Chapter 201

Due to various reasons, members of the Medical College are not buried in the church cemetery or merged with public graveyards, but instead have a separate small plot within the university grounds.

This way, when professors pass away, they avoid sharing space with the most disagreeable church personnel and are spared the noisy bustle of the outside world, allowing them to continue their unfinished thoughts beneath the college's meadows.

White stone slabs, matching the building materials, stand upright on neatly trimmed turf, similar in form, differing only in the length of their inscriptions.

The newly erected stones bearing only names and brief epitaphs belong to students Buxing ly caught in the incident; those with three lines of small text beneath the name are for Lecturer Petrie; the stones bearing only names and dates of birth and death are for Morrison and his unlucky disciple.

"Someone will remember them; no need to write more."

"Indeed." Perhaps future students reviewing here will recognize the names on the nearby gravestones as familiar. He'd better recognize them—otherwise, next year he'll have to come back and memorize the same monograph again.

Kraft placed a single white flower, unnamed, before each gravestone, then divided the remaining half-bunch evenly between Morrison's and Kaerman 's names.

The busy Professor Samuel was again nowhere to be seen today; another lecturer replaced him and accompanied the three here.

"Lecturer Viren, you needn't stay here with us—after all, I'm only here to visit an old friend." After days of social engagements, Professor Feiernan had unconsciously slipped into this role, now openly claiming to be Morrison's old friend without a hint of shame.

Most people seemed to tacitly accept this claim; after all, Morrison couldn't rise from his coffin to deny it. Objectively, his death had significantly contributed to easing tensions between the two sides.

"No trouble at all—I've got nothing to do every day anyway." Viren looked puzzled at the three Rivers. Truly, adversity reveals character: these people, since arriving by ship, had been offering condolences, visiting the deceased's relatives, and now came to the cemetery—seemingly planning to stick around longer.

Hearing he wasn't just being polite, Kraft asked: "May I ask your field of study?"

"Anatomy."

"Ah, no wonder." Everyone nodded in understanding. In the high-pressure environment where the Inquisition routinely dropped by, teaching and research were indeed difficult to conduct.

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Lecturer Viren swept fallen leaves from Petrie's gravestone, sighing: "It's precisely because of Petrie that things moved so quickly—he never expected to encounter heretics committing violence right after going to Rivers' side. He might have continued some of the professor's unfinished research."

"What a pity. So Petrie had collaborated with Professor Morrison?"

"Not really?" The bored lecturer rubbed his forehead, recalling, then realized he had only a faint memory of his daily colleague's activities over the past half-year. "He received some assistance from both professors in pain-reduction surgery, but the specifics are unclear."

"Then news came of breakthroughs in anesthesia techniques, and the matter faded away. Once Professor Kraft's results were published, most similar research lost its value."

"Not entirely. Research on accelerating surgical speed still holds value—I believe we must find a balance between efficiency and precision, requiring collective discussion among as many experienced professionals as possible to establish standards." Offering a direction to bond with was simple enough for a pioneer of a new field.

He extended his hand. "I came to Dunling partly for this reason—would you be interested in joining?"

"Huh?" Viren thought he should consider it, but by the time he realized, his hand was already shaking Kraft's. "My honor."

"Though clinical trials aren't appropriate now, exchanging methods of anesthetic preparation certainly won't hurt." Kraft gripped his hand, feigning hesitation. "After your university's lab accident, how are the instruments?"

"Er... honestly, not ideal."

"Was it that severe?" Someone was deeply concerned about the fire damage.

"Yes. It was late at night; by the time anyone noticed the glow from the dome window, it was already too late. Glass containers were twisted into knots, some fine metal objects melted, and worst of all, unorganized records were stored there."

It wasn't the Inquisition's fault—anyone would investigate such a fire.

【Or consider another angle】

The sequence could be reversed: it wasn't that the Inquisition arrived after the fire, but that they had already noticed something beforehand, forcing the lab's destruction. Perhaps then they knew more.

But now there's still one question: "Then who is buried here?"

"Identified by remaining personal items and positions. It was truly a nightmare."

Confirmed, Kraft relaxed his spirit, opening his senses to everything. His unimpeded gaze pierced through the turf, seeped into the damp soil, and peered into the buried coffins.

Months had brought plant roots and small creatures back here; active annelids loosened the compacted earth, ants built nests within, and the damp environment turned already severely burned tissues into nests for microbes and saprophagous insects—until this micro-environment, after exhausting its limited organic matter, fell silent.

The morticians had carefully arranged the bones according to approximate positions, demonstrating solid professional competence. Now only these bones remained.

Unless the deceased had suffered trauma before death that healed into calluses, identifying them through these remains would be difficult—after all, even Dunling University's talent pool could only identify bodies by personal effects.

"What a pity." Kraft examined each disconnected bone fragment; those with less soft tissue protection and severe burn damage were deformed and shattered, while the sturdier large bones retained their original shapes.

He mentally compared them to his memory of Kaerman 's height and approximate bone structure—conclusion: only by physically reassembling the scattered pieces could any comparison be attempted.

Not even an orthopedic surgeon, nor the Inquisition summoning a holy symbol and chanting to invoke the Heavenly Father, could identify who these people had been.

As for Morrison, without having seen him in person, no portrait could reconstruct his physique. Since identity couldn't be confirmed, the idea of verifying anatomical abnormalities was meaningless. Kraft, having come this far, decided to check the graves of the deceased students on his way out.

Like the others, their bodies were thoroughly destroyed—only large bone fragments remained intact. He walked past each gravestone, using his spiritual senses to scan the coffins, identifying possible bony features.

Kraft stopped before one gravestone, reading the name: "Clark."

A typical male name.

Due to fat padding and muscular bulk, the pelvis was one of the better-preserved structures; the pelvic remains in this coffin appeared shallower than the others, drawing further attention.

The pubic symphysis—the anterior junction of the pelvic inlet—had a noticeably wider posterior angle, making the anterior portion of the inlet broader with greater space; the interischial diameter of the mid-pelvis was also quite wide, allowing for easy passage.

"Lecturer Viren, I have a question—perhaps a bit forward."

With promotion to professor within reach, Viren was eager to answer any question. "Go ahead—unless it concerns internal college affairs, nothing is confidential."

"One of my students is female, currently learning the basics, but if she wishes to advance further, she'll inevitably need an academic credential. May I ask if Dunling University has ever admitted female students?"

"Even if we were willing, few women would endure the societal pressure to join the pursuit of human mysteries—Morrison himself didn't let his only daughter inherit the family legacy."

"Well, I'd rather leave the choice to her." Kraft replied, successfully extracting the information he wanted.

The purpose of this trip had already been partially achieved. No precise measurement was needed—his spiritual organ had already judged the shape of that wide, shallow pelvis.

【A female pelvis】

"I always heard Professor Kaerman say the church's surveillance here was so strict, there was no room for anatomical progress." Now it was clear: they couldn't even gather enough bodies of specific genders. This cleanup was truly sloppy.