You Are the Future of the Church

Miguel could not fathom what the Whip-Wielder meant when he spoke to Karen of "removing the reins." In his eyes, the Whip-Wielder had spared no effort in cultivating Karen: not only bringing Karen into his own inner circle, but even handing him the post of army commander, and personally overseeing logistics during the war... Could that truly be called keeping him reined in? Yet, incomprehension aside, it did not stop Miguel from casting an envious look at Karen. Karen kept his head lowered and addressed the Whip-Wielder with utmost deference: "You speak too heavily, sir. I have always felt fortunate and grateful to serve under your command." Miguel thought to himself: *See, not only did I fail to understand, but Commander Karen didn't understand either.* However, Karen's next words made Miguel realize that he was the only one left in the dark. Karen said, "I often feel deeply apologetic and apprehensive, because I know full well that I have cast my own headstrong impulses and youthful brashness upon your grand vision and magnanimity. "At times, I know precisely what consequences my actions will bring, and I know you will be angered by them, yet I still choose to carry them out. What is more, I feel entirely secure that no unpleasant troubles will come my way—because I know that you are not looking out for me; you are looking out for the cause of Order." When a superior acts worldly, you match him in pragmatism; when a superior turns sentimental, you accompany him in refined grace. When Foden uttered the words "carriage driver" and "reins," Karen recognized that the Whip-Wielder wished to close the distance between them. In that case, Karen had to offer words that were considerate, even bordering on shameless flattery. These words were by no means fabricated, nor were they empty sycophancy. After all, even Neo had once asked: *Care to guess whether the Whip-Wielder might strike you dead in a fit of rage?* And the reason Karen dared to push boundaries right up to the edge of what displeased the Whip-Wielder was precisely because he knew the man would prioritize the greater good. *I know my actions will infuriate you, prompting you to curse me in your office, but you will not target me, suppress me, or push me out because of it. So long as I execute my duties brilliantly, you will swallow down every trace of dissatisfaction in your heart to aid and support me.* A hint of bewilderment showed in Miguel's eyes. He had not fully grasped the subtleties of Karen's answer, yet his professional instincts told him that this response was masterfully sophisticated. If before he merely acknowledged that Karen surpassed him in other respects while believing he still held an edge in his own specialty, he now distinctly felt himself being mercilessly crushed in his very own domain. Reflecting carefully upon that answer—was it an admission of fault? Was it a confession of remorse? No, it was nothing less than the purest, most consummate art of flattery. The unspoken meaning was: *Deep down, I am devoted to the cause of Order, and I know you are as well. We resonate with one another, so in my conduct toward you, I can proceed with complete peace of mind, choosing the most direct and beneficial path to advance Order's cause.* Miguel glanced at the Whip-Wielder and saw the corner of the man's mouth curve upward. The Whip-Wielder was smiling. However much resentment and dissatisfaction Foden had harbored toward Karen before, he now felt an equal measure of comfort. What were personal joys, sorrows, or even vanity before a truly monumental cause? He knew he had once again been seen through by this young man, but this time, he did not mind. He truly did not. Because the moment Karen uttered those words, the rigid boundaries of superior and subordinate blurred away unnoticed. It was as though they were partners, comrades striding forward together toward a shared aspiration. It was entirely natural that Miguel did not understand, for this touched upon something greater... vision. Ever since Karen had beheld the God of Order sitting with his back turned to the era, Karen's inner world, his perspective on interpersonal relationships, and even the way he looked at the world had fundamentally shifted. What was there to dispute? What was there to be timidly cautious about? As devoted believers of Order, they clearly had far more important matters to attend to. "Karen, I would love nothing more than to tear you apart. So you had best pray you keep performing brilliantly, giving me reason to find you useful. Special treatment is something I can grant you, on the premise that you continually prove you possess the qualifications to deserve it." "You will see it, sir." "Good. I shall be watching." Foden pointed downward and asked, "Do you not need to go down and direct the battle?" "To answer you, sir: the operational plan has been drawn up with meticulous care, and comprehensive contingencies have been prepared. The coming assault will proceed step-by-step according to schedule. Unless some exceptional circumstance arises beyond those contingency plans, I have no need to issue additional commands." "You are not staying just to keep me company?" Karen replied, "Forgive me, sir. In my view, fighting this battle is far more important than keeping you company." "Fair enough. Miguel, set up a table here. Since our commander has some free time, let him sit beside me and explain the battle as it unfolds. Let me witness for myself what kind of war this truly is. "However, let us agree on one thing beforehand..." Foden looked toward Karen. "My only role here is to observe. Whatever I say later, do not let it sway you. I do not meddle as an amateur in an expert's domain." "Understood, sir. Please rest assured." Miguel retrieved a small table and chairs from the carriage, setting out the refreshments and wine. Once Foden sat down, Karen took a seat beside him, while Miguel stood by to pour the wine. The sight filled the chief secretary with a wave of emotion. Who could have imagined that not long ago, this very young man had required his deliberate introductions and arrangements just to secure private time with the Whip-Wielder, yet now sat alongside him purely by virtue of his own ability and status? Karen told little Kanna beside him, "Go up front and guide Augie on how to fly." "Okay!" Little Kanna hopped and bounded over to the dragon's head. Resting one hand on Augie's horn, she squatted down and patted the dragon's forehead. "Big, clumsy dragon, fly the way I tell you. Don't fly around aimlessly, or we might get shot down!" Karen reflected that, as a mascot and morale booster, the Whip-Wielder's frost dragon was certainly far more effective than his own little bone dragon. At the very least, he no longer had to worry about the three regular corps holding back their strength. Within the Church of Order, no one dared to deceive the Whip-Wielder unless they were prepared to face the Order Judgment Court. While the battlefield was still being laid out, Karen explained the current force dispositions of both sides to the Whip-Wielder, analyzing their respective advantages and disadvantages. Foden listened attentively, chiming in with questions from time to time. He did not mind displaying his "ignorance" before his subordinate. Of course, that openness was limited strictly to this setting, and strictly to Karen at this moment. It resembled a private tour: the Whip-Wielder was the visiting traveler, and Karen was the guide. Throughout the explanation, Karen struck the right balance between detail and brevity, highlighting engaging elements where appropriate. He knew Foden lacked military expertise and held a mindset similar to Karen's own before first setting foot on a battlefield, allowing Karen to sense precisely what Foden wanted to hear. At last, the battlefield was fully arrayed. Next came the formal clash. The Ninth Army Group launched an offensive toward the Zuomaisi Mountain Range along four avenues, opening with long-range exchanges between both sides. The magic crystal cannons that Order had always prided itself on failed to produce their usual devastating effect against the enemy's fortified defenses. The defenders' fierce counterfire locked both sides into a grueling war of attrition. The precious magic crystal cannon batteries—long regarded as the safest artillery positions—began suffering casualties previously unseen. Even as they detected the enemy's long-range positions and laid down suppressing fire, the enemy was doing the exact same thing to them. Because they could not advance too close to the front lines, the situation on the enemy's side could not be clearly observed, but the constant strikes raining down on their own artillery batteries were plainly visible. Foden remarked, "Did you place our Whip of Order Corps in the position facing the least pressure?" The long-range artillery units of the other three regular corps were suffering heavy casualties, yet directly below them, the Whip of Order Corps was clearly under far less strain. The frequency of incoming attacks on their positions was noticeably lower than on the other three corps, and they maintained a steady, continuous output of fire. Karen explained, "That is primarily because our Whip of Order Corps possesses superior equipment and logistical support. Our artillery batteries have a high allocation of golden-armored dragon turtles, which provide our crews with greater defense and mobility in this kind of artillery duel. "Furthermore, our soldiers possess higher personal caliber, more thorough training, and more advanced tactics. "In truth, the pressure we face is the heaviest, but because we are able to strike the enemy's firing positions with greater precision, it merely looks as though we are suffering the fewest attacks." Hearing this, Foden raised his wine cup and took a sip. Who was responsible for the troops and equipment of the Whip of Order Corps? Seeing such splendid results gave the Whip-Wielder the distinct gratification of an investor—or rather, the pleasure of a patron. Naturally, the Whip-Wielder had no idea that the real reason this artillery battalion possessed such overwhelming firepower was that its bombardment was being directed by an evil god. While the defenders relied on their fortifications, the Whip of Order Corps had Kevin, who held complete battlefield visibility. Some enemy firing positions had planned to conceal themselves or swap locations, yet before they could even open fire, they were methodically neutralized. Over time, what should have been the most heavily fortified central defensive line turned into a one-sided slaughter. Various long-range war machines were hauled up from the rear in a bid to restore firepower parity here just as on the other three fronts, but the rate of replenishment lagged far behind the rate of attrition, turning their efforts into piecemeal reinforcement. Even so, the enemy commanders had already repositioned substantial defensive forces into the bunkers to wait. They understood that since Order had achieved its strongest fire suppression here, the probability of an Order breakthrough along this sector was exceedingly high. At last, the second phase commenced. Although the three regular corps had failed to achieve fire superiority, they pressed forward alongside the Whip of Order Corps in an all-out ground advance against the enemy positions, adhering strictly to the original plan. The battlefield instantly erupted into dazzling, frenzied violence. Brilliant bursts of magic flared, tactical arrays rumbled and crushed, and monster beasts roared fiercely... From that moment on, the entire region seemed plunged into a chaotic expanse of space and time, with heaven and earth violently trembling. Yet this spectacle brought no joy, for its foundation was the rapid devastation and extinction of countless lives of flesh and blood. Even the most precious Order knights were deployed without restraint, launching wave after wave of organized charges against the enemy positions. Seen from high above, they resembled great black earth dragons boring relentlessly through the sprawling mountain range. They were formidable, plunging like razor-sharp blades deep into the enemy's flesh to tear away massive swathes of ground. Yet they were also vulnerable; facing an exquisitely prepared defense, the enemy possessed countless tailored countermeasures capable of inflicting grave losses on the knight battalions. Undead warhorses were cut down one after another, the knights upon their backs disintegrating alongside their exquisite armor. As the assault pressed on, the casualties mounted steadily. Even after driving deep into the enemy's defensive perimeter, the enemy remained far from collapse, and victory for Order seemed nowhere in sight. There was no visible tremor in the Whip-Wielder's hand as he held his wine cup, but ripples stirred across the surface of the wine. Though he lacked military expertise, he could see clearly by now: continuing to fight like this would achieve little tangible progress beyond piling up more casualties. He wondered in bewilderment whether this young man beside him had secured his past, remarkably cost-effective victories through this sort of reckless, all-in gamble. Yet Foden held his tongue. He raised two fingers, and Miguel promptly presented a cigar. When Miguel offered one to Karen, Karen declined. Foden noted, "I recall you smoke." Karen replied, "Whip-Wielder, I cannot smoke right now." Touching his chest, Karen added, "My heart aches too much at the moment." Foden said, "War is simply like this." Having said that, Foden felt a sudden surge of amusement. What did this brat have to feel heartache over? Every bit of what was being consumed was the foundation that Foden himself had painstakingly built up, yet here he was, comforting the young man to take it in stride. *Take it in stride so you can keep squandering my fortunes?* The enemy began gradually pulling back their outer defensive perimeters, adopting layered defense lines to delay and inflict maximum casualties on the attackers. Yet the attacking force continued pouring in their combat strength like a fevered gambler who refused to cut his losses, determined to see it through to the bitter end. The battle raged from morning through the afternoon, drawing near to dusk. Wrecked war machines and mutilated corpses littered the field, yet the intensity of the assaults did not abate; it only continued to escalate. Foden declined Miguel's suggestion of a meal; he had no appetite. Even so, he refrained from intervening in Karen's command, offering not even a word of inquiry. When Karen attempted several times to explain the situation, Foden cut him off directly: "You are the commander. I am merely watching." Karen felt genuinely touched. Such a patron was truly rare in this world, and such a superior was rarer still. Tracing the lineage upward, Karen figured the High Priest must possess a similar character; otherwise, he could never have fostered such an outstanding leadership core that included Foden. When Karen departed Ruilan, Rasma was already imprisoned in the city of Luojia. Thus, Karen had never experienced the Church of Order under Rasma's stewardship, but he felt no regret over it, for he rather liked this Church of Order under Norton's governance. From Cardinal Kred to Corps Commander Daan to the Whip-Wielder, they all shared qualities he could distinctly perceive. Even the rebel Morindi, who had nearly blown him and Neo to pieces, had been preserved in death, her remains kept so she might one day be awakened—for she, too, possessed those same qualities. Against the backdrop of the gods' return, having such a leadership team was a blessing for the Church of Order. ... At the command post in the Zuomaisi Mountain Range, the enemy's supreme commander had kept his brow tightly furrowed until now. His subordinates were overjoyed by Order's seemingly mindless, brute-force offensive, but the gloom in his own heart only deepened. He could not comprehend why Order was fighting in this manner... Yet he was convinced that the remarkably young commander opposite him, who boasted such an illustrious record, was absolutely no fool! Reports from the front lines indicated that a fully grown, adult frost dragon was soaring through the skies. Whose mount that was required little guessing, especially since that very individual had just taken part in the peace negotiations held in the Desert. Therefore, the only plausible explanation the commander could conceive was that the young man, desperate to show off before his supreme superior, had lost his senses. The Whip-Wielder himself had not anticipated that his arrival would create such a misleading impression on the battlefield, serving to some extent to assist and advance Karen's core strategy. Moreover, precisely because of his presence, the three regular corps commanders watched their casualties climb without daring to ask Karen whether this mad offensive should be paused. ... *Crack!* Neo uncorked a bottle of veterinary stimulant potion and poured half of it into the mouth of his undead warhorse. Pausing midway, he raised the bottle and gulped down several mouthfuls himself. "Oh?" A gleam of delighted surprise surfaced in Neo's eyes, as though he had discovered a new frontier. He had long developed a tolerance to human mental stimulants—why had he never thought of trying the veterinary kind before? Behind him stood a fresh detachment that had taken no part in the fighting since the battle began, resting the entire day. Now, they began feeding their warhorses this highly volatile potion with severe side effects, while consuming specialized concoctions of their own. Earl Rekall looked toward Neo, awaiting his command. Earlier, he had cautiously probed Neo several times, but Neo had dismissed him each time, stating the moment was not yet ripe. Earl Rekall did not wish to see his young master's forces continue grinding away in this mountain range. After all, Karen was the son-in-law of the Allen family, and he viewed things from the perspective of an elder—even if he dared not overstep. Neo, however, cared nothing for that. He pursued only absolute victory in a single stroke; otherwise, all the prior sacrifice and expenditure would be rendered meaningless. Finally, Neo drew Karen's Sword of Diamans. There was no pre-battle speech, no grand rally. Simply raising the sword aloft, he spurred his mount forward into a charge. The fresh strike force surged behind him at once, their hooves leaving trails of dense ghostfire across the earth. Like the scythe of the God of Death, they drove straight toward the enemy's heart! The prior stalemate and structured lines collapsed before their advance. This sudden localized breach left the exhausted defenders powerless to resist, forcing them to watch helplessly as the enemy pierced right through their shattered front. Yet this force made no effort to widen the breach or coordinate with the main assault. Unwavering, they drove straight for the core sector! Inside the main command tent, Purr watched a crow fly in and said to Madame Gandiluo beside it, "It can begin." Madame Gandiluo suspended a crystal before Ruiqier. Bathed in its glow, Ruiqier slowly opened her eyes, her gaze entirely vacant. "Place the Spear of Sin into a state of silence." The Laks copper coin on Ruiqier's forehead flared with light, shifting her expression from vacant to dull and blank. She nodded faintly. "Silence..." ... At the enemy command post, the supreme commander of the Church of Laks received the frontline report. In fact, from his vantage point, he could already see the black tide sweeping toward them with his naked eyes. "Is this your final trump card? You truly disappoint me." He had originally expected the young man across the lines to be a formidable adversary and had made careful preparations. Yet in this actual clash, why did he sense only the naivety of youth? Just how foolish were the commanders of the Church of Life and Church of the Earth whom this youth had previously defeated, to have lost so abjectly? "My Lord, enemy attacks from the other directions remain ferocious! Our frontline units on this sector will require time to fall back and reinforce us. Shall we dispatch the reserves to intercept them?" "They are moving too quickly; deploying the reserves would likely fail to halt them anyway. If the two sides become entangled, it will only interfere with the Spear of Sin's power. "Heh. Since they made it rain for so long just to gamble on this single clap of thunder, I shall let that young man see how easily his thunder is snuffed out by our hands. "Pass down the order: clear all obstacles and outposts along their path. Command the frontline forces not to impede them—let them in. "I shall use our church's sacred spear to purge the sins upon Order." "Understood, My Lord!" "Understood, My Lord!" ... Neo's strike force charged forward at top speed. Riding at the vanguard, Neo clearly perceived the enemy's interception melting away. Obstacles ahead were cleared aside, as though a path were being deliberately opened for them. *Heh. Clearing the field to unleash the power of a divine artifact?* Normally, any rational commander would sense something amiss and instinctively realize a massive trap lay ahead. Yet even as the strike force maintained its charge, the enemy found it entirely comprehensible; Having fought to such a point, neither side had room to turn back. Even knowing danger lay ahead, they had no choice but to grit their teeth and push through. *Hum—!* A brilliant pillar of light surged into the sky from the core sector, as though a second setting sun had appeared upon the heavens. A colossal spear materialized directly before the charging strike force, instantly radiating an aura of death. The priests of the Church of Laks wore expectant looks, waiting for the Order believers ahead to be harvested like wheat. ... "It's a divine artifact!" Miguel cried out in alarm. "They placed their divine artifact on the battlefield!" As an offensive artifact that remained relatively intact, the Spear of Sin ranked exceptionally high among divine artifacts. The power it could unleash was bound to be horrifying. "What are you shouting about?" Foden glared at his secretary. Miguel shrank his neck and stepped back half a pace. Previously, the Whip-Wielder had felt tension, heartache, and bewilderment. Now, with the divine artifact's appearance, he felt a sense of relief instead—because the moment the artifact emerged, he noticed Karen let out a breath of air. ... The pressure of the divine artifact descended like a deluge. Though nearly every warrior in the vanguard had consumed a mental stimulant, despair and agony still surfaced on most faces before this sudden apparition. Yet not a single person slowed or retreated. Neo felt not the slightest bit of tension. Like Karen, the moment he saw the Spear of Sin rise, his mind eased. At that moment, a conversation he had held the day before with Aisen's family flashed through his mind. He recalled a line that suited this very moment perfectly. Neo roared: "Believers of Order, the moment has come for the God of Order to test us! The great God of Order has surely paved a smooth path before us. Let us follow in his footsteps—charge!" A solemn, tragic resolve washed across the ranks. The mockery on the faces of many Laks priests faded into solemnity. Whatever the outcome, the courage and sacrifice demonstrated by the Order believers on this battlefield commanded respect, even from their foes. Yet very soon, this victorious delight at another's expense came crashing down. To their sheer horror, as the enemy drew closer and closer—practically storming before their eyes—the Spear of Sin made no further move! All traces of mockery, solemnity, and respect vanished into thin air, replaced by sheer, unadulterated panic: "It's over—they've broken through! It's over, it's over!" *Boom!* The strike force crashed straight into the core sector of the enemy's defensive network. This position was the vital nexus of the entire defensive system: bunker complexes, defensive arrays, medical triage, communication hubs, personnel dispatch... including the very objective of this campaign, the teleportation array coordinates station that governed half of the coalition's logistical supply bases. It was meant to be the most impregnable, unassailable stronghold, yet now it lay the most fragile and defenseless. Before an organized formation of charging Order cavalry, the scribes, array masters, mages, priests, and wounded gathered here faced nothing short of a one-sided massacre. A sudden hush fell over the outer perimeter of the battlefield. This eerie quiet compelled even the Whip-Wielder to peer downward in curiosity. In that instant, it felt as though the heartbeats of countless souls had slowed their rhythm. It felt like an eternity, yet also a mere instant—like someone who had lost consciousness and been resuscitated, their senses gradually returning. This was the ripple effect of the core sector's destruction spreading outward to the perimeter lines. The enemy began collapsing in visible disarray. Some retreated to reinforce the center, some attempted to break out, while others, stripped of allied support, remained stupidly holding their ground. Having fought bitterly through nearly an entire day, the Order forces saw the scales tip rapidly in their favor and erupted with renewed fighting spirit. Commanders across every corps and junior officers throughout the ranks issued the advance order almost in unison. The battlefield boiled over once again, but this time, it was a one-sided celebration for Order. "We won? We achieved victory, we won!" Miguel clenched his fists, cheering without regard for his professional decorum. At this moment, even the most novice observer could see that the balance of the battle had tipped decisively. After his cheer, Miguel did not forget the intelligence he had overheard from Karen's earlier briefing to the Whip-Wielder—or perhaps sheer exhilaration made him forget where he had learned it: Miguel said to the Whip-Wielder, "Once this battle concludes, the coalition's logistics will be thrown into chaos! It will directly impact the entire course of the war!" Karen exhaled a long breath and licked his dry lips, only now realizing how parched he was. Lowering his head, he sought a cup of water, only to see one handed directly to him. Reaching out to take it, Karen assumed it was Miguel, but paused when he realized it was Foden offering it. "It is truly a pity that I am losing a young, eloquent carriage driver. My future travels will be stripped of much amusement, replaced by endless dullness and tedium. "Yet how fortunate that our church possesses a young man like you. In you, I see..." Foden originally meant to say that he saw the shadow of the former High Priest; Yet such words could not be spoken lightly, so his instinct was to pivot to saying he saw the shadow of his own youth. However, his younger self had known nothing of waging war, and saying so would only make him appear unsightly in claiming unearned credit. "...I see the future of our Church of Order." "Thank you for the praise, Whip-Wielder. Wield the whip, for Order." Karen's spirit was somewhat drained, and the slogan that should have rung out with force sounded rather weary this time. He raised the cup to drink, but the Whip-Wielder caught his wrist. Karen looked at the Whip-Wielder in confusion, only to watch the man bend down, tear off a fragment of a scale from Augie beneath their feet, and drop it into Karen's cup. The frost dragon's scale carried natural freezing chill, instantly coating the outside of the cup in a layer of frosty mist. "I remember you prefer cold water."