Closing the Net!

The Whip-Wielder's carriage pulled up before the Administrative Temple, and Foden stepped out. He gazed toward the towering steps, his expression slightly solemn. A full week had passed since the High Priest delivered his speech at the garrison of the First Knight Order. During those seven days, the High Priest had not once appeared in the Administrative Temple to conduct official business, setting aside all work under the pretext of being unwell. There had been a time in the past when the High Priest went unseen for an extended period. Rumors had swirled everywhere back then, claiming something was physically wrong with the Church of Order's formidable leader. The talk only ceased when the High Priest finally resurfaced in public. This time, however, both inside and outside the church, virtually everyone assumed that the High Priest was deliberately leaving the entire ecclesiastical circle out in the cold following his address—a calculated political maneuver. Yet Foden knew all too well that this time, the stated reason was likely genuine. Most members of the core circle were aware of the High Priest's peculiar physical condition. Furthermore, had it merely been a political performance, there would have been no need to halt internal operations. The High Priest was a man with an immense appetite for authority—or rather, a profound desire for control. Yet for seven days, he had not issued a single instruction to Foden, nor had he sent an avatar over for a visit. Mobiten stood upon the steps. As the Whip-Wielder passed him, he bowed in salute and said, "Cardinal Kred, Curator Zuoluofu, and Lord Sisa are already inside." Sisa held a status within the containment space equivalent to Foden's within the Whip of Order. At the victory banquet at Augurev Fortress, he had even joked about using a divine artifact to lure Karen into working for him. Sisa was a member of the inner circle, as was Kred. Zuoluofu, however... he was the curator of the Grand Library of the Church of Order and concurrently the head of the Institute of Divine History, an elder scholar held in high esteem. Why would the High Priest summon him after severing all contact for seven days? Foden gave Mobiten a slight nod. Stepping into the Administrative Temple, he found it remarkably quiet. Evidently, while the High Priest had restored communication with the outside world, he had not yet resumed handling general governance. Before the official desk stood Kred, Sisa, and Zuoluofu. The High Priest sat in the chair behind the desk, his back turned to them all. Kred stood at the front, with Sisa and Zuoluofu behind him. When Foden arrived, Zuoluofu took the initiative to yield his place, stepping back to the very end. No matter how high a scholar's prestige reached within his academic domain, he dared not assert his standing before these departmental titans who wielded real power. The High Priest raised a hand, and a bell flew forth. It was a divine artifact, yet the gold it should have radiated was now tainted with a deep, dark hue. "It is soiled," the High Priest said. "Clean it." "Yes, Your Eminence," Sisa responded immediately. He raised both hands, conjuring a four-sided sealing frame that enclosed the bell. Yet the blackened bell suddenly began to violently vibrate, and the cubic frame showed faint signs of shattering. In truth, tasks such as sealing, transporting, and purifying divine artifacts were typically handled by dedicated teams within the containment space, with different tiers of teams assigned to different grades of artifacts. But since the High Priest had personally tossed it over, the head of the containment space had no choice but to catch it himself. Sisa drew a sharp breath. For a moment, he found himself unable to suppress the black bell. An artifact of the soul that possessed no artifact spirit was supposed to be docile, yet this one now harbored an intensely rebellious consciousness. Though they often teased and bantered among themselves and took subtle pleasure in seeing one another stumble, they would never display disunity in front of the High Priest. Foden and Kred each extended a hand and rested it on Sisa's shoulders, channeling their strength into him. *Snap!* The cubic frame stabilized, firmly embedding the seal upon the artifact. Sisa caught the bell in his hand and let out a long sigh of relief. Kred chuckled. "It seems life has been too comfortable. Your body has grown sluggish." Foden chimed in, "More like entering an early decline." This brand of ribbing—akin to being told one went to a pastry shop only to come out after the span of a single cigarette—would normally have been intolerable and demanded immediate retort, or at least some excuse to save face. This time, however, Sisa merely offered an awkward smile without explaining. The issue with the bell concerned the High Priest; they were simply maintaining a tacit balance of levity amidst the gravity. The High Priest made a slight gesture with his hand. Understanding the cue, Sisa bowed and withdrew. Immediately after, the High Priest spoke again. "Kred, it is time to put the drawing of lots on the agenda." Kred promptly answered, "High Priest, please instruct me." "Bring a clean, impressive close to the desert front. You will be responsible for planning and designing the drawing of lots." Kred's expression stiffened slightly. Concluding the desert campaign was not difficult, but designing the drawing ceremony posed a real challenge. The High Priest wanted to project the lofty, arrogant demeanor of Order—striking whoever's lot was drawn. But as the architect of the war, how could anyone wait until a lot was drawn before drawing up an operational plan tailored to that specific target? Kred instinctively glanced at Foden beside him. Foden did not return the look, but Kred understood in his heart. "Understood, High Priest." The High Priest raised a hand. Kred bowed. "This subordinate takes his leave." Now, only Foden and Zuoluofu remained. The High Priest asked, "The research report on the precise relationship between Our Lord and the Twelve Knights of Order—has it yielded results?" Hearing this, Zuoluofu fell to his knees with a loud thud, cold sweat dripping down his face. As a researcher, it was natural to follow one's interests and exercise subjective initiative, delving into topics of personal fascination. Under normal circumstances, that would not have been an issue. The problem lay in the fact that he had privately collaborated with a project team from the Church of Principles, sharing confidential secrets and historical records of Order that should never have seen the light of day. Strictly speaking, such conduct could easily be escalated to charges of apostasy. Particularly now, with the other two lords gone, leaving only the Whip-Wielder and himself. Foden remained silent, standing quietly in place. This intelligence had originally been gathered by the Whip of Order and submitted to the High Priest, but that was quite some time ago. He had no idea why the High Priest had waited until now to bring it up and make a point of addressing it. High as Curator Zuoluofu's rank was, arresting and indicting him would require nothing more than a single squad from the Whip of Order. "Bring the research report for me to see," the High Priest said. "Yes, this subordinate understands. This subordinate will do so immediately." The High Priest raised a hand. Zuoluofu could hardly believe his ears. Foden bent down and helped him up with a faint smile, instructing, "Go and fulfill the High Priest's will." "Yes, of course, Lord Whip-Wielder." Zuoluofu rose and stumbled out of the hall on unsteady legs. At last, only Foden and the High Priest remained. Foden felt somewhat unaccustomed to facing the High Priest alone across the official desk. For a long time, their private meetings had taken place at the water-surrounded tea pavilion. The High Priest had always maintained a strict separation of duties: work when working, rest when resting. The High Priest slowly rotated his chair, turning around to face forward. Then Foden saw his face. There was a hollow wound sunken into his forehead, and the injury made him appear considerably older. At the sight, a wave of warmth surged into Foden's eyes, and he dropped to one knee. Though their relationship as superior and subordinate had grown tense and oppressive after they helped each other rise to the positions of High Priest and Whip-Wielder, and Foden never dared show the slightest negligence toward him, none of that could erase the past—the years when they first met at the grassroots and advanced together as companions. For once, there was no acting, no calculated preamble, no design. It was the purest expression of genuine emotion. The High Priest chuckled. "My word, why is the Whip-Wielder of Order sniffling like a child?" "High Priest, what happened to you?" "I paid a small price to see something I was not meant to see. It is nothing; I am already recovering." "High Priest, you must take care of yourself. Truly, you cannot abuse your body like this." "All right, all right. Stand up and wipe your tears. There is no need to weep for me over this." The High Priest opened his palm. A cluster of golden threads manifested, swirling in his hand, before he casually snapped them apart, denying them the chance to condense into form. "Your health is poor, and you are bogged down by too many mundane affairs. You will likely never have the chance to condense a godhead fragment. That means I will outlive you by several centuries. Do not cry for me—in the future, I will certainly be the one standing at your funeral while you lie in the casket." The High Priest's blunt remarks instantly disrupted Foden's emotional momentum. He had no choice but to stand, sighing, "You are burdened by far more mundane affairs than I am, yet your talent remains something I can only look up to." This was the first time the High Priest had directly revealed his realm to Foden. It signaled that Foden had performed well recently and submitted excellent work... A well-earned piece of positive feedback. Norton shook his head dismissively. "It is merely good fortune. Such is the blessing of being Tyrannus's inheritor. Cultivation has never been an obstacle for me." Foden found those words remarkably familiar. Truly, they were both Children of God. The High Priest continued, "That is why I hold great respect for the one who condensed three godhead fragments entirely on his own." Foden knew he was referring to the Inmeres from Rojia City. "Just an Inquisitor family—no extraordinary heritage, no powerful bloodline inheritance, neither a Child of God nor the successor of some ancient legacy. He had no shortcuts to take, yet he forced his way to that height by sheer will. That is truly magnificent. "Had he been willing to break away from the church, he could have founded a powerful family faith system of his own and stood as its progenitor. "Of course, had he not rejected the Gate of Order and entered the temple instead, his standing there would have been transcendent. "It is simply because this era has been devoid of gods for so long that the world has been suppressed. Not only has the church's technological and research capabilities declined, but other natural laws have suffered suppression and voids, making the condensation of godhead fragments far harder than in the previous era or the first half of this one. "Ha. Place him in the previous era, and he might genuinely have had a shot at contending for the status of a branch god within our Church of Order." Foden involuntarily swallowed hard. He knew a few things about that taboo incident in Rojia City, but only the High Priest had the standing to casually draw comparisons between the conditions of this era and the last. A branch god? Was that Inmeres truly that terrifying? Recalling the High Priest's special arrangements regarding that matter, Foden felt he ought to glean more information from Elder Norton, making it easier for Young Norton to prepare in advance for executing the assignment later on. "High Priest, the temple's stance toward him is quite extreme." "The more powerful an entity is, the more dreadful the consequences of his deviation into disorder. After all, he detonated a godhead fragment without hesitation to blast the temple. In their position, you would not tolerate such a radical, uncontrollable subordinate either." Foden nodded in deep agreement, though he thought to himself: *No, I have already gotten used to it.* "High Priest, how do you intend to deal with this Inmeres?" "I have not made up my mind yet." Foden understood that it was simply not the right time to tell him. "Foden." "This subordinate is here." "Do something for me. This is a task I can entrust only to you." "Please deliver your decree." "Place all current Children of God and their descendants within the church, as well as the primary consecrated attendants of the statues of the Lords, their colleagues, and their disciples, under comprehensive surveillance." Foden was thoroughly shaken, but he answered at once, "I obey your decree." Having given these orders, Norton closed his eyes. His expression turned somewhat bleak, weighed down by immense fatigue. Foden hesitated over whether to take his leave, but the High Priest had not yet signaled for him to go. After a moment, Norton released a quiet, lingering sigh. "Foden... tell me, who else can we trust?" "High Priest..." "This road is too hard, too lonely. As you reach the end, you find fewer and fewer friends and companions beside you." Foden assumed the High Priest was reminiscing about the past. Indeed, though they had continually recruited new personnel throughout their rise, less than a quarter of the original founding circle remained. "All I can do is hold this situation together so it does not collapse in my hands. Beyond that, I am powerless." Foden nodded. Looking at Elder Norton's melancholy, his thoughts turned to Young Norton. Foden said, "High Priest, do not put too much pressure on yourself. What our Church of Order believes in is that every generation has its own mission. We must have faith in the capability and wisdom of those who come after us." "Tsk..." The High Priest seemed surprised, yet touched. He smiled. "In the end, you are still the one who understands me best." *** York City, Disciplinary Department Barrier. A crystal ball sat on Karen's desk, projecting a communication feed in front of him. Purr was perched on Kevin's back, speaking with Karen. In the projection, Kevin's satchel had been swapped for a defensive sacred artifact forged of metal, covering him like a suit of plate armor. A helmet sat upon the dog's head as well, maximizing his defenses. Purr wore a cloak with a hood drawn up, and two premium fire-elemental wands were strapped across her feline back. Kevin had grown thinner. Clearly, scanting no effort while scouring the expansion space for divine artifacts over these days had taken a toll. Purr, on the other hand, had not lost weight; if anything, she had gotten plumper. She had likely relished returning to her beloved adventuring days, and good spirits naturally brought a hearty appetite. "You have gotten thinner," Karen said. "Huh, really, meow?" "Yes. You have suffered." "Hehe, meow! It is fine, totally fine! It was all worth it!" Despite numerous perils and twists along the way, Ankara's weapon, the Blade of Sighs, had finally been found. It was a rusted long saber. In Purr's words, even a distant glance at it would leave a person's soul sliced by its sharpness. Purr had also noted that the rust along the blade bore a resemblance to the corrosion marks on Karen's Chains of Order. The current dilemma was how to draw it out and transport it back. The original plan called for Karen to make the trip in person, but with the imminent net-closing operation, stepping away was inconvenient. Moreover, the treasure-hunting team did include a former god, after all. They were currently devising a method for Kevin to haul the saber back. Karen said, "Once you return, I will undo as much of your seal as possible." Kevin's eyes instantly lit up. Karen produced a notebook and waved it before Kevin. "The problem now is that even with my best efforts, I cannot completely undo Mr. Hoffen's seal on you. The rest will depend on your own ability to decipher and dissolve it. You will have to figure out a way once you are back. "Oh, right. We recently recovered a piece of your dog brain. It should be useful to you." "Woof! Woof! Woof!" In the projection, Kevin spun in circles with excitement. As his proficiency with arrays deepened, Karen realized more and more just how sinister Mr. Hoffen's sealing scheme for Kevin truly was. Yes, sinister—and the word was not an insult here. After all, when sealing an evil god, one had to employ every underhanded method available. Mr. Hoffen had apparently feared that Karen might be seduced by the evil god. Thus, in the sealing notes left behind, even if Karen unraveled every layer he could, a hidden failsafe remained inside to continue restricting Raniedal. Only after leaving home did Karen truly appreciate how formidable his grandfather was, and how terrifying Grandfather's old partner from the Church of Principles had been. One had to remember that Mr. Hoffen had merely been an Order servant. What a pity that Mr. Hoffen was dead—completely and utterly gone. Otherwise, had he survived until now so that Karen could awaken him inside a coffin, many problems would likely have found the swiftest solutions. Just then, Little Kanna returned from visiting other offices, carrying a small red backpack. The illustration on the bag depicted a large tree, beneath which sat a little girl and a dog. Originally, there had been a cat as well, but the cat had been scratched away. She was Karen's dragon. Leaving aside her formal status, she was indisputably the most pampered individual in the Disciplinary Department. Whenever anyone had snacks, they loved inviting her to try them, so every tour of the offices yielded a massive bounty of treats. Seeing the crystal ball and the projection on Karen's desk, Little Kanna assumed it was a recorded memory crystal. During the treasure hunt, real-time communication had been difficult, so memory crystals were used to relay messages to Karen. Delightedly, Little Kanna sat down at her small desk, swinging her legs as she enjoyed her snacks. Then, Purr let out a sharp shout from the projection: "Kanna!" Little Kanna jumped in fright, dropping snacks all over the floor. What? It was not a recording, but live communication? "Have you finished your homework?!" Little Kanna nodded vigorously, but as she nodded, she froze, realizing she had forgotten Karen's prior reminder. "Oh?" Purr was genuinely intrigued. The homework she had assigned Little Kanna was deliberately calibrated to be an impossible amount to finish. Yet the girl was claiming it was done? Even so, Purr had a countermeasure ready. She said, "Inside the bedroom wardrobe, the second sliding drawer from the back—there is another set of homework in there. Finish it." Little Kanna's eyes went wide. "Go get it, quickly! Doing more homework now is for your own good. Once you grow up, I will leave you alone, and you will be completely free, meow!" Little Kanna let out a sigh and dragged her numb little body into the bedroom. A moment later, she emerged carrying a stack of homework taller than she was. That drawer was meant for blankets—not very tall, but exceptionally wide. "What is that potted plant on her desk? Why does it look so much like an octopus leg?" Karen replied, "That is a gift Richard gave her. Quite a cute little trinket." "Karen, while I am away from home, you must not spoil her. Keep an eye on her and make sure she studies properly. You would not want your future mount to be an uneducated dragon, would you?" "Naturally. I have always been strict with her." "Hehe, meow." The communication ended, and the projection vanished. Little Kanna pouted, tears welling in her eyes. Karen stood, walked over to her, and gently stroked her head. Little Kanna looked up with watery eyes, clenching her left fist while holding up her right index finger, letting out an inquisitive, "Mmh-mmh??" Karen shook his head firmly, answering in the exact same tone: "Mmh-mmh!" Little Kanna had no choice but to unclench her fist, pick up her pen with her right hand, and begin her homework, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Her left hand kept scratching at her backpack; at this rate, she would probably scratch out another cat before long. Just then, a knock sounded at the office door. Alfred opened it. "Young Master, everyone is ready. You may come over." "Mm." Karen stepped out of the office and made his way to the conference hall. Upon entering, he naturally took the head seat. Seated below were Bern, Alfred, Vic, and the others, with the heads of every division standing ready. Bern placed an operational proposal before Karen, who flipped through it while listening to Bern's briefing. The focus of this net-closing operation was the Silencers, the organization that had surfaced recently. The objective was to completely sever this outstretched claw. Naturally, they also did not mind rounding up and eliminating the church personnel who had been incited to launch petty retaliations against Karen, along with that circle of fundamentalists. According to the plan, to make them more active and emboldened, Bern had even dispatched operatives to link up with them and fan the flames, thoughtfully providing professional moles to assist them in formulating assassination plots against Karen. An old operative from the shadows always favored scorched-earth tactics—pulling weeds out by the roots. Talented as Vic was, he still appeared somewhat green compared to Bern. The primary focus of this operation lay within the Yorktown Region, but the Whip of Order systems across all regions under the Church of Order were required to coordinate and comply with Karen's deployments. One could say the scale was second only to the previous formation of the Whip of Order Legion. Once Bern concluded his briefing, silence settled over the hall. Karen turned the pages one by one. Reaching the final sheet, he closed the document, patted it with his hand, and said: "Close the net."