Chapter 182

The team stayed in the village for two days to handle aftermath duties—completely burning everything—before finally removing one fragment from the blasphemous mural as proof of their mission's success.

As for the husks, they were all shattered and burned together with the houses they once inhabited. No one entertained the thought of keeping any memento; what they needed was not to display courage or showcase this experience, but to utterly forget it, turning it into the final ash of a past that could never again appear before them.

Especially that circular anomaly that had appeared out of nowhere, scattered with substances resembling those found only when preparing fillings in a kitchen, remnants of something once familiar, torn and cut apart by chaos.

The journey away proceeded smoothly. Only four days later, they returned to the estate, retrieved their riding horses, and left the forest far behind.

Yet even as the foot of the castle's twin towers came into view, most of their minds remained trapped in that village, still walking on the colorful, ornate carpet of fungal velvet, unable to step onto any ground that felt safe.

Many woke in the night, flailing their hands against invisible enemies, or stared for long moments at any object retaining color in the darkness while on watch.

Miraculously, they completed the mission on schedule, the entire trip lasting less than two weeks—though they had spent the time originally allocated for investigation on other matters.

From the moment they reached the foothills, Martin had been glancing repeatedly at the castle, and after a long sigh, he spurred his horse closer to Kraft.

"It's fine."

"Why say that?"

"The guard posts on the walls haven't changed, and nothing inside the castle has shifted—not significantly, at least." He pointed to a few small black dots slowly moving behind the battlements; given the length of the walls, that number was indeed sparse.

"Let's hope so. Let's hurry—clear away the lingering threats while they're still just threats." Kraft weighed the pendant in his hand; under the intense sunlight, the central red-black inlay appeared rough and dull.

At its core, unnoticed by all, only by cupping his hands could one glimpse a faint red glow. It was like the last stubborn ember of the village's ashes, unwilling to die, constantly scorching the restless mind.

"Hasn't that thing dimmed yet?"

"Not yet. That's what worries me." Kraft clenched it in his fist, leaving a small gap to observe; the light had faded considerably compared to its glow in the forest, but since leaving, it had not changed further.

"Is something… still following us?" The thought sent a chill through Martin; the sensation of fungal filaments brushing his back seemed to return, wrapping around him again.

Kraft shook his head and shoved the pendant into his pocket. "Unlikely. Don't treat the heretics' explanations as truth—they based their understanding and conclusions on limited observations and prior contributions."

"After being twisted by faith, it's become unrecognizable. Blindly adopting their interpretations might even lead to entirely opposite conclusions."

"So you mean we don't need to worry—it might just be normal for it to look like this?"

"You could say that." Kraft, who had intended to clarify his true meaning, chose not to argue, offering instead a comforting statement—what Martin needed right now was precisely this.

He couldn't admit that for days he'd repeatedly scanned with his spiritual senses and found nothing to account for the pendant's glow. After all, it was biological material; malfunctioning after separation from the giant mushrooms was only natural.

This knight's mental state was far from optimistic; subjecting him further to an invisible, intangible concept would inevitably lead to breakdown.

Worried, Martin called for the gate to open. The weary team was unexpectedly told that even the main gate was no longer open during daytime; as they prepared to protest, a familiar guard delivered an order to summon the team leader and Kraft for immediate rest and preparation.

He refused to explain why the envoy was not the Duke's internal affairs officer, yet conveyed both an apology and bad news.

Though he had mentally prepared himself upon seeing the unfamiliar path, hearing the opening words still sent a sharp pain through Kraft's left sternum, radiating standardly to his left shoulder.

"Professor Kraft, due to an unavoidable yet truly unforeseeable issue, your student…" The guard carefully observed Kraft's expression, noting his deteriorating mood, "was not given full protection within the castle."

"Her physical condition is not serious, but she will need to remain bedridden for some time. The Duke asks me to convey his apologies—this incident has cost the castle a vital member, and everyone is plunged in grief."

"Where is she now… never mind. Take me there. I'll see for myself." Kraft took a deep breath to suppress his emotions, forcing calm, and urged the guard to skip the meaningless formalities.

Here, no professional description could match seeing it firsthand. He even had the illusion that he was a frantic family member, climbing floor after floor of stairs in a hospital where the elevator was occupied by an emergency gurney, following a nurse who had come to deliver a critical prognosis.

This experience was unprecedented. Upon hearing "no serious physical harm," Kraft instantly envisioned many scenarios: unconsciousness, loss of consciousness, at the very least severe psychological trauma.

But when the door opened, he saw Yin Feng half-reclined on the bed, propped on pillows, covering her mouth as she coughed lightly, while a maid helped her open a thick, heavy book.

Seeing Kraft arrive, she reached for a stack of copied pages, attempting to turn over—apparently, neck pain halted this reckless motion. This demonstrated relatively good mobility; her restricted movement stemmed from pain, not functional impairment.

"I've seen this place."

Pulling out the final page, the girl showed Kraft her progress exceeding expectations; her spirits also seemed good—her attitude toward studying was almost embarrassing.

According to the attendant's explanation, she had fallen backward during the incident that could not be discussed outside, injuring her back. After enduring the pain and moving for a while, she was discovered and rescued the next day. All that could be said was: "It was an internal outbreak of violence."

Without needing further explanation, Kraft shot a glance at the person who had "deliberately left part behind," but chose not to blame him—no one could have foreseen such an event, and strictly speaking, he himself had also been negligent.

"Rest more when you're unwell. As for these studies, you have plenty of time—no need to rush." His first impression was reassuring; he felt slightly relieved that she had suffered only recoverable injuries in such an event—it was truly a stroke of luck amid misfortune.

Yet this student was too obedient. To persist in studying under such circumstances made him wonder whether his teaching had been too strict, instilling an inflexible, mistaken impression.

Yin Feng nodded quietly as usual, signaling understanding, then lowered her head and coughed twice.

"Alright, lie flat now. I need to check for nerve damage." Supporting her back, Kraft slowly withdrew the pillow and laid her body flat. Seeing her puzzled, he explained voluntarily, "That's what controls bodily movement—you'll learn about it later."

Likely triggered by positional change causing saliva reflux, Yin Feng's breathing paused briefly before another cough erupted. The severity was mild, but by experience, it was a pathological wet cough, with phlegm rattle originating slightly below the throat.

The vigilance from escaping the spore mist flared up; Kraft reached into his pocket for a tongue depressor to examine her throat. "Looks like some respiratory infection? Could it be pneumonia?"

Having just returned from a trip, his pocket held no standard tools; he instinctively pulled out the only object inside—the heretic pendant.

Red light seeped from between his fingers.