Chapter 260: Specific Distance

The monks' reserve did not last long; under enthusiastic invitation, no one could refuse a little gustatory comfort in such a stifling environment.

When Father Green returned, he found the camp immersed in a morning tea atmosphere: a cloth spread over the coffin lid, several bags of biscuits already emptied, the crunch of chewing never ceasing.

And the instigator waved generously, inviting him to sit down, rest a while, and have something to eat.

"I thought you knew what kind of place this was."

"A forward camp?" Kraft shook the biscuit bag, rattling out the last few pieces, ate one himself, and handed the rest to Green. "But isn't it still safe for now?"

"Pagans and things no one knows what they are wander below—I hope you didn't come all this way just for this." The priest took a biscuit, bit into it.

The taste wasn't bad—though a bit hard, the grain aroma and sweetness blended well, perfect for someone needing sugar after exertion.

"That's part of the goal too, but mostly I came to descend and see for myself, and bring my student along."

"If I recall correctly, you told me before this was your medical heir." Green glanced at the girl staring blankly at the rock fissure—she naturally hadn't been frightened by the previous path and looked forward to the journey ahead.

"Ah, don't mention it, don't mention it." Kraft let out a heartfelt sigh and began preparing to depart. "I hope she doesn't find this place interesting."

While waiting for Green to rest, they shed excess weight, checked their gear, and ensured everything stayed where it belonged. It didn't take long—after all, the former was desperate to finish everything before the next rain.

The current exploration team had shrunk considerably: only Green himself and five monks who still dared enter the waterways after that rainy-night incident, with Brother Wading not among them—he remained as backup, just in case.

Father Green took a deep breath, sidestepped first into the fissure, followed by the monks and Kraft, with Yvonne bringing up the rear.

Once inside, the formation adjusted: Green still led, but Yvonne was placed in the middle. Kraft automatically fell to the rear, keeping a certain distance from Green.

Damp, dark breezes stirred in the underground space; they reentered the shadow of Dunling.

Still descending along the waterway, gradually drawing nearer to the roaring space.

Knowing the sound's nature didn't breed familiarity. The water's crash, processed by the deep well and hall, resembled the snore of some living thing—each time they entered, it felt as if passing beside its mouthparts.

Green pulled out a small iron bottle, shook it by his ear, heard the familiar grain-scraping sound, and pressed forward.

When the resonant clamor reached its peak, they arrived at the hall.

Darkness expanded before them, becoming an endless, unknown expanse; the team walked its edge, passing identical cave mouths, avoiding slippery moss and sharp-edged chasms.

It was hard not to notice a few unusually fresh fissures—inside, no moss grew; the bright, cut surfaces reflected wavering human shapes beneath the water layer.

Anyone with even a basic sense of stone hardness could tell these were not part of the ruin's original structure, but creations of some force beyond cognition—cuts transcending the material plane.

Yvonne heard a thin whisper behind her—even the roaring water couldn't drown out its meaning: fear.

Not an acquired emotion, but the primal terror of a wingless creature at a cliff's edge, striking straight into the soul, making the synesthete recall witnessing storm clouds approaching the sea—the helplessness against inevitable destruction, universal to any form of consciousness, thus clearly perceptible.

【What is that?】

The question naturally received no answer—only pure fear echoed and vibrated within her chest.

She leapt quickly over the fissure, trying to forcibly suppress the synesthesia, with little effect—just as one cannot stop a part of the body from feeling.

She turned back toward the rear, meeting Kraft's gaze—he seemed to have been watching her just then, or perhaps always had been—and he gave her a slight nod, then shook his head and pointed downward, signaling her to focus on the path.

During this grueling stretch, they passed two corners, and Green stopped precisely before a tunnel, confirmed everyone was in position, shook and listened to the iron bottle, then entered.

The thunder of the waterfall shifted from everywhere to behind them, receding with depth, until only a faint sensation remained—like damp cloth pressed against the spine—reminding them what lay on the path behind.

Entering the new corridor didn't relax the monks; they visibly grew tenser, one hand always near their weapons and fuel bottles, eyes glued to the featureless tunnel walls.

【As if something might emerge from any of the bricks at any moment】

Even though nothing had happened since departure, these small gestures accumulated tension, spreading between them.

The slope of the waterway gradually flattened, nearing level, splitting ahead into two directions; Green silently chose the left, using the weighted pommel of his sword to carve a faint white mark at waist height, where it wouldn't be easily noticed.

Torches were held as high as possible, illuminating greater distances—as if guarding against something ahead.

Yvonne interpreted this as an omen, gripping her dagger in advance, waiting for the unexpected.

But the team simply moved forward in silence; vague, piled silhouettes blocked the way—clearly not enemies or strange things.

The tunnel had collapsed here; large chunks of broken brick and silt blocked the path, fine streams oozing from the gaps.

【Dead end】

Green brought Kraft to the pile of rubble, dug away some silt, and explained to the broken stone faces—how the tooth-like marks formed, and how they connected to some distant era.

One monk joined the discussion; his words were filled with terms Yvonne didn't understand—mouthfuls of archaic vocabulary prefixed to architectural structures and tools, transforming them into alien forms, successfully deepening the confusion.

They reached consensus right there—the conclusion being that this area had been destroyed during some period, and many other dead ends were similarly altered.

Then... the team began to retrace their steps, returning to the fork, marking the other side and exploring forward, discovering new branches, choosing one, then encountering another dead end.

The entire process involved only movement and minimal verbal exchange—most of which was barely comprehensible.

Occasional interruptions were alcoves along the corridors and monotonous, transit-like spaces, all proven meaningless.

Extreme boredom was even worse than the earlier fear of the hall; she felt weary, drowsy, and a growing irritation—the slightly leaking boots weren't heavy, but made every step uncomfortable.

The novelty had long worn off; only patience and a stubborn defiance kept her going, silent and unobtrusive. This was the first time—at least, it shouldn't be the first time—that it left her disappointed.

She began to grasp what her mentor had said—and hadn't said. Before experiencing it firsthand, it was truly hard to feel how things weren't as imagined—how often, the bulk of time was spent in repetitive, tedious searching and thinking.

Finally, after the last branch was proven a dead end, the team decided to return and rest before continuing exploration, tremblingly crossing the hall again, returning to the temporary camp.

"Another unproductive trip, isn't it?" Father Green sat by the fire.

Due to ventilation issues, the fire's size had to be controlled; trying to dry her damp clothes with it was pure psychological comfort. The half-dry feeling would cling to them throughout exploration until their next return to the surface.

There was reason to believe the professor brought students here partly to discourage them—not for true apprenticeship, like a child who couldn't memorize scripture being sent to do chores in a monastery.

"Not entirely." Kraft took Green's map, located the entrance they'd just come through, and traced the route.

Unlike other symbolic drawings, Green noticed his markings showed a certain precision in path length.

"You counted steps?"

"And angles." As he spoke, the professor had already marked approximate dead-end positions, measuring distances with a wooden ruler. "I can't estimate the vertical difference, but the length is roughly discernible."

"Several collapse points seem roughly equidistant from the straight-line distance to the hall. I have a theory—but I'll need more locations to confirm."

"What?"

"This isn't random sealing. There's a fixed distance. Someone deliberately sealed off all tunnels within a specific range around the hexagonal well, isolating a roughly circular zone." Kraft closed his eyes, sketching his theory from memory and spatial imagination.

The waterways form a three-dimensional system—beyond his capacity to guarantee accuracy.

"Actually, this can be corroborated from another angle: why didn't they simply block the entrance at this end of the hall? Clearly, doing so would have been far more convenient. This proves that this range exists and holds some significance or purpose."

"Not merely to isolate this place, but perhaps for some purpose?" Green gave up drying himself off and leaned in to examine closely. "But how did you remember it? Length aside, what about the angle and direction?"

"You can understand it as a kind of talent."

"Your school has quite a rich variety of talents."

"Thank you for the compliment, but it's not as precise as you imagine, so for now it remains only a possibility." Kraft set down the map.

"According to what you said, they might have left an entrance, a formal one, rather than a fissure accidentally excavated by a quarry like this one." Following this hypothesis, Green made further deductions.

"Interesting. I'm starting to wonder where this entrance might come down from."

Speculation based entirely on an unreliable guess had lifted their spirits somewhat, even sparking an impulse to set out immediately to verify it.

But the numbers quickly cooled that impulse: "In the worst-case scenario, we still have to search thirty waterways and their branches to find this entrance."

Yvonne understood this statement; now she felt a tiny bit of regret.