When Daina walked into the command tent, she saw Karen bent over a military map with a ruler and pen, deep in his work.
Beside Karen stood Lister and Old White. Stacks of files and documents hovered and circled around them; wherever Karen pointed or asked a question, they immediately produced the relevant data.
The sight left Daina slightly dazed for a moment. Her mind flashed back to her childhood, when she used to play in Uncle Daan's military tent.
Karen straightened up, frowning.
The battle concept had already formed, and the operational plan had been finalized. What Karen had just been doing was merely running through another sand-table deduction himself.
The result weighed heavily on his mind.
Compared to his previous battles that had ended in victory with negligible casualties, in this upcoming engagement—even if the assault force capitalized on the Spear of Sin's moment of silence to capture the enemy's core sector—the final toll in casualties would not be small.
After all, by its very nature, this was not a conventional offensive or defensive battle at all; the garrison on the opposing side was equal in overall strength to his own.
"*Sigh*..."
At this level, one truly had to adapt to viewing casualties as pure numbers. Paradoxically, this brand of cold-bloodedness was the true mercy to the vast majority of the legion.
Seeing Karen finish, Daina spoke up. "Commander, dinner is ready."
Karen waved his hand. "I won't eat. Pass the order to convene a regimental commanders' meeting."
"Yes, Commander!"
"No, never mind."
Daina halted, awaiting Karen's final decision.
"Let's have dinner. I'm hungry."
"Understood, Commander."
While Karen was eating, Neo walked in. He did not rush to disturb Karen at his meal, instead propping his hands on the edge of the map table and leaning down to examine Karen's deduction markings.
"You really aren't planning to hold back at all. By the way, have you briefed the other three corps commanders on the core plan?"
"No."
"Then don't tell them. Let them fight as if it's the genuine general offensive. If you tell them, even if they don't consciously mean to, their command instincts will inevitably lean toward conserving strength."
"That was precisely my concern."
"And a fair concern it is. Those three legions were just transferred to the army group; they're not your direct line like the Whip of Order Legion. Sometimes, when a deception is called for, you have to deceive." Neo grinned as he spoke. "They need to fight with everything they have to make the act convincing. If their acting is sloppy and the other side sees through it, I'm done for."
Just then, Daina hurried into Karen's command tent. Assuming she had come to clear the dishes, Karen set down his cutlery.
"Commander, an official dispatch from the Whip of Order. The Whip-Wielder will be arriving tomorrow morning to inspect and offer his regards to our unit."
"Hmm?"
Karen's first reaction was that he had misheard. Since coming to the front lines, the Whip-Wielder had never contacted him directly through a private line, nor had he issued any directives to him; only Miguel would occasionally send over regards.
In this respect, the Whip-Wielder had always been consummate in his professionalism, showing zero desire to micromanage or interfere from afar.
Why had he suddenly arrived at the front lines, and why was he coming specifically to Karen's Ninth Army Group?
Only after Daina repeated it did Karen confirm it was true.
As the night deepened, the surrounding circumstances gradually became clear.
It turned out that in the name of pursuing peace and seeking a ceasefire, the Church of the Desert and the Desert Church had initiated a new round of negotiations today.
However, the representatives of the Church of the Desert and the Desert Church were not even qualified to enter the conference room. Throughout the entire meeting, both sets of representatives sat facing each other on benches outside the doorway.
The ones actually negotiating inside were the representatives of Order and the representatives of the allied coalition.
Yet obviously, neither side intended to halt the fighting right now; they were merely going through the motions to don the mantle of peace-lovers.
If Order truly sought a ceasefire, it wouldn't have dispatched the Whip-Wielder to head the negotiations. That was akin to having the Minister of Agriculture handle educational affairs.
Initially, the meeting had carried a very high level of secrecy. Now that the session had commenced, the information had finally been declassified.
And since the High Priest had dispatched the Whip-Wielder here, he would certainly have instructed him to inspect the front lines as well. On that premise, if the Whip-Wielder deliberately avoided visiting the Whip of Order Legion, people would instead claim he was being overly contrived.
Karen said to Muri, "Since the boss is coming, let's prepare a proper reception."
"Yes, Commander. I will make the arrangements."
Neo chewed on an unlit cigarette and asked, "Should we postpone the general offensive originally scheduled for tomorrow?"
Karen shook his head without hesitation. "We can't postpone it. That noblewoman holds an extraordinary status on the other side. I worry that delaying might trigger a chain reaction and cause unforeseen complications with the Spear of Sin."
Neo chuckled. "Then when the Whip-Wielder arrives tomorrow, won't it turn into inviting him to spectate the battle?"
"Spectating is fine. Wouldn't that count as the highest specification of hospitality?"
"Think about how you wrested this post from the Whip-Wielder in the first place. Tell me, aren't you afraid he'll slap you flat tomorrow and feed you to his dragon?"
"He won't."
"Maybe that's precisely why he'll be even angrier."
"Once you stay angry long enough, you get used to it."
"Heh, what a pity I died in the line of duty. Otherwise, I'd really look for a chance to offer some counsel to the Whip-Wielder."
"Hmm?"
"Being your superior has always been a high-risk occupation. At the very least, someone ought to urge the Whip-Wielder to take better care of his health."
...
As the conference entered its next phase, two staff members stepped out of the chamber to pass word to the two delegations from the desert factions waiting outside.
The opposing representatives finally ended their visual death match. Straightening their divine robes as they rose, they filed into the conference room.
The chamber was immense, divided into two flanks. The Church of the Desert representatives proceeded to the coalition's side, while the Desert Church representatives took their places on Order's side.
The conference had been convened under their names. Only after Order and the coalition completed their round of substantive discussions were they summoned inside to conclude the proceedings.
Though they were ostensibly the protagonists of this war, they had essentially reduced themselves to mere ceremonial hostesses.
Derius, the successor of the Church of Pamires, had once challenged Karen: *Do weak churches not even have the right to freedom of faith?*
Yet the eternal, unchanging rule of this world was: weakness was the original sin.
Light remnants, Mural God remnants, and all manner of other remnant factions annexed and hunted by orthodox churches, along with the worship of false gods and evil deities... all pointed to a single reality: if you lacked a mighty church at your back, you weren't even qualified to claim freedom of faith.
The former number-two figure of the Church of the Desert had been captured alive by Karen's Whip of Order Legion, but their number-one figure remained active.
At this moment, he stood up. In that brief motion of rising, he had already orchestrated his emotions; his eyes welled with moisture, and the moment he stood firm, warm tears flowed with impeccable timing.
Behind him, the coalition representatives adjusted their expressions, preparing to support the Church of the Desert leader's performance.
Meanwhile, faint smirks appeared on the lips of Order's representatives, and several openly grinned.
The leader of the Church of the Desert said in a trembling, emotional voice:
"Now, I ask that everyone present stand and observe three minutes of silent mourning for the desert believers who died under the ruthless suppression of the Desert Church."
On the coalition side, many representatives rose to their feet.
On Order's side, everyone habitually turned their gaze toward the Whip-Wielder seated at the head of the table.
A cigar was pinched between the Whip-Wielder's fingers. Far from standing, he didn't even spare a glance at the performer.
Naturally, not a single person on Order's side stood.
Across the aisle, several coalition representatives had been slower to rise. Seeing that Order offered not the slightest reaction, delegates from denominations like the Church of Samsara and the Moon God Church either stopped half-bent or lowered their heads to pretend they were absorbed in reading documents, feigning deafness to the call to stand.
This was the coalition's true state. Though they had assembled numerous orthodox churches and even more subordinate faiths to confront Order, their alliance was exceedingly loose—so loose that even while many churches deployed forces to battle Order in the desert sands, they still dared not openly challenge Order's majesty on the surface.
At this point, the representative of the Church of the Night spoke up. "My poor Pansenluofu did not even single you out by name; he was merely denouncing the Desert Church. I would think that Order believers, who proclaim all are equal beneath Order, would stand to mourn those who perished."
Foden rested his cigar against the edge of an ashtray and said, "Now, three minutes of silence for all those who, since the dawn of this era, have died for the establishment of the Code of Order."
With that, Foden stood.
The representatives of Order, along with its affiliated churches and subordinate factions, all rose swiftly alongside the Whip-Wielder.
On the coalition side, the three minutes of silent mourning had already elapsed, yet few chose to sit. Those who previously hadn't stood or had remained half-bent now seemed to suffer from delayed hearing; unsure of which side's mourning they were answering, they all stood up.
The atmosphere in the chamber turned peculiar.
When the time was up, Foden sat down, followed by a rustle of seating across the room.
Even the leader of the Church of the Desert, who had stood before, now sat back down.
Had Order sent any other representative, his desire to perform would have been far stronger. But Order had sent the Whip-Wielder, and he... was afraid.
For he understood clearly that if he truly incurred the wrath of this Whip-Wielder, the man genuinely possessed the authority and capability to order the Whip of Order apparatus to carry out a targeted assassination and take his head.
Next came the concluding statements before the meeting adjourned.
The representative of the Church of Life spoke for the coalition side: "Order was the first to enter this theater. Therefore, Order being the first to withdraw is the only true prerequisite for peace.
"Furthermore, in this war, every church has suffered losses to varying degrees, with numerous casualties. Their compensation and pensions ought to be borne by Order.
"I believe this is also an indispensable way for Order to display its sincerity for peace and to dissolve the hatred born of this war."
Foden did not rise. Leaning back slightly in his seat, he replied directly:
"My Church of Order entered the desert to uphold the Code of Order. The prerequisite for peace is for my Church of Order to determine that the desert soil no longer breeds violations of the Code of Order, and that all transgressors have been rooted out. Only upon confirming this will Order withdraw from these sands.
"In addition, I grieve for your church's casualties. Their demands should indeed be met, and I agree this is a necessary way to dissolve the hatred of war.
"Therefore, please have your esteemed church provide the pensions and compensation to your casualties on Order's behalf. That way, the hatred shall be resolved."
"You..." The Church of Life representative flushed crimson with rage, reflexively pointing a finger at the Whip-Wielder at the head of the opposing table. "Is Order not being far too tyrannical and overbearing? Do you truly hold no regard for the rest of our churches?"
Foden smiled faintly.
"What we are discussing here today are matters concerning the desert. If anyone wishes to extend the desert's conflicts beyond its borders, my Church of Order welcomes it.
"And now,
"I must put a formal inquiry to the representative of the Church of Life:
"Is the Church of Life questioning the Church of Order's duty to uphold the Code of Order?"
Across the coalition seating, expressions of schadenfreude surfaced on many representatives' faces.
Granted, Order alone, even with its affiliated churches and factions, could not wage war against the entire ecclesiastical circle. Yet the ecclesiastical circle could never unite closely enough to confront Order either. Even if such an idealized scenario came to pass and Order fell under a collective offensive, Order still had the strength to drag one, two, or even three rival camps down into the grave with it before its demise. No church was willing to serve as that sacrificial cushion.
The Church of Life representative finally gritted his teeth. "The Church of Life respects the Church of Order's duty to uphold the Code of Order."
With that, he sat down. He desperately wanted to deliver a scathing retort; no diplomatic priest enjoyed such humiliation. But he knew he lacked the authority to represent his church in formally initiating outright hostilities against Order beyond the desert.
Foden rose and left, and Order's delegation filed out in orderly succession.
On the coalition side, many representatives remained in their seats watching the scene. From their departure alone, it was evident how methodically and strictly Order disciplined its faction.
"Gentlemen, continue handling the follow-up contacts and negotiations. My mission here is complete, so I shall take my leave. Before my departure, the High Priest specifically instructed me to inspect and offer regards to the front lines."
The assembled representatives bowed to Foden. Foden returned a smiling nod and boarded his carriage. The moment Miguel closed the door, the smile on Foden's face vanished entirely.
He had not wanted to come here, for sending him was purely a "waste of time." But it was the High Priest's command, and he had no choice but to comply.
Miguel took a blanket and draped it over the Whip-Wielder's knees. Beside them, Augie subconsciously shifted slightly away.
She felt rather awkward; as the master of a frost dragon like herself, he was actually sensitive to the cold.
"Whip-Wielder, notice has already been dispatched to the Ninth Army Group. We are about to teleport to the logistics supply base closest to them."
Foden nodded, closed his eyes, and began to rest.
Once the carriage teleported to its destination, Augie stepped down. After signaling the priests who had gathered to pay homage to clear the way, she transformed into her dragon form, hoisted the carriage carrying the Whip-Wielder onto her back, and took flight toward the Ninth Army Group's position.
At the thought of soon seeing Karen... no, Miss Daina again, Augie actually felt a flicker of excitement in her heart.
...
"Say, should I arrange for the falcon knights to intercept the Whip-Wielder from that direction?"
Karen looked at Neo. "To do what?"
"'Without military orders, outsiders may not enter.' Hold the line and refuse to let the Whip-Wielder through, helping you forge an impression of strict military discipline."
"Do you think I'm not dying fast enough?"
"Hardly! Wouldn't that earn you extra points? Or, once the Whip-Wielder arrives and convenes a meeting of the army group's commanders, I can pass word in advance: when he tells everyone to sit, nobody sits, everyone remains standing. Then you chime in: 'Be seated,' and only then does everyone sit down. How does that sound?"
"Heh, who do you think the commanders of those three regular legions will listen to? Even within our Whip of Order Legion, apart from our direct subordinates, people like my uncle will still obey the Whip-Wielder's orders."
"There's always a way; it just depends on whether you want the spotlight. That female reporter is still in our camp, after all. Perfect for a candid photo feature."
"A candid photo for my obituary?"
"Don't be so pessimistic."
"Foden tolerates me, oversees logistics for me from behind, and helps build momentum for me because in certain respects, he and I are the same: he holds the broader interests of Order in his heart, and he is willing to compromise for Order's overall welfare.
"Are you trying to force him to abandon his principles just to pull me down?"
"Just a joke."
"You've been getting a bit erratic lately. Are you sure you can still lead the assault force?"
"Someone who isn't entirely right in the head is actually better suited for that post, aren't they?"
"Go urge the legions into their battlefield positions. I'll go receive the Whip-Wielder."
"Fine, go ahead."
Karen looked at Kanna. Transforming into a bone dragon, Kanna carried Karen into the sky.
Before long, two high-blooded dragons, one large and one small, met in midair.
Though Augie was larger in build, Kanna was not outmatched in aura.
"Let's land, Kanna."
Kanna reverted to human form and landed on Augie's back alongside Karen.
Miguel stepped down from the carriage and smiled at Karen. Karen returned the smile and boarded the carriage.
The moment he sat down, Karen heard Foden's voice:
"You lied to me."
Even though Karen had prepared himself for a reprimand, hearing such a direct confrontation made the pressure mount sharply.
Nonetheless, Karen swiftly adjusted his mindset, resorting to a cliché yet realistic excuse:
"Whip-Wielder, I am at fault. I thought I could control myself, but... I was still too young."
"Heheheh..."
Such words were normally used by elders lecturing juniors, yet Karen had turned them upon himself. Foden chuckled.
He had originally intended to say much more, planning to give a thorough dressing-down to this young man who had dared to deceive him, pry military authority from his hands, and immediately start running amok at the front lines.
Moreover, such a dressing-down would have afforded him a peculiar pleasure;
There were even plenty of examples he could draw upon. Over the past several decades, after all, he had endured all manner of creative reprimands from that particular individual, giving him an abundance of firsthand experience in being dressed down.
Yet Foden had barely begun:
"Going this far is enough. Moving forward, you need to steady things..."
As he reached this point, Foden looked through the carriage window and saw the neat phalanxes of legions arrayed below.
In this world, no being was truly omniscient or omnipotent. Foden knew nothing of military affairs, so upon seeing this spectacle, he reflexively assumed Karen had arranged it as a grand welcoming reception.
"A bit excessive. You're not usually of such a frivolous temperament."
"Please forgive me. Your prestige in this army is simply too high. Knowing you were arriving to inspect and offer your regards, the entire force was overcome with excitement and fervor."
"Heh."
Foden stood from his seat, stepped out of the carriage, and stood at the edge of the dragon's back, gazing down at the military formation.
Miguel stepped forward and murmured, "Whip-Wielder, this proves you hold a place in everyone's hearts."
Foden said, "All right, that will do."
"Understood, Whip-Wielder."
Karen produced a black paper stamped with his personal seal. The sheet folded itself into a black crow and flew downward.
The order was delivered.
A moment later, instead of withdrawing to camp, all the formations below surged forward, marching outward as the blare of advance war horns resonated across the plain.
Miguel was instantly dumbfounded. "Y-You... Commander Karen, you..."
He could not fathom that this was the welcome ceremony Karen had prepared for the Whip-Wielder.
*Has he lost his mind?!* If anything went awry in the fighting while the Whip-Wielder was here, what kind of political earthquake would it trigger? How would the High Priest and the Holy See view such a maneuver?
This was nothing less than taking the Whip-Wielder politically hostage!
It had been many years since Foden was coerced by a subordinate. Yet he showed neither rage nor anger. His gaze narrowed slightly as he looked at Karen and spoke with utter calm:
"Do you know what consequences await someone if they lose a battle the moment I arrive?"
Karen replied:
"Your subordinate only knows that because you have arrived, this battle is won."
Foden pointed toward the carriage behind him and said, "If you lose this time, I will make you scram back from the front lines to serve as my carriage driver."
Karen lowered his head in silence.
Foden pointed toward the horses pulling the carriage and continued:
"And if you win, I will take the reins off you."
Chapter 811