Chapter 19: Chapter Eighteen: The Academic Center Doesn

"Hm?" Kraft blinked, understanding what Karlman was asking. "I thought medical schools with those kinds of classrooms didn't need to be so vague."

"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 a little; this new lecturer seemed genuinely open-minded, so he could speak plainly.

"In unusual cases, for example, tonight we have an anatomy class in that same room," Karlman said with a mysterious smile, his hands folded before him. "Even though the Theology College is right next door, church people never enter our medical college—not a single exception." He enunciated the last two words with particular clarity.

Kraft genuinely wanted to witness the medical college's anatomy class; after all, his own experience with dissection 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 wasn't easy to find 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: over a dozen students gathered around one cadaver, reciting an oath, then bowing in gratitude. Because there were so many, only half could crowd around the dissection table; the rest stood nearby, taking notes with notebooks. Even then, not everyone had a clear view—some were shoved to the sides, forced to cut in awkward, uncomfortable postures.

During the 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 the year ____, learning anatomy in this very place." 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 a whole new world? So, staying up late really isn't advisable.

Thinking of this, Kraft still 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 permission, I'll be able to stay long-term in Wendeng Haigang."

"By the way," Kraft said before leaving, remembering the author's mark he'd seen at the end of "Human Anatomy" yesterday, and out of curiosity, added, "I'd like to ask the full name of the author of this work—his cervical vertebra marking was quite interesting."

"Oh, you mean that?" Professor Karlman didn't seem surprised by the question—he clearly remembered how striking it was to see the fifth cervical vertebra shaped like a smiley face. "When I first copied this book, I was still studying in Dunling. The original of this masterpiece was in my mentor's possession."

"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—but never revealing their real names." The professor showed no hesitation discussing this; privately cursing the Church was harmless—everyone did it. "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. If such a person had been given a proper research environment, medicine here might have developed very differently.

Karlman spread his hands. "No other works. Otherwise, you'd have gotten more than just these three books yesterday. I think the author hasn't been caught—if they were, Dunling's Inquisition would drag him out and burn him publicly for at least three days."

"Rather, he's clever—he never thought those trivial explanations could fool the Church into thinking him a fool. At best, it might make the Church grit their teeth and tolerate 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. When I came to Wendeng Haigang, it was 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 college, ordering grilled fish and several large mugs of beer. The entire bar was filled with scholars in robes—clearly, this place was popular among the academic community.

"I'll say this: when I chose to stay in Wendeng Haigang, one reason was that it suited my research, and the other was that I love the grilled fish here." Karlman had changed out of his black robe and pushed the plate of grilled fish toward Kraft. Finding a kindred spirit had put him in high spirits today. "Especially this place's mackerel—it removes the fishy smell while preserving the fish's natural aroma. Even the students here love it."

Kraft picked up a fillet and bit into its belly—it was delicious. His tongue, long tormented by coarse bread and tough jerky, experienced exceptional pleasure: crispy outside, tender inside. The pub used only the freshest catch, delivered straight from the sea. If unsold, fresh fish without refrigeration would turn foul within two or three days.

Because supply was stable, most pubs serving grilled fish bought only the fish they'd need the next day—no inventory, no leftovers.

As a seaport, Wendeng Haigang's cuisine was deeply tied to its marine harvests. The ocean's abundant yields meant this small city rarely suffered food shortages. Human fishing never approached nature's limits; many fish species could be caught in large quantities near shore.

Rarer, expensive fish like tuna were picked off by merchants and noble household chefs. The best-quality cod and mackerel went straight to pubs, reaching diners' tables within hours—or sold directly at the docks to residents seeking fresh ingredients for their homes. Lower-grade fish were turned into salted fish or dried fish for easier storage and transport.

Annual itinerant merchants from Wood Domain came to sell Wendeng Haigang's seafood, but only in Wendeng Haigang could one taste the best grilled sea fish—at affordable prices, even for families with modest incomes.

Fish served as the most cost-effective source of nutrition, long dominating every table. Through the wisdom of the masses, countless preparations emerged: grilled fish, fish soup, "Staring at the Stars," and more.

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

The local brewing technique, however, was truly mediocre. Beer brewed with hops had improved upon malt beer, but to Kraft, who never much liked alcohol, it was still undrinkable. Professor Karlman ended up drinking several large mugs by himself.

At parting, slightly tipsy, Professor Karlman still remembered his purpose: "Opportunities abound—I hope you return to Wendeng Haigang soon for long-term teaching. Together, in this place where the Church is far away and the sky is high, we can advance great endeavors."