Mind Blown Wide Open!

Early in the morning, Karen took a shower and walked into his office with damp hair. He pushed open the window, and a cool morning breeze drifted in, bringing a pleasant, invigorating freshness. Sitting down behind his desk, Karen began flipping through the day's documents. Three days had passed since Daina's drawing of lots concluded. The suppressed undercurrents within the Church of Order were steadily surging into position. War required time to prepare; the larger the scale of the war, the longer the preparations took, and the harder it was to conceal. Yet preparations for this one had already begun while the desert campaign was still underway. Back when he held the post of army commander, he would have had no way of perceiving this grand picture. Only now, through the reach of his well-developed intelligence network, could he discern the general trend. Different positions and different heights offered entirely different vistas. Even now, not only outsiders but many priests within the church believed the High Priest was an aggressive hawk who had provoked and launched several wars and skirmishes since taking office. But anyone with sufficient data who scrutinized the aftermath would find that none of those conflicts had been whim-driven impulses; every single one had landed squarely on one crucial juncture after another. Karen had yet to completely shake the habit of riding the momentum of others, whereas the High Priest was already adept at brewing the storm himself. This was no longer a mere difference in rank, but a genuine gulf in mastery. He was still too young. He learned quickly, able to pick up any craft or technique with great speed. Yet beyond a certain point, he invariably ran into a familiar bottleneck. After using raw talent to sprint through the initial stage, the rest required time, effort, and insight to settle, soak in, and develop depth. And in the end, one would find that cultivation... was actually the most direct path, yielding results the fastest. No wonder the elders and senior figures he had encountered all urged him to abandon administrative office and focus wholeheartedly on pushing through cultivation realms. "Mmh... Good morning." Little Kanna wobbled in, holding a towel in her left hand and carrying an ice bucket in her right, before flopping behind her little desk. *Slap!* After soaking the towel in ice water, Little Kanna wiped her face vigorously, then picked up the gift Purr had recently given her—a quill pen—and set to work on her homework. The days Purr had spent in the Pioneer Space searching for the Blade of Sighs on Karen's behalf had been the happiest time in Little Kanna's recent memory. But once Purr returned, Little Kanna seemed trapped in a cycle of endless, never-diminishing schoolwork. Karen had been feeling rather relaxed and at ease this morning, but seeing Little Kanna sitting there with such deep-seated misery written across her face, he coughed softly and pretended to pore over official business with utmost gravity. "Young Master, Miss Kanna, good morning." Xili brought in breakfast. Before Karen she set a bowl of small wontons, two fried dough sticks, a pork bun, and a cup of soy milk. For Little Kanna, there were steamed buns and soy milk. Little Kanna pulled out the "stone fragments" she had brought back from the First Knight Order from her schoolbag, slathered them inside like bean paste, pressed two buns together, and stuffed the sandwich into her mouth. Karen smiled and said, "Today's bun is quite good." Xili had learned her cooking from Karen, but today she had made her own tweaks to the bun recipe, and the result was surprisingly delicious. "Young Master, did you know? There are many purple-haired restaurants in Wien right now promoting dishes tailored to your tastes." "Oh? Really? Why is that?" "Because... because I cooked them at home and shared them with my mother, father, and relatives. They started sharing them with others, and the dishes spread..." Xili sounded somewhat nervous and uneasy as she spoke. She served as the young master's maid, and her family had been rescued by Mr. Alfred during the previous racial hate killings in York City, after which they were housed and given work at the Allen Apartments. Within the ordinary purple-haired community, Xili's family was already considered "community nobility." Naturally, the habits of the "nobility" easily influenced the "commoners," inviting imitation. Once the recipes spread widely enough, people tweaked, developed, and refined them, and those improved versions eventually fed back to Xili. Karen asked, "Are there many purple-haired people running restaurants in Wien?" "Because most undocumented immigrants who arrive in Wien lack legal status and work permits, so they can only work under the table washing dishes in restaurant kitchens." "I see. So that's how it is." "Back in our homeland, there's a saying that Wien is heaven, where washing dishes for three years can earn you a villa in downtown York City." "How interesting," Karen turned a page of the document and took a sip of soy milk. "And how naive." "Still, documented citizens in Wien do live quite well. The lower class here generally has a better life than the lower class back home." "Ah, that is because Wien's true bottom tier does not live in Wien at all. It exists across its vast colonies—including your homeland." Xili was stunned for a moment, then nodded vigorously. "Thank you, Young Master. I understand now." Just then, Alfred walked in and asked, "Is there any breakfast left?" "Yes, Mr. Alfred. Eldest Miss Purr and Kevin don't seem to be awake yet." "Good." Alfred sat down in front of Karen's desk. Xili set out his breakfast and excused herself. "Young Master, fresh intelligence. There are signs that the God-Creation Project may be launched ahead of schedule. They likely sensed new turbulence brewing on the horizon, so they intend to get the experiment underway first." Karen tore a fried dough stick in half, handed one piece to Alfred, and dunked the other into his soy milk. "Then let's pull in the net. Issue an official dispatch to that project team ordering all personnel, top to bottom, to cease their work immediately. Anyone who disobeys will be treated as an apostate." A warning would probably not make them stop on the spot; if anything, it would only accelerate their timeline. But the warning was merely groundwork for the hardline measures to follow. Although some casualties among Order priests would be inevitable in the process, compared to a contamination spill subjecting all of York City—no, all of Wien—to a catastrophe, such losses were negligible. Sometimes a price in blood had to be paid. It would strike fear into factions within the church harboring similar ambitions. Not only in York City, but in no other Order missionary parish should such things ever be attempted. Kevin had been deliberately released back by the God of Order, while he himself possessed the hunger addiction. Thus, he and Kevin were mere exceptions. Any other form of god-creation, no matter how ingeniously designed, would only result in contamination and could never truly forge a deity. "Understood, Young Master." "Also, when the operation begins, notify the Dinge Region. Have them move immediately to arrest the high-ranking figures who have been backing this project from behind the scenes the moment our strike commences." "Young Master, the status of those individuals is rather sensitive." Karen shook his head indifferently, popping the last bite of the fried dough stick into his mouth before picking up the damp towel nearby to wipe his hands. "At a time like this, there's no need to pamper them anymore." ... "Oni, believe me, it was truly a shame you didn't come that day." Once John Rotini settled into the car, he began recounting his experience on the island to Neo. "I never imagined they could be such beasts, nor did I expect being a beast could be so much fun! Hahaha!" Neo replied with a smile, "As long as you enjoyed yourself, Prime Minister." "I had a wonderful time, and we reached quite a few agreements. Going forward, our new policies will proceed much more smoothly. The empire's blind colonial expansion must come to a halt. What we need to do now is digest and manage what we have, making the colonies yield greater returns for the empire rather than draining imperial coffers maintaining stability out there." "However, I worry the imperial military won't be pleased." "Those bastards do nothing but hijack the government for their own interests! Every year they howl and fabricate all sorts of pretexts to demand appropriations and stir up skirmishes and wars. They're a pack of insatiable vampires!" Hearing the word "vampire," Neo touched his nose unconsciously. "Still, will this bill pass?" "It will, Oni. But I have to ask you to bear with a little inconvenience, because the promise I made you will have to be deferred. The opposition is demanding that I make concessions on the illegal immigration issue first. I'll be pushing through a crackdown on illegal immigration to secure their backing for my new policies." "No problem at all, Prime Minister. I understand." "Thank you, Oni. If only you didn't have purple hair! I would bring you onto my public team. In fact, I think you're better suited to be prime minister of Wien than I am." Neo chuckled deprecatingly. "I wouldn't dare dream of such a thing. For a purple-haired man to become the empire's prime minister... just think how ruined the empire would have to be." "That's why the smartest thing about you is that you didn't copy Luther. Even though my campaign slogan was 'Freedom,' freedom always comes with conditions and limits. There has never been such a thing as boundless freedom in this world. "Here in Wien, "the bottom line of freedom is a nation and an upper-class establishment dominated by the Maclays. Slogans are meant to sweet-talk fools, but the trouble is, plenty of fools actually believe them." Pausing, Rotini added: "Luther was just such a naive fool." The driver turned his head and reported, "Prime Minister, we've arrived at the designated street. Your supporters are in place." "Alright, understood. Open the roof." "Yes, Prime Minister." The car's roof folded back, quickly transforming it into a convertible. Neo took the initiative to unbutton Rotini's suit jacket and ran a comb through the prime minister's hair to loosen it, giving him a more approachable, populist look. Rotini said with mild helplessness, "Sometimes, I really feel less like a prime minister and more like a seasoned, dedicated actor." Neo said, "'Actor' and 'prime minister' are virtually synonymous." "You're quite right. Right now, I need their support. The higher my approval ratings, the better I can ensure our party doesn't pull something stupid and try to cut ties with me." Rotini stood up, leaning most of his upper body out of the car. As the motorcade moved forward, crowds of supporters lined both sides of the street. Holding signs aloft, they chanted slogans in unison. If a traveler from out of town witnessed this spectacle, they might easily mistake it for fans welcoming a celebrity. Rotini raised his fist, pumping it repeatedly as he shouted: "Wien needs freedom! The world needs freedom! We... need freedom!" "Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!" "I will lead you to build a glorious beacon of freedom that belongs to Wien!" ... On the rooftop of a department store in the distance, Karen sat watching the scene below. From this vantage point, the fervor was even more palpable. Ever since he could afford a subscription to *Order Weekly*, Mr. Luther and Representative Rotini had been frequent fixtures on its pages. He had always wondered why *Order Weekly* consistently covered the movements of two ordinary mortals. Only later did he realize it was groundwork—advance buildup orchestrated long ago specifically for that God-Creation Project. Now, Mr. Luther had been consumed as a test subject, and it was Rotini's turn. "Kevin, don't you find it strange? As the overlord of the divine realm, the God of Order never liked being titled a 'god' and didn't want her believers to view her as one. Yet the people below remain obsessed with manufacturing gods." "Woof." "Why are there always people who feel that without a god above their heads to revere, they wouldn't know how to live—as if life had lost its bearing?" "Woof." Kevin merely offered simple agreement. Even though it had once been a god, it couldn't comprehend Karen's sentimental musings right now. Still, its virtue was that it couldn't care less about being a god. If the God of Order didn't want it, so be it; if Karen didn't want it, so be it. Yet Karen's next words made Kevin acutely realize who that fellow Alfred had been influenced by from the very beginning! "If there were no gods, Miss Mills wouldn't have been forced into the sea." Kevin's canine eyes widened instantly: "Woof, woof, woof!" "Keep watch. I'm going to take a short nap." Alfred was overseeing the operation, and Kevin was keeping watch, so Karen closed his eyes with complete peace of mind. As the motorcade drew nearer, two gunmen lying in wait on the opposite rooftop were already in position. But before they could even chamber their rounds, two ripples shimmered behind them, and four figures clad in Order robes stepped out. However, just as those four appeared, four black halos materialized behind them, from which four more figures wearing Order robes emerged. The latter drew their weapons, extinguishing their lives with utmost swiftness. As they killed them, they slipped fireflies into their sleeves, incinerating the corpses in an instant. They hit the ground without a sound, dissolving into scattering sparks. Immediately afterward, the rooftop door pushed open, and a squad of hypnotized York City police officers stumbled out in a daze. *Snap!* The hypnosis broke. Left standing on the rooftop were only the two gunmen and ten police officers staring blankly at each other. Down on the street, two groups of gang members were chasing thieves who had lifted their boss's wallet. The two fleeing culprits quickly ducked into the crowd, immediately cloaking their presence with spells. Flanking the motorcade fore and aft, the gang members searched around and quickly spotted their targets: identical clothes, identical faces. They swarmed forward, gagging the targets and pinning their limbs before dragging them out of the crowd to teach them a lesson. The two men struggled, one dropping his sidearm to the pavement while the other had his gun confiscated. This puzzled the gang members. While Wien had legalized gun ownership, this latest-model military sidearm was not only exorbitantly expensive, it was virtually impossible to buy on the open market, currently issued only to a select few officers in the Imperial Army. Would someone carrying a gun like this really stoop to picking pockets? As the mortal gunmen were eliminated, numerous Order priests stationed at observation posts and sentry positions nearby had their concealment shattered. Seeing the intruders wearing the same clerical robes as themselves, most chose to surrender; the few who attempted resistance were struck down on the spot. The Disciplinary Department was staffed almost entirely by veterans from the Pioneer Space elite units. This was their bread and butter. The priests assigned to secure a research project stood no chance against them. Leon personally led a squad into the Ankara Hotel. Using his authority as regional director, he forcibly ordered the hotel to seal the formations of five guest rooms, then led his men to read out the arrest warrants. The three priests in one room resisted arrest—or rather, they weren't consciously defying orders, but had simply grown accustomed to their elevated status and resented being handled by a local regional Whip of Order, displaying arrogance and uncooperativeness. Leon didn't humor them in the slightest. He ordered them killed on the spot, then carried their severed heads down to read the arrest warrants to the occupants of the remaining four rooms. The effect was immediate; all of them surrendered. In the Dinge Region, Regional Director Scarlett, having completed her isolation period and received special dispensation to return from Augurev Fortress, personally led the Whip of Order into the Holy See's administrative quarters. The close subordinate who had once been whipped on Karen's orders asked with some trepidation, "Director, shouldn't we report to the Whip-Wielder before acting...?" "It sounds like you want to see me get whipped too, and then sent by the Whip-Wielder's office to serve as a snack for that frost dragon." ... In the front passenger seat, the assistant erected an isolation barrier first, then drove a blade straight into the driver's heart. Controlling the steering wheel to keep the car cruising smoothly, he disposed of the driver's corpse, disguised himself as the driver, and released a puppet disguised as himself into the passenger seat. Thanks to early and meticulous deployment, the God-Creation Project team was dismantled swiftly and thoroughly, without a single oversight. The only oversight was a person who was not part of the project team, yet was naturally positioned right at Rotini's side. His cover had been laid with ample groundwork, and possessing exceptional counter-surveillance awareness, he had been categorized as... an "ordinary mortal." And the one who detected this person's presence was a dog on the rooftop. Yet this puzzled Kevin. What was Neo doing in there? Kevin turned its head to look at Karen resting with his eyes closed. For a moment, it hesitated: Should it wake Karen, or had Karen deliberately engineered this ambiguity to give Neo an opening? Kevin's hesitation gave Neo his chance. Neo reached out and erected an even higher-tier barrier, masking the imposter's perception so the car would continue driving along steadily. Then Neo donned a mask. His hair color remained unchanged, still purple, but his face had transformed into that of Mr. Luther. In Neo's mind, Mr. Luther cried out anxiously: "I do not advocate violence! We must seek political cooperation to solve our problems!" Neo said in a low voice, "That is why you could only ever be a failure—great and fearless, yet naive and compromising." Neo stood up. Like Rotini, his upper body was now fully exposed outside the convertible. Along both sides of the street, reporters from numerous newspapers were frantically pressing their shutters. Then someone sharp-eyed spotted who the newly emerged purple-haired man was, gasping with hands over their mouth in shock. Rotini happened to turn around while waving, facing Oni—no, Neo—no, Mr. Luther. "Oh, heavens, Oni, are my eyes playing tricks on me?" "No, they aren't, Prime Minister." Neo pulled out a handgun—the very gun an assassin had once used to shoot Mr. Luther. Now Neo raised it, aiming the muzzle straight at the center of Rotini's brow. Without the slightest hesitation, under the glare of countless flashing bulbs, Neo pulled the trigger: *Bang!* Prime Minister Rotini of the Wien Empire fell backward... Mind blown wide open.