[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies":3,"chapter-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-235":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Notes on Kraft Anomalous Studies",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2283713,4467,"Chapter 235","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-235",235,"\u003Cp>Undeniably, life is sometimes bizarre, like the inscrutable will of the Father, full of unexpected turns.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For instance, receiving an unavoidable mission to go out and find someone on a rainy night, only to arrive and learn that the person had just gone to a banquet outside the city.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cursing the nobles’ decadent habits, I finally reached the venue and, through a mix of persuasion and force, gained entry and met the person. I expected a long struggle, but surprisingly, they were unusually cooperative, skipping what I thought would be the hardest step.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as everything seemed to be going smoothly, something utterly unexpected happened: an attack was launched on the Inquisition’s party near Dunling’s outskirts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before I could vent my accumulated fury on these blind fools, my horse was struck by an arrow and collapsed, giving me no chance to act.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, unluckily, my leg was pinned beneath me, and my head slammed hard against the ground.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Losing consciousness wasn’t entirely bad—it skipped over the most dangerous part of the fight—but failing to wake up after it ended was another matter entirely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet the irony of fate is that had I not been gravely injured and collapsed, I would never have known the banquet I’d just left was a medical school team-building event combined with a medical equipment exhibition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It’s dramatic—the local pool of doctors has never been larger or more skilled. One could say that if a single bolt of lightning pierced the ceiling and struck the banquet table, the entire medical standard from Dunling to Vestermin would instantly regress by a decade.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bad news is that several of the more senior-looking physicians examined the case and declared they could do nothing. I don’t know whether that was professional judgment or personal grudges—after all, relations between the two sides have never been cordial.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Now the scene will be tense. Since you’ve refused treatment, I hope you’ll help keep me still instead of causing distractions—even if you press slightly lower isn’t a big deal.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I briefly activated my spiritual senses and narrowed the vague diagnosis of “God knows where the intracranial injury is” to “subdural hematoma in the right temporoparietal region.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>……\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Aside from Kupri, who knew nothing of the Kraft family, everyone else in the room nodded in understanding—so it made sense; a medical dynasty would naturally produce such a person.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The monk responsible for stabilizing the head witnessed a slender pair of forceps probe into the skull and suppressed the urge to pull away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A series of shallow grooves formed an octagonal pattern gradually deepening into the skull, producing red-and-white debris during engraving that required constant cleaning. Progress was slow, but this was a task that could not be rushed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It demanded immense control and acute awareness; each strike sent a shiver through the onlookers, involuntarily immersing them in the operator’s pressure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My hair was still damp; I’d just cleaned up and changed into clean clothes. “Your suggestion is to open up a large section of the skull and drain the blood clot.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Aside from the lost hair and the small sutured incision, the patient looked perfectly fine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The difference is, Kraft felt his own plan was still quite conservative. After all, none of the procedures involved the cerebellum in the slightest; nothing exceeded the constraints, and the tools could be taken freely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing the patient’s condition, I knew I had to set aside dissecting this unusual corpse and focus on saving the living—otherwise, there wouldn’t be much time left to consider anything at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Vilen, help me tidy up the instruments. Kupri, while they’re cleaning my head, don’t shake it too hard.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though I couldn’t say, “If the Church kills him, so be it,” on moral grounds, weighing risks and benefits is necessary. Failing riskily brings little benefit, but making a mistake would be disastrous.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vilen felt sweat forming in his palms—this was entirely different from those attempts to drill holes in skulls to exorcise “demonic possession.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Forceps.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if it sounded unconventional, challenging a professor’s proposed treatment plan wasn’t something just anyone could do.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In hindsight, psychological preparation was utterly inadequate. When Kraft picked up a large chisel from the tray, the surgical field indeed began to destabilize.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>……\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Opening the patient’s eyelids, the pupils hadn’t dilated yet, but their reaction to light was sluggish. No more “possibly”—this was clearly a sign of intracranial injury.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“There aren’t many techniques for drilling into the skull, but they were previously used mostly for psychiatric conditions and are now more common.” Vilen, recognizing Kraft’s sincerity, stepped forward to support him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The fracture is secondary—the professor handled it promptly and appropriately; at my age, healing isn’t impossible.” Vilen also knelt down and pressed gently on the unconscious monk’s head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The scalp was swollen, not hard, but with a fluctuant sensation—indicating bleeding directly above the impact site.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Kraft offered another option—one that might sound especially hostile.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That step caused no major trouble; after clearing the shallow layer of red-and-white clots from the base, the flap was sutured back in place and properly dressed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The several internal medicine doctors present were willing to suggest a few methods for managing hematomas, though their practical value was highly questionable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The surviving monks exchanged uneasy glances; someone finally spoke up. In truth, not leaping up to slit the throat of the doctor who proposed the treatment already showed remarkable restraint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>None of the monks present were soft-hearted on the battlefield. But chopping down an enemy and watching someone slowly, methodically cut open a scalp and peel it away from the skull were two entirely different things.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a faint hissing sound, the bleeding stopped, the red was wiped away, revealing the white arc above.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps the shared experience of facing danger had earned some trust, or perhaps Kraft’s connection to Grene lent him credibility—the scales gradually tipped toward what Kraft hoped for.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The lecturer gave Kraft a meaningful glance, suggesting they might as well just push forward outright: “The risk is minimal—can’t you help me make the decision?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To clear the surgical field, a small patch of hair centered on the planned incision was completely shaved, creating a bare patch atop the thickly haired scalp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Others might not realize it, but for those who understood, watching a treatable case deteriorate step by step was unbearable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Since your grandfather’s generation, your family has been exploring the mind, possessing advanced knowledge of skull structure and considerable practical experience.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was a hard question to answer. Frankly, this was my first time ever—but if the monks were even considering acceptance, that was already progress; telling them the truth outright wouldn’t reassure them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, leave it. Let it be a memento when I wake up.” Kraft wiped the blood from his hands and began preparing for the next step. I needed to find out what had happened to the attacker.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“All we’re doing now is clearing the hematoma between the bone plate and the overlying membrane—nothing near the interior.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The surgery required precisely cutting out a section of skull to create an octagonal bone window, providing decompression and access. Too shallow and you couldn’t reach it; too deep and one misstep could pierce through entirely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The gathered light revealed the scene above: red and white matter filled the field. I’d seen this before—only on corpses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Metal pressed against the skull, producing a sharp, out-of-place clang with each hammer strike, leaving a shallow groove—like the dull tone of a wooden fish drum.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After brief internal discussion, the monks quickly reached a unanimous decision.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Let’s hope he won’t be troubled by his appearance for a while after waking. Still, middle-aged clergy have long favored balding styles—it’s just an early version of what was inevitable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How’s it going?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Less than ten minutes later, Kraft returned to the room, having fetched the necessary tools from the adjacent warehouse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Considering how diligently they’d tried to protect others amid the chaos—and how likely they were to have delayed a trap aimed at me—I felt morally obligated to help, even if it might bring me trouble.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since that’s how it was said, all that remained was to pray to the Father.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I could still feel the patient’s irregular breaths brushing against my fingertips, while the doctor reached into the skull’s opening and extracted something. It was a clot, half-coagulated into a texture like fermented dairy, with more still pooling in the incision.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The monk, exhaling deeply, noticed a large, seemingly forgotten white octagonal object beside him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It resembled a flathead screwdriver, with a sharp tip, used much like a carpenter’s chisel—struck with a hammer at the end to carve an opening. Without a bone drill, this was all we had.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s just a proposal. If we do nothing, we can only hope for the Father’s mercy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I quickly selected forceps and handed them to the outstretched hand, watching as Kraft gripped one corner of the hazy octagonal clot and lifted it carefully and steadily to the side.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I wiped away the pooled blood with gauze; the view blurred for a few seconds as fresh red seeped rapidly. I took the thick steel needle Vilen handed me, heated it over flame, and cauterized the major bleeding points.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, you need someone to hold me steady.” Kraft picked up the first set of tools he’d use today—not surgical instruments, but standard barbering gear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without looking up, I knew the patient’s colleague’s face must have been grim, perhaps already regretting everything.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As frontline personnel, we already had a solid understanding of how dangerous such injuries could be.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The key is outside—the skull may have internal bleeding. We’ve had patients who fell unconscious after head trauma, only to later die from intracranial pressure shifting the brain.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The former seemed not to grasp my meaning, nodded thanks, and turned back to the monks: “I’ll begin pre-op preparations to avoid wasting time. Make your worst decision before I return. I’m always here—time doesn’t wait for injuries.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It sounded suspicious, especially how they knew the cause of death. But even if I doubted their moral standards, I had to trust our professional integrity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Simply put, there’s bleeding between the skull and the dura mater, and the space inside the skull is limited. So far, the bleeding hasn’t reached the point of compressing brain tissue or forcing it into unnatural positions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Professor, I apologize for my presumption—how many such skull-opening procedures have you performed before?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Won’t you put it back?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Now comes the real challenge—don’t let your hands holding the head tremble.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Leaving fate to the Father doesn’t mean abandoning human effort.” One monk stepped forward, speaking for all: “But we wish to observe.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It felt eerily familiar—surely some renowned physician once made a similar suggestion at an inopportune moment, becoming a classic case of early poor doctor-patient communication.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Back then, there was no medical malpractice review system. If you tried to get an expert opinion, you’d find the same people qualified—purely a vicious cycle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hold it. Don’t move.” Kraft clamped the lifted flap with a toothed hemostat and handed it to Kupri to secure. “Give me the thick needle.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A murmur rippled through the attending doctors. Clearly, professionals harbored doubts, but outwardly they maintained composure—some invisible force restrained them from passing judgment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>True enough, anyone could understand. My own hands were doing exactly what reassured them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Book recommendation: Our Secret Base\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Continuing the style of its predecessor, *Intrusion into the Human World*, it captures the familiar yet alien atmosphere of the early 2000s, blending era-specific fantasy, horror, and romance into a uniquely distinctive work—both this and its predecessor are well worth reading.\u003C\u002Fp>",1939,"2026-06-20T02:15:56.940Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","7d5cd81ae334f0ad1b8f9a9c5040c269f1cb3a0613e31c82937ebb166e0217d3","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-236","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-234",406,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fnotes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-cover.jpg"]