militia Regiment has achieved what can be called the greatest victory since Order intervened in the desert conflict!"