The tent flap was pulled back, and a gleaming bald head reflected the outside sunlight into the tent.
Seated on the cot, Neo squinted and snapped irritably, "Turn off the light."
"At your command, Vice Commander." Daliwenluo took no offense. Instead, he cooperatively drew up the hood of his clerical robe to cover his bare scalp. Approaching Neo, he set a small vial containing a yellow liquid before him.
"I heard you were injured, so I brought you a miracle cure."
Neo glanced at the bottle, then at Daliwenluo. He could guess what the liquid was. There was no denying that it worked wonders on external wounds.
Even so, he had no intention of using it. In this regard, Neo and Karen were very much alike: when conditions were dire, they could endure anything and make do without the slightest hesitation; but the moment circumstances eased, a wave of fastidious squeamishness would seep from their very bones.
Daliwenluo asked, "You mind it?"
"Yeah."
"Ah, well. I don't mind it myself. These past few days, I've been collecting that gentleman's urine to water the saplings."
"How are the results?"
"Heh, it really works. A few more green fruits grew." With that, Daliwenluo reached into his robes and pulled out three alluring little green apples.
Neo snatched them away and began munching without hesitation.
They were not sour at all, nor overly cloying—refreshingly crisp and sweet.
"You could at least leave me one to give away..."
"They're all mine now."
"How do they taste?"
"Terrific. No wonder Rekal said yesterday that you ought to be an orchardist. If you pursue this path in the future, you'll surely become a fruit tycoon in church circles."
"The fertilizer is too hard to come by." Daliwenluo rubbed his hands together. "It only yields a few small ones from time to time, not even enough to go around among our own people."
Then, as if remembering something, Daliwenluo pulled another small jar from his pocket, filled with grayish powder.
He poured out a bit and brewed two cups of tea. Instantly, a refreshing fragrance wafted through the air.
"I have plenty of this right now, so this jar is for you."
Neo lifted his teacup and took a sip. "This tea is good."
"Aren't you curious what kind of tea it is?"
Neo smiled. "Isn't it just your cousin ground into bits? By the way, does your cousin's treant constitution have such severe side effects? Is his osteoporosis that bad?"
"It's a specialized path of magical cultivation. He clearly took a wrong turn, otherwise what came out would be fresh tea—greener in color and much more vibrant in taste."
"What a pity. Still, no wonder tea from your Church of Life and cigarettes from the Church of Thunder are such hot commodities on the black market."
"Whatever leaks onto the black market is inferior tea. The true dignitaries within the church drink treant tea. It's divided into three grades: the low grade uses ordinary human bodies to grow the trees; the medium grade uses ordinary priests who took this path but died prematurely; the high grade is like my cousin, though since he took a wrong turn, he falls into the lesser tier of the high grade."
"That must still be outrageously expensive, right?"
"On the black market, a jar like this would fetch a sky-high price."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Did you send any to Karen?"
"No, I didn't dare."
"Yeah, best not to. He's a moral clean freak; he doesn't like touching stuff like this."
"Yes, I know."
"But you could consider modifying the cultivar. Try coffee trees, for instance. The cat at his side loves coffee, and getting on that cat's good side is crucial—after all, they sleep in the same bed."
"Understood. When I come across suitable materials next time, I'll set to work on breeding improvements."
"By the way, didn't you want to beg Karen to revive that cousin of yours so you could entertain him properly?"
"On the battlefield, I sensed my father's aura and suddenly felt my cousin was rather boring. The initial novelty ought to be saved for one's closest kin.
"Besides, begging the Young Master once is rare enough; I can't keep pestering him to do such favors for me. Better save it for my father. When the time comes, I'll bring out the tea made from my cousin and coffee beans made from my eldest uncle to savor together with my father.
"Oh, almost forgot. I have three paternal half-siblings, though they weren't raised in our home, but nurtured in my father's wife's family.
"If there's a chance in the future, we could all gather together as well."
"Remember not to mention those last few remarks to Karen either. Just do it quietly on your own. Besides, to be safe, before you 'entertain' those half-siblings of yours, prepare their criminal records. Those are easy enough to find—just flip through the *Code of Order*. Given how much your Church of Life's senior priests 'cherish' life, I'm sure evidence of their crimes won't be hard to dig up."
"Yes, thank you for the reminder." Daliwenluo smiled. "Though I'm still a little surprised. I thought you would try to dissuade me."
"Why dissuade you? Ninety-nine percent of people in this world might shout that they don't want to live, but if you actually tell them to die, they'd never dare. But we happen to belong to that tiny minority of exceptions—we have to work hard to find a reason to keep ourselves living."
Daliwenluo's creation of the "Bald Gang" and his burning hatred toward his paternal family were, in truth, the anchors keeping him alive.
In this regard, Neo saw a reflection of his former self in him.
"Aha." Daliwenluo pursed his lips and changed the subject. "I heard you crossed swords with our Young Master again and even defeated him?"
"Nah. He held back against me, which gave me an opening."
"Just how strong is the Young Master now?"
"How strong? Put it this way: when you bumped into him in the desert back then, you had a decent chance of taking him down with you. Now... he could swat you dead with a single slap."
"That exaggerated?"
"Is it strange when it's him? If not for those special circumstances, going by a normal script, with his grandfather's current strength paired with his current talent, the Inmeles family could have become a faction within the Church of Order that no one could ignore, just relying on that grandfather and grandson."
A lone fist fought in isolation—lonely, insignificant, and fragile. But what if that fist was overwhelmingly large?
"So, you feel quite down, don't you?"
"What kind of bullshit is that? I was so damn jealous my heart almost gave out."
Just then, someone approached outside. It was Muri. He didn't enter, standing outside the curtain instead.
"Vice Commander Neo, the military council is about to begin."
"I'm not going. Your Legion Commander is more than capable of handling it."
"Understood." Muri left.
Neo slipped off his clerical robe and handed Daliwenluo a tray and a pair of tweezers.
"Here. You have nothing to do anyway, so help me clean out my skin. During the fight, I peeled my skin off, and quite a bit of sand got splashed into the wounds. Now the new skin is growing, and having sand trapped inside will feel uncomfortable when I sleep."
Daliwenluo took the tools and began picking out the sand grains for Neo.
"Some of the sand is under the new skin."
"Just tear the skin open and dig it out."
"All right."
"Is it a bit gross?"
"No, not at all. It's actually quite stress-relieving."
"Hmm?"
"Next time you fight and get injured like this, be sure to call me to tend to it. Whew... this work is truly delightful."
"I say..."
"Go ahead."
"I'm starting to feel a bit disgusted by you now."
***
Neo's absence from the meeting did not particularly surprise Karen.
Others feared that teaching their apprentice would starve the master, but with Neo, the moment the apprentice got the hang of it, he immediately slacked off. What you didn't know how to do, he'd help you with; what you did know how to do—spit, don't even dream of freeloading off him.
At Karen's nod, Muri began his summary.
Over the past few days, the entire battlefront had fallen into an uncanny "calm."
The Order side held absolute initiative and maintained a calmer mindset. Every day, following the Army Group Commander's arrangements, each unit launched scheduled, localized, and measured bombardments with long-range weapons—looking remarkably like punching a clock at work, with no overtime and no team-building events.
The Allied forces could only return fire on a small scale. An artillery duel in the traditional sense was out of the question because the Allies' supply lines had long been severed. War materiel was in severe shortage now, and their so-called "retaliation" was merely a strained effort to bolster morale, as they couldn't just sit and take a beating indefinitely.
Both sides were awaiting the day the "result" arrived.
And on this very day, just prior to the meeting, Karen had received two official dispatches.
One informed him that the deputy commander of the garrison caught in the pincer between his forces and the 12th Regular Regiment would personally come to his camp to negotiate terms and guarantees upon surrender.
The other was an intelligence report detailing the Allied forces' rear logistics and rendezvous arrangements behind this front, from which the remaining Allied troops' planned retreat routes and destination could be deduced.
This time, the intelligence department's work had yielded remarkable results.
In fact, after Karen's previous victory and the subsequent submission of his battle report, the intelligence department had faced enormous pressure—bordering on scathing criticism.
*Just how incompetent was your intelligence service that a general on the front line had to conceal his strategic intent even from his own side to deceive the enemy?*
It had to be Karen. Any other general wouldn't have dared do such a thing, and even if they had, they wouldn't have stated it so bluntly. If one truly offended the intelligence department, those spooks had countless ways to make life miserable.
However, Karen had originated within the Whip of Order himself. Not only was he the Commander of the Whip of Order Legion, but he also enjoyed the staunch backing of the Whip-Wielder. Intelligence operations on the desert battlefield were primarily run by the Whip of Order, as was the internal vetting of spies within the church, so strictly speaking, this amounted to internal "self-criticism" within their own system.
Consequently, the intelligence department not only had to stand at attention and take the lashing before Karen, but they also had to bend over backward to cater to this young master.
With the two dispatches placed side by side, the implications were plain as day.
Karen smiled faintly. "This commander certainly has courage."
To use a false surrender as cover for a breakout and relocation, even risking his own life by coming in person to lend credibility—putting aside opposing allegiances, his sense of duty and sheer courage deserved considerable praise.
Yet from Karen's perspective, this was an overt attempt to play him for a fool.
"Legion Commander, allow me to receive him."
"Mm, go ahead. Treat him well—if we're putting on a show, we must play it through to the end."
"Understood, Legion Commander."
"Also, issue orders to those other four regiments. When the enemy launches their breakout, they must mobilize immediately and rapidly intersperse into their designated positions. Tell them I've let them rest long enough; if anyone dares delay and miss the tactical window, I'll haul them before the Whip of Order Tribunal!"
"Yes, this subordinate understands."
As Muri turned to leave, Karen called out to him again:
"By the way..."
Muri halted and turned back to face Karen, waiting for orders.
"This commander is also from the Church of Life..."
"Yes, that's correct."
The Allied forces Karen faced along this front were predominantly composed of the Church of Life and the Church of the Earth.
"Go inform Daliwenluo and have him accompany you to receive that deputy commander. While driving a wedge might not have an immediate visible effect on the current battlefield, since it can sow discord within the Church of Life, we might as well do it in passing."
The standing of Daliwenluo's paternal family and the family his father had married into was far from low in the Church of Life; if internal strife could be stoked between them, that would be ideal.
"A pity there's no time now. Had I known, I would have helped Daliwenluo awaken that cousin of his earlier. That would have made the scheme far more convincing. After all, Daliwenluo is merely an outcast with limited sway, so we can only leverage our previous victories to add plausibility to the idea that a mole within their ranks is secretly cooperating with Order."
Muri nodded with a smile. Seeing that Karen had no intention of awakening Bilyen, Muri didn't make the redundant move of informing him that Daliwenluo's cousin had already been processed into a tea gift pack... and that he himself had received a jar.
From then on, everything proceeded smoothly.
The Allied side believed they had successfully duped Order into trusting their surrender, while Order methodically prepared to pull in the net.
A stage play, diligently rehearsed by all parties.
A day later, the defenders of the other three strongholds quickly abandoned their positions and retreated toward the rear, officially raising the curtain on the grand breakout battle.
For the Allies, remaining entrenched in their strongholds meant waiting for death; abandoning them made them far more exposed and vulnerable, yet gave them a fighting chance at survival.
The Whip of Order Legion detached forces to pursue them, creating an apparent gap in the encirclement. Taking advantage of the opening, the garrison in the stronghold before them broke out. Both sides clashed in an encounter battle, but because the Whip of Order Legion was supposedly "caught off guard," they failed to intercept them.
Subsequently, the defenders from all four strongholds gradually converged, marching along their predetermined route in hopes of linking up with their rear rendezvous force.
The evacuation routes of each unit, their rendezvous point, and their subsequent movement path aligned precisely with the advance planning Neo had drawn up.
To an outsider, it would have seemed as if Neo worked by day for the Whip of Order Legion and moonlit at night as a staff officer for the Allied command.
However, Karen had taken the initiative to modify the predetermined ambush location and delay the timing. He was being somewhat greedy: he wanted to gobble up the rear logistics supply depot meant to receive them as well.
When Karen proposed this idea to Neo, Neo neither opposed nor endorsed it, merely remarking: "Just make the call yourself."
Karen knew Neo was deliberately putting pressure on him.
In the end, though, Karen modified the original plan according to his own judgment. This also caused the three militia regiments—apart from the Whip of Order Legion and the 12th Regular Regiment—to fall behind schedule, failing to reach their operational sectors within the revised timeframe.
There was no helping it; a legion's combat efficacy was reflected in every facet, not just the final charge. The march speed and operational efficiency of those three militia regiments simply couldn't keep pace.
Yet this was also an outcome Karen had anticipated when revising the plan.
Ultimately, when the ambush officially commenced, only the Whip of Order Legion and the 12th Regular Regiment launched a sudden and ferocious assault against the Allied forces.
Having been cut off from supplies for so long, the Allied forces possessed little war materiel to begin with, and in their hurry to break out, they had abandoned large quantities of heavy equipment. Thus, even though Order's forces were not at maximum strength when the ambush was sprung and the encirclement was incomplete, they still battered the Allies into utter disarray.
Had they attempted another breakout at that moment, they still could have punched through the perimeter, albeit at severe cost. But the Allies did not choose to do so. Rather than flee into the boundless desert, they preferred to stubbornly defend the supply depot that symbolized hope.
Perhaps at that juncture, even the Allied commanders were powerless to force their troops into making the more rational choice.
On Order's side, a portion of the magic crystal cannons fired harmlessly into the sky at long range, aiming at nothing in particular but detonating with deafening blasts. The violent tremors prevented the teleportation formations in the supply base from activating properly.
At the same time, Ashley led the summoner battalion in mass-summoning aerial monster beasts. These phantom beasts dove toward the airspace above the logistics base in suicidal fashion, attacking and screeching, completely severing any chance of the Allies taking the risk to force-start the teleportation arrays.
Leading the charge was Sandy.
Seated inside the command post, Karen smoked one cigarette after another. Facing the ongoing execution of the plan he had modified himself, he was undeniably tense.
Daina went in and out constantly to deliver the latest reports. At last, those three sluggish militia regiments arrived at their designated positions, plugging the gaps in the encirclement.
What followed was a tedious wait.
The Allied forces sent another request for surrender. When Daina read it aloud to Karen, Karen shook his head. But before he could speak, Daina tore the dispatch in her hands to shreds.
"Understood. We never received this surrender request."
This earned Daina an appreciative glance from Karen. A battlefield truly was a place that rapidly forged maturity.
The fighting raged on, but the scales had long since tipped irreversibly.
Subordinate regiment commanders and even battalion commanders repeatedly requested permission to launch ground assaults, but Karen turned them all down. He issued a further order commanding that all long-range munitions, including magic crystal cannon shells, be completely exhausted before any ground advance was considered.
Victory was already within grasp; as the supreme commander of this army group, Karen wished to minimize friendly casualties as much as possible.
Though war implements were astronomically expensive, they were far easier to replace than battle-hardened veterans.
Most importantly, the Church of Order possessed vast assets and profound foundations—at least for now, it could well afford the bill.
Moreover, the Whip-Wielder in the rear would wield the whip of "anti-corruption investigations" to thrash the logistics departments, guaranteeing that his own legion remained fully supplied.
Finally, once all ammunition was spent, Karen ordered the ground advance, strictly mandating that troops push forward in formation without scattering to compete for individual glory.
One had to admire the tenacity of the Church of Life and the burrowing abilities of the Church of the Earth. After suffering prolonged bombardment in such a confined space, they still retained considerable fighting strength. With their surrender overtures ignored, they mounted a desperate countercharge, seeking to take down as many foes with them as they could.
Yet such struggle was doomed to be futile. Inside his tent, Neo leafed through the second-hand battle reports that were passed to him only after Karen had seen them, recalling how Karen had treated him during their spar earlier.
"He truly leaves you no openings or vulnerabilities whatsoever."
In truth, Neo had always harbored a suspicion: during their recent spar, Karen might have feigned not recognizing his clones, deliberately "losing" to give him a graceful way out.
Given the kid's usual conduct, it was indeed very likely that he would handle things with such propriety.
Yet Neo couldn't bring himself to ask, because whether it was true or not, that kid would surely answer, "Yes, exactly."
The battlefield gradually fell quiet, signaling that the Allies' final embers of resistance had been snuffed out. Order's troops had already begun clearing the field while sweeping for any hidden enemies.
Karen received formal apologies and confessions of fault from the commanders of the three militia regiments.
"Reply to them: their tardiness was the result of my last-minute changes to the plan. It has nothing to do with them."
"Yes, Legion Commander."
"Additionally, dispatch a message to the Knights' command..."
Daina promptly produced pen and paper to record.
"From this day forth, all is quiet along our front."
***
Daan received the latest battle report from the Ninth Army Group and passed it to Vice Commander Salfo, who stood beside him.
Salfo finished reading in silence.
"Ahem..." Daan cleared his throat.
Salfo asked, "Want to hear me praise him?"
Daan didn't answer.
"I mean, he didn't end up as your son-in-law. Is all this really necessary?"
"This is official business."
"Fine, fine. I'll praise him then. The enemy along this entire front has been completely eradicated. Aside from the three main army groups, this is the only army group that has wiped out every foe before it.
"One cooks to the measure of the ingredients at hand. The Ninth Army Group originally consisted of just one regular regiment leading four militia regiments, yet with that roster, they fought cleanly and decisively. It's like turning the cheapest ingredients into haute cuisine—a true test of the chef's culinary skill."
"I propose restructuring the Ninth Army Group. Leave three militia regiments to hold the line there, detach the Whip of Order Legion and the 12th Regular Regiment, reinforce them with two additional regular regiments, and redeploy the army group to another front."
"Upgrading the chef's kitchen, are we?"
"Look at the Ninth Army Group's reports, then look at the other army groups'. The disparity is glaring. Those army groups with far more regular regiments—what the hell kind of fighting are they doing?
"The High Priest's purpose was to temper our troops, but those fellows went straight into a war of attrition. Even when they win, the battles are an ugly mess, and their reports read like chewed-up dog scraps."
"All right, all right, it's not like I disagree. You don't need to pile on so many excuses. Tempering the troops includes scouting out exceptional commanders. Still, he belongs to the Whip-Wielder after all. Don't you feel any resentment pushing him like this?"
"Daina once told me..."
"What did she say?"
"She said... Karen is very much like me."
"Hahaha... That doesn't sound like something you'd say, Daan. You're not that childish."
"Perhaps. By the way, before the army group is reorganized, I intend to see him. Have Karen come by my headquarters sometime soon."
"Understood, I'll see to the arrangements."
After Salfo departed, a figure slowly materialized inside Daan's tent. His clerical robe was trimmed with gold borders, denoting his lofty status.
Had this encounter occurred anywhere outside a military encampment, Daan would have had to salute him with solemn deference.
According to the tradition of the Church of Order, whenever the Knights marched, at least one temple elder accompanied them. They could protect the commanding officer or serve as trump cards and shock forces on the battlefield.
Daan spoke, "You heard everything?"
"I merely conveyed the Temple's intent, hoping you would pay closer attention to this young man named 'Karen.' But your actions seem to exceed what the Temple requested."
"Because he has achieved merit, and because his command ability is exceptional. According to military regulations, he deserves such a promotion. That is my duty as Commander of the Knights."
"Very well, perhaps I overthought it. Thank you for the explanation. After all, tradition dictates that the Commander of the Knights is under no obligation to explain military command or strategic intent to us, nor do we possess the authority to interfere."
"Respect tradition; mutual respect."
"Heh, I am rather curious, Commander Daan. Will you report this news to the High Priest, or have you done so already?"
Daan remained silent.
"Forgive me, it seems I have overstepped again."
"No, you haven't. But if I told you I haven't reported it, would you believe me?"
"I cannot answer that. Although I am not responsible for the Temple's external liaisons and have barely stepped out of my star over the past two centuries, I have still heard a thing or two—the ties between your circle and the High Priest are extraordinarily close."
"Heh, then let me ask you one more thing. As you know, Karen belongs to the Whip-Wielder. Have you contacted the Whip-Wielder?"
"Before Karen entered the candidate list, the Temple gave the Whip-Wielder a hint."
Hearing this, Daan's eyes narrowed slightly.
"However, this time the Temple only commanded me to contact you. I suspect no one was dispatched to contact the Whip-Wielder."
"Why?"
"Because judging from the Whip-Wielder's recent actions, he needs no contact. He is already vigorously promoting the young man."
Daan nodded.
"Commander Daan, once Karen finishes meeting you at your headquarters, may I see him alone? The Temple has certain edicts that I must deliver to him."
"Are you not afraid that doing so will violate the rules established between the High Priest and your Temple?"
"Caring for outstanding youth within the church and offering them proper guidance is one of the Temple's intrinsic duties, is it not?"
"Does the Temple hold Karen in such high regard?"
"In truth, he is merely one name on the candidate list. Had Xiti not nominated him, he would not have made the list at all."
Daan nodded, and the imposing figure beside him slowly vanished.
Daan lowered his head and looked at the green ring on his ring finger. It was gradually turning black, until finally it became completely pitch-black.
This signaled that the accompanying temple elder had departed.
Daan gently clenched his fist and muttered to himself, "Had Elder Xiti not recommended him, Karen wouldn't even have made your candidate list... Heh heh heh..."
In this age bracket, apart from the Child of God, Daan truly could not think of anyone within the Church of Order who could rival Karen. If even he had barely made the list, it could only mean one thing:
"It seems your Temple's criteria for selecting candidates aren't fair at all.
"Just how terrified are you...
"of choosing another High Priest like the current one?"
Suddenly, Daan's expression turned solemn.
"Daina says Karen is like me; Foden says Karen is like him. But judging from the Temple's reaction..."
A thought suddenly rose in Daan's mind, mysteriously resonating across an unknown distance with the Whip-Wielder:
*Could it be that Karen is actually most like... the High Priest?*
***
*Crack!*
Foden executed a perfect swing, sending the ball flying.
Beside him, the High Priest clapped. "Nicely done. Beautiful shot."
Foden smiled. "I've merely picked up the basics from you."
"Foden, every time I pick up a new hobby, you always ensure I never play alone."
"Following in your footsteps is my instinct, and even more, my honor."
"All right, all right. You've been the Whip-Wielder for too long; your flattery is far worse than when you were young."
"Heh heh." Foden gave a sheepish chuckle.
Sitting at the pinnacle of such a sensitive branch, feigning naivety and foolishness before his superior had practically become a monthly duty.
Of course, just as Foden needed only lower his gaze to see right through the thoughts of his subordinates, he knew the High Priest could see through his act as well. Yet their dynamic rested upon the very "attitude" demonstrated through such deliberate playacting.
At this moment, presumably because the "High Priest" in the administrative temple had reviewed a certain document, the one playing golf here remarked:
"Oh, our little Foden has won another victory. He even sent a military dispatch claiming all is quiet along his front."
Foden immediately said, "He's young, after all. He inevitably shows some of that youthful arrogance. Had I not followed you back then, my eyes wouldn't have migrated from the top of my head down to my face either."
"Hahaha." The High Priest chuckled. "Foden, if you had known how to fight wars back then too, I would have let your eyes stay on the top of your head without ever having to lower them."
"Then I can't call him little Foden anymore. I should change my own moniker to little Karen."
"You, really, making jokes out of everything." The High Priest patted Foden on the shoulder. "I'm worried that if I say any more, I'll make you resent him, and once the war ends, you'll find an excuse to bump him off."
"You... you jest..."
"Heh heh heh, just joking, just a joke. Daan likes him very much and wants to promote him further to lead a core army group."
"Then you must never transfer him to Daan! When the war is over, you have to give him back to me."
"What's yours is yours. Let's not pressure him; let him choose for himself."
"Let him choose? No, High Priest, how could that be..."
"Let's see whether he chooses us, or chooses the Temple."
Foden: "..."
"Didn't expect that, did you? He's on the Temple's candidate list too."
"This subordinate has failed in his duties; I did not uncover this intelligence. Primarily, Karen is just so young."
"What does that indicate?" Norton swung. *Crack!* As the ball flew into the distance, he continued, "It indicates that our Temple believes I will live a very long life."
"This subordinate will make arrangements."
"No, no need. Do not interfere. Since the Temple has prepared a list, it saves us trouble. We can look through this list together and see if there is anyone we favor. Who knows, there might be, which saves us the effort."
"Yet nearly everyone on the Temple's list favors the Temple."
"What does that matter? Have you forgotten what my nickname was before I was confirmed as the next High Priest after Rasma?
"No, what was the moniker for our entire faction, led by me?
"Heh heh heh...
"Back then,
"many in the church called us... the most loyal 'running dogs of the Temple.'"
***
Rojia City.
Mason was wheeling his father, Diss, out for a stroll in the sun. His father remained sound asleep with closed eyes, while Mason chattered continuously—about himself, his wife, the children, and the family funeral parlor—all those trivial, everyday affairs.
In the past, he had hardly dared say much in front of his father; now that his father slept endlessly, he found himself talking more and more.
"It's just Karen... The kid hasn't written in a long time or called. His work in Wien must be pretty busy."
Just then, Mason spotted Rasma sitting on a bench by the river and greeted him warmly.
"Hey, Father Rasma!"
Rasma didn't respond as usual. He held a newspaper in his hands, and if Mason's gaze could pierce through the paper, he would have seen Father Rasma's livid, ashen face beneath it.
The power of Order was forbidden from entering Rojia City, but people from other churches were not subject to this restriction. Occasionally, figures from other church circles came and went through Rojia City, sometimes bringing church newspapers with them.
Though Rasma could not actively initiate contact with the outside world, he could still glean outside news by "mooching."
Previously, he could only see news of Karen in the *Order Weekly*.
Well, well... Now he didn't even need the *Order Weekly*. It seemed that no matter which church's newspaper he browsed, reports on Karen were everywhere.
Not long ago, a young priestess from the Church of the Earth, traveling with her mentor, had spent a night at a hotel near the Rojia City railway station. Rasma had gone mooching again.
Inside the young priestess's luggage, he discovered an exquisite box packed full of newspaper clippings about Karen and love letters written to him.
Had Rasma not been barred from actively initiating contact with church circles, he would have dearly loved to haul that sleeping young priestess out of bed and interrogate her:
"Have you forgotten that your Church of the Earth is at war with Order?!"
Right now, what Rasma held in his hands was the latest copy of *Principles Daily* he had mooched.
The Church of Principles had not joined the confrontation between the two major camps in the desert, remaining neutral. Thus, reports in *Principles Daily* were favored by those following the war, given their relative objectivity.
This paper published in detail the glorious victories recently achieved by Order's Ninth Army Group. Only now did Rasma learn that Karen had not only become Commander of the Whip of Order Legion, but was also an Army Group Commander. *Principles Daily* even predicted that Karen would receive further promotions from the Order Knights' Command.
Rasma licked his lips and clutched his chest.
In the eyes of outsiders, Karen's rate of advancement was already astonishing; but because Rasma's news was pieced together intermittently through mooching, from his perspective Karen's meteoric rise was nothing short of terrifying!
Did this kid inherit the monstrous cultivation breakthrough talent of his grandfather's youth and channel it entirely into church career advancement?
"Phew..."
Rasma couldn't help but sigh with relief:
"Thank goodness I'm close to succeeding; the day I get out isn't far off. Otherwise, at this rate, if that kid were given another ten years... wouldn't he end up sitting in the High Priest's seat?!"
Chapter 804