Congratulations to the Lucky Winner

"All right, all right, I have to dispose of this painting immediately." Mr. Bede ripped the paper from the easel, crumpled it into a ball, shoved it into a nearby water glass, and stirred it vigorously with his finger. Piaget pulled a lighter from his pocket. With a sharp *click*, a flame sprang forth. *Whoosh!* Mr. Bede blew the flame out. "I know burning it is convenient, of course, but do you have any idea? Leaving the stench of smoke in the bedroom of a fastidious noblewoman produces the second most terrifying consequence in the world." Piaget pulled out a cigarette pack and drew out a cigarette. "I wasn't trying to burn it. I just wanted a smoke." *Click!* *Whoosh!* Mr. Bede blew out the lighter once again. "The number one most terrifying consequence is smoking in here." Piaget sighed, looking down at the pack in his hand. It bore the label of the Church of Thunder. "I want one. My head hurts terribly." A look of heartache surfaced in Mr. Bede's eyes. He reached out and gently patted Piaget on the back. "Bear with it a little longer. You can smoke once we leave this place." Piaget offered no further resistance. He quietly put the pack away, hung his head, and buried his face in his hands. "Mr. Bede, I feel so lost." "I know." "I constantly condemn myself for feelings like this. I shouldn't be this way, because everything I do is for Linda. Every negative emotion makes me feel as if I'm drifting away, betraying that love... It tears me apart inside." "Perhaps you should learn... learn to endure and regulate yourself." The words *let go* never crossed Bede's lips. If Piaget were to let go, what would become of Bede himself? His role was increasingly resembling that of an attendant to the successor of the Mural God. He valued this identity deeply and was willing to give everything for it. Therefore, he could never advise Piaget to abandon that love, because it had become inextricably bound to Piaget's "mission"—no matter how much agony it brought him. It was widely known that the Church of the Mural God was a congregation of lunatics. The core of their madness was that their pursuit of "art" was enough to obliterate their humanity. Linda had abandoned a husband who loved her deeply for the sake of "art." Mr. Bede had foreseen the impending disaster that would strike his family, yet back then, his only thought had been to stand before the burning manor and paint a masterpiece brimming with emotion. They were a group of utterly selfish people, and they were well aware of their own selfishness. As Karen's status steadily rose, many previous religious restrictions within his jurisdiction had effectively been lifted—even the "Light remnants" could be incorporated under his command. Yet, toward the Church of the Mural God alone, Karen had never issued any order to relax the pressure. He allowed them to be hunted down and suppressed by forces led by Order, just as they always had been. It was not because Karen had poor relations with the remnants of the Mural God; on the contrary, it was because they were too close that he refused to let this mad organization fester in greater comfort within the real world. Taking a deep breath, Piaget looked up, took the handkerchief Mr. Bede offered, and wiped his face. Once again, he had managed to steady his mindset. "Mr. Bede, do I need to paint another one?" "No need. I painted two." Bede peeled away his own canvas, revealing another underneath. Its theme was love accentuated by the class hierarchy—the exact opposite of the first piece. "When can we leave here?" Piaget asked. "I want to go back and take a look." "Back to Ruilan?" "No, back to Vien. Linda and I met and fell in love in Vien, and my best friend is there too. Ah, I wonder what rank Karen holds now." "I'm not sure either." "He's your son-in-law, Mr. Bede. How could you not care? Even if we were too poor to afford teleportation fees, you'd still buy a copy of *Order Weekly*." "It's mainly because he gets promoted too quickly, far beyond my understanding of the Church of Order's hierarchy. You know, that's an orthodox church, and in terms of strength, Order is vastly more powerful than the Church of Life where we are stranded right now. "Because of that, its internal power structure is extraordinarily complex. Besides, the exact same rank produces completely different effects depending on the background and the person holding it." "Mr. Bede, you're making it sound more and more convoluted." "To put it broadly, when measuring Karen's status now, it's probably easier to start from whoever sits at the very pinnacle of the Church of Order and count down." "Oh, I understand. Very, very high." "Yes. Very, very high." "Congratulations, Mr. Bede." "There's no need to congratulate me. A long time ago, Karen's status became completely detached from Allen Manor; he transcended it far too long ago anyway. Besides, I have a personal reason for not wanting to return. I know that son-in-law of mine doesn't think very highly of me." "He's a family-oriented man." "Yes, and that's precisely why he dislikes me." "We're off topic. I asked when we can leave." "Depends on the big shot's mood." Mr. Bede shrugged. "Perhaps if we serve her well, we'll gain our freedom soon enough. But then again, who can say for sure?" "If some upheaval occurred, like that time in Samsara Valley, would we be able to leave right away?" Mr. Bede's hands gave a sudden pair of twitches. His mind instantly jumped to the painting Piaget had just destroyed. Inhaling deeply, Mr. Bede stared at Piaget and chuckled. "You're welcome to think along those lines more often. Who knows... it might just come to pass." *** Karen's carriage returned to the Holy See. He waved over a servant and gave him instructions. The servant was startled, but he had no alternative. Carrying a tray of drinks and using the opportunity of pouring wine, he approached the Whip-Wielder and reported: "Lord Whip-Wielder, Director Karen wishes to see you." Foden nodded. He knew that by sending a servant instead of coming in person, Karen was trying to keep attention on the matter to an absolute minimum, even at the expense of hierarchical etiquette. The Whip-Wielder walked over to Sisa, the head of the containment space, and gave him a look. Sisa had no idea what Foden wanted, but he followed him out nonetheless. Every move made by grand figures like them in the inner circle was scrutinized by the outer circle. Moreover, Foden's identity was uniquely sensitive, inevitably drawing the sharpest scrutiny. Only by leaving alongside Sisa could he offer a plausible excuse—most would assume they were stepping aside to discuss artifact leasing arrangements. Once they reached the outer circle, Sisa asked, "What happened?" What could be so grave that it required him to play along in this little performance for the Whip-Wielder? Foden sighed. "I don't know yet. A subordinate called for me." Sisa frowned. A subordinate called for you, and you had to cooperate to this extent? "Is your subordinate named Little Mm-hmm?" Sisa didn't dare speak that personage's true name aloud. "Hehehe." Foden laughed. "Isn't it just Little Mm-hmm?" "Then I'll have tea here and wait to head back with you." "All right." "Be quick. The most important segment is about to begin." "I know." Foden walked outward. Sisa blinked. Embedded within his eye sockets were specialized instruments that allowed his vision not only to penetrate barriers, but also to bend around corners. When he watched Foden board the carriage, he couldn't help clicking his tongue. "Well, today has truly been an eye-opener." *** When Foden reached the carriage, Karen did not step down to receive him. By all rights, Foden should have been furious; this was entirely contrary to protocol. Yet as he let the feeling brew, Foden couldn't find a spark to ignite his anger. On the one hand, he knew Karen must have uncovered an investigation finding of paramount urgency; on the other, he had long since "discerned" Karen's "true identity." The door stood open. Foden climbed inside, the door shut, and the carriage's built-in isolation barrier activated. Inside, Karen and Foden sat facing each other. Purr, Kevin, and little Kanna had already stepped out earlier. Karen pulled the drawing from the sleeve of his clerical robe and handed it to Foden. Taking it, Foden felt a jolt within his chest. Yet he had long mastered the art of concealing and reigning in his emotions... Still, specifically to offer Karen some feedback, he allowed a flicker of surprise to show on his face. "Lord Whip-Wielder, Augurev Fortress hasn't lost control. Rather, it sensed Augurev's return. I have already ordered the fortress locked down. No one, including our investigators, is permitted to contact the outside, and no one may enter or leave." Foden nodded and asked, "Did they all see this scene?" Their own branch god, hosted by the Tree of Life, serving as a guide leading a host of deities on their journey home. Karen shook his head. "What they saw was extremely blurred; they couldn't even distinguish whether it was Augurev. This drawing is what I saw myself, because... I am somewhat special." This was equivalent to laying bare his own secret before the Whip-Wielder, akin to dancing around a bonfire after dousing himself in gasoline. Even so, Karen had a premonition that Foden would cover for him. "Yes, I understand. Everyone has their secrets. That is entirely normal—so long as your devotion belongs to Order." This was effectively a pledge: he would not pry, and by implication, he would not allow outsiders to pursue the matter either. At present, however, Karen's personal secret had become the lesser concern. Frowning, Foden leaned against the back of his seat, holding the drawing before him as he sank into deep contemplation. Karen asked, "Do you know the mission of Augurev Fortress?" "I do," Foden replied in an airy tone. Karen said no more. After a moment, Foden asked, "Did you know?" Karen immediately realized that Foden wasn't asking about the fortress's mission, but rather... the matter of Augurev's return. "I... did not. I didn't anticipate it beforehand." "Oh." Foden silently withdrew a small cluster of grapes from the sleeve of his robe. Daina had brought them in earlier for the High Priest and the dignitaries gathered inside the inner barrier. She had tirelessly promoted them as a new specialty from Yorktown, brought by Director Karen of the Whip of Order's Disciplinary Department for everyone to taste. Back then, Daina had looked remarkably like a dutiful wife aggressively pitching fruit from her husband's struggling orchard. Krede had even teased: *Little Daina, just what is your relationship with Karen?* The fact that the High Priest had once contemplated arranging a marriage could hardly be hidden from them. Though the match had fallen through due to Foden's dissuasion, it didn't stop these close old comrades from poking fun at the idea. Yet Little Daina had truly matured. She had simply answered with immense pride: *Karen is my Legion Commander.* At the time, everyone present—including the High Priest—likely took it as nothing more than an amusing little interlude. Only Foden had keenly sensed beforehand that there had to be a deeper meaning behind the gesture. In a venue of such high stature, had anyone ever heard of an attendee bringing local agricultural produce? What was more, Karen was the one doing it. Yet even Foden hadn't expected the foreshadowing to land here. The Whip-Wielder plucked a grape, placed it into his mouth, and chewed unhurriedly. The grape was seedless, its skin melting away on the tongue, making it effortless to eat. After finishing the first, the Whip-Wielder took a second, then a third... Plainly, it wasn't because he was thirsty. He was using this gesture as a silent counter-question to Karen: *You call this 'not anticipating it beforehand'?* *** The grapes were finished, yet Foden still seemed to crave more. He asked, "Are there any left?" Karen replied, "We must wait for the second crop to grow." "Can't you cultivate more?" "Skilled hands and fertilizer are hard to come by. Expanding the planting faces practical difficulties." "Difficulties are a good thing; they point out the direction forward." "What you say is true." The carriage lapsed into quiet. The Whip-Wielder said nothing, and Karen remained silent as well. Ordinarily, the matter should have been urgent beyond measure. Karen would hand the investigation report of Augurev Fortress to the Whip-Wielder, and upon reading it, the Whip-Wielder would hurry anxiously to find the High Priest to forcibly intervene, turning what was supposed to be a pure "lottery" into a rigged backroom operation. After all, if the Church of Order wanted to select an orthodox religion to assert its dominance while simultaneously concluding the war in the desert, why couldn't it be the Church of Life? From another perspective, the primary contradiction had already revealed itself. Augurev's return was launched with the Tree of Life and the two Gods of Life as its pillars; this immediately made them the principal conflict. Therefore, if another church were drawn by chance, it would be terribly inconvenient. Concentrating all firepower on a single church was undeniably simpler than dealing with two. Yet precisely because Karen had "intervened" in advance, even though an accident had occurred and the principal contradiction had surfaced, the choice remained the intended choice. This spared the Whip-Wielder the need to rush back to the High Priest crying, "Halt the draw!" Instead, he could sit leisurely inside the carriage, finish his grapes, and indulge in the luxury of zoning out opposite Karen. Glancing at the time, Karen decided to break the silence himself. He spoke up: "Lord Whip-Wielder, regarding the High Priest..." "Your thinking is very much aligned with the High Priest's." "Hm?" "The High Priest will not permit them to return." Karen felt a wave of relief. At present, the only person capable of suppressing the temple, commanding the Holy See, and efficiently mobilizing all the resources and strength of the Church of Order was the High Priest. No one else could achieve this level—not even Karen himself if he were placed at the helm today. This was not merely because Norton was the successor of "Tyrannus," but because he had grasped secular power long before that; the symbolic theocracy, to him, was little more than an added bonus. With such a High Priest at the top mobilizing strength to resolve the problem, Karen felt reassured. What he feared most at a time like this was internal strife. Foden rose to his feet. Karen moved a step faster, standing up to open the carriage door. Both men descended from the carriage and walked side-by-side toward Sacrificial Square. Karen asked, "You don't seem very surprised." "I was very surprised." "I couldn't tell." "Having served as Whip-Wielder for too long, my acting has deteriorated," Foden joked, a rare occurrence. "It's only when facing the High Priest that I can quickly slip into character." "You're being modest." "Heh." "How should the personnel at the fortress be handled?" According to past tradition, the best placement for those people was in some remote development space. They were innocent, but secrecy regulations and the greater good demanded such an arrangement. "Let them take paid leave at the fortress," Foden said, straightening the cuffs of his clerical robe. "Until [Life] is concluded." Karen adjusted his own cuffs as well and remarked, "That should be very soon." Today, all eleven knight order commanders were present. Once the drawing yielded a clear target, the next step would be drafting the war plan with the utmost speed. One had to remember that on the desert battlefield, Order had only ever kept two knight orders as anchor forces from beginning to end; even factoring in rotations, there were never more than three. The remaining garrisons, militias, and auxiliary troops were merely sent there to gain experience. If they truly intended to wage a formal war against an orthodox religion, it would warrant the same treatment given to the Church of Samsara: six knight orders fully equipped, deploying swiftly, with no feints—every assault a main thrust, shattering Samsara in one stroke. "Right, do take on a bit of toil tonight. Go to the First Knight Order on my behalf to receive a few people. I was originally supposed to go, but with this happening, I cannot leave the High Priest's side for the time being." "Yes, this subordinate understands." Karen knew this was modeled after the previous strategy against Samsara: awakening several high-ranking commanders from the previous era who possessed divine warfare experience to formulate the operational plan. It was extravagant, yet by no means wasteful... To a certain extent, commanders with divine warfare experience were plentiful within the Church of Order. Even when the "decisive battle" arrived, having a single command staff was essentially enough, since combat units were fixed in number. Even so, Karen genuinely looked forward to visiting the First Knight Order once more, and witnessing the awakening of those senior figures. *** Within the Garden of Life, the Tree of Life stood tall. Though layer upon layer of embellishments had been applied to give its exterior an aura of vibrant vitality, only the upper echelons of the Church of Life knew that the interior of this life totem had long begun to decay. Yet today, it abruptly radiated a dense brilliance. The entire Garden of Life seemed instantly restored to the glory of the previous era—a flourishing, vibrant spectacle of all living things striving forth. Two vivid blossoms opened upon the trunk of the Tree of Life. In the mythological accounts of the Church of Life, that was the birthplace of the two primary Gods of Life. Inside the barrier, the Life elders and high-ranking priests raised their voices in devout acclaim: "Praise the Tree of Life! Praise the great Gods of Life!" *** Sacrificial Square, Holy See of Order. The High Priest stood at the highest vantage point, watching his foster daughter, Daina, walk up from below. Krede held a set of bookmarks and presented them before Daina, preparing for her to draw. This was a newly added segment; not only had the foreign guests failed to anticipate it, but even many within Order were caught off guard. Krede's public explanation was that under the watchful gaze of the God of Order, a lucky church would be drawn to engage in a series of deep, friendly partnerships with the Church of Order. If everyone hadn't already heard the tale of the God of Order, Ankara, and the bookmarks, and if Krede weren't the cardinal overseeing warfare within Order, people might genuinely have believed it. In short, the moment this segment began, the entire assembly fell dead silent. The priests clad in the robes of Order mostly beamed with delight, eager and impatient; by contrast, the foreign dignitaries and diplomatic envoys turned pale, breaking out in cold sweat. Daina's little heart beat wildly—*thump, thump, thump*. She drew a bookmark. Written upon it was: *Night God Church*. Immediately, Daina drew a deep breath, clutched the bookmark to her chest with both hands, faced the multitude, and cried aloud: "Congratulations to... the Church of Life!"