You Dirty Dog!

They hadn't unearthed the dead; they had dug up the living. The number two figure of the desert rebels. Heh. Karen could no longer keep his micro-expressions in check, the corners of his mouth curling upward. For he knew very well that the value of this so-called number two figure was far greater even than that of the number one. According to the tradition of the church circle, the top leader was often a spiritual figurehead: responsible for commanding deep respect, uniting hearts, interpreting scripture... in short, responsible for everything except practical affairs. The number two figure, on the other hand, was the actual architect and operator behind every plan, logistical scheme, and strategic move. Especially now that the Church of the Desert was in a state of war. Ever since the forces of Order formally intervened, the situation they faced had turned exceedingly dire; the more critical the hour, the more a brilliant strategist was needed to steer the ship and keep them from collapsing under the immense pressure. It could be said that up to this point, that number two had done a splendid job. Not only had he preserved the vital forces of the Church of the Desert, but he had also used the vast expanse of the desert to lead the Church of Order in circles, orchestrating an asymmetric stalemate. As for the number one figure, his current job was very simple and singular... namely, attending the functions of various orthodox churches to beg. Recently, his silhouette had appeared at gatherings and conferences of the Church of the Night, the Church of Life, the Church of Earth, and other denominations. At every appearance, he would passionately proclaim: "The desert today is shielding the entire church circle against the encroachments of Order! We are fighting for the freedom of the entire church circle!" At every appearance, his beard was always disheveled just so, his cuffs soiled just so, and even the sorrow between his brows and the exhaustion in his eyes adhered each time to a standard cast from the exact same mold. Back when the Church of the Desert and the Desert Church had not yet engaged in civil war or split, he was the exalted leader upholding the desert lineage; now, he resembled nothing so much as a seasoned, accomplished actor. Was he important? Karen thought not. Up to now, Karen had seen no sign of the relevant departments in the Church of Order targeting him for capture or assassination... which left Regional Chief Karen, who was assassinated more times a week than there were days in a week, feeling a bit slighted. This meant that in the eyes of the Church of Order, that number one figure was far better alive than dead. This number two leader of the desert rebels, however, was genuinely on the kill list. During the earlier civil war, the Church of the Desert had been able to pin down and pummel the Desert Church precisely thanks to his command. Once the Church of Order formally stepped in, they quickly realized that this man was anything but simple; eliminating him was the key to turning the tide in the desert. And now, Neo had captured him alive. Had there not been so many outsiders at home right now, Karen would have blurted out in spite of himself: Praise be to the blessings of the God of Light. Click! Hanging up the receiver and lifting the isolation barrier, Karen walked back into the inner room. He did not deliberately keep anyone in suspense, nor did he put on an act of calm indifference; instead, he spoke directly to Miguel: "Report to the Whip-Wielder: the number two leader of the desert rebels has been captured alive by our Yorktown Regional Militia Regiment." Miguel froze for an instant, then shot up from his seat and walked into the living room to pick up the telephone. A single call naturally couldn't reach the Whip-Wielder directly; he had to use his clearance to route it up through the proper channels. Halfway through routing the call, he suddenly snapped back to his senses, turned around, and saw Karen standing right beside him. Miguel immediately asked: "Is this information verified and reliable?" "Reliable." Miguel nodded, then asked again, "Could the Whip-Wielder already know?" Reporting work and delivering good news required entirely different approaches. If the Whip-Wielder already knew and Miguel called in a frenzy of excitement to share the good news, the Whip-Wielder would deem him erratic and lacking composure—a direct death sentence for a chief secretary's career. "The Whip-Wielder definitely doesn't know yet." The man had been captured by Neo and his crew. Karen knew all too well the working style of Neo and the people around him: they would unfailingly notify Karen first, rather than contacting the Knights or filing a separate report to the Church. After all, the militia leadership's loyalty to the Church of Order... was deeply suspect. It was, after all, a Light remnant leading a flock of New Order believers. "Understood." Miguel nodded vigorously. Finally, his call was successfully patched through. Next, Karen witnessed how this chief secretary reported triumphant news in a voice of measured gravity and composure. The precision of his tone was nothing short of an art form in practice. "Karen, the Whip-Wielder." Miguel handed the receiver to Karen. Karen took the receiver and pressed it to his ear. This was the first time he had ever spoken with the Whip-Wielder over the telephone... Well, it was also because everything was so rushed that there had been no time to head to the office and use the communication array. Karen: "Lord Whip-Wielder." Foden: "I need confirmation." Karen replied firmly: "The news is genuine." "Very good." "I will submit the report to you shortly." "You have done very well." "All of this was accomplished with the assistance of the Whip of Order's desert intelligence network." Karen did not claim that this success was achieved thanks to the Whip-Wielder's grand orchestration. After all, what manner of shallow superior would enjoy hearing such shallow flattery? Gaining authority over intelligence operations across the church circle using the desert war as leverage was the fruit of the Whip-Wielder's recent political maneuvers. Acknowledging the system was, in truth, acknowledging the Whip-Wielder himself. Furthermore, those words carried a second layer of meaning: although the militia regiment had been deployed under the region's name, the credit for this triumph could be placed entirely under the Whip of Order's banner, allowing the Whip-Wielder to capitalize on it freely and fully. Evidently, the Whip-Wielder understood. He asked, "Are you certain?" Karen answered quite bluntly on purpose: "Please rest assured, the Yorktown Region is essentially under my control." "You have done very well." This was the second time the Whip-Wielder had uttered those words. Then, he hung up. Karen set down the receiver, looked at Miguel, and said, "Let us head to the office now to receive the incoming transmissions." "Alright, let's go together." Miguel also belonged to the Whip of Order system, so accompanying Karen to the office to await the reports did not violate protocol. As for the other guests in the house... "Kanna, look after the guests." Hearing this, Little Kanna's face turned solemn. After Karen and Miguel departed, Mavaglio prepared to leave with his wife as well. Before stepping out, the two spoke openly in the living room: "Another massive exploit to his name. What kind of madness is this? He simply cooked a meal at home in his kitchen, and glory falls straight into his lap from heaven! Darling, why did you never have luck like that in the past?" Gaspol rolled her eyes at her Child of God husband and replied, "First of all, I never had that kind of opportune environment. Second, and most importantly, his subordinates listen only to him." Mavaglio reached out and wrapped an arm around his wife. Seeing people around, Gaspol let him hold her for the moment. The Child of God comforted her, "There, there. Next time we won't take parachuted-in posts. It's too stifling." Once those two left, Little Kanna looked at Augie and Dena still sitting on the living room sofa, her expression practically screaming, Why haven't you left yet? The trouble was, Augie and Dena had nowhere else to go. Ostensibly, Miguel had brought them along; Augie was merely a bodyguard, and their purpose in coming here was to ask Karen to slot Dena into the next militia rotation. Now that neither Miguel nor Karen was around, where could they go? "I'm going to take a bath, and then take an afternoon nap. You two just stay here..." Before leaving, Little Kanna did not forget to add a parting warning: "Be good, and don't tear the house apart." ... Karen and Miguel walked side by side into the headquarters building. The priests they encountered along the way saluted Karen as usual, and quite a few had already recognized the companion beside their Regional Chief. The Whip-Wielder's current chief secretary frequently appeared in photographs across internal periodicals such as the Order Weekly. Inside the office, Alfred, Vic, and Leon were already compiling and sorting the incoming intelligence. Seeing Karen enter with Miguel in tow, the three were slightly taken aback, but their expressions quickly smoothed into normalcy. "Are there more specific details?" Karen asked. Alfred replied, "We're still compiling and organizing them. Communications with the front lines are rather unstable right now, cutting in and out." "How is the militia regiment? Were the casualties heavy?" "Casualties are negligible." "Good. Keep detailed records of the dispatches. Once everything is assembled, I will submit it to the Whip-Wielder through Chief Secretary Miguel." "Understood, Regional Chief." "Chief Secretary, shall we head inside for a cup of coffee?" "Certainly, Regional Chief Karen." Where they had previously been smoking cigars at home, they were now drinking coffee in a different setting, although here they could watch and hear the bustling activity in the outer office. "Congratulations, Regional Chief Karen." "Merely good luck." "Not everyone can be so lucky." "Which is why I must thank you, Chief Secretary, for the good luck you brought me today." "Erm, regarding the summary report... would you allow me to review it later?" Karen had already hinted at this earlier, but after all, this was Karen's turf, so Miguel still wanted an explicit confirmation. Had he not been present, that would be one thing; but since he was right here, he naturally wanted to ensure the report was polished to perfection. To put it bluntly: he wanted to distribute the credit across the Whip of Order system so that anyone with even a tangential connection got a piece of the pie—or at the very least, an appearance in the credits. Ideally, it would paint a picture where the Whip of Order had spearheaded the effort themselves to achieve solid, undeniable results, while the other branches... well, they were all useless deadweight. "Naturally," Karen smiled. "That is your responsibility and duty, is it not?" "Yes, yes, haha." Miguel's mind was put at ease, and he began patiently savoring his coffee. In the past, Karen would have despised this practice of parceling out the hard-earned merits of his subordinates or himself; it was utterly shameless and contemptible. Yet this time, even if Miguel hadn't brought it up, Karen would have done it anyway. He had to doctor the report regardless—he could hardly write plainly that he had dispatched a pirate and a gambler, guided by a veteran adventurer from two hundred years ago and coached by an evil god, aiming to raid tombs for quick riches, only to accidentally unearth a secret command post. To say nothing of anything else, the motive and intelligence sources alone would be impossible to explain cleanly. This was truly a pillow tossed to a drowsy man. Merit, after all, needed laundering too. Furthermore, what was given away was merely nominal credit; the practical rewards and tangible benefits would not decrease in the slightest—in fact, they would only multiply. After this, the Yorktown Regional Militia Regiment could request cooperation from local Order forces with far greater ease and comfort. At the very least, the Whip of Order branch would provide every assistance, allowing tomb-raiding operations to proceed much more smoothly and pleasantly. Karen set down his coffee cup, picked up his glass of ice water, took a sip, and couldn't help marveling once more in his heart: Honestly, that bastard Neo truly never disappoints—except when trading stocks. ... "I would very much like to know how you found out about this place, and how you broke through its barriers." At that moment, a silver-haired middle-aged man bound to a chair directed his inquiry at the person, the cat, and the dog seated before him. He was the number two leader of the desert rebels: Mili Yev. The place where he had concealed himself was actually near the center of the Church of Order's operational zone. He was bold enough to direct the struggle right from the enemy's heartland. Of course, his reliance stemmed from the fact that this secret realm was an absolute secret even within the desert; furthermore, breaking into it was exceptionally difficult, and an internal teleportation array provided them with a swift escape route. With a cigarette dangling from his lips, Neo chuckled. "Let's just say you were unlucky." "No! How did you know this place was here?!" Mili stubbornly pressed the question. Only the successive number one leaders had ever known about this secret realm; he himself had been told of it by the top leader only recently, granted partial authority to use its facilities. For this secret realm involved an ancient secret: after the God of the Desert fell, the God of the Wilderness had risen as a branch deity, establishing the Desert Church upon the foundation of the Church of the Desert. In the mythic historical narrative of the Desert Church, this was framed as an act of duty and courage. But in the eyes of devout desert believers, the shadow of the God of the Wilderness loomed behind the fall of the God of the Desert—it was outright usurpation! And this secret realm was the burial ground where desert believers had interred the priests purged in that upheaval. It was said that among them lay an adopted son of the God of the Desert. The creator of the secret realm was a deity who sympathized with the God of the Desert, silently supporting the desert believers as they bided their time. The realm's location and partial access rites had been passed down through generations of the desert's scriptural interpreters. From Mili's perspective, he could only conclude that the number one figure had deliberately leaked the location to eliminate him. The motive was obvious: the top leader felt that Mili's growing stature threatened his own position, since the major orthodox churches preferred liaising with Mili rather than him. Power struggles were sometimes just that ruthless, that cold-blooded—even in a time like this, one would willingly borrow the enemy's blade to cut down a rival. In that brief span, Neo's gaze shifted rapidly. The rebel leader before him had completely broken down mentally; like an old hunting hound, Neo was reading the "scent" of the quarry in his grasp. Then, Neo let out a helpless sigh. "Ah, don't you already know the answer in your heart? Why bother asking?" Hearing those words, Mili's face turned the color of ash. Neo walked over, patted Mili on the shoulder, and said, "Hard to swallow, isn't it? I know how much it hurts, but that's reality." Mili lifted his head and asked, "Why must it be like this?" "That question is too broad; it's hard for me to answer. I can only say that perhaps tragedy was already sealed the moment you entered into open civil war with the Desert Church. From there, the situation was destined to worsen step by step. "Your division gave outside powers the opening they needed to step in." "This is vengeance! Vengeance against the Wilderness!" "Yes, yes, yes. Right, right, right. You are righteous, and you are justified. But who cares? Do I care? Does Order care? Do the orthodox churches outside backing you care? "Nobody cares. They only want to treat this place as a battlefield, while Order simply wishes to sift and wash clean every grain of sand here. "Whether you believe in the Desert or the Wilderness, if you want to survive going forward, even your scriptural interpreters will require personal appointment by our High Priest of Order!" Neo reached out, patted Mili on the cheek, and continued, "If I were you, I would look past the confines of hatred and think on behalf of the yellow sands here—think about how they can truly endure." Neo walked out of the tent and returned to his commander's quarters, protected by its own isolation barrier. Purr rode in atop Kevin, following him inside. "Fun-lover, are you trying to persuade him to defect?" "That's not my job, nor do I have the time for it." "Then what did you mean by all that? Oh, were you feeling sentimental?" "Yes, sentimental. Back then, the Church of Light was destroyed precisely because of extreme internal division. Even now, reduced to mere Light remnants, they are still divided into multiple factions." "I don't think there's any point in being sentimental about that." "No, there is. Haven't you noticed? Karen has been pondering this all along. What was that kid's attitude toward the God of Order in the past? He practically wanted to raise his middle finger morning, noon, and night to denounce the God of Order three times a day. And now? 'The predecessor'—those words came straight out of his mouth." "Our little Karen only did that because—" "No need to explain, I know. He doesn't want to trigger a civil war within Order because of himself. He wants to take over the Church of Order by clearing the cage and bringing in new birds..." Neo said, tapping his forehead. "Whereas this lunatic Pope in my head knew only how to climb to the top of the spire and scream! Old bastard, look at how the youth does it!" "Fun-lover, your loyalty..." Neo crossed his arms over his chest and said solemnly, "Praise Order." "What about the God?" "Ever since I learned of Karen's identity, I just can't bring myself to say the full praise." Then, Neo bent down and looked at Kevin. "Say, I'm quite curious, Kevin. How did you know this secret realm was here? What's more, the access methods you gave me were even more comprehensive than what Mili himself possessed." When he first led the militia regiment to the desert, Neo took assignments from the Knights: assisting with defense here, plugging gaps in the lines there—in short, running errands and doing odd jobs. That was all a militia regiment was meant for anyway. Later, when he finally secured a mission to hunt down three rebel remnants, Neo simply left behind the six-hundred-plus well-connected second-generation recruits at the base camp. Taking his core regiment of a thousand men, he shadowed those three remnants for several days, finally slipping away from the commanded theater of war, and began robbing tombs in earnest. Knowing Karen was facing financial straits, he deliberately picked a huge one for their first target. Kevin provided the exact coordinates and granted access to the realm's internal arrays, which Purr personally executed to break the defensive barriers. Just as Neo prepared to lead the team down to dig up treasure, Count Rekar sneezed and declared with certainty: Live shrimp inside! And so, early this morning, when the personnel in Mili's command post stepped outside for some fresh air, what greeted them were magic crystal cannons, barrel after barrel aimed straight at their headquarters. Neo had spotted scattered children's toys around the command post's perimeter and deduced that there were many children inside. Indeed, when Mili had relocated his headquarters into this secret realm, he had also taken in hundreds of orphans, believing this to be the safest haven. Then, Neo shamelessly used the children as leverage, informing the people inside that if they chose to surrender, he would guarantee the lives and safety of those children. In the end, Mili surrendered. Only after the surrender did Neo realize what a massive fish he had reeled in, and he immediately dispatched someone to send word to Karen. The whole process was actually quite straightforward and not at all complicated. Aside from an unlucky soul stung by a venomous scorpion while making camp at night, the entire regiment suffered zero casualties in this "battle." Naturally, the reason it went so smoothly was that the groundwork had been laid thoroughly—especially Kevin's contribution. Now, facing Neo's interrogation, Kevin stared back with wide dog eyes and replied with utmost innocence: "Woof, woof, woof." Purr translated, "The stupid dog says that back when the God of the Wilderness plotted the demise of the God of the Desert, he was one of those who helped orchestrate it, because the God of the Wilderness offered a service fee he simply couldn't refuse." Neo: "Fine, but I'm asking about this secret realm—this burial ground for the desert's revered forebears. How did you know about it, and why are you so familiar with it? This is where the first generation of desert believers buried the executed forebears." "Woof, woof." Kevin bashfully lowered his dog head. Purr said: "After helping the God of the Wilderness scheme the God of the Desert to death, he then helped the desert remnants build this place, encouraging and supporting them to resist the God of the Wilderness. Back when they had just split, the desert believers still had plenty of family wealth, so he collected a second service fee." Purr extended a cat paw and patted Kevin's bald crown, and sighed with emotion: "Oh, you really are a dirty dog."