Chapter 259: Family Inheritance

When Kraft returned to the cemetery, the guarding cultivator nearly mistook him for some outsider who had lost his way.

This pair looked nothing like they belonged here; they resembled a family on a picnic, ready to spread out a cloth and lay out drinks and snacks on a suitable patch of grass. In fact, they had indeed brought food—the package emitted the warm aroma of baked sweets.

The other handed him a small bag; the cultivator had already prepared to refuse if it contained coins, but it was merely a still-warm cookie—refusing would have seemed impolite.

"It's impolite to arrive empty-handed. I thought bringing sweets might be more appropriate for a visit," the professor said, leading the girl past the outer sentries toward the deeper parts of the cemetery.

It felt like bringing a junior to disturb someone at their workplace—except this workplace was somewhat unusual.

Yin Feng followed behind, dressed in practical clothing, curiously scanning her surroundings. Though she said nothing, her mood was unusually light, marked by subtle shifts in her spiritual state.

Like faint red glow emerging from a dry pile of firewood, the change had already been ignited.

She stepped lightly along the overgrown path, pausing now and then to listen for fleeting sounds, or kicking aside stones blocking her boots, displaying the boundless energy befitting her age.

Physical strength was transforming into spiritual power, as if shedding the discarded chrysalis shell, radiating visible luster.

"To be honest, beneath us lie the dead accumulated over a hundred years here—it might be a bit frightening," Kraft reminded her again, out of caution, though he didn't expect it to help much.

"I'm ready," Yin Feng replied, lighting her lantern just as he had, the oil-soaked wick illuminating the steps before the underground entrance.

Nothing could stop a blazing fire—it only burned others; it never retreated on its own.

"Alright, then stay close. There are many Chalu inside; it's easy to get lost." The two lanterns sank one after another into darkness.

"We'll pass through one of Dunling's largest underground cemeteries, entering the city's other side—a network deeper and more complex than the surface-level sewers."

Unlike his usual easygoing demeanor, the doctor's tone was grave—this only happened rarely, signaling his lack of certainty: "A group of heretics—likely the same kind you encountered before—have turned this place into a secret nest."

"Of course, that's not the point. The point is they're contacting something... from another world. I know it's hard to grasp—think of it as a place similar to ours, but far worse: a mirror filled with malice."

Yellowed bones surrounded them, yet what Kraft described was more chilling than these remains waiting silently in darkness to rot.

A chill, as incomprehensible as his words, clung to the back of her neck. She felt a chilling atmosphere forming around her as he spoke—as if merely his narration had forged a link between her and that world.

She looked at her mentor, a hint of confusion in her eyes. Today, Kraft seemed to speak more than ever before.

"My grandfather won honor and land on the battlefield in his youth, yet he always hoped I'd become a scholar—even though our family bloodline had never shown any talent for it, quite the opposite."

"So many people—including myself—were reluctant to accept his idea. What is a warrior noble who has lost his martial spirit?"

Yin Feng's confusion deepened, causing her to momentarily ignore her surroundings, shifting her focus from the bones to this seemingly unrelated topic.

"But perhaps everyone eventually finds in themselves something similar to their ancestors. I'm beginning to understand him now—the more one has experienced, the less one wishes their descendants to walk the same path."

"They lack deep understanding of the truth—understanding that can only come from personal experience. No one can guarantee they'll walk away unscathed. By then, the cost has already been paid; forces carry one forward, and there may be no retreat."

"It's an unsolvable contradiction, a repeating cycle. I originally hoped you'd begin gradually engaging with medicine—or any other subject you found interesting—after several years of foundational study, eventually taking a post at some academy, or at least in Wood's territory—by then, no one would question my judgment."

"So today is...?" Yin Feng ventured. The professor had spoken far afield, but it matched her expectations: along his path, no matter how far she went, a towering structure named Kraft would always loom above her.

"So far, our role has only been to guide—we cannot forcibly alter facts or others' wills."

"You've entered that world. The things you brought back cannot be removed—I know it exists. Before we begin, I want to ask one last time: are you truly willing to engage with it and bear any consequence?"

He emphasized the word "any." "I mean any of the worst things you've seen or imagined—including death."

"But you said it couldn't be imagined," Yin Feng found a logical flaw.

"True. But if you regret it later, remembering today's answer won't hurt." In this moment, Kraft seemed to rewind to his question in Comfort Harbor about her future aspirations—his tone softened slightly.

Bones stacked on the walls, arranged into crude patterns, decorated the path as if leading to hell—each step deeper made it narrower and harder to traverse.

"So far, you can still turn back. Think: someday others might call you Yin Feng the Doctor, the Lecturer, the Professor—working daily in a comfortable indoor environment, receiving patients' gratitude."

The professor stopped in the center of the path paved with shattered bones, lowering his lantern to circle it beneath his feet, highlighting the presence of the dead.

Something darker, more alien to the sunlit world, waited below.

To be honest, Yin Feng froze for a moment. Her silence wasn't contemplation—it was sheer shock at Kraft's unprecedented demeanor, more surprising than encountering those fungal shells that climbed mountain trails.

The intermittent whispers suddenly fell completely silent, as if a tangible gaze had gathered, forming an inexplicable resistance.

She felt she should think more—but realized this process had long since been completed.

In reviewing her brief life's impressions of the world, her memory held countless faces—each hiding different intentions, emotions, operating under rules she understood but couldn't fathom, seeking sensory or spiritual satisfaction, leaving her only bored and pained.

They differed on the surface, yet were fundamentally identical, imprisoned within this system that brought suffering. Like sparks drifting from a fire—indistinguishable, extinguished soon and meaninglessly.

【It is meaningless】

It made her feel suffocated—more than the pain of sinking in some forgotten long dream.

She wanted something to escape all of this—even for an instant.

Yin Feng walked forward, bone fragments crunching beneath her feet, pushing through darkness and invisible resistance until she stood again beside Kraft.

He made no comment, only continued leading downward.

After a walk so long she lost track of time, a strange, fresh breeze blew from ahead.

They turned down a side passage into an unremarkable stone chamber. The dozen or so people seated around it turned their gaze sharply, instinctively reaching for their weapons.

"Good morning. I'm looking for Father Green," Kraft greeted, ignoring them entirely, stepping aside so the cultivators could see he wasn't alone.

"I've brought a student to observe. Yin Feng—someone here probably knows her already. I'd appreciate your care for her. Also, I brought some small cookies—with honey. Anyone want one?"

"No one? Alright, I'll leave them here then."