Bologue sat on the bench, watching as Lebius walked into the crowd on the street, returning to the oppressive and closed high-rise building.
Lebius was caught in fierce conflict.
In the conversation with Lebius, Bologue had already detected this; Lebius could not tolerate the negotiations between the Decision Room and the King’s Secret Sword, yet he could not betray his duty, thus Lebius was torn between personal feelings and responsibilities.
Lebius was rarely confused, unable to grasp what he truly wanted, which led him to speak to Bologue like this. As soone ensnared in a whirlpool, Lebius found it hard to discern right from wrong; only those outside the whirlpool could see the dilemma he was in.
Bologue hesitated, wondering whether to reveal the essence of the multitude to Lebius.
Previously, Bologue was full of doubts about the Decision Room, but after witnessing the truth of the multitude, he felt deeply shocked by the greatness of the Sacrifice of Glory agreent, and his suspicion of the Decision Room turned to trust.
Because of this precondition, Bologue always felt that the negotiations between the Decision Room and the King’s Secret Sword weren’t that simple. The multitude must be planning sothing more frightening, but the true purpose was shrouded in clouds, and no one knew its essence before the conspiracy succeeded.
The King’s Secret Sword would definitely not be the only winner.
To win the temporal axis disarray, Lebius had contacted Belphegor, and to eliminate interference from the Devils, he was naturally excluded from the Sacrifice of Glory agreent.
Bologue felt a headache; Lebius might make an uncontrolled move during the negotiations—what should he do then?
The Sacrifice of Glory agreent was rely one of many covers; within the Order Bureau, few knew the essence of the multitude. Bologue realized that besides Lebius, there must be other staff mbers who were deeply dissatisfied with the King’s Secret Sword negotiations. Would they, like Lebius, make uncontrolled moves?
Realizing this, Bologue found that the hidden conflicts within the Order Bureau gradually erged. The Decision Room was too mysterious—so mysterious that no one knew it—and yet it was so omnipotent, making the staff incredibly convinced.
But when the Decision Room carried out actions that left everyone baffled, doubts would sprout in the cracks, falling into a vicious cycle of suspicion.
Facing this situation, Bologue felt powerless; he could only pray that the ergence of internal conflicts was also in the Decision Room’s calculations.
Bologue never doubted the wisdom of the multitude. Perhaps this was also in the multitude’s calculations.
Taking a deep breath, Bologue stood up and moved around a bit. The sun gradually hid behind the buildings, and the sky darkened as the night was about to descend.
Bologue did not return to the Cultivation Room; it felt sowhat too oppressive for him now. At least for today, he didn’t want to return there.
Walking straight along the street, Bologue soon reached the Undying Club. He pushed open the door, and the lingering sll of alcohol was as persistent as ever; the bar was empty, even Serey wasn’t there.
After the Fog Abyss Fortress infiltration operation, Hart and others were on vacation, but no one ca here to relax. Everyone was downcast because of Church’s injury, with no mood to think about these things.
At the bar, Bologue poured himself a glass of orange juice, picked a quiet and lodious song, and sat in the familiar corner, relaxing his mind.
When first coming to the Undying Club, Bologue only saw it as a madman’s haven, a drunkard’s graveyard. He never thought he’d beco fond of this place, yet now, it was like a second ho to him.
Here, Bologue could imrse himself in the atmosphere of alcohol, soothing his tense nerves. He had pondered for a long ti why the Undying Club would give him such a special feeling. Eventually, he gradually realized that the Undying Club was a place without "change."
Hundreds of years, thousands of years? No one knows how long the Undying Club has existed, but according to Serey’s words, from when he joined the Undying Club, there had been no significant changes here, nor among its mbers.
"I like it here, Bologue," Serey once said to Bologue amidst a drunken haze, his breath slling of alcohol.
"This is the place closest to eternity in the mortal world."
Serey’s words seed to enlighten Bologue; he suddenly understood the charm of this place.
With the shifting sands of ti, the rise and fall of buildings, the world changes constantly, yet only the Undying Club stands apart, seemingly detached from the world’s influence—eternal and unchanged.
No matter when Bologue cos here, it always appears familiar, as it does in mory, and so do the people here.
The Undead together built this eternal paradise.
Anyone would fear the onset of change, uncertain whether it will improve life or make it worse. Yet here, there are no such worries; the Undying Club might beco dull because of this, but it has also turned into a shelter, always vibrant as in mories.
Bologue needn’t worry about losing anything within the Undying Club; the changeless stability offers him rare security.
Footsteps sounded from the stairwell; a lazy figure in pajamas appeared. Serey rubbed his eyes, looking sleepy one second, then instantly energized, greeting Bologue.
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