Chapter 198

Considering that further laughter might draw unwanted 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 in ascending arches, encased the main entrance whose lintel bore a double-winged circular emblem; each tier was adorned with intricate carvings of figures with elongated halos and gentle faces, while angelic children holding instruments hovered amid clouds or floral patterns.

Visitors had to ascend a broad staircase, looking upward to reach the door, and enter the church under the gaze of winged-helmeted knights.

The two professors moved with awkwardness; having spent the past year saying not a single good word about the Church, stepping into the Church's most important earthly abode in Nos was undeniably nerve-wracking.

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

Lin Deng instinctively 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 into countless shards, casting a dazzling, chaotic mosaic of rainbow fragments across vast walls, depicting scenes described in sacred texts.

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

The walls' load-bearing function was replaced by clustered columns—massive pillars formed like bouquets of slender stone pillars—whose weight flowed like water into channels, channeled along the columns to the arcades' supporting piers. Bundled rib vaults radiated outward from the column tops like branches of trees.

The ingenious structural design liberated the building, making it both sturdy and magnificent yet light and ethereal, leaving an impossibly vast, seemingly infinite spatial grandeur that elevated the space to a realm capable of sustaining its own solemn majesty.

At the far end of this space, a sacred emblem spread its wings within a rose window, resting 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 skill, plus massive, sustained financial investment, likely taking centuries to complete.

This indicated it had begun at the founding of the kingdom—or even earlier—when its decision-makers already possessed the corresponding technology and the extraordinary determination 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 church's construction—indispensable work."

"And most of the decorations here came from painters and sculptors supported by the Church—nearly half of the art curriculum. It's not an exaggeration to say Dunling University is built atop a church."

"Indeed," Kraft said, admiring the murals along the corridor as they walked down the long hall. "In a sense, most of Nos's academies owe their existence to the Church. Regardless of their original intentions, the outcome has been positive."

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

"I admit that," Lin Deng said, glancing around to ensure no one could hear his complaint, "but now it's become an obstacle. 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 in clerical robes, drew a one-handed sword. He was clearly referencing the founding king's divine guidance in drawing the sword to establish the kingdom—this unquestionably reinforced the monarchy's divine legitimacy, but the downside was that the Heavenly Father's name could override secular authority, even interfering with dukes' academies.

That "fated" sword reappeared repeatedly in later scenes; the painter realistically depicted the swift, light slashing motion, yet the effect became the cleaving of 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 absurdly exaggerated, as if fighting tofu—especially since the cuts were unnaturally smooth, devoid of any texture.

"They even think the forearm has only one bone," Lin Deng scoffed, pointing out the error in the battle scene; the severed arm's cross-section resembled nothing but a chopped chicken leg. "Without knowledge of human anatomy, one cannot truly depict a human correctly."

"Enough, Professor Lin Deng, this is still inside a church," Kraft quickly interrupted, seeing Lin Deng was about to turn this into an anatomy lecture, and pulled him further inside.

They swiftly passed a series of murals, rounding a corner into the transverse arm of the cruciform hall.

Light noticeably dimmed compared to the main axis; the walls were now dominated by dense, solid ornaments replacing stained-glass windows; the dimmer illumination returned to the ordinary feel of a stone building, with only shafts of light from high windows casting drifting dust.

The materials embedded in the frames, at first glance, appeared to be raw, neither stone nor wood, unpolished and crude—creating a stark contrast with the earlier opulence.

Within compartment-like divisions, they were distinguished only by their differing shapes and sizes, piled simply like children arranging pebbles, in gray-white, aged tones. The larger ones were hollowed out, clustered into central motifs arranged in near-winged-ring patterns.

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

【Given the current environment, this site may shut down at any moment; please migrate promptly to the permanently operating Huanyuan app,】

【Bones】

"This…?" He instinctively stepped back half a pace and turned to look behind him. Kuop reflexively touched his empty waist, lips trembling, unable to articulate the awe and dread of the scene—no careful arrangement was needed, the material alone shook the soul.

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

"The 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 just over a decade ago."

Only then did Kraft notice the slight stratification in the bones' discoloration—evidence of different eras; the mandibles forming the lower arc of the ring were brittle and cracked, while the uppermost layers bore faint stains.

"Of course, plague claimed far more; war rarely came 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 academy expanded greatly, and academic output was prolific."

"The Church collects and accepts prayers here in great numbers, but nothing compares to what lies underground. Those who haven't experienced it cannot imagine it, 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, pressing deeper into the church. 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 and entering areas normally closed to outsiders.

Once inside, browsing was 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 emotion.

The room at the top had long been abandoned, 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 academy stood out among the buildings.

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

"That's the Knight's Island Church; the last time it was used was for a royal wedding. You can only see it 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; even discerning its posture was difficult, let alone glimpsing the legendary figure's face. One could barely make out the crowned king on horseback, one hand gripping the 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; she had little interest in a dead man's portrait—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 there was no progress at the academies, this would become their routine.

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

"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 Cathedral of the Holy Mother, none seemed impressive—and continuing to tour would be unproductive.

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

"What if we visited Morrison's family?"

"He has family?"