Handpicked!

Warm sunlight, an azure sea. Under a sun parasol, Karen lay on a lounge chair, eyes closed, sound asleep. This was the Dinge Region. Accounting for the time difference, the meeting would take place late at night local time, so Karen had arrived almost a full day early. He had chosen not to stay at the hospitality hotel of his department, because faction-building, networking, and horse-trading were surely in full swing there right now. He had no desire to take part; he only wanted a good rest. Little Kanna was playing in the sand on the beach not far away. When ordinary children played with sand, they would just take a shovel and dig a hole, or if they were slightly talented, build a crude little sandcastle. Little Kanna, on the other hand, was applying the array formation knowledge she had learned and setting up an array on the sand. Because she was adorable and her white hair looked novel, quite a few nearby children ran over on their own initiative to play with her, only to walk into the array one after another. No matter which way they wandered, they couldn't get out, and from the outside, nothing inside the array could be seen. Eventually, Karen was awakened by the shouts of nearby parents searching for their children. Sitting up, he gently rubbed his neck and checked the time. He had slept for three and a half hours—not very long, but enough to count as some sleep. Looking up and gazing ahead, Karen's vision pierced through the array's barrier, revealing over a dozen children trapped in a large circle on the beach, spinning in circles, panicking and crying. Little Kanna stood there, a bucket in her left hand and a little shovel in her right, looking rather solemn. Karen's voice rang out behind her: "Being mischievous?" "No, they ran in on their own." "Let them out. Don't terrify them." "I tried many times, but I couldn't open it—not without using brute force." "Good thing you didn't resort to violence." Karen opened his palm, and a tiny Rubik's cube materialized. In an instant, it sorted through the messy array Little Kanna had concocted, opening an exit and allowing the trapped children to tumble out. "Don't practice arrays in public places so carelessly next time." "Okay, understood." "Hungry?" "Yes." "Then let's go eat." Karen took Kanna in a taxi to an upscale club. This was an activity venue for the Academic faction, which was hosting an event here today as well; Karen had also received an invitation from Andilao. Entering the clubhouse and ascending to the third floor, there weren't many people yet, mainly because Karen had arrived too early. Ordering plenty of food from the attendant, Karen chose a seat in the farthest corner and sat down with Little Kanna. As they ate, the third floor gradually filled up. Some were in casual clothes, while others wore the clerical robes of Order. Several bigwigs arrived, surrounded by sizeable crowds. The senior figures stood there conversing, and during their exchange, they noticed Karen seated in the corner and recognized his identity. In between their conversations, they deliberately cast their glances in Karen's direction several times. By custom, a junior at this point ought to come over proactively to pay his respects and greet them. Yet Karen's attention seemed entirely fixed on the food. After finishing his own meal, he even helped Little Kanna pick dishes and spooned pills into her bowl. Once or twice could be overlooked, but over time, after multiple glances without any response, it was hard to call it accidental. After all, this was a faction gathering—had he really come purely to eat? Karen had naturally noticed those bigwigs and felt their gazes sweeping over him repeatedly, but he deliberately acted as if he hadn't seen them. Different stages of life naturally came with different scenery. Back when he was still a regional department head, the Academic faction was a platform he needed. Now, he was firmly entrenched in the position of Regional Chief, had met with the Whip-Wielder several times recently, and had even been brought into the Whip-Wielder's inner-circle meeting... Call it casting them aside after using them, or call it heartlessly turning his back; in short, what Karen needed to do now was gradually distance himself from the Academic faction. Not a crude rupture, but taking a page from Gaspol's grandfather—divorcing through the silent treatment. The bigwigs were mindful of their status. If Karen didn't proactively greet them, they wouldn't demean themselves to approach him. However, there was one exception: Andilao. Upon arrival, he walked over generously, pulled out a chair beside Karen, and sat straight down. *Snap!* Andilao lit a cigarette, blew a smoke ring, and chuckled. "Looks like you've climbed to higher branches and look down on this place a bit." Karen didn't deny it. Instead, he replied candidly, "Sir, I have no room for choice." "I understand." Andilao nodded. "So, you really think you've got this locked down?" During their last communication, Karen had acted very confident, not only rejecting Andilao's request for assistance, but turning around and inviting Andilao to assist *him* instead. In truth, Andilao hadn't quite believed it at the time—they were all seasoned old birds in officialdom; nobody was so easily fooled. Yet the attitude Karen displayed here today forced him to genuinely wonder: had the Whip-Wielder truly opened a back door for him? He had indeed advised Karen on how to get close to the Whip-Wielder—such as suggesting Karen bring the little bone dragon along every time he met the Whip-Wielder—but as the "matchmaker," he truly hadn't expected Karen to develop the relationship so rapidly! Karen replied, "The probability of success is great, but the probability of failure is also great." Though seemingly meaningless on the surface, Andilao chewed on the words for a moment before asking, "Do you have some special method?" "Just an attempt. In a normal competition, I wouldn't even be able to contend with you, Sir." "Wouldn't even contend with me? You brat, your words are getting bolder and bolder." "The Whip-Wielder dislikes the Academic faction." Hearing this, Andilao licked his lips, completely unable to refute it. This was his most awkward predicament. As one of the Academic faction's senior figures within the Whip of Order, he neither belonged to the department's native veteran faction nor was part of the Whip-Wielder's inner circle. Among the high-ranking seats of the department, he had always been isolated. The root cause was that he was too senior, too old, and held too high a rank. In his earlier years, he had done very well leveraging the Academic faction's influence. His promotions couldn't compare to a monster like Karen, but they weren't slow either, making for a smooth official career. However, this also resulted in his Academic faction identity being too deeply stamped on him. Other factions found it difficult to embrace him due to his Academic label, current status, and age. After all, a mature clique preferred to absorb fresh, promising young blood; who ever heard of a group eager to take in an elder uncle-figure just to pay respects to him? Karen phasing himself out of this circle now was very sensible. While the factional imprint on him was still light and he was still young, there was still the possibility of switching circles—just like ordinary families adopting children preferred young ones who didn't remember their past; older kids who remembered things were hard to bond with and raise as family. "Jumping out early is good too," Andilao said. "I'll smooth things over with the others for you; they will understand. As for the future, we're still our own people. If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask. Likewise, if you can lend a hand, don't be stingy." "Of course." The Academic faction's loose organization and low cohesion weren't without their merits. If you wanted to break away from other factions, for instance, you would easily be labeled a traitor and targeted; the people in the Academic faction... didn't have the spare time for that. In reality, fading out of this circle now would be fine if he secured the position of Corps Commander, but if he failed to get it, Karen would truly suffer a massive loss—losing both substance and face. Yet there was really no other choice. One couldn't mingle in every circle; doing well in all circles simply meant no circle truly accepted you into its core. At this stage, unless the High Priest suddenly fell from power and Foden was purged, anyone who wanted to thrive in the Whip of Order had no choice but to board Foden's ship. The Whip-Wielder had already pulled him onto this ship; if he still dared to play both sides, he might as well wait to be seized by the scruff of the neck and thrown into the sea to drown. Even without Miguel's reminder, Karen would have done the same. "I don't intend to give up," Andilao said. "I still want to try. I've prepared quite a bit." Hearing this, Karen smiled and raised his glass of iced water. "Sir, I wish you success." Andilao raised his glass, lightly clinked it against Karen's, and said, "You too." After the meal, Karen left with Little Kanna. The other bigwigs attending the event walked over one after another and took seats around Andilao. "Looks like the kid is jumping ship." "Yeah, buckling his belt and walking away right after the deed." "That's what happens when one advances too fast. They always think they'll maintain that speed forever." Andilao raised a hand and spoke up on Karen's behalf. "Alright, his hands are tied. The Whip-Wielder is watching him. Let's keep this relationship in mind for the future." Hearing this explanation, the expressions of the senior figures softened. It was a reason they could understand and accept—after all, that was the Whip-Wielder. "The Whip-Wielder took him in so quickly?" "Damn, what kind of luck does this kid have?" "Even I'm feeling a bit jealous. Genuinely jealous." Andilao said, "He attended the Whip-Wielder's private meeting." "Whoa, then it's real." "How did he pull that off?" "Tsk, tsk, incredible." Andilao stubbed out his cigarette and said, "Alright, just don't harbor any grudges, and keep a leash on your subordinates attending today so they don't wag their tongues or misread your intentions. It's best not to sour this relationship. "Truth be told, Karen hasn't really ridden on our coattails. Rather than saying we escorted him to his Regional Chief post, it's more accurate to say he earned it through his own merits in the Desert. In the current reforms in Yorktown, people from our faction have participated heavily, but everyone got tangible benefits out of it; nobody got shortchanged. He doesn't owe us anything. "Furthermore, if he truly secures our department's Corps Commander position this time..." One of the bigwigs picked up the thread. "If he takes that post and avoids making mistakes in the Desert, he'll return as our equal." The others nodded one after another. Clearly, all of them agreed with this assessment and didn't find it the least bit exaggerated. They each had their own intelligence channels, and Andilao shared information with them as well. What did becoming this Corps Commander mean? It meant you personally commanded ten thousand elites of the Whip of Order! Even after the war, once the corps was disbanded, no matter what heights those Whip of Order priests reached in the future, whenever they saw you, they would respectfully address you as "Commander." Such practical influence had long surpassed the scope of the post itself; he would be destined to become a factional mountain within the Whip of Order that no one could overlook. "Andilao, how confident are you?" Hearing the question, Andilao chuckled. "That's precisely why I convened this gathering. You're all senior officials from other departments. Come, let's head into a private room and review the military proposal I drafted." "What do we know about waging war?" "Yeah, what do we know about this? You need people from the knight orders for that. I can introduce someone to you." "I've already consulted them. You can help me look over the logistics, materiel, and administrative aspects." "Alright, haha, let's go examine Andilao's bidding proposal." ... After finishing lunch, Karen was still in no hurry to assemble at the meeting location. There was plenty of time anyway, and he had a second appointment. Hailing a taxi to an apartment building, he took Little Kanna by the hand up to the third floor. Looking at the room number, he placed his hand against it and analyzed the array fluctuations emanating from the door. The barrier wasn't difficult to breach. With three light taps from Karen, the door emitted a faint luster, and Karen and Little Kanna phased directly through it. Inside was an expansive area—far too large for a two-bedroom apartment. It was easily the size of half a football pitch. Behind the bar, several attendants sensed someone entering and bowed together out of habit: "Welcome, my Lord." But when they realized the newcomer was so young and leading a little girl by the hand, they all froze. Evidently, they were unaccustomed to receiving young patrons, because this was... a retired elders' club. "Hahaha, Karen, you're here! Oh, I missed you to death!" Piro, puffing on a pipe, strode over. Spotting Karen, he spread his arms wide and pulled him into a bear hug. "Teacher, I missed you too." Karen let Piro hug him, patting the older man's back in return. There was a group of people he had always been deeply grateful to, and Piro was one of them. Free from transactional interests, Piro appreciated him in the purest way and was willing to help him. No matter the time, such kindness was worth cherishing and remembering. "Come, follow me. I deliberately called some old friends over today; let me introduce you." "Alright, Teacher." Karen followed Piro to meet people—all grandfathers, and well, grandmothers too. They were all retirees, but listening to Piro's introductions, Karen knew these retired elders didn't suffer the awkwardness of being forgotten once out of office. Karen had seen with his own eyes the status Liwen held when he arrived in the Yorktown Region over the sinkhole pollution incident; the elders who mingled with him, aside from sharing compatible temperaments, were of comparable standing. Even retirement clubs had tiers. Over half of the elders here were qualified to enter the First Knight Order after death. Karen had plenty of experience playing the endearing "grandson" junior. Neo had teased him more than once, with a hint of jealousy, about how Karen always managed to win the affection of old men. Little Kanna suddenly became extraordinarily well-mannered as well. The little lady etiquette Purr had taught her proved useful now; she greeted the elders sweetly, calling them "Hello, Grandpa" and "Hello, Grandma," prompting the seniors to line up to hug her. This sweet obedience surprised Karen, though he felt mostly touched. Knowing the little bone dragon's personality, he could tell she was putting on a deliberate show for his sake. "Ha, Karen!" Commander Liwen walked over and punched Karen right in the chest. It was no light blow, but Karen exaggerated slightly as he clutched his chest and stumbled back. The sight provoked hearty laughter from the surrounding elders. "Liwen, I see right through you—you're deliberately taking revenge!" "Yes, exactly! Getting even for the thrashing you took!" "I was there that day. I witnessed the whole thing—Liwen got knocked flat on his face!" During the training before entering the Gate of Samsara, Liwen had been in charge of close-combat instruction. To ensure the trainees gained something from the lesson, he had them submit their credentials so he could suppress his realm to their exact level to instruct them. Yet when it was Karen's turn, Karen had presented his "servant credential," which hadn't been updated yet. Yet facing his old friends' banter, Liwen wasn't angry. Instead, he grabbed Karen's arm and proclaimed proudly: "So what? At my age, getting knocked down by a youngster is nothing strange! He's my student, after all—I taught him! Right, Karen?" "Yes. Your teachings will benefit me for a lifetime." "Hahaha! Did you hear that? Using the close-combat skills I taught him, my student took dozens of heads in the Desert! In any other orthodox church, every single one of those heads belonged to a distinguished, prominent young talent! Which of your students has ever performed such a great service?!" Pastries and tea were served by attendants, kicking off tea-party time. Everyone sat around chatting, with a brazier specially placed in the center to set the mood. As they chatted, Liwen placed a thick dossier in front of Karen and said: "This is a proposal I asked staff officers from the active knight orders to draw up for you. Flip through it right now, and weave in anything you find useful." "Thank you, Teacher." "You call me Teacher; it's the least I can do." This proposal was of immense value and had cost a considerable favor; many high-ranking figures in the Whip of Order likely couldn't have pulled it off. "Also, Karen, there's one more thing I need to tell you. Commander Sommer and several active vice commanders arrived in the Dinge Region today. They visited my home this morning. Do you know what that means?" "They... came for the meeting, right?" "Of course they came for a meeting, but their meeting's schedule isn't nearly so tight. Arriving a day early was to give face to a certain someone. You understand, don't you?" "Teacher, I understand." Though Liwen hadn't spelled it out completely, the meaning was plain: they had been invited by the Whip-Wielder to serve as "evaluators." Only the Whip-Wielder possessed such tremendous influence. It also meant that in selecting the Corps Commander, the Whip-Wielder would consult the opinions of genuine "professionals." "Go make your preparations quickly. There's still time." In truth, Karen really wanted to stay and keep chatting, but once Liwen spoke up, the other elders kindly urged him to go prepare as well. Karen had no choice but to get up, take Little Kanna, and leave the club. "What would you like to eat tonight?" "Huh? Don't you need to revise your homework?" "No." "Then let's have barbecue—barbecue by the beach!" "Sure, no problem." After dinner, Karen walked with Little Kanna along the beach. Little Kanna told Karen about "Woof's" beach moonlight and described that enchanting, graceful silhouette. The little girl had forgotten that Karen couldn't possibly not know Kevin's stories, but Karen played along as if hearing them for the first time, chiming in with lively prompts: "Oh, really?" "And then what happened next?" Little Kanna chatted away happily. Where Kevin's recounting had been incomplete or vague, she exercised her own imagination to fill in the blanks. For example, when Goddess Mills ventured into the depths of the ocean, she rode a boat made of white bones; or that the Sea God's divine artifact was a trident forged from white bones. Afterward, they grabbed a late-night snack before Karen took Little Kanna in a carriage to the meeting venue—the great cathedral where the previous meeting had taken place. Passing identity verification and entering, Karen realized he was noticeably "late"—not because he had missed the start time, but because everyone else had arrived far too early. In reality, there were still nearly three hours before the session commenced. Only an occasion of today's magnitude could make these dignitaries—all at least of the Regional Chief rank—act like train passengers retrieving their luggage and queuing up to disembark long before reaching the station. "Just stay inside the carriage. You can sleep or do your homework," Karen said, switching on the carriage lamp. Seeing Karen about to step down, Little Kanna quickly reminded him, "You forgot your homework!" Karen waved a hand. "I never wrote it." Little Kanna: "..." On the plaza outside the cathedral, people stood in clusters of three and five. Karen appeared somewhat isolated, but possessing no interest in forcing his way into any group, he simply found an open space to stand alone. Before long, Miguel came out leading a group of secretaries, handing out meeting brochures according to the attendee roster. Karen's copy was handed over by Miguel personally, who offered Karen a polite smile. When Miguel turned to distribute more, Karen opened the booklet and flipped through it page by page, finding no extra writing and certainly no slipped notes. Thus, the meaning of Miguel's smile just now was: *My apologies, I cannot be of any help to you right now.* The meeting agenda had only two items: an overview of the current Desert war situation and the personnel mobilizations the Whip of Order had already carried out, and the selection of the Corps Commander candidate. Shortly after, the assembly hall opened, and everyone entered, taking their seats according to their nameplates just like last time. Karen's seat remained unchanged—the first row of the second section, where his legs could stretch out comfortably. The Regional Chiefs flanking him hadn't changed either, and everyone exchanged pleasant smiles after sitting down. Karen noticed that both of them held bulging briefcases. In fact, aside from himself, almost no one seemed to have come empty-handed; some of the more extreme attendees had even brought full suitcases, presumably having researched and compiled everything down to the local customs of the Desert. Once attendee verification concluded, the bigwigs on the rostrum took their seats, though the Whip-Wielder's chair remained empty. The second-in-command of the Whip of Order spoke: "There is still some time before the official meeting begins. At this moment, the Whip-Wielder's intent is to hold a brief preliminary meeting first. Colleagues interested in the position of Corps Commander may follow me now to the small conference hall inside." Standing up, the second-in-command added, "The post of Corps Commander is of paramount importance. Those who feel they lack the ability and caliber should not come just to pad the numbers or try their luck. Heh, the Whip-Wielder is right inside. If anyone is found lacking self-awareness, we will have to reconsider whether you still qualify to remain in your current seat. After all, those who are foolish or overly selfish have no business continuing to serve the Whip of Order." This was a threat—a blunt, direct threat. In the entire hall, only he could utter such words. It was not merely because of his rank, but because as the department's second-in-command, his role required keeping a low profile to minimize his presence; he had no intention of competing for the post. His warning took immediate effect. The moment he finished speaking, Karen saw many attendees—including the two Regional Chiefs beside him—quietly stash their briefcases under their seats, clearly abandoning any intention of using them. Among the dignitaries seated on the rostrum, only a third stood to follow the second-in-command into the inner room. From the senior figures in the first row, only a scattered dozen or so stood up to follow. When Karen stood up to head inside, he noticed that from the ranks of Regional Chiefs, those who rose... counting himself, were only three. One of the other two was the female Regional Chief of the Whip of Order for the Dinge Region. Evidently, even if the second-in-command hadn't spoken, the general consensus was that Regional Chiefs lacked the qualifications; after his warning, fewer still dared to step forward. Thus, when Karen walked into the small conference hall, he was the very last; no one followed behind him. Inside, the candidates queued up as though waiting for a medical checkup. The small hall was divided into two sections, separated by a screening array. One could still see the layout inside: a table stood behind a curtain of shadows, where each applicant placed their proposal before delivering a brief statement and answering questions. Flashes of light flickered behind the curtain, signaling the use of reading arrays to swiftly scan the contents and accelerate the evaluation process. Even so, the review speed was astonishingly rapid. Even the high-ranking figures ahead gave only curt replies before being told they could leave. Karen felt that cotton textile mills in Yorktown interviewing weavers weren't this brisk and rudimentary. Such a scene could only occur within the Whip of Order, subjecting even high-ranking dignitaries to this assembly-line process. It also reflected Foden's absolute standing and authority within the department; measured against him, everyone beneath was merely a foot soldier. Those queued in front of Karen unconsciously glanced around, and upon spotting him empty-handed, gave him puzzled looks. Scarlett, the female Regional Chief of the Dinge Region, leaned back and asked in a low whisper, "Where is your proposal? Put into a scroll?" Karen shook his head. "Heh, you're quite mysterious." Just then, Karen saw Andilao finish and exit through a door on the opposite side. Before stepping out, Andilao cast a glance back at Karen through the barrier, his expression somewhat complicated. He seemed to have realized or sensed something, though there was no chance to say anything now. The wait was actually quite short as the line shrank rapidly. Finally, Scarlett went in. She was highly confident—a formidable woman. After all, not just anyone could serve as Regional Chief of the capital region. In truth, daring to enter this competition as a Regional Chief already demonstrated enormous self-confidence, boldness, and courage, because one misstep could cost them their Regional Chief seat upon walking out. Scarlett finished and exited through the other door. Karen walked in. He was the last. Behind the curtain, someone had their hands resting on the tabletop. After waiting a moment, they tapped the surface lightly. Karen answered, "I have none." Surprised by the response, the figure behind the curtain threw up his hands. If the curtain could be drawn aside, one would see seven chairs behind the desk, with Foden seated dead center. Hearing Karen's answer, Foden's expression remained unmoved, though several figures seated beside him exchanged amused glances. At this moment, an imposing man clad in armor, seated immediately to the Whip-Wielder's right, spoke up: "State your thoughts, then." This was Sommer, one of the active knight order commanders. Leaving aside the relationship between Daan and the High Priest, his status was equal to Daan's. Karen answered, "I have no thoughts." Sommer frowned slightly. "What do you mean, no thoughts?" Karen took a deep breath. He had decided to gamble. Gambling that the words the Whip-Wielder had spoken to him in the carriage were by no means pointless; gambling that under the premise where the Whip-Wielder had already staked enormous capital, what he wanted was definitely not a commander who was equally eager to gamble with everything; gambling on whether the commander this evaluation sought to select was truly as he envisioned; gambling on whether this unconventional lane he had chosen was the right one! This was opportunistic maneuvering—guessing another's mind. It had nothing to do with professional military acumen; it was practically reading expressions, discerning intentions, and engaging in political speculation. That was why Karen had been so conflicted and hesitant initially. If Neo hadn't given him that promise—"Just come, I know how to fight"—Karen wouldn't have participated in this selection at all. Because even if he won the post this way, Karen wouldn't be able to get past his own conscience. What he was doing was entirely the playbook of sycophantic courtiers from Wien court novels who rose through flattery. Throughout the entire contest, one only needed to grasp the most essential question: when selecting a Corps Commander, was the Whip-Wielder looking for the most brilliant one? No. He wanted someone who met his own needs. Karen answered: "If I become Corps Commander, I will strictly obey every military order issued by the superior knight orders. At the same time, I will do my utmost to maintain our militia corps, ensuring it remains in good operational condition at all times. "As for other thoughts, I have none. Nor do I believe that a Corps Commander sitting in this position should have any thoughts of his own." Behind the curtain, the occupants of the seven chairs fell into dead silence after hearing Karen's words. After a pause, the second-in-command spoke: "Regional Chief Karen, you may step out." "Yes, Sir." Karen bowed to the second-in-command, then bowed toward the curtain, and stepped outside. Once outside, Karen exhaled a long breath, his hands and feet feeling slightly chilled. Behind the curtain of the small conference hall, Sommer turned his head toward Foden and asked: "Hey, old pal, did you invent an excuse just to call us brothers over for drinks? Because otherwise, I really can't understand why you'd have us sit here helping you evaluate and screen candidates when you had already handpicked someone all along." Handpicked? Standing behind the Whip-Wielder, Miguel froze for a second. *Handpicked? If it could be preordained, wouldn't I have arranged it long ago?* Out of a secretary's duty, Miguel immediately stepped in to smooth things over: "Commander Sommer, you misunderstand. Our Whip-Wielder—" Unexpectedly, Foden cut Miguel off, smiling at Sommer: "Indeed. I just missed you fellows, so I went out of my way to find an excuse that wouldn't draw the High Priest's blame, just to invite you over for drinks and catch up, haha."