Now, It's My Turn!

No matter how many flaws the Whip of Order priests who persevered, worked, and survived in the Expansion Spaces possessed, there was at least one point that could neither be ignored nor erased: the "loyalty" to Order in their hearts. This "loyalty" referred to many facets rather than pure "faith." It could be a spiritual anchor, an attachment of conviction, a clear spring amid bitter endurance, or even a long-practiced self-deception. To them, "faith in Order" was merely a basket that shared the same name, stuffed with an assortment of completely different things. The primary reason was that an overly hostile environment and an overly blunt worship of strength easily drove the inclination of their faith toward an extreme slant. It was somewhat ironic. Though they engaged in the cruelest work in the Church of Order and bore one of its heaviest responsibilities, they were, ironically, the very group most prone to deviating from Order. In Light of Order, the duty of the Whip of Order was described as: *To wipe away the dust upon Order.* How could such dust appear upon Order? And what had that dust been before it became dust? The desperate weeping and pleas of those hundred condemned prisoners for their Order clerical robes before execution had touched the long-dormant hearts of these Expansion Space Whip of Order priests. When one had walked for too long, too swiftly, too hurriedly, and in too much of a rush, walking inevitably became an end in itself, causing one to lose sight of why they had set out on this path in the first place. They were not butcher-executioners in the Expansion Spaces; they were not a border garrison stationed in the bitter cold at the fringes of the Church of Order's realm; they were not a gang huddled together for warmth; and they were certainly not "outsiders" incompatible with this world. They were believers dedicating and sacrificing themselves for the faith of Order. In the Church of Principles' research report on the Expansion Spaces, there was a sentence: *All that is discovered is that which is to come.* The meaning of this phrase was that, regarding any "small space" that was discovered and excavated, even if one did not proactively seek out and excavate it, after a certain period, it would inevitably establish a connection with this world and tear open a rift. Therefore, the major churches' exploration and conquest of the "Expansion Spaces" could not be viewed entirely through the lens of imperial colonization in the secular world; to a certain degree, it was clearing landmines in advance for this world. Tracing the origins of the aberrant demons and monster beasts existing in the world today, many originated from the influx of some "space" countless eras ago, where native inhabitants or pollutants entered this world. The Sea of the Abyss of the Church of the Abyss was in fact a massive and intensely turbulent "alien space," while the God of the Abyss breaking into Heaven could also be viewed as foreseeing that terrifying space and taking preemptive action to purge Heaven before it could make contact with this world. Hence, the God of Order had personally led the Knights of Order to assist the God of the Abyss in pioneering Heaven, because on this matter, Order and the Abyss aligned. In Long Song of the Abyss, there was a line: *Heaven is Hell.* This was no whimsical philosophical wordplay. In the beginning, the threat posed by Heaven far surpassed that of the Sea of the Abyss—which was "Hell" in mythological accounts. There was no time for any further detailed ideological enlightenment and guidance. Time was short, conditions and status were limited, and molding them all into one's own people was completely impossible. Alfred's current objective was crystal clear: assuming his young master would become the corps commander commanding them in the future, the first thing to do was to brush off their hearts of faith. Since the faith of Order was readily available anyway, it could be put to use right away. Utilizing this method would allow him to better bind and guide them, turning them into qualified legionnaire soldiers. The ultimate goal: increase command efficiency and lower the difficulty of command. The long-delayed execution finally commenced. The condemned prisoners met their release, while the spectators in the stands let out a collective sigh of relief. By the time the priests in charge of their arrangements ordered them to depart, the clamor was far quieter than when they had entered, and quite a few people even remembered how to form a queue. Karen left the execution grounds early and got into his car. Now was not yet the time for his official appearance; as for when that would be... he had to wait for Alfred's notification. This was also why Karen had turned down Daina's offer to "plead" on his behalf. He would not actively interfere with how his subordinates handled specifics, and the High Priest would likewise never interfere with the Whip-Wielder's actions just for a "decent young man." Buses carried these Whip of Order priests to a grand theater in Yorktown's downtown district. The theater was owned by the Allen family—well, in Alfred's view, whatever belonged to the Allen family belonged to his young master. The priests entered the theater and took their seats. There was no host to deliver an opening speech. Not only did Karen not appear, but even Alfred did not show his face. A magnificent song and dance performance began directly. Many priests exchanged glances, truly baffled by this arrangement. Yet since they were already here and the show had started, they might as well enjoy it. After leaving the execution grounds, the hotheaded troublemakers in the crowd who originally possessed little patience surprisingly raised no objections this time. Karen sat in a second-floor private box, with Andrew, Jensenny, and Alyosha standing behind his chair. The three of them felt quite uneasy. Given the choice, they would rather sit down below with the crowd than be kept here alone. But the problem was that Karen hadn't said, "Get lost." Nobody attended to them. They didn't dare leave, yet staying was agonizing. This feeling was honestly more tormenting than being hung from the hotel gates. Alfred knew Karen had arrived, but he was busy, so he asked Vic, who had gone to touch base, to convey his apologies for not greeting him personally. To this, Karen naturally had no objection. After the lively song and dance show concluded, an opera followed, then magic shows, acrobatics, and stage plays. The Allen Financial Group had invited numerous top-tier performance troupes. The performers gave it their all. Even though the audience below all wore black robes and many exuded a palpably terrifying aura, considering the appearance fees were two to three times higher than usual, none of that mattered. A person's capacity for endurance was directly tied to their pay grade. On this point, the former maid Xili had the ultimate say. Once the stage performances ended, the curtain fell, and a movie began to play—a romance film titled Wien Holiday. At the same time, in canopies erected long beforehand outside the grand theater, chefs were cooking delicacies. Waiters began carrying the food inside, allowing everyone to dine while watching the movie. Alfred had personally screened the menu and strictly forbidden the use of Wien bean paste. After all, these priests were mostly non-Wienese. Going by Karen's personal experience, outsiders usually had a lukewarm impression of Wien bean paste; only Wien locals found themselves utterly addicted to its flavor. The cost wasn't actually high. The food and drinks could all be purchased with riels; within clerical circles, this was hardly considered high-end hospitality. Karen poked at the food in front of him with a fork. He had instructed Alfred to raise the hospitality standard, but Alfred hadn't done so. Nevertheless, Karen believed Alfred had his reasons. "Eat." Karen picked up a napkin, dabbed his mouth, and gestured for Andrew's trio to come forward and eat. The three were genuinely starving. At first, they were somewhat restrained, but as they ate, that youthful brashness resurfaced, and they gradually began to eat with abandon. Watching them devour the food, Karen felt his mood brighten considerably. Watching young people eat allowed one to touch upon that vigorous vitality of life. The three occasionally stole glances from the corners of their eyes at Karen sitting there, only to feel that this Regional Chief, who was about the same age as them, somehow gave off the impression of an elder from back home. By the time the movie ended, it was already late into the night. The priests left the theater and, guided and organized, walked back to their accommodations, traversing Yorktown's bustling commercial street along the way—the place where the city went to sleep latest. Upon exiting the theater, each person was given a certain amount of riels to shop freely. At first, not many bought anything, but gradually, they began stopping at vendor stalls and walking into shops, purchasing souvenirs that were honestly of little intrinsic value. Vic drove behind the procession and commented, "Mr. Alfred is treating them like tourists." "Mm, they really are tourists." From "another world" into the "civilized world." Karen had gradually come to understand Alfred's specific intention. Returning to his dormitory, Karen went upstairs and pushed open the door, only to find the room unexpectedly lively. Mavaglio had brought Gaspol over once again to scrounge a meal. Furthermore, there were two old men whom Karen recognized: Lister and Old White. During that hunt for assassins to Mink Street which had violated the Temple's taboos, Karen had later carried the gravely injured Augie into the Temple for examination. Old White had seen Diss during the inspection—whom the Temple mistook for "Rasma"—and had been banished; Lister, on the other hand, had taken Karen to "Lost Paradise" to catch fish to eat, triggering tremors in the Lost Paradise; he had taken the blame for everything alone and ended up on the same banishment train as Old White leaving the Order Temple. What, had they returned together with the redeployment this time? But logically speaking, they shouldn't have been in the roster of those transferred back. Karen smiled faintly. "Professors, it is a pleasure to see you both again." The two old men immediately stood up from their seats and bowed to Karen. "Regional Chief." "Regional Chief." Only after Karen sat down did they take their seats as well. Xili walked out of the kitchen at that moment and asked, "Young Master, the fish soup is ready. Shall I bring it out?" Fish soup? Karen nodded. "Bring it out. I happen to be hungry and could use a midnight snack." A large clay pot of fish soup was brought out. Only salt had been added to it, while the remaining seasonings were placed in small saucers for each person to season to taste. Lister stood up, wanting to ladle soup for Karen, but Karen picked up a bowl first and served himself, then added some pepper powder, sprinkled a bit of cilantro, and finally dropped in a splash of fragrant vinegar. He took a sip. It was extraordinarily fresh and delicious. Karen did not speak first; he knew the other party would speak before him. The first to speak was Mavaglio. "Karen, I'm here to ask a favor of you on their behalf." Karen looked at the two old men and asked, "You want to be transferred back?" Lister and Old White nodded rapidly, like chickens pecking at grain. Karen asked, "How did you get back this time?" Lister answered sheepishly, "We managed to secure two spots as auxiliary members in a Whip of Order squad." So they had pulled strings and exploited a loophole to be transferred back. When the higher-ups requisitioned Whip of Order personnel, it was done on a squad-by-squad basis, so they had simply tagged along. Karen continued sipping his fish soup. Because of this action of his, the atmosphere at the dining table instantly turned somewhat stifling. Lister hesitated a moment, then spoke up again: "Well, the two of us intend to head to the frontline. What we're asking is... when the reorganization takes place, please don't weed us out." Karen remained silent, simply ladling more soup for himself. Old White said, "Regional Chief, though we are advanced in years, we can still do work. Joining the mental-type priests' ranks is no problem, and doing corps clerical work is fine as well. Even in the worst-case scenario, with so many priests from the orthodox churches cloaked in desert attire out in the desert, language and culture are hurdles when taking prisoners or conducting interrogations. None of that poses an issue for us." Karen smiled faintly. "Drink the soup. It won't taste good once it goes cold." "Yes, yes, it's truly delicious." "Very flavorful. This maid's cooking is wonderful." After the midnight snack finished, Mavaglio left with them, and Karen did not urge them to stay. After exiting and parting ways with Old White and Lister, Gaspol sighed. "Karen basically agreed." "Mm." Mavaglio licked his lips. "I could tell Karen wasn't very pleased." "He let us see it on purpose. Of course, that displeasure wasn't feigned." "You overstepped, Mavaglio." "I had no choice. Back in the Temple, my relationship with them was decent enough. When they came to me directly, I couldn't turn them away." "Do Children of God also need to attend to social courtesies and favors?" Pointing a finger at his own face, Mavaglio smiled. "A Child of God is inherently the product of social favors. If not for the sake of those past 'esteemed lords,' what kind of thing would I even count as?" "Alright, let's head home." "Home, home... Oh shoot..." "What is it?" "When they came looking for us, wasn't I boiling the syringe in the pot? I forgot to turn off the flame when we left. I think the syringe must have melted." "That thing isn't that fragile." "Still, I feel if it stays at high heat for too long, it'll release harmful substances, which isn't good for your body." "Hm?" "Come on, let's not use it tonight either, alright?" *** "You gave a Child of God the cold shoulder," Augie said, looking at Karen as he emerged from the washroom after a shower. "You are truly contradictory. Sometimes you're so proper, yet other times, you're utterly infuriating." "Is that so." "Yes. Tell me, are you really not worried about falling out with a Child of God?" "It won't happen." "So confident? Then aren't you afraid that one day I'll suddenly get so mad that I swallow you whole in one bite?" "I treat a Child of God as a friend. Sometimes there's no need for such hypocritical pleasantries." "What about me?" "You're so stupid that I hardly feel like talking to you." "So according to your logic, does that mean you don't treat me as the Whip-Wielder's mount, but rather as an equal person?" "An equal idiot." "Hehehe." Augie chuckled aloud, then immediately caught herself, wishing she could slap herself twice. Karen walked into the bedroom. Behind the small desk, Little Kanna was working on formation problems, with a large chessboard set beside her, using it as an aid for fundamental formation calculations. After being scolded by Purr, the child hadn't slacked off in the slightest today. Karen walked over and took a look. These problems were naturally very simple for him, but he did not instruct Little Kanna. Learning was a process, and the primary purpose of foundational study was to master good learning habits. Karen's own learning model was highly peculiar—it operated from the inside out and could not be replicated; teaching the child would only lead her astray. He lay down on the bed, switched on the lamp, picked up a book, and flipped through it. After reading for about an hour, Karen prepared to sleep, while Little Kanna across from him was still doing her homework. *Sigh, poor child.* Karen turned off the lamp and went to sleep. When he awoke, it was seven in the morning. Sitting up in bed, he saw Little Kanna lying at the foot of the bed. After finishing her homework, she had bathed and gone to sleep, habitually sleeping at the foot of the bed so she had room to roll around in her sleep. When Karen finished washing up and came out, he saw Little Kanna rubbing her eyes as she walked out of the bedroom. "Not sleeping anymore?" "Mm. Are you going out today?" "I am, but you should rest at home." "No." Little Kanna produced a notebook and began writing notes. "If you go out, I have to accompany you, and then today's homework load can be reduced because of my duty protecting you. This is Sister Purr's job perk." "Oh, is that so? Then my mistake; I should have told you to come along when I went out yesterday." "No, yesterday I was making up past homework I missed." "Heh." Karen reached out and pinched Little Kanna's cheek. "I have a tail too," Little Kanna said. "I can make a tail appear in human form now." "And so?" "Oh, I thought you liked petting tails, because I saw you petting Sister Purr's tail a lot before. Turns out you don't like petting tails, you just like petting Sister Purr." "Are you practicing a tongue twister?" "I'm gonna go wash up, hehe." Just then, a teasing remark came from outside the door: "Whoa, what a pity it isn't winter, or the effect would be even better if it were snowing." Karen opened the door. Vic stood outside, and by the doorway, Andrew and his two companions were still squatting. When they returned last night, Karen hadn't told them to "get lost," nor had he given them a definitive answer, so these three young people had squatted outside the house the entire night. They truly weren't putting on a show to practice the art of flattery—if they had that kind of artistic flair, they wouldn't have barged into the Ankara Hotel four days ago. They were simply nervous, valued this opportunity to join the army immensely, and refused to give it up no matter what. "Alright, resume your normal activities. No need to follow me. We are still in the reception and gathering phase. When the formal reorganization begins, submit another self-criticism to me. I hope to see something sincere." "Yes, Regional Chief!" "Yes, Regional Chief!" Only then did Andrew's trio depart. Vic looked at their retreating backs and said, "Those three are actually kind of cute." "Yes, but that didn't stop me from genuinely wanting to cripple him back at the hotel." "Have you had breakfast, sir?" "Not yet." "What a coincidence, neither have I, hehe." Vic stepped into the room. "My dear Miss Xili, two bowls of wonton noodles, please." "Right away, Mr. Vic." After breakfast, Karen took Little Kanna, with Vic driving, to the Ankara Hotel. Today's tour itinerary for the Whip of Order priests was the top floor of the Ankara Hotel—the Ankara Memorial Hall. This was originally an ideological education base of the Church of Order. Every year, many people from within this region as well as other regions would vacation at the Ankara Hotel at public expense under the banner of "ideological study," take a group photo, attach a few slogans, and manufacture a sham display of having their souls cleansed and their faith deepened. After Karen took office as Regional Chief, he had axed this program for their own region. If relevant departments in this region wanted to organize ideological education sessions, they had to arrive and leave on the same day, accommodation was not covered, and the only food provided was Wien bean-paste flatbread. "Tour groups" from outside regions, however, had not been banned—after all, they had to pay the hotel for room and board. The interior space of the Ankara Memorial Hall was expansive and could be spatially stretched, so even with so many people entering, it did not feel cramped in the slightest. A crate of memory crystal orbs had been arranged in the central area, after which a crowd dressed in varied attire was ushered in. One by one, they began recounting the experiences of themselves or their ancestors being oppressed by other churches outside. In the crystal orbs, recorded data footage—veritable evidence of crimes—was projected in coordination with the speakers' accounts. The Church of Samsara deliberately incited secular wars or created terrifying great plagues and world-ravaging monster beasts, then dispatched its priests with vessels to harvest the souls of an entire nation or even an entire continent, all for the purpose of enriching the "biodiversity" within the world of the Gate of Samsara. In order to gather the purest Heart of Darkness, the Church of the Night completely blocked out sunlight across an entire region and forbade fire or any other light-emitting source from appearing, causing the normal people originally living there to degenerate over generations into blind beings, or rather, non-human creatures. The Church of Life planted seeds inside ordinary humans and established an enfeoffment system in their missionary regions—this was not collecting land taxes, but meant quite literally: a fief of a hundred households, a thousand households, or ten thousand households meant that many people had to contribute their life force to you every day. The imperial colonization and racial wars of the secular world could not even hold a candle to the handiwork of those churches. The Church of Order had its own problems with corruption and straying, employed underhanded tactics externally, and had engaged in plenty of warfare and slaughter, but these fell within a comprehensible realm. What other churches had done historically, and were still doing within their missionary territories today, exceeded human—no, exceeded the comprehension of most Order priests. Karen had told many people, even the High Priest, that only after visiting the Church of the Burrow did he clearly understand the purpose of the Church of Order's existence. The previous epoch was the era of gods and the era of churches, but by no means was it an era for ordinary living beings. Life—especially ordinary human life—was treated by the churches just like petroleum today: a mineral resource. Compared to that, the newspapers criticizing the government for treating citizens like "leeks" to be harvested round after round seemed rather like making a fuss over nothing, because in the previous epoch, you didn't even possess the "concept of life." The civilization of gods had nothing to do with man. These Whip of Order squads working in the Expansion Spaces—nearly every one of them had hands stained with blood, be it of monster beasts, aberrant demons, or all manner of unknown powerful creatures, and none of them were "kind-hearted"—yet while listening to the accounts of these "witnesses" and watching these images, one and all felt a deep oppression and shock. Yesterday's itinerary had allowed them to experience the civilization of human society. Though brief and narrow, it had at least given them a breath of fresh civilized air, serving as a setup for today's schedule. If you used this approach on a thousand ordinary people, they might be baffled and think you were insane. But those present here today were all believers of Order and members of the Whip of Order. Be it clear, vague, or distorted... regardless, deep in their hearts, a seed of Order truly existed. In the previous epoch, before the Church of Principles had established its current strategic partnership with the Church of Order, the Church of Principles had conducted specialized research on the Church of Order and its doctrines. Back then, the mainstream of other churches was to paint an exquisitely beautiful empty illusion for their followers: for example, as long as you were devout, you could enter the Gate of Samsara upon death and attain a better life in the next cycle; or upon death, you would be guided by the Moon God to indulge in pleasure in the Moon God's kingdom with so many beautiful maidens and youths; even the most benevolent and broad-minded Light would tell you that upon death, you would merge into the radiance and attain eternal clarity and warmth. Only the Church of Order told you: *Even after you die, we will recycle and reuse you!* Furthermore, for the vast majority of people, if you weren't exceptional enough in life and lacked outstanding achievements in some field, you wouldn't even qualify to be recycled and reused after death. The Church of Order taught you loyalty to the Church, yet what it did was suppress and restrict religious authority; The Church of Order taught you to build Order, yet told you that you might become dust upon Order that had to be wiped away; The Church of Order taught you to worship the God of Order, yet throughout the thick volume of Light of Order, there seemed to be only one recurring theme: *How wonderful a world without gods would be.* The Church of Principles' early research interest lay precisely in how such an anti-human religion could recruit believers and gradually grow. The Church of Principles' conclusion was that there truly was a group of people in this world—though a tiny minority, they genuinely existed—who were willing to lay down personal selfish desires, lay down spiritual illusions and attachments, solely to forge an ideal realm that aligned with their vision. Even if they could not profit from this utopia in the least, they felt not the slightest sense of being wronged; even if they knew they would not see it in this lifetime, they firmly believed it would inevitably come to pass in the future. They willingly became the pebbles beneath the staircase, glad to let those who followed step over their bodies to continue advancing. What this church attracted and absorbed was precisely such a group of believers. This research finding directly prompted the Church of Principles to alter its diplomatic policy toward the Church of Order, which was not yet as powerful back then; as if certain of its future prospects, they took the initiative to forge a partnership. In the internal bylaws of the Whip of Order: *Wield the whip for Order.* In Light of Order, a sentence was clearly written: *The ultimate goal of an Order believer is to bring true order to this world.* The words of the bylaws were succinct summaries drawn from predecessors' profound understanding and were undeniably correct, yet successors often found it difficult to grasp them immediately, even if they appeared simple on the surface. At such times, everything depended on the capability of the ideological propagandist. In any case, Alfred's ability in this regard was ten streets ahead of those bean-paste-munching ideological education officers within the church. Next came the climax, which was also Alfred's time to slip in his private agenda. A local priest who had once followed Karen as a volunteer into the contaminated sinkhole was invited up to recount that experience. Genuine emotion flowed forth, though the speech had undoubtedly been polished, especially given how the volunteer continually used repetitive parallel phrases: "Back then, the Regional Chief said... At that moment, the Regional Chief said..." Karen knew very well that he hadn't said that much back then. Still, the speaker wasn't fabricating anything out of malice, as he had filled in the blanks and immersed himself in the narrative, sincerely believing that nothing he recounted was false. In short, Karen experienced the sensation of watching himself being touted as a model paragon, giving him the bizarre impression that surviving the contaminated sinkhole instead of dying there was an untimely regret. Young, high-ranking, exceptionally talented—alongside numerous handsome photographs of Karen projected by the memory crystal, all professional shots taken by journalists when he appeared in Order Weekly. How should one put it? Possessing such enviable conditions yet still resolutely volunteering to lead a team into the contaminated sinkhole naturally evoked greater shock and resonance. Finally, severed heads were brought out one after another and put on display. These were the heads Karen had hunted in the desert; the real ones were kept in an exhibition room belonging to the church's upper echelons, and the ones here were high-quality replicas, yet realistic enough to pass as genuine. Furthermore, the deeds and military merits were completely real; in outsiders' eyes, Section Chief Karen had become Regional Chief precisely on the strength of this achievement. Beneath each head was a sizable informational plaque detailing the identity of the head's owner, employing exaggerated rhetoric that depicted what were already outstanding youths of the orthodox churches as if they were "Children of God" of their respective faiths. Head after head, introduction after introduction, pushing the atmosphere of this assembly step by step toward its peak. Combined with the clear knowledge that their next destination was the Desert, where they would battle the allied forces of the orthodox churches, a thunderous wave of emotion surged. Plants arranged in the crowd beforehand began chanting slogans: "For Order!" "For Order!" "Crush the Night!" "Shatter Samsara!" Soon, the roar reverberated throughout the memorial hall. Had the allied forces of those churches appeared before them right now, this crowd would likely have charged forward uncontrollably to tear them to shreds. Karen stepped out of the memorial hall early. As he exited the elevator, he saw Alfred waiting outside for him. "Young Master." "Alfred, you did very well." "Your subordinate didn't really do much; I merely followed Young Master's instructions to remind them why they are fighting and what they are fighting for. Once their ideology is straightened out, the upcoming reorganization training and ultimate frontline command will become far easier." "Heh, you did so well that if I fail to secure the corps commander position, I'll feel as though I let down your efforts." "Young Master, please do not say such things. That being said, do you have a strategy for your candidacy yet?" "I do, but it is somewhat risky and relies on a bit of trickery. Either it succeeds, or I won't have any competitiveness at all." "You are correct." "I haven't even told you my idea, and you already say I'm correct?" "Because under normal conditions of competition, we have no advantage. If you wish to claim this position, you can only pursue a new train of thought and carve out a new path to achieve an unexpected effect." "I am merely gambling on what I believe to be the true thoughts in his heart, based on my understanding from my encounters with the Whip-Wielder. Let's hope it succeeds." Just then, Vic walked over, holding a crow in his hand. "Chief, the Whip of Order has called an extraordinary meeting for officials at or above Regional Chief rank, scheduled for tomorrow morning our time. I suspect many big figures will meet ahead of time tonight to network and lobby for votes." Karen nodded. With a smile, he said: "You, Neo, and the others have all done wonderfully. Now, it's my turn."