Under the terrifying surge of souls, all communication formations were paralyzed, causing those watching through the communication formations to leap to their feet in anxiety.
Whether within the Church of Order or among foreign churches, everyone desperately wanted to know what had just happened inside.
Fortunately, representatives from every church were present; whatever transpired within could never be concealed.
Of course, the Church of Order had no intention of concealing it either.
Although Karen's inquiry was different from the High Priest's address, the "response" served both equally.
[Always prepared!]
That roaring cry of collective consciousness spoke louder than ten thousand words.
If the deceased forebears still harbored such magnificent fighting spirit, yearning to awaken and fight on for Order, then... what of the living?
Almost every Order priest present pressed a fist to their chest—a completely spontaneous gesture.
The return of the gods was no longer a prophecy; across every land and faith, divine oracles and miracles were manifesting with increasing frequency.
This trend struck directly at the system of the Code of Order, forged in this era after Order won its thousand-year confrontation against Light.
As the primary beneficiary of both pragmatic interests and ideological supremacy in the current era, the Church of Order was undoubtedly the party least willing to see the situation and rules change. Yet truly defending this hard-won order meant facing head-on the mighty deities that might descend one after another in the future.
Those able to stand here today were virtually all prominent figures within the Church of Order; even the lowest-ranking upon the sacrificial platform was a regional Head Bishop. Naturally, they knew all too well how passive and defensive their church's current predicament was.
All of them felt lost, all felt terrified, all felt uneasy. Faced with such overwhelming external pressure, Karen was not the only one searching for courage.
Now, the fountainhead of courage had revealed itself.
If even death could not alter my resolve, and the annihilation of my soul could not shake my faith, then what do I have left to fear?
Foden gazed silently at the High Priest's back.
Earlier, he had copied someone else's homework.
And the only reason he had to copy was that he could not reach that height or evoke that resonance himself, leaving him unable to articulate the answer in his own words.
That was the greatest pitfall of copying: it made it all too easy to overestimate one's own standing and mentally place oneself upon an elevated perch where one did not belong.
Yet now, he understood.
This was... an inspection from history itself.
Thinking back to the previous era, the Church of Order had risen from nothing, advancing step by step to reach where it was today. Their forebears had followed the God of Order through divine battle after divine battle, slaughtering gods until Order's sole deity became the supreme sovereign at the close of the era.
In this current era, where the gods remained absent, deprived of their sovereign god's protection, the Church of Order had waged a protracted struggle against the deeply rooted Church of Light, ultimately shaping the world into the state they desired.
Right now, Order alone could dominate the desert confrontation against the united coalition of churches. Looking at the present and comparing it to the past, they possessed far more advantageous conditions than their forebears ever had.
What reason remained to cower in fear, to second-guess and fret over gains and losses?
Look back at that colossal bone gate at the entrance to the First Knight Order—was it not cast from the very skeletons of gods!
Their predecessors had never flinched. What right did the living have today to break their own knees and cower in terror before so-called deities?
Behind and beside Foden, the heavyweights of equivalent rank from various branches all stole glances at the Whip-Wielder.
Having attained such standing, they were either the original inner circle who had risen alongside the High Priest or shrewd operators brought into the fold through power struggles. Everyone understood all too well how crucial it was to follow in their master's footsteps.
Right now, it was abundantly clear that when it came to political acumen, everyone seemed a beat slower than the Whip-Wielder.
Reflecting carefully on the recent series of meetings and events, the one who remained most tightly aligned with the High Priest's objectives every single time was this very Whip-Wielder.
Naturally, there was admiration and a desire to learn from his example, but none of them forgot to curse inwardly: *What a remarkably perceptive sycophantic dog!*
The [Harvest Horn] gradually subsided.
The phantom figures, like troops that had completed their inspection, began to dissipate.
The glaciers sealing away weapons of war sank back into the permafrost.
This solemn, majestic pyramid at last returned to its prior stillness.
Yet the awe-inspiring momentum it had unleashed was already indelibly branded onto the heart of everyone present.
The High Priest resumed his address. His words today were momentous to begin with, regarded by the outside world as the bellwether for the Church of Order's foreign policy in the coming era.
Coupled with the First Knight Order's violent stirring, it only lent his words an even greater sense of inevitability—not that he was pragmatic, but that what he spoke of and what he desired stood a very high chance of becoming reality.
Amplified by acoustic spells, the High Priest's voice rang out clear and resonant, echoing throughout the entire First Knight Order garrison:
"From when our Lord attained godhood in the name of Order, to when Lord Tyrannus founded our Church of Order, a mere two eras have passed.
"The histories of far too many churches stretch much farther back than ours.
"Though we are 'young,' we are by no means lonely or helpless.
"For generation upon generation of Order's forebears, through their most selfless dedication and unyielding sacrifice, have forged the foundation in which our church takes the greatest pride.
"The horn has sounded. We already hear the roaring billows surging from the future. The curtain of catastrophe has been drawn back..."
Hearing this, expressions of shock washed over the faces of many representatives from foreign churches.
For within the ecclesiastical world, this was the first time a figure of such stature and weight had equated the "Return of the Gods" with a "catastrophe."
Every other church was weeping tears of joy over emerging oracles and miracles, longing for their gods to descend and guide their followers to glory once more.
Even taking a step back—as believers in a god, not to warmly welcome your god's return, what in the world did you even believe in?
Yet to the ears of the Order priests, these words were hardly grating.
Though never explicitly stated in the *Light of Order*, between its lines and across its paragraphs lay constant implications of just how wonderful a world without gods truly was.
Furthermore, within a monotheistic framework, the supreme God of Order had long transcended the realm of a "traditional god" in the hearts of his believers. As long as the High Priest did not directly attack the return of the God of Order, whatever slander or vilification he directed at "gods" was considered entirely politically correct inside the Church of Order.
"We have no utopian heaven. We have no celestial sanctuary. We never pray for our Lord to guide us to his divine kingdom after death.
"Because our home is here, our world is here, our ideals are here, and everything we pursue, believe, and yearn to realize is here.
"This is our paradise; this is our homeland.
"Our Lord summoned us long ago—
"To use our own hands to reshape this world into the divine kingdom in our hearts!
"No matter how vast the faction, no matter how mighty the individual, none can halt our forward march.
"We do not fear failure, for the followers of Order never harbor the luxury of seeing success in our lifetimes. We will pour our faith, our achievements, our everything into this resting place behind us, to witness future generations stepping upon our shoulders to let the light of Order fully bloom!
"I know what you fear.
"I know what gives you pause.
"Have you forgotten that phrase?
"*Beneath Order, all are equal.*
"Tell me—
"Do you wish to keep your chests high and live as men, or when they descend, will you grovel and curl up at their feet to become a pack of fawning, ridiculous divine maggots?!"
The High Priest's words were extraordinarily stirring, especially in this venue and against this backdrop.
This was no longer a simple memorial service; it was the definitive declaration of a path.
Though the Church of Order had been preparing for this eventuality, consensus across the church had remained fractured.
Yet from this day forth, so long as Norton remained in power, the Church of Order's oppositional stance toward the descent of the gods would never waver.
Hierarch Xifusi of the Church of Principles sighed inwardly. He was truly curious: how on earth had the First Knight Order's violent reaction been provoked?
Could it be that the God of Order, as rumored, had truly already descended?
Not only descended, but was gradually manifesting?
Manifesting to the degree that he could manipulate the First Knight Order to provide political endorsement and interact with this High Priest?
Otherwise, there was simply no explaining how the coordination could be so flawless. It wasn't as if that former sovereign of the divine realm was deliberately fixing his gaze right here, watching everything unfold, was it?
Glancing at Norton, his counterpart, Xifusi tasted a bit of bitterness.
The Church of Order and the Church of Principles were partner churches, yet between them existed both cooperation and competition. As long as neither had swallowed the other, clashes of interest and friction in other regions were inevitable.
An overly powerful Church of Order was Principles' greatest reliance, but also Principles' nightmare.
Yet how could they even compare anymore?
On his side, there was only himself. His counterpart opposite him had not only risen from the grassroots with his own faction, but also held the status of a Child of God, and now had even won the First Knight Order's endorsement right here...
Were those old fogies in the Temple of Order truly so generous, cheerfully welcoming such a High Priest to the throne?
Or had they failed to notice anything beforehand? Just how hopelessly foolish would they have to be?
In his wildest dreams, Xifusi would never imagine that the elders of the Temple of Order had not only "allowed" the inheritor of Tyrannus to take the seat of High Priest, but were currently scheming to prop up and support the "God of Order" to take a turn sitting in that very position.
If this actually succeeded, future church history books could never lavish enough praise on the noble, selfless character of the temple elders of this era; they might even cease calling them temple elders altogether and revere them as a gathering of temple saints.
The High Priest crossed his arms over his chest:
"Our Lord above, praise the great Order!"
All the Order priests roared back in unison:
"Praise the great Order!"
***
The memorial service concluded.
Karen got into his carriage. Derius came running over and stood below the carriage like a shy child longing for the adults to invite him to the dinner table.
Bern, who was in the carriage with him, remained silent, not even sparing his son a glance.
Karen said, "Alfred."
"Yes, I understand."
Alfred stepped down from the carriage to handle the upcoming discussions with Derius.
The door closed, and the carriage set off.
Bern said, "The High Priest's step here was still a bit too aggressive."
Karen replied, "I think it was fine. Not only wasn't it aggressive, it was quite understated."
With Foden acting as an intermediary, Karen could read the High Priest's true intentions.
"This will leave our Church of Order completely isolated in the ecclesiastical world. What will our partner churches and affiliate churches think?"
"An enemy is an enemy, a rival is a rival. That opposition doesn't change because of what you say. As for partner and affiliate churches, did they align with us out of shared ideals? Because we're gentle and benevolent?
"The more distinct and clear our stance, the fewer second thoughts they will entertain. Most importantly, it allows us to unify our thinking internally."
Bern rolled his eyes at Karen. "The way you talk makes me suspect you moonlight as the High Priest's secretary and drafted the speech yourself."
"It's no longer just a speech, Bern. It's a manifesto. From this day forth, there is no gray area between our church and the wider ecclesiastical sphere."
"Still, I'm uneasy. I am utterly devout toward Order, but I believe we shouldn't rush so recklessly when, clearly, we have better alternatives.
"For instance, awaiting our Lord's return."
Inside the carriage, Leon, Philomena, and Little Kanna all lowered their heads in tacit understanding.
Your Lord had already returned.
Not only that,
The Lord was sitting right in front of you.
Karen let out a sigh. "Alas, there are things you don't know, which is why you still think there is room to maneuver."
The God of Order had barred the gods outside this era; not only was his own divine body decaying, but those deities had been tormented into ravenous fiends.
What manner of hatred was that? What bitter grudge?
When they descended, how could they not seek vengeance against the Church of Order?
In fact, they would almost certainly unite specifically against the Church of Order—a bond far tighter than the flimsy alliances of their mortal disciples today.
Bern frowned, pointing to his own face. "Another secret that can't be told while I'm alive? Must wait until after I die?"
"Yes."
"Heh. Come on, lend me your blade."
Philomena earnestly thrust her Nightmare Blade right in front of Bern.
Bern glared at Philomena.
"I'll get off at the teleportation array. I need to head to the Dinge Region and visit the containment space."
"Oh?" This piqued Karen's interest. "What are you going there for?"
"An old friend of mine is there. He once used the power of a divine artifact to treat my body. I'm going back to put on an act for him and tell him my health has improved."
"What kind of friend?"
"A former peer. After going straight, he took a post in the containment space department, and quite a senior one at that."
"Then there's no need to get off. I'll go with you."
"What are you going there for?"
"Just to look around."
"Heh." Bern chuckled. "The way you say it sounds like you're heading to the market to pick out ingredients for dinner."
The carriage was teleported to the Dinge Region. As it rolled out of the teleportation array hall, the tempo of the priests inside had noticeably quickened, with squad after squad from various branches entering and exiting the arrays.
In just this short span of time, the High Priest's manifesto at the First Knight Order had already rippled down to the grassroots.
It was just that the Whip of Order had caught wind of it first and mobilized earliest; the other branches were somewhat slower to follow suit.
Looking out the carriage window, Bern said, "Finally feels like we're preparing for war."
Indeed.
The desert fighting had merely served as a warm-up for the various branches; now, their muscles were fully flexed, preparing to face reality with utmost gravity.
Karen said, "I imagine the diplomatic branch is the busiest right now. Inquiries have probably piled sky-high on our diplomats' desks."
"Indeed. But I feel that following the High Priest's speech, disputes will actually be less likely to erupt. They will be afraid."
"Whether disputes erupt isn't up to them to decide; it's up to us."
Bern caught the implication. Evidently, Karen possessed far more insight into high-level strategic plans. He asked, "Another secret you can only tell me after I die?"
Karen shook his head. "I don't even know if you'll be dead when this secret is made public."
"Can you tell me then?"
"The High Priest plans to pick a church, strike it with full force, and seize the momentum to end the war in the desert."
"Which church?"
"Don't know. Waiting for the lottery draw."
"A draw..." Bern didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Are you serious?"
"Don't you think it fits the aesthetic of us Order believers perfectly? Reenacting the tale of the God of Order and Ankara in the present day."
"And where is our Lord? Where is Ankara? Have you ever seen them?"
Little Kanna smiled.
Karen reached out and patted her head. "Silly girl, he's playing dumb to test your reactions."
Little Kanna froze for a moment, then immediately glared at Bern, puffing up her cheeks.
She was furious with herself for inadvertently pulling an Augie.
Bern didn't bat an eye, quietly picking up the carriage's champagne and pouring himself a glass.
"This wine tastes a bit odd. Is it the 'Peace of Mind' produced by the Lerent Winery?" Bern asked, eyeing the bottle's label.
"The original was finished; this was refilled into the bottle."
"I thought as much. But are you really this frugal?"
"I'm not fond of drinking. Philomena, tell Vic to come over."
Having given the instruction, Karen took out the Laks copper coin from his pocket. Fiddling with it, he sent a signal to Luoya: *I'll come visit you in a bit.*
The coin began to bounce joyfully, nearly jumping out of Karen's hand.
Drinking the counterfeit wine, Bern stared at Karen and asked, "You really don't bother hiding anything in front of me anymore, do you?"
Illegally possessing a divine artifact was a capital offense!
Karen unconcernedly slipped the coin back into his pocket. "You're dying soon anyway."
Bern: "Damn it, I'm looking forward to dying more than my own birthday right now."
"Not like there's any difference between a memorial day and a birthday anyway."
The carriage stopped before an ordinary restaurant. Karen took Little Kanna, Bern, and the others inside to dine.
After finishing their meal and stepping out of the restaurant, they happened to see Vic hurrying over.
Karen's trip to the containment space had been arranged by Vic. The original plan had been to go a few days later, but with so much happening recently, it made sense to drop by on the way.
The carriage drove to the headquarters of the containment space—a seemingly unremarkable detached villa with an exquisite doghouse in the yard.
Vic got out first to make arrangements, while Bern went off to deceive his friend;
Karen took Little Kanna's hand and walked over to the doghouse.
The corgi had been lounging lazily in the sun, but upon spotting Kanna, it snarled menacingly, "Little kid running around like that, watch out or bad people will snatch you and boil you into bone broth!"
Little Kanna: "Woof!"
Corgi: "..."
Little Kanna hoisted the corgi up into the air. Suspended mid-air, the corgi said indignantly, "This is gross disrespect! Do you have any idea what the consequences will be?"
Beside them, Karen chimed in, "You're how old now, and you're still stooping to a child's level?"
The corgi deliberately turned its gaze to Karen and said, "You should keep an eye on your pet. Everything she does reflects on you."
"No need for you to worry about that."
Little Kanna set the corgi down and stroked its back.
The corgi squirmed in protest, thoroughly uncomfortable: "Don't touch my butt! Don't touch—hey, hey, hey, hey!"
This corgi held immense seniority within the containment space, but after being bullied by Purr, it had lost all confidence in its work and life. In the end, it had swallowed a divine artifact shard and turned into a dog.
To Karen, however, this belonged to the "feuds and passions" of a distant era.
Other people's cats and dogs aspired at most to mark a telephone pole; his family's cat and dog, in the past, were busy leaving ruins across the world.
"Hey, whose illegitimate son are you anyway, climbing so ridiculously fast these past two years?"
Karen looked down at it. "Have you ever seen a genius?"
A look of pain instantly crossed the corgi's face. Clearly, the word "genius" struck a nerve with memories it preferred never to dredge up.
It instinctively bared its teeth at Karen, low, menacing growls rumbling in its throat.
Little Kanna barked right into its ear: "Woof woof woof!"
The corgi shuddered in fright, grumbling in deep dissatisfaction, "What sort of vulgar taste possesses a dragon to go out of her way to learn dog language?"
The very first things Little Kanna had learned to say were "meow" and "woof."
The corgi continued, "Is the dragon job market so competitive these days that you have to cross over and compete with dogs?"
Little Kanna picked the corgi up and pressed its head down, forcing its rear into the air in a thoroughly humiliating pose.
The corgi fumed, "Karen, if I hadn't turned into a dog, you wouldn't even dream of stepping through the gates of the containment space today!"
Karen replied placidly, "Even if you were restored to your former post, you still wouldn't be able to bar me from entering."
The true top authority in the containment space department was that big shot who had sat smoking cigars with the Whip-Wielder back at Augurev Fortress.
Vic walked out, followed by a crowd of people, among whom was Karen's acquaintance, Riel.
However, walking alongside Vic up to Karen was a balding man.
"Minister Karen, hello, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Honest Drew, head of operations here. Lord Sisa has mentioned you to me many times. We had no idea you would be visiting today and couldn't make proper preparations; please forgive my discourtesy."
"You are too courteous."
"It's only proper, only proper! Both of my daughters adore you; their bedrooms are plastered with your photos. Later, please take a picture with me so I can go back and boast to them. We should take two—take one of you alone without me, otherwise I'm afraid they'll cut me out of the picture afterwards."
"Of course, it would be my honor."
In truth, judging by relative branch rankings, while Honest was lower in status than Karen, there was no reason to be this fawning. The real reason behind his humble posture was that in the Whip of Order's recent purges, the containment space—with its unmatched earning potential and lucrative kickbacks—was hit hardest.
Karen was taking the fall for Vic. It was Vic who had demonstrated extraordinary purge capabilities, but in this branch where his former teacher had once held the chief post, Vic claimed that the current scope of the investigation into the containment space was already the softened result of his bitter pleading with Karen.
Therefore, if they wanted their days to be tolerable, they had to cater to this big shot today.
Karen wouldn't blame Vic for this maneuver. A superior had to know how to shoulder blame for subordinates; after all, he himself had often borrowed the Whip-Wielder's coat in the past.
The group escorted Karen into the villa. As he passed Riel, Karen smiled and said:
"Miss Riel, the freckles on your face have faded quite a bit."
Riel was startled at first, then broke into a grateful smile: "Thank you for remembering me."
When Karen had first visited the containment space, she had been the one to attend to him.
Little Kanna ran back to Karen's side and went in with him.
Karen asked, "Why aren't you playing with the dog anymore?"
"Mmm, Big Sister told me to keep a close eye on you once we got here."
Inside, the villa was immense, with different areas lying behind door after door.
Vic had already arranged everything in advance. Karen could go directly to inspect the largest section, Area B, known within the containment space as the Activity Plaza.
Stored here were divine artifacts that had birthed artifact spirits and were relatively harmless and docile.
When your status was high enough and you held enough leverage over people's vital interests, cumbersome procedures suddenly became swift.
Before a massive red iron door, Honest stepped forward, inserted the key, and opened a viewing slot on the door. In the next instant, a gaze emerged from within.
Yes, no eyes—only a gaze that felt almost physical.
Little Kanna immediately glared back, locking eyes in a furious stare-down!
A terrifying beast watched over the relevant sections of the containment space at all times; at regular intervals, its gaze would sweep across the entire area.
Karen was quite familiar with it. Several times in the past when his consciousness had slipped into the containment space, he had been forced to match wits with it.
Honest dismissed the others, then spoke toward the viewing slot: "You are granted a fifteen-minute rest."
The gaze vanished.
In other words, the surveillance had been shut off.
Karen was somewhat surprised; he hadn't expected the arrangements to go this far.
"Minister Karen, I will come to take the photograph with you in fifteen minutes."
With that, Honest bowed to Karen and took his leave.
Karen looked at Vic and asked, "How did you manage this?"
This was no longer something that could be settled just on the basis of Rasma's past favors.
Vic answered, "He has an illegitimate son who also serves as a deputy director in the containment space department. He committed embezzlement and is currently under investigation by our people. I made a deal with him."
Karen: "What deal?"
"I swore that as long as he arranged this tour for me, his illegitimate son would be released."
"What do you actually intend to do?"
Vic shrugged. "Proceed with the trial as normal, unaffected. After all, I swore to the God of Order, and our Lord would certainly never agree to such a thing."
"But you tricked him. He won't be pleased."
Vic lowered his head and smiled faintly. "Please rest assured, we are already gathering evidence of his dereliction of duty."
Karen took hold of the key, turned it, and pushed the door open.
Inside lay an endless expanse of starlight, with row upon row of display cabinets neatly arranged.
Stored here were the vital treasures of the Church of Order.
Vic aptly added at this moment, "All spoils of war left behind from our Lord's ancient campaigns."
As Karen walked in, a crisp young girl's voice rang out:
"Attention all! Fall in to welcome him!"
Chapter 849