Chapter 223: Peeping

"Brother Wading, wait!"

As they stepped into that hexagonal hall, the awe inspired by the sudden revelation of its ancient, grand, and strange form made everyone selectively ignore a very obvious part: the abundant moss.

"What's wrong? Did we forget something?" A dull echo came from the opposite side.

"Help me shovel up a piece of moss, please," Kraft called into the rock fissure, adding at the end, "Don't touch them with bare hands; the water here isn't clean."

Wading suspected he had heard wrong. "What?"

"A piece of moss!"

Silence held on the other side of the sewer for a moment; the firelight flickered and scanned, presumably searching everywhere. Soon, Wading's puzzled voice pierced through the fissure and rang out again:

"There's no moss here, that's strange... I'll go to the hall and bring one back. What do you need moss for?"

Despite the thick layer of sediment, these humus deposits had not become fertile soil for any plant to grow, let alone the clumps of moss bulging from brick seams and gullies like those inside the hall.

"Let me go there with you again; it just feels strange."

Kraft climbed over the rock fissure, followed Wading's squad, and arrived at the hall once more.

With intentional observation, this difference was no less than that between a desert and a jungle; it was merely the impression of natural growth in a damp, shady environment that made it hard to notice.

Using a borrowed knife, he easily pried out a piece from the shallow-rooted moss and held it under the torchlight.

Bean-sprout-like stems arranged needle-point fine leaves, clustered and woven together to form a thick, knitted blanket with a wrinkled texture, the underside gripping the mud. The color was dark green, blending seamlessly with the bluish-black bricks and stones.

No matter how one looked at it, this was normal moss, indistinguishable from its kind that liked to grow in tree shade on exposed roots or around cold spring pools.

"Is there a problem?"

"They themselves have no problem; the issue lies in why only this side of the hall can grow moss." Through the gloves, the thin, fine leaves rubbed against the leather, and water seeped out under the pressure between the fingers.

"Indeed, but what does that prove?" Wading agreed with the professor's view; this meticulous observation reminded him of Green's style. Both of them possessed a special attention to detail.

"I don't know; it might just mean we need to be careful about slipping." Kraft cut off a small piece of moss, preparing to take it away. "Let's just say I'm overthinking it. Stay alert; heretics could appear at any time. They are more familiar with this place."

"Go back in peace; your clues have brought sufficient progress. The Church will not forget this help. The rest is our work now." The monk did not develop any contempt because of this; after bowing, he held the torch and walked into the adjacent passage, moving against the current.

Kraft watched their backs fade away from his spot; the halo of light refracted by the water also vanished. He cast one last look toward the direction of the hexagonal deep well, invisible in the darkness, then turned and left with Kup. On the return journey, a second squad passed them shoulder to shoulder, carrying simple maps marked with numbers.

Passing through the tomb corridor that had been cleared but remained winding and difficult to traverse, the two returned to the surface.

Time passed unnoticed underground; only now did they realize the long summer days had ended. Climbing the spiral staircase, beyond the archway lay dim, lightless darkness.

There was a sense of inversion, walking into another larger enclosed space where sparse, faint points of light moved across the dark dome, and sharp, hook-shaped slender light sources cast an ominous gray-white layer over the ruins of wild grass.

Kraft hurried through the cemetery, and when he reached the gate, he suddenly realized he had overlooked a trivial matter earlier—one that didn't matter much but certainly affected the experience.

"These Church people didn't even leave a carriage for us!"

After a day of labor, discovering there was no transport available for the return trip; nothing could be worse than that.

The nearest residence now was Dr. Dai Wei's clinic, about half a New District away; they would have to walk there relying on memory.

Considering the size of the New District and the fact that it was still deep in the night, it was particularly painful. A legendary investigator tracking heretical activities and delving into underground ruins still had to walk home himself after getting off work.

"Alright, Kup, we have to walk back."

"It's not too bad, Mr. Kraft. I'm sure you remember the way." Kup asked some oil from the Church personnel squatting by the fire basin at the gate and added it to the lamp. "I used to walk at night often before."

"I hope this gives you a chance to savor your former peaceful days again."

"Better not. I prefer my current life a bit more," the professor's squire shook his head.

"Back then, I usually found work at the docks, but I didn't always finish before dark, so I had to return in the pitch black. As for the roads in the Salt Tide District, ha... everyone knows what they're like."

The soles of their shoes struck the stone pavement, the sound carrying far away as the two walked one behind the other on the empty street.

Sometimes a person suddenly realizes they know nothing about their fellow humans nearby, even though those people have long become part of their familiar life, yet they have no idea what those others do outside their field of vision.

And these unseen times are actually the largest part. Before knowing each other, during personal solitude, one only knows the general outline, or even that general outline is pieced together from hearsay and imagination.

From this perspective, they are no different from many generations living in Dunling; most have only seen the surface portion and know nothing about the long past.

"Even after experiencing those things?" The professor turned his neck, rubbing his slightly itchy neck against the back of his collar, asking as if casually.

When recalling the past, life in the countryside castle and the fragmented school days were so beautiful that he felt the road wasn't very dark.

But obviously not everyone was like that; or conversely, he was the minority, whether it was the original soul or a visitor from another world. The viewpoints shaped by this were not entirely the same, such as Kup's, and... Yin Feng's.

Kup thought for a while, but not long. "I don't want to lie; sometimes I am indeed quite afraid. That feeling reminds me of when I stepped into a stagnant puddle in the mudflats as a child. It looked no different from an ordinary shallow puddle, but as soon as I stepped in, I kept sinking, slowly submerging from my calves up to my neck."

"Later they told me it was the souls of the drowned pulling at my ankles below. Fortunately, someone nearby happened to pull me out, but I fell seriously ill after returning and had nightmares for a month."

"After that, I never went to that place again."

It did sound quite scary; Kraft thought the metaphor was apt. "Then why can you accept your current life?"

"To be honest, staying there any longer would just be another stagnant puddle. Even without that incident, I would have died of some other illness sooner or later." The further he walked, the more the perspective granted by his experiences allowed him to see his original life clearly.

"Sorry, I suppose you don't want to hear these complaints."

"No, I'm glad to have the chance to chat with you; such opportunities are rare in normal times." Kraft raised his hand to wipe the side of his face, then moved down to the back of his neck. A slight discomfort wandered over his body, yet he couldn't pinpoint exactly where.

It seemed like some night-flying insects attracted by the light, hovering just out of reach and pestering the periphery of his vision.

"I've said it; we are a whole. Only through communication can understanding deepen. No one in the world can achieve anything alone."

Kup couldn't respond; in fact, he felt this was closer to comfort. It was hard for Kraft to utter any negative remarks when not in a work state.

"Speaking of which, if you chose to board the ship out of dissatisfaction with the past, and if now there were a stable option available—I mean a respectable, well-paying career path like Dai Wei's—do you think that might suit you better?"

In the night breeze, the squire shivered. Admittedly, sometimes he played a role that didn't require much thinking, but that didn't mean he wasn't smart; on the contrary, his reaction speed was quite fast.

This sounded like there was something hidden in the words, and moreover, Kraft had turned his head to look; although his gaze wasn't fully on him, it was cast past him toward the rear.

"I have no intention of changing." Without a second of thought, Kup's answer tumbled out.

"Perhaps you should consider it." The reality was not quite what he thought; it seemed the professor was serious. "Your learning ability is good. Although you are a bit older, given time, you might not be unable to enter the academy. My letter of introduction still carries some weight."

"You are joking." Asking Kup to believe he could get into university was no better than believing a blind man could see again.

"Or I could recommend you to my grandfather. For a squire with courage and experience who has followed someone through treacherous battles, he would be willing to grant a knightly title. The Northern Regions are vast; just clearing the wilderness might be a bit difficult."

Kup fell silent. If the first was too absurd, the second hit the bullseye with complete accuracy and was highly credible.

The dream came too suddenly. Under the most ideal circumstances, this was the ending of a squire's life. It felt as if, if he nodded and agreed now, a knight's fiefdom belonging to him would be waiting for him in the north.

"How about it? Of course, you'd best continue learning some things; after all, having more skills never hurts. Once you return to the Spruce Forest up north, it won't be easy to learn anything." Kraft suggested, and this was truly out of sincere consideration.

Having someone capable of handling matters is certainly good, but one's own expectations do not necessarily align with another's wishes; Yin Feng is an example of that.

The question thrown out struck like a blow to the head, completely stunning Kup, who followed mechanically for quite a distance without recovering.

Kraft was not in a hurry for an answer. After stretching his spine, the vague discomfort still had not dissipated. He traced back to the most recent memory of feeling such discomfort: when he arrived at the cemetery yesterday.

A sensation like invisible tiny insects constantly harassed his neck and back, even producing tiny stings like bites.

Turning his head backward once more, Kup was bowing his head, organizing his exploded thoughts. On the empty street, there was only the damp night air mingling with the mist from the Tem River.

【What is it?】

It was not a physical sensation; then it must be a mental reaction. Something had triggered his spiritual senses.

Indistinct synesthesia made it hard to pinpoint the source. Kraft first ruled out environmental factors of his current location; he had taken the same road when he came, and nothing had happened then.

He chose to walk a bit further to see.

After several turns, that feeling not only did not shake off, but instead intensified due to conscious attention or some other change, becoming slightly clearer, though not obvious.

Amidst the tiny, mosquito-like itching and pricking that lingered without dispersing, like a gourmet sniffing dishes to distinguish spices, Kraft smelled a trace of malice—too faint to be certain.

However, as contact continued, its direction gradually became a bit clearer, though still unstable. It resembled an eye constantly shifting position, leaping between some gaps, casting a substantial gaze.

【Or perhaps it is just so.】

But although the residential houses on both sides formed a continuous row, they were not connected internally; besides that, there was a lack of concealed positions.

At another corner, Kraft casually glanced in the general direction. It was a sealed building with tightly closed window shutters. Crushed lettuce leaves on the doorstep indicated that someone had set up a stall selling vegetables there during the day.

Caught off guard, Kup saw Kraft launch rapidly toward one side of the street. For him, the not-so-wide street was merely two or three steps; he arrived in an instant.

Before acting, he had already confirmed his target. He stopped at one spot and stomped down fiercely. One end of the stone slab beneath his foot, subjected to force, lifted and flipped over, exposing the foul-smelling, lightless sewer space to the illumination.

Kup arrived a step later, carrying a page hammer, and looked down. Broken vegetable leaves were soaking in black-green water, with a few strands of sediment swirling as they settled.

"What happened?"

"Just consider it a sudden fit of paranoia." Kraft withdrew his drawn sword halfway, pushed the stone slab back into place with his foot, and said, "By the way, how have you thought it over?"

"I'm not sure." Kup felt he might not be as clear on his goals as he imagined.

"Speaking of which, I have always admired you. After all, you saved me more than once; the very first time was in Wendeng Port. But now, Professor Kraft, you are already one of the centers of the Academy. Even the Duke extends invitations. You can obtain anything you want through your medical skills. Why do you still personally tread these sewers?"

"..."

"I'm not sure."