Foden, He's Just Like I Used to Be

After stepping out of the military tent, Karen took out his cigarette case, pulled out two cigarettes, and casually handed one to the adjutant beside him. "Uh... thank you, my Lord." Flattered by the gesture, the adjutant took it with both hands. There was a vast difference between the military and outside bureaucratic departments. The first secretary to the Whip-Wielder could command immense status and influence in the outside world, but Daan's adjutant dared not flaunt his status in the army. The former had plenty of gray areas to exploit, whereas the latter... what was the latter going to do, forge military orders? Having just faced a temple elder and then been stimulated by the silver ring, his hunger addiction showed faint signs of stirring awake. Karen needed to suppress it in advance. The adjutant took the initiative to light Karen's cigarette, then lit his own and took a drag. "Gag... Cough, cough, cough!" Tears and snot immediately streamed down his face, his body swaying as he nearly tumbled to the ground. Cigarettes from the Church of Thunder would put anyone in such a state if caught unprepared for that sudden puff. Moreover, knowing that his young master used this tobacco to suppress his hunger addiction, the thoughtful Alfred had long since used black market channels to swap them for the highest-grade, most potent variety. Since Karen was already used to it, he hardly noticed. Fortunately, the adjutant quickly recovered, wiped his face, forced himself to stand steady, and said, "My Lord, let me take you to rest first. Dinner will be served shortly." "All right." The adjutant led Karen into an empty tent. Karen sat down after entering, while the adjutant washed his face and seemed to take some medicine. Once he had pulled himself together, the adjutant said with some embarrassment, "My apologies, my Lord. I disgraced myself in front of you." "No, I should have warned you beforehand. It was my oversight." Just as the adjutant was about to pour tea for Karen, Daina walked in. She stopped him, poured water for Karen herself, and even added ice cubes. Seeing this, the young adjutant's expression stiffened slightly. "Xinawei, go attend to your duties. You're not needed here." "Yes, Miss Daina." The adjutant walked out, his eyes lingering pointedly on the cigarette case Karen had left on the coffee table before he left. Perhaps right now, he wanted another smoke. Karen asked, "Are you two close?" "I grew up in military camps. Xinawei is my uncle's personal adjutant. A few years ago, he was responsible for looking after my daily life." "I see." Karen could tell that Xinawei probably had feelings for Daina, but Karen was not one to pry into or tease subordinates about their personal love lives, so he didn't pursue the topic. Lifting his glass, he took a sip of iced water, swirling the glass as he watched the ice and water float and mix. When he had first stepped out of the military tent, Karen had instinctively found it somewhat absurd and laughable. Was this how ideological and political inclinations were tested? It was simple, perfunctory, and utterly irresponsible. Yet now, having calmed down a little, Karen realized there was actually nothing wrong with doing it that way. The only reason he had felt that way before was because he had viewed it from his own standing. Whether it was the High Priest or the temple, their status within the hierarchy of the Church of Order was absolutely transcendent—so transcendent that they only had rivals, not so-called natural enemies. Did they need to ascertain your political inclination? No, they didn't. All they wanted was an attitude. From their perspective, whether you were round, flat, wide, or tall mattered not in the least, because they could knead and mold you into whatever shape they desired. If you chose the High Priest's camp, you would inevitably be altered by that camp; likewise, if you chose the temple, the same would apply. The temple was the undefeated contestant spanning two epochs since the church's founding; The High Priest's faction was the winning team from the last round of competition; They were not like the loose alliance of the Academic Faction, which was easy to enter, and where as long as you were still doing well when you left, they would still show you respect. In fact, Karen could previously have chosen the Academic Faction as a transitional stepping stone, but now he no longer had that option. His status had risen, and his weight had grown. Even if he dared to make the leap, no one else would dare take him in. What happened to those who betrayed the temple went without saying. And what happened to those who betrayed the High Priest... Karen glanced at Daina, who was handing him a wet towel. Her father was living proof. "Corps Commander, wipe your face." "Mm, thanks." Wiping his face with the wet towel made him feel much refreshed, clearing his head. Why would the temple send a temple elder to personally sound him out? Karen didn't think his true identity had been exposed. The reason was simple: if his identity had been exposed, the standard of reception would hardly be this low. Besides, before resolving the issue with his grandfather, even if the temple had discovered his identity, they wouldn't be so foolish as to intentionally beat the grass and startle the snake. Yet right now, he shouldn't qualify for such high regard from the temple, especially when the question posed was such a high-level, sensitive inquiry as who between the temple and the High Priest could guide the church. "I must be... one among a group of candidates?" "Corps Commander?" "I'm fine." "Oh, sorry." Daina stuck out her tongue and sat down beside him, not disturbing Karen's thoughts, though she still stole glances at him. She had always had feelings for Karen before, though not of a romantic sort. While she had thought this man was very good-looking the first time she saw him, she was, after all, the High Priest's adopted daughter and had grown up in the cavalry legions from childhood; handsome men held little special appeal for her. The main reason her one-sided affection had heated up was the time she spent following Karen to the front line. She couldn't help it—she naturally admired commander figures. Furthermore, once Daan exposed the matter with his comment about the High Priest bestowing marriage, all her past petty grievances, irritation, anger, and discontent had bubbled up at once, unexpectedly brewing into a touch of sweetness. If only he worked in the cavalry legions in the future, she could continue serving as his adjutant and moonlighting as his lover. Probably not even Daan could have imagined that his warning had actually turned into a suggestion. After taking another sip of iced water, Karen declined Daina's gesture to refill his cup. In truth, this questioning had not caused him much trouble. Many people would be extremely cautious when choosing sides, because the cost of trial and error was not only one's political life, but sometimes the lives and fortunes of oneself and one's family. Karen had no such worries, nor could he simply close his eyes and pick a side to stand on to the death. Because of his own unique nature, he was naturally destined to become a pole in his own right. If he were truly determined to become someone's lackey, not only would he fail the followers and believers who placed their faith in him, but he would also bring shame to the one seated with his back to this epoch. Swaying between left and right to maximize his own interests held no psychological burden for Karen. In his eyes, these were merely methods of development. What he needed to ensure was that regardless of how his methods shifted, he never forgot to cultivate his core power base and maintain maximum autonomy within it. Just like the Yorktown Region right now... The adjutant returned to announce the start of dinner. Karen and Daina proceeded to Daan's command tent. Meals were served individually. Daan sat at the head table, with Vice Commander Salfo seated to his side. Below them were four tables, three of which were occupied by two men and one woman; the remaining empty one belonged to Karen. When Karen entered and prepared to take his seat, the three armored figures already seated stood up and bowed their heads to Karen. Although they didn't address him by a specific title, their actions conceded that Karen ranked above them. Salfo began the introductions. "Anluna Bosen, commander of the 17th Regular Regiment." Anluna saluted Daan and Salfo. By secular standards of beauty, she could by no means be called pretty. Short in stature with coarse, dark skin, she looked like a wild boar freshly charged down from the mountains. Although rude to describe a lady that way, it was remarkably apt. Karen noticed that the armor she wore was inscribed with seven layers of array patterns. To accommodate so many layers of array patterns on armor, the thickness and resulting weight had to be at least a dozen times that of ordinary armor. This alone demonstrated the terrifying power of her physique. She was undoubtedly a formidable female warrior; compared to her, Ophelia, who had once loved wearing heavy armor and wielding the Sword of Areus, was like a pocket-sized doll. Not surprising... she was a commander of a regular regiment, neither in the same age bracket nor on the same level as Ophelia. Salfo continued, "Sadingman Pangbaier, commander of the 18th Regular Regiment." Sadingman was slender. Though clad in armor with a sword at his waist, Karen noticed the silver bracelets on both his wrists—array master ritual implements whose function was similar to the Key to the Rubik's Cube, used to aid an array master in calculations. A commander didn't necessarily have to be the fiercest warrior in a legion; in fact, the attributes of a spellcaster often made it easier to grasp the big picture and direct command. "Pulisi Gulachi, newly appointed commander of the 12th Regular Regiment." On the skin left exposed by Pulisi's armor, totem tattoos were clearly visible—patterns of monster beasts. Like Ashley, he was likely a summoner. After the former commander of the 12th Regular Regiment was dismissed, his vice commander had temporarily acted in the post. It seemed that vice commander had missed his chance to make it permanent; the new commander had already been decided. Salfo pointed to Karen and said, "Karen Silva, Commander of the Ninth Army Group, your corps commander." Anluna, Sadingman, and Pulisi formally saluted Karen: "Greetings, my Lord." "Greetings, my Lord." Karen returned their salute. Daina had been right: Daan's style was indeed brisk and straightforward—promoting when promotion was due, without any nonsense. Of course, this likely also had something to do with the interrogation Karen had undergone from the fake temple elder. Daan raised a hand. "You must all be hungry. Let's eat." Everyone took their seats and began dining. The meal was simple: before each person was a large slab of roasted meat from an unidentified monster beast, accompanied by a vegetable salad and a bowl of sweet soup. Daina took the initiative to cut Karen's meat for him, dipping it in sauce and arranging it neatly on his plate—exceedingly considerate. Daan noticed this, but with so many people present, it was inconvenient to say anything. He could tell that his adoptive daughter had fallen for this young corps commander. In the past, not only would he not have minded, but he would have been delighted. After all, he wouldn't have to worry about his son-in-law mistreating his adoptive daughter; as long as he and the High Priest drew breath, no such thing would ever happen. The problem was that the arranged marriage had been pushed back by Foden, and the High Priest had retracted the idea, which meant this could no longer happen in reality. Karen had already established an image of deep devotion and marital commitment; he couldn't turn around and marry the High Priest's adoptive daughter. That was impossible. As long as Karen had an ounce of sense, he would never do such a thing. Daan spoke: "Regarding the deployment of the Ninth Army Group, I currently have two ideas and would like to hear what our Corps Commander Karen thinks." Hearing this, Karen set down his utensils and signaled Daina that she didn't need to serve him more food. "One is to deploy the Ninth Army Group toward the center of my battle line to participate in the advance operations alongside the main army groups. The other is to station you in a remote sector, where you will need to stand on your own and deal with the enemy situation there. Karen, which one do you choose?" "My Lord, I would like to know which is harder?" "The first is harder, but the second is more complicated." The main frontal battlefield was certainly the hardest; after all, facing your main forces would surely be the strongest units of the Allied forces. However, the situation on the flanking battlefields was the most complicated, often requiring limited forces to maintain the conditions needed for the overarching campaign. Karen said, "My Lord, I am willing to go wherever you most wish me to be, and I guarantee that I will accomplish the mission you assign me." "Then let it be the second," Daan said with a smile. "I hope you will continue to achieve gratifying success on the flanking front, just as before." "Yes, my Lord." Karen accepted the orders. In truth, this was what he wanted as well. On a flanking battlefield, he would enjoy the greatest autonomy, fighting however he pleased according to his own will. The downside was... if things went poorly or roughly, it could easily turn into a stalemated slog. Still... previously, he could only command a single Whip of Order legion. Now, counting the Ninth Army Group's original 12th Regular Regiment and the addition of two more regular regiments, with no militia regiments dragging him down, the strength of the army group in his hands had undeniably received a massive boost. He trusted in his own ability... well, he trusted in Neo's ability. "The Zuomaisi Mountains have been mired in a stalemate for quite some time. I plan to rotate the troops there out and have your units take over. If possible, I hope to see a breakthrough on that front soon." "Understood, my Lord." Karen was certain now: the so-called choice hadn't existed at all. Daan had already picked out the new battlefield for him. Still, this wasn't bad. Rather than playing support for ace army groups possessing cavalry legions on the frontal battlefield, it was far better to rack up military merits across other fronts, where he could maintain a stronger presence. Furthermore, going to more places allowed him to unearth more resources. For example, production was already being restored in the mines beneath the Chiya Grand Canyon; a portion of the ore would be funneled into the Yorktown Region, serving as a slush fund for Alfred and the others to advance their reforms. Yet that trickle of steady income couldn't quench his immediate thirst. Visiting more locations would also make grave-robbing much easier. Yes, indeed—even now, Karen had not forgotten his original aspiration. Next came the meal. Aside from Karen, all of them were career soldiers who ate at rapid speed. When Daan laid down his fork and knife, the others—whether finished or not—put down their utensils and sat up straight. "That will be all." Karen and the others stood and took their leave. After stepping out of the command tent, the three regiment commanders formed up before Karen, waiting for their new direct superior to address them—a standard procedure. However, their new superior's handling of the procedure caught them somewhat by surprise, and smiles appeared on all their faces. "Everyone, compile a list of the military supplies your respective regiments need replenished and send it to me in a report. I'll have our Whip-Wielder help push them through for all of us." *** Augie's frost dragon form soared out of the frozen pool. After circling above, she opened her maw and channeled frost power downward, plummeting the temperature to a terrifying extreme. The Whip-Wielder lay in the frozen pool, the icy liquid around him congealing into a gel-like consistency under the extreme cold. After a long silence, the Whip-Wielder opened his eyes. Augie ceased releasing her power. Her draconic form descended to the pool's edge, her eyes reflecting concern. Her relationship with the Whip-Wielder resembled master and servant, or pet, but indisputably, in Augie's heart, the Whip-Wielder had always played the role of a traditional, stern father. "Your condition is growing worse." The cold poison inside the Whip-Wielder could only be relieved by freezing, but it could not truly be cured; in fact, doing so would only worsen the affliction. Foden paid no heed to her concern. Stepping out of the pool, he gently stretched his body, and the ice crystals on him immediately dissipated. What he did not know, however, was that not long ago, beneath the Secretariat Temple, the giant tortoise had spoken the exact same words to the High Priest. The office door opened, and Miguel—bundled in heavy clothing lined with fire-attribute crystal warming sheets—walked in holding a report and set it on the desk. Foden picked up the report and flicked a hand at Miguel. As if granted a general pardon, Miguel hurried out of the office; lingering any longer, his very soul would have shattered from the cold. This report recorded the temple's contacts with individuals on the candidate list, with many conversations transcribed verbatim. This was the most terrifying aspect of the Whip of Order: the system's tentacles reached even into the temple itself. In the past, they had exercised tremendous restraint, but when it came to the candidates, the High Priest had personally issued orders, making the investigation unprecedentedly rigorous. Those aloof temple elders were hardly people to handle mundane chores; they required scores of attendants to serve them and carry out their will, which gave the Whip of Order immense room to maneuver. This report had appeared on Foden's desk perhaps even before those temple elders had a chance to read it themselves. When Foden reached the section on Karen, his brow instantly furrowed: "I believe the High Priest is the steward tasked with serving the temple." "As a believer of Order, I will defend the authority of the High Priest with my life." Foden couldn't help swearing: "That clever fool Daan—wasting effort on a pointless test, only for the kid to see right through it!" Then, Foden smiled. He recalled that the High Priest had recently been referring to Karen as "Little Foden." He muttered to himself, "Our little No..." In the end, he didn't dare speak the true name aloud, so he changed phrasing: "Daan, did you think your crude tricks could fool our Little Priest?" After saying this, a flush rose on Foden's frozen face as an indescribable thrill and excitement invigorated his blood circulation. Immediately, Foden pressed the desk bell, and Miguel, wrapped in his thick garments, scurried back inside. Foden picked up a pen, blacked out the record regarding Karen from the temple report, handed it to Miguel, and said, "Remake it and send it to the Secretariat Temple." "Yes, Whip-Wielder." Miguel took the report and hurried out again. In the report the High Priest would receive, there would be no record of the temple's questioning of Karen—only his response to Daan's test. Foden didn't do this to pave the way for Karen or shield him from danger; he wasn't that considerate, nor would he be that generous to Karen. Nor was he afraid the High Priest would be angry upon seeing both answers; the High Priest was a broad-minded man. By Foden's estimation, not only would the High Priest not be angry, he would burst out laughing. The reason he did this was that one lie must be sustained and patched by more lies. He could conceal things from the High Priest, and the High Priest allowed him to keep secrets, on one condition... don't get caught. Therefore, what Foden didn't want to see was the High Priest finishing his laugh and saying to him: "How does this kid take after you? He's just like I used to be..."