When only a small portion of the bats remained in the sky, Neo stopped his absorption, just as Karen had anticipated, and had the Mad Pope release his suppression over the ancestor of the bloodthirsty aberrant demons.
The Mad Pope offered no resistance. He understood what Neo meant, accepting being used and tacitly agreeing to re-establish this balance of checks and balances.
This was a defining trait of the Mad Pope's character. His persona also sought to "control" Neo, but what he desired was to do so through missionary proselytizing and spiritual reformation, unlike the ancestor of the bloodthirsty aberrant demons, who wanted direct manual control.
The latter was greedy to an extreme, scarcely bothering to hide it, and did not hesitate to let his own descendants bear the perpetual risk of losing themselves to the "ancestral whispers." The former, by contrast, was like a "spiritual aristocrat"—disdaining vulgar methods, respecting the process, and even willing to overlook the outcome.
This was not merely a triangle of power, but also one of morality, for it was impossible to imagine a day when the Mad Pope would ever stoop to joining hands with someone like the ancestor of the bloodthirsty aberrant demons to deal with Neo.
When it was all over, Neo sank to his knees, bracing his hands against the ground and drawing ragged, heavy breaths. Surges of power spilled from his body only to be drawn back in the next instant, like a glutton straining to suppress the bodily discomfort of overeating.
"Not enough... still not enough... it's just not enough..."
His power had indeed increased, but this simple stacking of raw force still could not produce the qualitative leap Karen had achieved upon completing God's Revelation.
If they were to clash in a battle of life and death, it would at most make it slightly more difficult for Karen to blast him to pieces.
Doesn't this damn well just give Karen more foreplay and more pleasure?
No, this won't do, this just won't do...
For Neo, every increase in strength was an utter failure if it didn't aim to surpass Karen and give Karen a lesson in practical combat.
"Ptui!"
Neo spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the ground. Standing up, he pulled a vial of veterinary stimulant from his robes and downed it in big gulps.
A terrifying dosage that would cause an ordinary person to drop dead on the spot was like a cup of watered-down, expired coffee to Neo, barely yielding a hint of flavor.
The side effect of this power boost was now evident: the "good stuff" he had just discovered had abruptly lost its potency due to tolerance.
It seemed the standard supplies for ordinary demonic beasts could no longer bring him joy.
Neo suddenly thought of the bone dragon at Karen's side. As the little bone dragon's "master," Karen wrote observation reports at regular intervals to communicate with the church's rear research institute, enabling them to update and supplement the dragon's rearing regimen.
So, next time, should he steal that report and slip in a note stating: "The little bone dragon has recently suffered from insomnia and excessive dreams; an extra prescription of soothing calming agents is recommended"?
Karen stood where he was for a while. Seeing that Neo lingered there after it was over without rushing to find him for a "spar," Karen understood. Rather than showing himself to greet him, he turned and departed.
He still needed to preserve the old Captain's dignity.
Upon returning to the military camp, Karen went straight to the medical camp.
Contrary to his expectations, Aisen's bedside was not crowded with the emotional presence of family members like Kaixi, Luxi, and Richard; Aisen was still lying there alone, quiet and still.
Seeing Karen enter, Doctor Black Cat immediately wrapped up the consultation at another bed and rode over on her golden retriever nurse to join him.
"Wake up, meow."
Aisen opened his eyes and saw Karen. He tried to sit up and salute, but Karen held him down.
Karen raised a hand to set up a simple barrier first, then looked at Purr and asked, "Haven't Richard and the others been notified?"
Aisen hurriedly interjected, "No, there's no rush to notify them. The troops won't move until tomorrow; I'll 'wake up' tomorrow morning."
Karen asked, "Hmm?"
"Richard recognized Memphis's identity long ago. At dusk, right here, he called out to our Mr. Aisen: 'Wake up, Memphis, I'll take you out to the pastry shop.'
"And then, our Mr. Aisen was stirred awake by the shock, but he was too embarrassed to wake up in front of his son, so he pretended to stay asleep.
"Now, he has to wait until tomorrow morning to wake up naturally, so it won't seem like he woke up just because he was called 'Memphis.' That way, he can keep maintaining a tacit silence with his son, meow."
Karen reached out and patted Purr's head, saying, "You should be kinder."
Purr casually swished her tail.
Had Karen been the one here earlier, he wouldn't have exposed Mr. Aisen's feigned sleep; he would have pretended not to notice.
Purr, however, disliked doing that. She loved watching these "juniors" squirm in embarrassment before her, like a mischievous elder who delighted in teasing a child to tears and then giggling on the sidelines.
"The boy has grown up," Aisen said with deep feeling. "He truly has grown up."
"Richard has always been sensible," Karen said.
"Thanks to you."
"I didn't do anything. Richard is the one helping me now."
"Don't be so distant."
"Uncle, you were the one being distant first."
"Heh, fair enough."
Karen could see that Mr. Aisen wanted to be alone right now to digest the shock of his son's maturity. He stood up and said, "Uncle, get some good rest first. We'll do a formal physical examination tomorrow morning. If you pass, you can come with the army; if there are any lingering physical issues, you should return to the rear. In any case, we'll be heading back soon."
"All right, understood, Corps Commander."
"Mm."
As Karen walked out, Purr followed astride Kevin, then leaped onto Karen's shoulder and asked, "Did the fun-seeker succeed?"
"He did."
"Then why didn't he pick a fight with you? Aha, is it because even with success, he still can't beat you?"
"I'm not sure."
"Hmph, it's definitely that, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to hold back. Stupid dog, see? The plan you provided doesn't seem very effective. And you call yourself an evil god."
Kevin lifted his canine head, wearing an exceedingly honest and polite smile.
*It's true that I'm an evil god, but what on earth gave you the illusion that I could train and cultivate someone to overpower a young God of Order of the same era?
Are you flattering me, or are you insulting the God of Order?*
But soon, seeing the smile on Purr's face atop Karen's shoulder, Kevin understood. Purr stood firmly on Karen's side, so naturally she wanted to see Karen outshine everyone around him; the more brilliant Karen was, the happier she became.
Kevin shook his head, snorted twice, and continued trotting along happily behind them. Wasn't he on the God of Order's side as well?
The next morning.
Karen was reviewing the last few documents on hand. Next, the command tent would be moved.
Someone was sent from the medical camp to deliver news. Richard went outside to handle it, then walked back in without saying a word.
Closing the folder, Karen asked:
"What is it?"
"My dad is awake."
Karen was slightly surprised. Under normal circumstances, upon receiving this good news, Richard would have been thrilled and asked for leave to visit his father, yet he appeared remarkably calm.
This meant that before Richard left the medical camp last night, he had already realized it, but had chosen to spare his father's dignity.
Karen nodded. "That's good."
Having finished reviewing the final document, Karen set down his pen and leaned back. Looking at Richard busily packing up items below, an emotion similar to his uncle's from the previous night welled up within him.
People always looked forward to growing up and maturing, yet when maturity arrived, they felt a pang of loss.
"Richard, do you want me to arrange a new job for you when we get back?"
Richard paused his work, looked up at Karen, and smiled.
"I think my current job is great." Raising his pen, Richard added, "Imitating your tone and writing habits is really fun, truly, hahaha."
"If you have any new thoughts, let me know anytime."
"What's got into our Lord Corps Commander today?" Richard looked at Karen curiously. "Though, I really do miss the pastry shops. Once we pull back from the front line and return, I want to spend a whole week on Red Leaf Street without stepping outside."
"Stay safe."
"Huh? I'm an adult now. I'm sure my mom and dad won't drive up in a car to catch me like they used to."
"When you leave one cage, you may have already stepped into the next."
"Ah?"
"If Bishop Delon were to sleep on Red Leaf Street for a whole week, how would Madam Tangli react?"
Richard's eyes widened instantly, terror flickering within them.
His grandmother would probably set his grandfather's head in the center of the street first, and then... bathe Red Leaf Street in blood.
At that moment, Philomena walked in carrying a tray of food. She and Daina took turns delivering meals to Karen.
"Let's eat. Once we're finished, we can move," Karen said, opening the food box. "Richard, as we discussed before, once we return, our intelligence network must be upgraded further. You've already taken over the aberrant demon organizations Alfred developed previously, but that's not enough. Try to incorporate branches of small churches to serve as our extra eyes and ears—such as the Church of Miers. Her believers have always had a talent for intelligence."
Richard nodded solemnly at once, as if taking a military pledge. "Understood. As soon as we get back, I'll begin absorbing the Church of Miers within our region."
"Make haste. Time is tight; put every spare minute of eating and sleeping to use."
"Yes, sir! Mission guaranteed!"
...
Following that, Karen led the Ninth Army Corps to a new battlefield, participating in a new round of general offensive planned and launched by Da'an himself.
The campaign lasted a month. Throughout this month, the forces of Order held a massive advantage. Several ace army corps continuously broke through, bisected, and encircled the enemy, like a pack of hungry wolves tearing savagely into the loose flock of sheep that was the allied coalition.
However, the Ninth Army Corps had few tasks requiring direct combat—mostly minor skirmishes across localized, small battlegrounds. Karen assigned almost all of them to the three regular regiments under his nominal command, while his directly affiliated Whip of Order Legion handled flank screening and battlefield cleanup.
Because the military merits he had accumulated earlier were so dazzling, no one thought Karen was shrinking from battle; rather, his selflessness in sharing honors with his subordinates earned high praise from many throughout the military.
After all, everyone desired military honors and eyed them greedily. If you hogged all the spoils to yourself, you were bound to arouse resentment.
Karen had known from the beginning that this campaign was a bonus run Da'an had arranged for him. The only reason his troops hadn't been pulled back to rest was so Karen could piggyback on another round of military merits before departing the battlefield for good.
Therefore, Karen took it very casually, but he didn't idle either. Ever since arriving at the front lines, he had been constantly occupied with fighting—always busy with his sideline, nearly forgetting his main trade.
With the return home in sight, he had to bring back some local specialties for the family.
Back when Neo served as the militia regiment's commander, he had to operate furtively under the watchful gaze of numerous superiors, and finding an opportunity to slip away wasn't easy. Now, as an army corps commander, Karen could act with complete ease, allowing the "cultural relic preservation work" to unfold comprehensively and systematically.
Moreover, Karen didn't shy away from having the Whip of Order's intelligence network provide him with coordinates directly, vastly improving scavenging efficiency.
Furthermore, many fallen families of the Desert Church proactively came to Karen offering secrets and leads, with some even helping Karen excavate their own ancestral graves.
What these people sought was nothing more than identity credentials.
They hoped to relocate their families to Order's parish territory and obtain the right to settle and multiply.
In truth, simply moving somewhere else to live was easy enough—they could just relocate. But what they wanted was to remain within the church circle anchored as a family faction, which required Order's recognition.
Within Order, this fell under the purview of the Whip of Order, and Karen happened to be in a position to grant them the necessary pledges.
In this regard, Karen acted far more honorably than secular empires, because he genuinely intended to keep his word.
When the Wien Empire faced rebellions in its colonies and was forced to withdraw, it never bothered with the lackeys who had betrayed their own kind to risk their lives for the empire; the empire would even open fire on those wailing lackeys when their desperate attempts to leave clogged the docks.
Yet the main reason was not benevolence on Karen's part, but that the Church of Order already had plans to absorb the desert system. Transferring a portion of direct desert believers to Order's parish to divide, absorb, and integrate them was precisely what the Church of Order intended to do.
Roping in multiple family factions and establishing separate little camps was far better than allowing these desert "immigrant believers" to band together and demand conditions from Order. Dispersing them not only caused them to lower their demands in their eagerness to curry favor with Order, but also spurred them to compete in voluntarily offering up the legacies Order desired.
With this, the financial crisis back home was finally relieved. At its worst, the regional treasury had been on the verge of bankruptcy, making life truly grueling for Alfred, Vic, and Leon.
Now, the hardest times had been weathered, the reforms were nearing their conclusion, and Karen's faction had seized near-total control over all major departments in the Yorktown Region.
This round of the campaign finally drew to a close. After achieving a series of tremendous victories, Da'an ordered a withdrawal and consolidation. On one hand, each unit needed rest and respite; on the other, the allied coalition, thrown into extreme passivity by Order's offensive, had begun redeploying fresh forces into the region.
Barring unforeseen circumstances, before long, the desert would enter another period of balanced stalemate.
This desert war was like a gambling table: as long as someone was willing to keep matching the bets, a winner would never emerge.
None of this concerned Karen anymore, however. He received a reassignment order from headquarters: the Whip of Order Legion was to withdraw from the desert battlefield—not to rest and re-engage, but to return home.
Before departing, however, Karen had one final task. He had been specifically requested by Da'an to accompany him to a new round of "peace talks" that had nothing whatsoever to do with peace.
...
"Karen, I've read the speech draft. Very good, I like it a lot."
"I'm glad you're pleased, sir."
Karen remembered that when they first met in the Church of the Burrow, the relationship between them had been purely that of superior and subordinate, separated by a vast gulf. Now, Da'an was as warm and approachable as the father of a classmate next door.
Daina brought over tea, handing the first cup to Da'an and the second to Karen.
Everything seemed so natural.
Yet beneath this natural ease lay thick layers of accumulated achievements. In this world, apart from blood kin, no one treated you well without reason.
"Nervous?" Da'an asked.
Daina smiled and said, "Uncle, what are you saying? If he isn't afraid of fighting a war, why would he fear a meeting?"
"I'm afraid of meetings," Da'an said with a laugh. "Having to sit or stand there speaking at a meeting makes me uncomfortable—nowhere near as natural as charging on the battlefield."
Karen said, "It is precisely because you lead us to victory that the speaker has nothing to fear."
When it was time for the meeting, Da'an and Karen stood up, preparing to enter the main hall from the side salon.
Just before pushing open the door, Da'an stopped, turned around, and looked at Karen standing behind him.
To attend the meeting, Karen had deliberately donned the sacred robe gifted to him by the Whip-Wielder. Without exceeding protocol, it looked extraordinarily regal and imposing.
Da'an examined Karen carefully from head to toe and could not help remarking:
"One really can't tell that this is a frontline army corps commander who has won so many victories."
What he meant was that Karen's personal image didn't resemble that of a knight at all; it could also be interpreted as: with such bearing and demeanor, it was truly a pity to be merely a knight.
Just as Karen was about to respond, he heard Da'an add:
"I recall that a thousand years ago, the Mad Pope of Light also tempered himself in the Templar Knights of Light."
"Is that so? It is truly hard to imagine that such a man could bring ruin to the Church of Light."
"Indeed. Hard to imagine."
Da'an pushed open the heavy doors and strode in, with Karen following right behind.
The representatives from Order and the allied coalition were already seated and waiting; Da'an and Karen were the last to enter.
Reporters swarmed both sides of the aisle, the clicking of camera shutters rising and falling in waves.
Today's session was not a closed-door meeting; a vast number of reporters from across church circles were present.
The meeting's moderator gave a brief opening statement, after which the floor went to Order first.
Da'an raised a hand toward Karen. Karen nodded, stood up, and walked to the center of the hall holding his speech draft. Before him was a small raised podium holding an exquisite voice-transmitting sacred artifact.
The reporters, who had just quieted down, surged forward again as if injected with stimulants, jostling and shoving one another to find the best angle.
Order was the victor of the recent battlefield; they had just won a major campaign, leaving the allied coalition thoroughly battered. Moreover, the spokesperson Order had put forward this time was Corps Commander Karen Silva. Both his personal image and his record were intensely eye-catching, and those in this trade knew full well what drew the most attention.
His deployment to the front line and series of victories had elevated Karen's stature even further above the immense popularity he already enjoyed among the church's youth. Meanwhile, the interview published in Order Weekly titled "Cast Aside Illusions and Prepare for Battle" had propelled his prestige to an unprecedented peak.
Hawks were naturally championed by hot-blooded youths.
This influence was not confined to the Church of Order; it blossomed across external churches as well. Many young men and women of outside faiths would gnash their teeth, wishing to eat Karen's flesh and drink his blood when discussing the war by day, yet at night lying in bed dreaming, their minds were full of him.
After all, Karen's present achievements were beyond what any ordinary youth could fathom in their wildest dreams.
Although the meaning Karen had intended to convey in the interview had been distorted by most, he now had no choice but to serve as the figurehead pushed forward by the Church of Order's knight order.
The speech draft had also been personally penned by Karen based on the thematic points provided by Da'an.
To put it mildly, it was overly extreme and aggressive, lacking in humanistic concern, and dripping with religious hegemony and religious chauvinism.
Yet there was no alternative. At this height, since you enjoyed the prestige and adulation, you inevitably had to pay a price.
Not even a Child of God was exempt from such rules.
Karen began his speech. The text of the speech was merely a prop; after reading a few sentences with his head down, he set it aside, transitioning naturally into addressing all the coalition representatives opposite him directly.
The speech had three themes:
First: In the past, I had always looked forward to coming to the battlefield.
Second: At present, I am learning and growing on the battlefield, reaping great rewards.
Third: In the future, I yearn to return here once more.
The expressions of rage, unwillingness, and humiliation on the faces of the coalition representatives were plainly visible. At this moment, Karen was the symbol the Church of Order wished to present to the world.
The Church of Order sought to use this very method to demonstrate its fiercest, most uncompromising stance toward this war.
We do not fear war. We... even relish war.
The great God of Order whom we believe in and follow rose precisely from the divine wars of the previous era.
War can never break the Church of Order; it will only forge an even more powerful new order.
In the past, everyone acknowledged the might of the Church of Order. Following the demise of Light, the title of paramount church was indeed well-deserved, but it had merely been a dormant lion.
Yet ever since Order's new High Priest took power, this lion had gradually awakened. No longer content to proclaim its authority through glares and low growls, it now preferred using fangs and claws, its powerful frame, and the flesh and blood of its enemies to reshape its image.
Karen delivered the closing remarks:
"We of the Church of Order can accept defeat, but in Order's defeat, the existence of a victor will never be permitted."
With his speech concluded, Karen crossed his hands over his chest and bowed to the gathering.
One could say the coalition representatives were remarkably polite, for they had not interrupted him during his speech, and when Karen finished and bowed, they even returned the salute one after another.
Yet once the courtesies were over, the representatives, tormented and suppressed to the breaking point by this atmosphere and arrogance, could bear it no longer. They erupted into roars, bellows, and vitriol: We acknowledge Order's strength, but if Order truly wishes to shed all pretense and make enemies of the entire church circle, we will not hesitate to unite and bring about for Order the exact same end as Light!
Facing the tidal wave of curses, threats, and interrogations, Karen stood there in utter tranquility.
Having witnessed the vision of the God of Order sitting to intercept all the gods, standing here now and facing the verbal assaults of half the church circle was truly nothing.
Far from feeling pressured, he actually found it slightly amusing.
He had exercised the utmost restraint, but his expression control slipped ever so slightly this time; the corners of Karen's lips still curved up into a faint smile.
This image was captured by the reporters.
In the newspapers printed the following day, the coalition press ran it to stoke hatred, the Order press ran it to boost morale, and neutral press ran it to stir up trouble and enjoy the spectacle...
In short, numerous newspapers reporting on these "peace talks" splashed this photograph of Karen facing the coalition representatives after his speech across their front-page headlines.
And across the board, the headlines almost universally adopted the very same caption:
"Contempt from Order."
Chapter 817