Chapter 196

"Please allow me to apologize for my earlier words, but this is simply too..." Walking beside Professor Samuel, Fernan no longer wore the smile of a long-lost reunion; his expression was grave, unmistakably sincere. "I don't know how to say it."

"A fire broke out during an experiment—even with Morrison present? Or is this a metaphor, a figurative way of saying he refused to continue serving here, not meant literally?"

"And Kalman? Why would he have returned to Dunling?" Lin Deng also felt no real sense of it; he had merely mentioned an old acquaintance, and now the man was dead. Such was the impermanence of life.

They stopped before a half-length portrait whose colors were noticeably newer and brighter than the others. It depicted an elderly man with white hair and beard, neatly combed, wearing a black robe with a red collar, his age similar to Fernan's, seated against a background of bookshelves.

The painter's technique was superb, capturing the moment the man set down his pen and turned, as if hearing his name called while writing, pausing to look up—his eyes sharp and alert, meeting the gaze of those outside the painting.

A small line of text was signed in the lower right corner of the canvas:

【Morrison, former professor of the Dunling University Medical Academy】

Only before this portrait did Fernan finally accept that Professor Samuel's words were true—not some exaggerated joke or metaphor. "I never imagined such a thing could happen to Morrison. I'd rather believe he passed peacefully in his sleep, or died fighting some incurable illness."

"But a fire? A laboratory fire? He wasn't one of those alchemists. Even if he'd been just a little more careful—or waited a few more months..." His regret and sorrow were plain to see; clearly, "old friend" was no jest, nor merely decades of rivalry—something deeper, beyond words, had bound them.

He had come bearing the greatest achievement of his life to exchange ideas, only to learn the man had just passed away. Victory and defeat had lost all meaning; both now lay defeated before an insurmountable obstacle.

"Forgive me, I've been rude." His old age seemed to deepen out of nowhere, the spirit that had carried him through the journey now extinguished. "This is a disaster for the entire academic world. Please accept my belated condolences."

"You need not blame yourself. No one could have foreseen this. Death is an inevitable, incurable disease. All we can do is delay its arrival as long as possible."

Samuel was not surprised by the sorrow of the Rivers visitors; he merely nodded, leading them through the gallery into the academy's interior, tossing the extra petals back into the flowerbed, its plants clearly torn and disturbed.

The Medical Academy's structure resembled most designs favoring independent space: a hollow " Hui " shape, with four white stone buildings enclosing a large open garden, divided into symmetrical sections by pruned shrubs, meant for faculty and students to relax or discuss scholarship. A straight central path led directly to the main building with its spherical dome.

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Those entering the academy should now have a more vivid impression of the term "ivory tower": the gracefully curving wings resembled intricately carved ivory embracing the garden. The faint, muted yellow did not dull its beauty but instead made its hue resemble a pair of ivory carvings resting on velvet—ancient and evocative.

Yet the fine environment was poorly utilized. A few individuals dressed in colors starkly different from the academy's uniform passed by the visiting party. A figure who appeared to be a priest led several armed men in white robes; beneath the robes, their sword scabbards rhythmically tapped against their armor, disrupting the scholarly atmosphere.

"The Tribunal has always been deeply concerned with the Medical Academy's safety. To spare personnel for patrols beyond Dunling, and even assist in investigating this fire—what an honor." Samuel spoke without glancing aside, as if explaining to guests, yet his voice carried no restraint.

The lead priest, aged roughly thirty to forty, pretended not to catch the professor's barb, making the customary sign of the cross over his chest. "It is our duty."

This bureaucratic indifference infuriated Samuel. The two sides clearly existed in a state of mutual helplessness, yet every second the Tribunal remained was an interference with normal order. "I don't understand what could possibly warrant your presence here. Do you suspect some hidden secret in the body of a dead old man?"

"Not at all, Professor Samuel. We are merely carrying out orders."

"Then state your true purpose—or finish quickly. Remember, this is still part of the Royal Domain, not the Cathedral of the Holy Mother. I have the right at any moment to report your actions directly to His Majesty the King, in my capacity as Royal Advisor."

"I have neither obligation nor authority to explain anything to you. But if you truly believe there is nothing suspicious here, then by all means—" The priest pointed toward the hemispherical dome. Only then did they notice a patch of profound blackness near a side window, hidden in shadow on the dome's dark side.

It was easy to imagine the scene: tongues of flame several feet long had leapt from the window, scorching and baking the white stone into the charred black of bone.

"Even if there were, I see no chance progress would miraculously appear in a few months." Samuel's face was darker than the fire scene; he cut off the conversation and led the group into the long hall, used for both meals and meetings.

The situation was unusual, but Dunling University had not lost its basic dignity. The table was covered in velvet cloth, adorned with flowers, and several large candelabras were already prepared for evening activities.

"As you can see, the academy is currently in an unusual state. We apologize for any shortcomings in hospitality. A welcome banquet is being arranged; you may mingle freely now, and after dinner, someone will escort you to your accommodations outside the campus."

Though free to mingle, the poor atmosphere during the short journey from the ship left everyone with no appetite for conversation. After seating, silence immediately fell.

Dunling, reeling from the death of its central figure and months of investigation by the Church Tribunal, was internally unstable. The Rivers delegation's visit had been thrown into disarray by unforeseen events. What was meant to be a light, pleasant trip now risked appearing opportunistic if continued as planned—victorious but unjust, and meaningless.

"I feel something's off," Professor Lin Deng, representing the Surgical Society and seated beside Kraft, leaned in low. "I've been to that lab. It used to be an anatomy classroom—quite spacious. What could have burned that badly?"

"Previously, when the ether flask exploded and ignited the oil, it only burned half the room. Surely Morrison and his team weren't playing with oil in the lab?"

【Not impossible】

Outside, a large area was blackened. Inside, there's probably nothing left but carbon and stone.

"True. Do you know anyone here you could quietly ask?" Kraft had to admit—he'd recently had a rare improvement in his opinion of the Church. If they investigated more thoroughly, he might even shed nearly half his burden.

Lin Deng was surprised by Kraft's gossiping tendency. "Ask what? This is their internal matter. Even if there is something wrong, it's none of our business. Dunling isn't like other places—the Tribunal is already this involved. Who knows what troubles it might drag up?"

"True." With their current status, it was inappropriate to raise sensitive topics directly. They could only try to ease into them gradually through future interactions. But judging by the situation, Professor Samuel—the temporary acting head—had barely sat down. Whether smooth communication could even take place, and how progress would unfold, remained uncertain.

"Difficult. The dead are harder to deal with than the living."