Chapter 198

Considering that further laughter might attract unnecessary attention, Kraft restrained his expression and, accompanied by his two attendants, walked with Professor Lin Deng toward the Hall of Sacred Statues.

Rings of light, layered like steps, encircled the arched portal crowned by a winged circle; each tier was adorned with intricate carvings—figures with elongated halos and gentle faces, angelic children holding instruments nestled amid clouds or floral patterns.

Visitors must ascend a broad staircase, looking upward to reach the door, entering the cathedral beneath the gaze of winged-helmeted knights.

The two professors moved with awkwardness; having spent the entire past year saying not a single good word about the Church, stepping into the Father's most important earthly abode in Nos still carried a tinge of guilt.

The Church knights symbolized more than mere optional security; beyond lay territory legally belonging to the Father on Earth—a theoretical state within a state.

Lin Deng unconsciously tugged at his collar, brought it to his nose, confirmed he wore ordinary attire with no odor, then stepped across this boundary between the divine and the secular.

Natural daylight was replaced by a filtered, more glorious illumination; copper-framed leaded stained-glass windows fractured the light, casting a dazzling, fragmented mosaic of rainbow-like patterns across the towering walls, depicting scenes described in scripture.

It was the entire Holy Scripture rendered visually—saints and apostles bathed in radiance, filling the vast, unobstructed, lofty hall before the viewer's eyes.

The load-bearing capacity of the walls was replaced by bundled columns—massive pillars like bouquets of slender stone, their weight flowing like water into channels, channeled along the columns to the arcades; clustered rib vaults radiated outward from the tops of the bundled columns, like branches spreading from a tree.

The ingenious mechanical design liberated the structure, making it both sturdy and magnificent while remaining light and ethereal, leaving an awe-inspiring space that seemed infinitely expansive, elevating the architecture to a realm where its own presence alone sustained solemn majesty.

At the far end of this space, a holy emblem with outstretched wings, set within a rose window, rested upon a heavenly throne supported by slender willow-leaf windows.

"Incredible," Kraft murmured. This was no mere accumulation of materials—it required advanced mathematics and construction techniques, plus massive, sustained financial investment, likely taking centuries to complete.

This implies it began at the founding of the kingdom—or even earlier—when its decision-makers already possessed the corresponding technology and the extraordinary resolve to realize it.

He imagined that if he had truly belonged to that era, kneeling before such a fusion of power and aesthetics, regarding it as a masterpiece beyond human creation, might not have been incomprehensible.

"So regardless, I still recommend anyone visiting Dunling come see it," Lin Deng said, lowering his voice slightly with resignation; no matter how much he disliked the Church, the objective truth was undeniable.

"Nos University was the first to establish geometry-related disciplines and the first to form specialized academies; early support came from the then Archbishop. They perfected parts of the cathedral's construction—indispensable work."

"And most of the decorations here came from painters and sculptors supported by the Church—these artists accounted for nearly half of the art curriculum. It's not an exaggeration to call Dunling University a university built upon the Church."

"Indeed," Kraft said, admiring the murals along the corridor as he walked alongside it. "In a sense, most of Nos's colleges owe their existence to the Church. Regardless of their original intentions, the outcome has been positive."

The Church painters' skill was genuinely excellent; they linked the murals chronologically, dividing scenes with pillars. One depicted the guide awakening the chosen shepherd, and in the next scene, scattered flocks on the hill turned en masse to follow him—rich with implication.

"I admit that, but now it's become an obstacle," Lin Deng glanced around, ensuring no one could hear his complaint. "I dislike explaining things through the will of a 'Lord'—it renders any human achievement meaningless."

In the mural, the chosen one, surrounded by figures clad in Church robes, drew a one-handed sword. He clearly referred to the founding king receiving divine guidance to draw the sword and establish the kingdom—this unquestionably reinforced the divine legitimacy of royal rule, but the downside was that the Father's name could supersede secular authority, even interfering with dukes' colleges.

That "fated" sword reappeared repeatedly in later scenes; the painter rendered the motion of a light, one-handed slash realistically, yet the effect became a blade slicing through enemy armor and the long necks of winged, scaled beasts.

One could only say humans cannot imagine what they've never seen—the originally realistic motion now looked absurd, like fighting tofu, especially with impossibly smooth cuts that lacked any texture.

"They even thought the forearm had only one bone," Lin Deng scornfully pointed out the anatomical error in the battle scene; the severed arm's cross-section resembled nothing more than a cross-cut chicken leg. "Without knowledge of human anatomy, one cannot truly depict a human being correctly."

"Enough, Professor Lin Deng, this is still inside a church," Kraft quickly halted him, seeing his tendency to treat this like an anatomy lecture, and pulled him further inside.

They hurried past a series of murals, turning a corner into the transverse arm of the cruciform hall.

Light noticeably dimmed compared to the main axis; intricate solid decorations replaced stained-glass windows on the walls, returning the atmosphere to that of an ordinary stone building, with only distant windows casting shafts of dusty light.

The materials embedded in the frames, at first glance, appeared to be neither stone nor wood—unpolished, raw, their simplicity starkly contrasting the earlier opulence.

Within compartment-like divisions, they differed by shape and size, piled as simply as a child stacking pebbles, in faded gray-white hues. The larger pieces were hollowed out, clustered into central forms, arranged in patterns resembling winged rings.

Kraft approached curiously, standing before the high wall of gray-white fragments rising from floor to dome, and identified the material.

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【Bones】

"This…?" He instinctively stepped back half a pace, turning to look behind him. Kuop reflexively touched his empty waist, lips trembling, unable to articulate the scene's terrifying solemnity—no careful arrangement needed, the materials alone shook the soul.

Yin Feng pressed her skirt, saw Kraft turn, and relaxed into an indifferent posture.

"Legacy of plague and war."

Though he had visited more than once, Lin Deng's tone still carried a sigh. "The top layer is from over a decade ago."

Only then did Kraft notice the slight stratification in the bones' discoloration—indicating different eras; the mandibles forming the lower arc of the ring at human height had become brittle and cracked, while the topmost bones showed faint stains.

"Of course, plague claimed far more; war rarely occurred without plague. Those on the second and third floors are probably from fifty or sixty years ago," Lin Deng gestured broadly. "After that, Dunling University's medical college expanded greatly, with abundant scholarly achievements in the same period."

"The Church collects and accepts prayers here in great numbers, but far fewer than underground. Those who haven't experienced it cannot imagine, nor understand why some become nearly obsessive or radical in academia."

He spoke quickly, as if explaining something—or pointing to certain people; Kraft wasn't sure if he included anyone he knew.

The group did not linger long before the unsettling walls, continuing deeper into the cathedral. Fortunately, Rivers University's Oak Leaf insignia carried no departmental distinction, allowing them to bluff their way past the gatekeeper by simply omitting their specialties, gaining entry to normally restricted areas.

Once inside, browsing became even easier; with a small payment and a promise not to touch anything, the bell-ringer readily stepped aside, merely warning them not to stay too long.

Stepping on the stairs once climbed by Edward and the former bell-ringer decades ago, the manuscript reader ascended the bell tower with a peculiar mood.

The room at the top had long been unoccupied, its furnishings cleared away; outside the window, the broad Tem River flowed beneath the tower, revealing half the city, and on the distant opposite bank, the white stone dome of the medical college stood above all other buildings.

Opposite the main entrance of the Mother Cathedral, a natural island in the river split the current into two channels, revealing a smaller church-like structure and a knightly statue standing before it.

"That's the Knight's Island Church; last used for a royal wedding—only visible from afar," Lin Deng dutifully assumed the role of tour guide. "The statue ahead is said to be modeled after the first King of Nos's true appearance."

The distance wasn't great, but the statue was small; discerning its motion was barely possible, let alone glimpsing the legendary figure's true face. One could barely make out a crowned king on horseback, one hand holding reins, the other raised as if summoning followers—or grasping something.

Yin Feng leaned against the windowsill, gazed for a moment, then gave up, unable to see clearly.

"Would you like to get closer?" Kraft asked. If she was curious, they could rent a boat and approach the island for a better view—if time permitted.

The girl shook her head, showing no interest in a dead man's likeness—it was essentially no different from the bones embedded in the walls below.

"By the way, Dunling is quite large, and cleaner than I expected," Kraft said, seeking conversation as the river wind from the tower felt pleasant, free of the unpleasant odors common in most cities due to poor drainage.

As expected, if no progress came from the college side, this would become their routine.

"Maybe because the sewers are spacious? This system is said to predate Dunling's founding—it was a massive project, or rather, not entirely a sewer; it also included underground cemeteries no one could accommodate. Interested in seeing it?"

"No, no," Kraft quickly refused. He had no fear of bones, but that didn't mean he enjoyed sightseeing among them. "Isn't there anything else to do?"

"Hmm…" Lin Deng fell into thought. Dunling had other places to visit, but after the Mother Cathedral, none seemed impressive—and continuing to wander would be unproductive.

After mentally eliminating every possible option, one forgotten idea surfaced.

"What if we visited Mo Lisen's family?"

"He has family?"