Chapter 19

“Hm?” Kraft blinked, finally understanding what Karlman was asking. “I thought medical schools with those classrooms didn’t need to be so cryptic.”

“That’s a misunderstanding,” Professor Karlman explained. “Under normal circumstances, that lecture hall with the stone platform is still used to demonstrate treatments for ordinary patients.”

“There’s no one else here—tell me about the unusual cases?”

Karlman relaxed slightly; it seemed this new lecturer was indeed quite open-minded, so he could speak plainly.

“In unusual cases, for instance, tonight we have an anatomy class in that same room,” Karlman said with a mysterious smile, his hands folded before him. “Even though the Shenxue Academy is right next door, church personnel never enter our medical school—not a single exception.” He enunciated the last two words with particular clarity.

Kraft genuinely wanted to witness the medical school’s anatomy class; after all, his own experience with anatomy had been limited.

It was, after all, a world separated by several eras, yet both sides still held deep-rooted reverence for bodily integrity—only the degree of acceptance had changed dramatically.

Even in the formal medical programs of his otherworldly soul’s homeland, it was never easy to secure enough cadavers for student instruction. Thinking of it, he regretted bitterly that he hadn’t signed a donation form before his sudden death.

He remembered his own anatomy class: a dozen students gathered around a single cadaver, reciting an oath, then bowing in gratitude. Due to the crowd, only half could crowd around the dissection table; the rest stood by with notebooks taking notes. Even then, not everyone had a clear view—some were shoved to the sides, forced to cut in awkward, uncomfortable postures.

During that course, given how difficult it was to conduct teaching, he’d joked that when he died, he’d donate his body to his alma mater—with a plaque reading: “This man studied here in [year], learning anatomy in this very room.” It was darkly humorous.

But he never followed through—who could have imagined that staying up late as a young man would swap him into an entirely new world? So, late nights are truly inadvisable.

Thinking of this, Kraft declined the professor’s invitation: “That’s too bad—I barely slept last night, and I must depart for home tomorrow. Once I gain my grandfather’s approval, I’ll be able to stay long-term in Wenden Harbor.”

“By the way,” Kraft said as he was leaving, recalling the author’s mark he’d seen at the end of “Human Anatomy” the day before, “I’d like to ask the full name of the author of this work. That cervical vertebra marking of his was quite intriguing.”

“Oh, you mean that?” Professor Karlman didn’t seem surprised. “When I first copied this book, I was studying in Dunling. The original was in my mentor’s possession.” Clearly, seeing the fifth cervical vertebra as a smiling face had left a strong impression.

“You know, unlike here, the closer you get to the kingdom’s center, the more the church likes to meddle. Authors often just slip their findings out anonymously, leaving a unique mark to distinguish themselves—never revealing their real names.” The professor spoke freely on this, privately cursing the church without hesitation—after all, everyone did. “This book is old. As far as I know, everyone’s been reading it for decades.”

“So it’s been decades already?” Kraft shook his head in regret. “Has he written anything else? If only such a man had been given a proper research environment, medicine here might be vastly different.”

Karlman spread his hands. “No. Otherwise, you’d have gotten more than just these three books yesterday. I think the author was never caught. If they found him, Dunling’s Inquisition would drag him out and burn him publicly for at least three days.”

“Rather, he was clever—he never thought those trivial explanations at the front could fool the church into thinking him a fool. At best, it might make them grimace and tacitly allow the book’s circulation. But if he ever showed himself, the Inquisition had plenty of ways to force him to confess to dissecting corpses.”

“Enough of this unpleasantness. I came to Wenden Harbor back then precisely to get away from all that. Want to grab lunch together?”

“Of course. Knowledge can’t replace bread.” Kraft was hungry too; from yesterday’s delicious biscuits, he knew Professor Karlman had good taste in food.

…

…

Surprisingly, the professor brought Kraft to a pub near the academy, ordering grilled fish and several large mugs of beer. The entire bar was filled with scholars in their robes—clearly, this place was popular among the academic community.

“I’ll tell you,” Karlman said, having changed out of his black robe and pushing the plate of grilled fish toward Kraft. Finding a kindred spirit had put him in high spirits. “When I chose to stay in Wenden Harbor, one reason was that it suited my research, and the other was that I love the grilled fish here. Especially this place’s mackerel—it removes the fishy smell while preserving the fish’s natural aroma. Even the students love it.”

Kraft picked up a fillet and bit into its belly. The flavor was excellent. His tongue, long tormented by coarse bread and tough jerky, experienced pure delight—crispy outside, tender inside. The pub used only the freshest catch, delivered straight from the sea. Without refrigeration, fresh fish spoiled within two or three days if unsold.

Due to stable supply, most pubs serving grilled fish bought only what they needed for the next day—no inventory, no leftovers.

As a seaport, Wenden Harbor’s cuisine was deeply tied to its marine harvests. The ocean’s abundance ensured this small town rarely suffered food shortages. Human fishing had yet to reach nature’s limits; many fish species could be caught in large numbers near shore.

Scarce, expensive fish like tuna were picked off by merchants and noble household chefs. The finest cod and mackerel went straight to pubs, served on diners’ tables within hours—or sold directly at the docks to residents seeking fresh ingredients for home. Lower-grade fish were turned into salted fish or dried fish for easier storage and transport.

Annual itinerant merchants from Wood Domain regularly came to sell Wenden Harbor’s seafood, but only here could one taste the best grilled fish—cheap and affordable even for families with modest incomes.

Fish, as the most cost-effective source of nutrition, long dominated every table. Through the wisdom of the masses, countless preparations emerged: grilled fish, fish soup, “Stargazing,” and more.

Through prolonged study of fish cooking methods, skill levels steadily improved. The most classic dish—grilled fish—had, through endless competition among local pubs, reached a standard worthy of praise from a soul from another world.

The local brewing, however, was truly subpar. Beer brewed with hops had improved upon basic ale, but to Kraft, who never much liked alcohol, it was still undrinkable. Professor Karlman enjoyed his several large mugs alone.

At parting, slightly tipsy, Professor Karlman still remembered his purpose: “Opportunities abound. I hope you return to Wenden Harbor soon for long-term teaching. Together, in this place where the church is far away and the skies are high, we can advance great endeavors.”