One old man supported another as they walked along the street.
They walked very slowly, though the scenery on both sides seemed to pass in a hurry.
"Sleeping already?" Rasma asked, looking at Diss, whom he was supporting.
"Yeah."
"How could you bear to let it go?" Rasma shook his head, unable to understand.
"When you have something truly important, there's nothing else you can't bear to let go."
"No, what I mean is, people are selfish," Rasma sighed. "Even if it's a lie, once you've believed it for nearly an entire lifetime, whether it's true or false doesn't really matter anymore. Denying the lie is simple; what's hard is denying yourself."
Rasma pointed at himself.
"Take me, for instance. If I discovered I was wrong, I'd probably choose to keep playing dumb. So what if I'm wrong? It's no big deal."
"I used to think that way too."
"And then?"
"And then I condensed a second godhead fragment."
"..." Rasma was speechless.
"It's very painful. Whether you believe, disbelieve, or choose evasion and apathy, it won't let you off."
"Who do you mean by 'it'?"
"Order."
"Oh, right." Rasma nodded twice. "So this is what they call the pain of bliss?"
"Bliss is merely a surface appearance that fades easily; the pain at the core is eternal. Look at the three of them today. If provoked by any other opponent, they would never have allowed someone to act so brazenly. The more they indulged me today, the more it proves just how vital godhead fragments are to the current Temple of Order."
"I'm not qualified to enter yet, so I wouldn't know," Rasma said. "You know how it is. The Church and the Temple seem to be one, but in reality they are two different worlds."
Just then, Diss pressed down slightly on Rasma's arm. Rasma slowed his pace, and the surrounding scenery also slowed its rhythm.
At that moment, a small truck loaded with pigs for slaughter drove past them.
Diss spoke up:
"What do those in the truck look like?"
Rasma answered almost without thinking, "Believers."
Having said it, Rasma even chuckled out loud. It was hard to imagine that the High Priest of the Church of Order would utter such words.
"And the delivery driver?"
"Me," Rasma answered.
Diss shook his head. "You're not worthy."
"I really hate chatting with you, Diss!"
"It's the Temple Elders."
"Then the butcher shop owner is..." Rasma pointed toward the sky.
"Yeah."
"So what's the situation now?" Rasma asked in confusion. "Where did things go wrong?"
"You also know a part of the process has gone wrong?"
"I'm not like you. You've spent most of your time in Rojia City, while I spend most of mine at the Holy See. My clearance allows me to browse nearly all the Church's archived records.
"Besides, it's hardly a secret.
"Compared to the magnificent era of the last epoch where gods competed to manifest, the records in this epoch have suddenly become pitifully scarce—no, practically nonexistent.
"To the point where holding an over-standard god descent ritual nowadays alarms every faction.
"Like the one in Belwin a few months ago.
"Heh, back in the last epoch, during the turmoil of true gods, fierce gods, and evil gods, what would a mere over-standard god descent ritual amount to?"
"What do you think?" Diss asked. "What caused it?"
"The prevailing speculation among the major churches is that some changes in the world's rules might have prevented gods from descending as frequently as in the last epoch. But whether that's truly the case, or what brought it about if so, there are no convincing arguments."
"That's why our God of Order is even more anxious," Diss said. "When even true gods are having a rough time, he—who isn't yet a true god—finds things even tighter."
"But that doesn't fit with your earlier metaphor," Rasma asked. "The pigs, the driver, the butcher shop owner?"
"Because a truck hauling pigs just happened to drive past."
"Oh, fine, that's a very convincing explanation. So all we need to think is that the owner needs more cargo, right? No, that's not right either—the owner needs more drivers?"
"Every Temple Elder who condenses a godhead fragment is essentially equivalent to a driver bringing his own truck to help deliver cargo."
"A godhead fragment is like a delivery truck?"
"Yeah."
"So the problem now is that there are actually plenty of drivers, but a shortage of trucks?"
"Yes."
"Then why are trucks in short supply?" Rasma asked.
"I thought you were going to ask why we don't just buy trucks from a factory."
"Do you think I'm that stupid, Diss?! I know it's a metaphor, an improper metaphor! Why would I ask such an idiotic question?"
Rasma paused,
then asked in a whisper:
"Can the truck really not be bought?"
"Actually, all along, the godhead fragment has been what he truly wants; the driver is just there to deliver the goods. It's just that the driver and truck can only appear together, so it's easier for us to focus on the dwindling number of drivers, while rarely noticing that what is truly lacking is trucks.
"A driver can only be called a driver when he possesses a vehicle.
"Without even a vehicle, he can only be called..."
"Called what?"
"You."
"Damn this leap-of-logic metaphor of yours."
"So, in an era where none of the gods descend anymore, why is it that only our Church of Order has shown such a noticeable disparity?"
"Disparity in what sense? The Church of Order has always been powerful."
"As a religion with a history of just over one epoch, compared to those preserved for more than two epochs, the reason we could become more powerful is that the Temple of Order preserves the remains of past Church Elders and figures of your caliber. And the true original doctrinal ability of the Church of Order is allowing those once-powerful beings to 'awaken'—not through mindless puppet control, but truly 'awakening' them.
"This allowed the Church of Order's accumulation to always remain positive, amassing far more formidable power in a shorter time, because we don't even spare the dead.
"Yet since entering this epoch, the number of people promoted to Temple Elder across generations in the Church of Order has plummeted like a cliff. Such a phenomenon has never occurred in other churches.
"Therefore, I believe something has gone wrong with our operational rules—namely, the rules of Order we adhere to.
"Other religions all generated faith first, and only then was a god born.
"Faith and divinity begin to circulate, forming a cycle.
"With our Church of Order, as can be seen from the mythological overview, the companions who followed the God of Order back then were all 'awakened' by him.
"Furthermore,
"Why do we believe the God of Order severed gods from mortals and set rules for the gods?
"Because the God of Order's style of conduct was to rely on the Light of Order to mete out punishment. In the last epoch, our God of Order hunted down more deities than anyone else.
"That was even how the story of the purple bookmarks came about.
"He was simply hungry; he was feeding.
"Haven't you noticed? After other major churches grow and expand, branches branch off. Figures from the earliest murals might found their own minor churches.
"Yet if you search through the Church of Order's mythological overview, you will find that a new branch has never emerged from the Church of Order.
"Because he didn't even have enough for himself, so how could he possibly permit deliveries outside?
"Since entering this epoch,
"the gods have barely manifested in the world, meaning his prey is gone.
"Moreover, compared to other true gods, the impact on him would only be greater.
"Because of this, having once relied on the rules of Order to hunt other deities, he must now turn back, open his maw, and begin devouring the meat continuously fed into this very rule.
"The systems of other churches are like rain falling upon the earth, evaporated by the sun to return to the heavens, and falling again. Though extreme conditions like droughts and floods occur, for the most part, such a cycle can be sustained.
"Yet since entering this epoch, our cycle has effectively been broken.
"He no longer absorbs and then gives back; instead, he takes the knife directly to his former hunting hounds and devours their flesh.
"The more he eats, the weaker the entire cycle becomes. Going forward, those walking this rule who have a chance to condense a godhead will only become fewer and fewer.
"Rasma, you must have read through many notes from past High Priests. Have you noticed something..."
"I have," Rasma replied bluntly. "When browsing their notes and reading their experiences, I've marveled more than once at why such stupid people could advance to Elder and enter the Temple of Order so easily."
"Yes. Had it been the last epoch, you, Rasma, would have entered the Temple long ago and condensed a godhead long ago."
"And what about you? You even condensed three."
As soon as he asked, Rasma regretted it and immediately added, "Never mind, pretend I didn't ask. Because you're Diss."
Because you are Diss, one shouldn't ask how you could possibly condense three, but rather exclaim in astonishment: you could only condense three!
"I condensed three," Diss said.
"All right, I know, I know. I saw it just now. You left Elder Sidi dumbfounded like a peasant woman who's never seen the world."
"I condensed three..."
"I know, I get it!"
"Yet none of them are large," Diss said.
Rasma froze, then asked, "So, what are you saying?"
"In the last epoch, many churches' mythological accounts saw the birth of branches. The gods revered by those branch churches, I believe, were born from high-ranking figures of the original major church who derived a complete godhead of their own from their faith in the original god.
"It might be small—after all, it's a branch god—but it should be complete.
"Had it been in the last epoch, you would have become a Temple Elder long ago, and I would be a branch god."
Rasma frowned,
asking in bewilderment:
"Are you praising me or praising yourself?"
"Does it still matter who is being praised now?"
"Yeah, it really doesn't. But why are you telling me all this?"
"Because you asked first."
"Uh... let's just pretend you brought it up first, okay?"
"All right."
"Then why are you telling me this? You know you're an apostate right now, and I'm the High Priest of the Church."
"Because you were once my rival."
Rasma sniffled hard and asked, "Are those your honest words?"
"I suggest you stop asking."
"All right, I won't ask."
"Here's my home."
The two had already reached the entrance of 13 Mink Street.
"Want to come in and sit for a while?" Diss asked.
"Not going in. I'm afraid you'll nail me to a cross too."
"Heh."
"Does your home need me to keep an eye on it for you?"
"I'd prefer you have your subordinates move their eyes away from my house."
"All right, understood."
Diss pushed open the courtyard gate and was about to walk in.
Just then,
Rasma spoke up, "Diss, tell me, is it possible to change it? I mean... our Order and our Church."
Diss stopped in his tracks and said, "Over several epochs, have you ever heard of any church reform succeeding from the bottom up?"
"No. Not a single one."
"The church is the extension of a god in the mortal world. Without changing the god, one cannot change the church."
"Then there's no way?"
Diss's gaze grew deep and distant as he answered:
"Not necessarily.
"Because in my view, our Church of Order has not yet waited for its true god."
...
The study door was pushed open.
Sitting in the chair behind the desk, Karen's body trembled slightly.
Until,
that familiar voice sounded:
"I'm back."
Karen took off the mask, his eyes slightly red.
"You've been crying," Diss said.
"No, I think I'm just a bit allergic to the material of this mask."
Karen stood up and walked over to Diss to support him. He could clearly see how pale Diss's face was.
At this moment, the old man truly looked like an old man.
"Grandfather, please sit."
"No need. Let's go back to the bedroom. I want to lie down for a bit."
"All right, Grandfather."
Karen helped Diss into the bedroom. Diss sat down and leaned back against the headboard.
"The matter has been taken care of."
"I knew you'd have no trouble, Grandfather."
"This home is fine now; you are fine too."
"Did my choice put you in a difficult position, Grandfather? Or rather, did it make you sacrifice even more?"
"Karen, do you know what the greatest sorrow is for an old man?"
"Tell me, I'm listening."
"It's growing old and being unable to help one's child."
"You don't need to feel that way. It's because of you that this home has always been so warm. Grandfather, do you know? I love this family. I love the values you brought to this home."
Diss smiled.
Then,
his gaze fell upon Purr and the golden retriever who had followed them inside earlier.
Purr had already jumped onto the bed and come before Diss, eyes brimming with tears.
This cat had truly watched Diss grow up.
"I beat Sidi today."
Purr paused, smiled wryly, and then pouted, "That wretched woman... I'd almost forgotten about her."
Diss reached out and rested his hand on his lap. Purr extended a paw and placed it in Diss's palm.
Purr said, "Don't worry, I'll take good care of Karen."
Diss looked up at Karen and instructed, "Promise Grandfather one thing: take good care of Pol... heh, take good care of Purr."
"..." Purr.
"All right, Grandfather."
Diss looked at the golden retriever sitting on the floor with immense obedience, his gaze darkening slightly.
"Actually, evil gods are nothing special."
The big golden retriever stuck out its tongue with a goofy grin.
"I've always believed evil gods don't count as deities. A true god should be enshrined in a temple and worshipped by believers. What kind of god acts so stealthy and secretive?"
The retriever's goofy grin gradually faded.
"You think what I gave you was imprisonment, but I think what I gave you was an opportunity."
The golden retriever's lips began to tremble slightly, exposing a bit of white teeth.
"In an era where gods do not manifest, the fact that you could come out is actually your opportunity."
"Woof!"
The golden retriever barked in anger.
Diss paid the dog no further attention, staring ahead of the bed without focusing on anything in particular.
"The affairs at home, I've arranged. The matters outside, I've arranged as well. Of course, it's impossible to make every arrangement perfect, and some oversights are bound to exist.
"Still, that's what life is, isn't it?"
"Yes, Grandfather. That's what makes life interesting."
"There will always be storms you must weather yourself, waves you must conquer on your own, and landscapes that—no matter how beautifully described or captured by a camera—can never compare to seeing them with your own eyes.
"Karen, you are worthy of this world."
"I understand, Grandfather."
"Speaking somewhat irresponsibly, if I had met you earlier, and if you had become my family earlier, perhaps everything could have been changed.
"Perhaps I would have chosen to enter the Temple of Order, and guided by me, you would have entered the Church of Order too.
"I would have pulled strings for you, watched over you, provided you with every resource, and built you up step by step.
"Unfortunately, we met too late."
"Grandfather, I used to fantasize about that kind of life too, but later I realized that would actually be rather dull. Sometimes, focusing too much on the result makes you lose the process.
"Though many people feel a process without a result is meaningless,
"in my view, a result without a process... doesn't bite with any sweetness at all."
Diss nodded and said, "Though the metaphor is a bit convoluted, I understand your meaning. Very good."
Because in the Maklai language family, the word for 'result' and 'fruit' shared no common root.
The sun was already setting. The evening light filtered through the branches outside the window, scattering across the room's floorboards in patches of orange-yellow, gracing the room with a sense of age.
"Karen, my grandson." Diss reached out and took Karen's hand. "Promise me one last thing."
"Go ahead."
"In the days ahead, don't let yourself suffer any grievance."
Diss gently patted the back of Karen's hand.
He slowly closed his eyes.
"Grandfather is tired and wants to sleep for a while.
"But if in the future you truly run into a grievance you cannot swallow,
"don't be afraid.
"Come home,
"and wake... your grandfather up."
Chapter 77