Chapter 166

At noon, as the clanking of armored footsteps passed by the door during the third shift change of the day, Yin Feng completed today's progress in her cultivation practice.

This was certainly not the scheduled progress. In teaching methodology, the Wood family's crude approach held no value for reference, so she still followed the template of the otherworldly soul, incorporating localized curriculum adjustments and deliberately diluting the pace as needed.

Based on long-term observations and scientifically measured attention spans, factoring in rest and the physical and mental development needs of children, Kraft had designed over ten segments of content to be completed within half a day, evenly distributed across a two-week period.

In his envisioned scenario, learning should be done intermittently over half a day, leaving the other half for activities and play—visiting the workshops, where craftsmen, under the tacit approval of the steward, would fulfill small requests from children by helping them craft trinkets.

Theoretically, that was how it should be.

Yin Feng squeezed the excess ink back into the small bottle, let her morning's work dry, and tiptoed to place it on the upper shelf of the cabinet.

From this afternoon onward, all future progress would now be ahead of schedule.

On the sixth day since Kraft's departure, she had successfully finished the workload planned for two weeks and was preparing to turn the page further.

Sometimes she wondered what they were doing—whether Kup's accompanying the doctor would accelerate his progress or leave him no time to study. Either way, she needed to catch up faster, ideally surpassing him.

A stubborn insecurity always pushed her forward, never soothed by improvements in clothing, diet, or living conditions. The more comfortable and serene the environment, the stronger it grew—each gain like fuel thrown into a furnace, feeding the fire.

Perhaps she herself was unaware that a very simple logic had been deeply etched into her understanding of this world.

Nothing could be obtained easily, and nothing given came without cost. She had grasped this truth early on, and it was confirmed and reinforced during her hardest days. Thanks to this, she had avoided many incidents that, in hindsight, sent chills down her spine—whether accidental or deliberately engineered.

In truth, she was far more sensitive and mentally mature than she appeared or others imagined, able to perceive many things never openly discussed.

For instance, her status was fundamentally unequal to Kup's. Though both seemed to be in the same learning state and both had received bonuses for their contributions, he bore additional obligations—this alone, that only Kup was taken on the trip, revealed who was the "meaningful" one.

Moreover, an unspoken consensus existed between the two adults: even if the doctor tried hard to appear equal, even slightly favoring her, certain conversations occurred only among those in the know, their content veiled by indirect references.

Clearly, Yin Feng did not belong to this circle of insiders, and thus could not participate.

As far as she knew, the craftsmen's apprentices also bore heavy burdens of repetitive labor; yet if she could not understand what the doctor discussed, and lacked Kup's physical strength, what was her purpose here?

This made Yin Feng uncomfortable with her current life and filled her with envy toward Kup, who, by possessing the ability to use violence, naturally gained a position of being needed—even if that position was not necessarily secure.

The footsteps in the corridor faded away. She remembered that knight—he had a beard that made him look older than the doctor but younger than Kup. Among these armored men, the younger ones greeted her with smiles and polite salutes; the bolder ones attempted conversation.

Perhaps because women were rare here, and most of the few were servants handling domestic chores, while the duke's own women they avoided as if cursed.

Wilbert, the steward, had indeed fulfilled his promise of care; due to her attire and quiet demeanor, Yin Feng was likely mistaken for a visiting noble girl from some distant family, receiving the overzealous attention of those with too much idle energy—like peacocks displaying their feathers.

She did not enjoy this treatment, nor could she find interest in the topics they used to attract attention. Most of these so-called novel subjects she had already heard while checking progress at the workshops.

She had once thought this might become one of her duties, but she understood nothing of it—only learned she could help make things. After handing the stolen dagger to the craftsman, she waited and overheard a stream of complex, wide-ranging gossip.

For example: someone in the kitchen had been stealing food, still undiscovered; lettuce from a certain manure field hadn't been washed clean; a trusted knight frequently met his secret lover under the guise of official business; the overturned delivery cart on the hillside might contain this month's beer ration; and rumors of ghosts haunting certain secluded corners of the castle.

Though not particularly interesting, these rumors held a strange magnetism that made her want to listen. She watched the craftsman remove rust and polish the dagger, replacing its grip, and unconsciously listened for a long time.

Only when the gleaming dagger was sheathed in leather did she realize she had wasted half the afternoon.

This was why it took six days to finish the scheduled workload—another reason being that the doctor forbade prolonged reading under candlelight at night.

She sat motionless on the chair for a while, imagining the surprise when they returned—this recognition would please Yin Feng, though she didn't understand why such recognition would come from it.

A knock interrupted her thoughts—likely someone bringing lunch. No need to respond; the servant would politely knock once, then leave without waiting for her to open the door.

She dangled her feet, unable to reach the ground, continuing to imagine their astonishment upon return. Such acknowledgment would make Yin Feng happy, even though she didn't know why it would.

Today's knock was different—two rounds, then persistent, unrelenting. When no one answered, a stranger's male voice came from outside.

"Professor Kraft, are you in?"

Not the lunch delivery. Yin Feng jumped off the stool and ran to the door, opening it just enough to reveal half her face.

A visitor in a black robe stood at the threshold; his thinning hairline and high forehead were stark under the noon sun, making him appear older than his voice suggested.

Seeing a little girl open the door, he showed a moment of surprise, then quickly adjusted his expression, bending slightly at the waist. "Good afternoon, young lady. My apologies for the disturbance. Those careless guards told me this was the residence of the person I sought."

The black robe—same as the doctor's—was adorned with a leaf-shaped badge on the chest, similar in design but different in color.

Perhaps a colleague—another physician of high standing.

"No, you've come to the right place. May I ask what you need from Professor Kraft?"

"Brimmer, professor at Rivers University. We met at the banquet—he should remember me." The man introduced himself, offering a slender, ribbon-wrapped box with a faint scent of incense. "I've come regarding the academic gathering."

Yin Feng hesitated, understanding only that this man had come to see Kraft—she made no move to take the box.

"A token of welcome for a new colleague—a local custom," Brimmer explained, glancing past her into the room. "Is Professor Kraft in?"

"Professor Kraft left several days ago. You might return in a week."

"Ah, how unfortunate." He pressed a hand to his chest, as if the heat had left him breathless.

Perhaps because she was sensitive to emotion and intent, Yin Feng sensed he wasn't truly surprised, nor disappointed by the wasted trip—merely conducting a smooth, uneventful exchange.

"We need to know the speakers' topics to arrange the order and customize the venue layout. If any patients require preparation, it must begin now." Wiping sweat from his brow, Brimmer said seriously, "It concerns Professor Kraft's speaking order—and directly affects the impact of his presentation."

It did sound important. Yin Feng nodded, understanding his meaning, and prepared to fetch paper and ink for him to write down messages to relay.

"Time is pressing—I must return quickly to prepare. If we can't meet until next week, Professor Kraft may have to compromise." He still held out the elegant gift. "A gift is never taken back. It's fitting for you, young lady. I'll prepare another for the professor later."

"But if I could borrow some manuscripts, it might help us understand Professor Kraft's needs? Please don't misunderstand—we only wish to identify suitable patient cases and treatment demonstrations. Rivers University's academic ethos forbids stealing others' scholarly work."