[{"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-249":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},2283727,4467,"Chapter 249: The Lost Branches","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-249",249,"\u003Cp>Those who can enter the Church’s vast library are indeed few, and unrestricted access to its texts is a privilege and an honor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps because education is widespread, people understand more acutely the scarcity and fragility of knowledge. From the first missionary stepping onto the kingdom’s shore to the hundredth year since the Cathedral of the Holy Mother was built, the production and collection of written works by institutions and individuals never ceased.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many figures with Church ties share a similar habit, eager to organize, translate ancient texts, or record all manner of content—historical literature, poetry and drama, folk culture, medical remedies, even trivial daily matters, depending on personal inclination.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because these materials lack system, they are chaotic and fragile, like a delicate glass artifact easily lost or shattered in some accident or change of fortune, scattering into the vast, silent cultural void where their value is forgotten.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet some portion is always collected—whether through a book owner’s final donation to faith, a monk’s acquisitions, or the Church’s own rich output—until the quantity becomes considerable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even many “contents likely to mislead the weak-willed flock” are preserved in archives, for potential future use.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, trickles do not always become rivers; more often they stagnate into stagnant pools. Cell division does not always mean growth; uncontrolled proliferation is merely a tumor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Church’s collection resembles the latter—especially its late-stage form. After all, it is difficult to assign personnel to a long-term task with uncertain returns, such as cataloging and organizing; merely keeping it barely functional is already remarkable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Like a massive reservoir, the caretaker only pours water in, neglects cleaning, and may not even carefully note what he pours in—over the years, the condition is Kexiangerzhi .\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For those attempting to extract useful content from it, it is not quite searching for a needle in a haystack—it is more like swimming in a cesspool.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Greene realized he was the man standing on the shore with a plank of driftwood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Here to return a book?” The copying monk glanced at the abridged *Heraldry* tucked under the visitor’s arm, then lowered his head again to transcribe an old text word by word.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, this is mine.” Greene hid the book—it had been his from when he was studying theology, still as good as new—“I’m here to find a book.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The part-time librarian monk, naturally possessing the disposition of one who prefers books to people, offered neither obstruction nor assistance: “Be my guest.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind him lay a space far larger than the Trial Chamber’s evidence room, rows of shelves lining the support pillars, with texts on every conceivable medium arranged unevenly above.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he wasn’t mistaken, he even spotted woodblock prints—not the stamped copies, but original fragments taken from buildings or other objects, simply placed in whatever empty spot they could find.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had originally hoped to come quietly, find what he needed, and leave—but now he realized he had vastly overestimated his own abilities.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The single book he had reviewed for two or three days didn’t even qualify as a table of contents.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Forced by circumstance, the Trial Chamber priest lowered his voice: “May I ask, where should I go to find books on the early kingdom?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The copying monk finished the last letter of the word, set his pen along the inkwell’s rim, and with a free hand gestured backward—just as Greene prepared to thank him for pointing the way, the monk swept his arm in a half-circle encompassing the entire library.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I believe you can find what interests you on most shelves, just as you can pick up seashells on any beach.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yes, and then I’ll spend my life counting sand on the beach, just like you. Greene muttered inwardly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He should have known—anyone here was one of those scholars gone mad with obsession, twistedly addicted to the smell of dusty texts and deriving superiority from it, until they lost the ability to integrate into normal society, hence their exile here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It solved the need to manage the library and the problem of employing these people, but it tormented those who came seeking books.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Greene’s view, these men were closer to the most fanatical scholars than to monks—or perhaps there was never a clear boundary between the two.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he did not voice his opinion; instead, he cut short the monk’s retreat into his own world: “I’m looking for books on noble lineages—preferably the earliest possible. Do you have any recommendations?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The earliest possible?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The copying monk rubbed his scalp, where untrimmed stubble had regrown, and called out into the forest of shelves: “Hey, you—someone’s looking for genealogies. The really old kind.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another figure, equally disheveled, emerged from the depths of the library, waved at the visitor, then turned wordlessly and walked deeper inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Greene paused a moment before realizing he was meant to follow, then strode quickly over the scattered, drying sheets of paper to catch up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a private corner of the library, a simple desk basked in the full sunlight streaming through a round window; piles of manuscripts, a few old books, and an uncapped inkwell lay haphazardly arranged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While the monk was occupied, Greene leaned in to look: lines of tree-like branches connected names and symbols, drawn with fine pens and adorned with hand-drawn figures of people and animals, meticulously crafted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some sections had already been colored in, forming genealogical charts that balanced readability with aesthetic appeal—the jingling of a full moneybag confirmed he had received substantial payment from those who cared about such things.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just to make a living,” the monk’s explanation lacked conviction. “Which family in the kingdom are you interested in?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I can’t claim to know every family, but if they held land and a surname along the Tem River, I can tell you something about them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“All of them?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Well, not quite that extreme—at least you need some reputation, not some backcountry farmer who can’t even find his own coat of arms.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then that’s good.” Greene nodded, realizing once again that professional work should be left to professionals—maintaining a group of people who studied seemingly meaningless subjects still had its value.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then which family would you like to know about?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not yet. May I ask your name?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You may call me Ma Erke.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Very well, Ma Erke. In the name of the Trial Chamber, I require you to swear that everything I ask you next will be kept absolutely secret—no word, intentional or accidental, may be leaked, or your soul shall fall into hell and be eternally burned until the Day of Judgment.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The priest’s face hardened, his judgmental tone amplified by his authority into something terrifying: “This is to prevent our enemies from exploiting it and plunging us into irredeemable sin.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah?” The monk was startled by the sudden gravity, then realized he had no right to refuse: “Yes, I swear—only we and the Father above will know what transpired here.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Good. Remember: today I merely came to chat with you about some family gossip. Nothing happened.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, yes.” The monk, struck by this sudden misfortune, nodded frantically, hoping to dispatch this terrifying Trial Chamber figure quickly, while guessing which unlucky surname was now under suspicion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So which family’s lineage do you wish to learn about?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The royal family.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah?” The monk’s expression of impatience, forced compliance, and inner torment froze for an instant, shifting from confusion to a mistaken, solemn reverence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I didn’t expect you’d be interested in this—but this is likely a question without a perfect answer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Why?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The royal bloodline is extraordinarily prolific; the most complex branch of its coat of arms already requires dozens of segmented panels, and the branches connecting the trunk to the crown… to be honest, many have never been clearly mapped.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The professor may have been right—at least partially. Greene said nothing, gesturing for the monk to continue.\u003C\u002Fp>",1306,"2026-06-20T02:15:56.940Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","c33e12568bb83305f9adad2e50a4f992c88b82bcd3ddb09ac95d363ba9c1d71a","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-250","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-248",406,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fnotes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-cover.jpg"]