Chapter 288: An Objective Standard

Green's condition suddenly worsened, like a hearth fire swaying without wind, a gloomy shadow cast by the dim light of a rainy day enveloping his face. Though he concealed it well and adjusted quickly, the subtle changes did not escape Kraft's observation.

So the answer was yes; those voices had already found him.

"It seems the situation is more complicated than I thought," the doctor said, changing his posture. "Can you describe what they're like?"

Green held a cup of hot tea, his gaze drifting behind the steam, his focus shifting to various corners of the room.

The wiped-clean cabinet, the corner far from the window, the slightly wider brick gap on the wall—all were places one could see straight to the bottom. Perhaps their only commonality was that they would subconsciously become hiding spots for something.

"Much like what's described in that booklet." It was noticeable that the priest was consciously restraining the impulse to be distracted; the results of reflex training meant he could never truly relax, always ready to react to something appearing from any angle.

"But the experience of encountering it oneself is far worse than the description."

"How so?"

"A voice, but far more than that. A mere voice couldn't drive a person mad. You can distinctly feel its presence, a very strange sensation, as if someone, or something similar to a person, suddenly appeared in a certain place."

"Then comes the voice, quite clear; you can tell it's human speech, at least that's what intuition says."

"Do you think it has meaning? Could it be a language?"

"Unlikely. The timbre and pronunciation change every time, very vague." The tea finally cooled a bit, the steam dissipating, yet the fog in Green's eyes had not yet lifted. "But it has directionality. You can feel it is coming at you, like a vibration on an invisible rope transmitted from the other end."

Kraft pointed out the contradiction: "You say it's clear, yet vague?"

"The voice is clear; the meaning is vague. Yes, there is some meaning..." The fog in the priest's eyes gradually shifted to a look of contemplation.

He looked as if his upper body had leaned into Jingkou, hearing a signal beneath that was not an echo, and subconsciously leaning further in, trying to figure out what it was.

"Stop, stop, stop. Maybe don't think about it for now." Kraft did not intend to let him dig deeper; most of the time, no answer would be found, and the rare cases where something was actually figured out would only make things worse.

"My current advice is: grab your identification and money pouch immediately, pack a few sets of clean clothes, go downstairs through the side door, and take the carriage that brought me. Sit in it, find a high ground in the suburbs, and stay there until the voices stop."

"Avoidance is not a virtue." This was clearly not constructive advice, nor did it meet expectations of professional standards.

"I don't think stubbornly enduring an illness counts as bravely facing it, either?"

In Kraft's view, deep-seated influences actually share commonalities with many illnesses; the three levels of prevention are never outdated.

The first level is staying away from risk factors to prevent occurrence; the second level is "early detection, early diagnosis, early treatment" in the pre-clinical stage to curb progression.

Green currently falls into the second category, allowing for an early diagnosis: clear history of exposure, symptoms not typical enough but basically fitting.

Early treatment is often very simple; many cases don't require heavy medication to reverse the trend, yet precisely because it is simple, it is often overlooked, allowing the condition to develop.

For someone like Green, for instance, it looks a bit scary in hindsight, but when it comes to taking action, he would immediately make excuses for himself, such as "After all, it's just auditory hallucinations," "Just a few dreams," or "I've faced entities before anyway."

Thus, it drags on to the third level, already entering the clinical course. To prevent falling into an irreversible vicious cycle, Lei Ting measures become unavoidable.

So he sincerely advised: "Really, just go try it for a few days. Whenever you hear a voice, make a note, then tally the frequency daily. If there's a downward trend, it proves I'm right."

Kraft held his teacup, locking eyes with Green, hoping he could see his sincerity.

They had cooperated for quite some time; one could say they were comrades-in-arms. On one hand, he did not want the other to suffer irreversible mental or physical damage from causes that could be entirely avoided.

On the other hand, he would be the one to act later; even to avoid increasing his workload and shortening his expected lifespan, he should offer more persuasion.

"Honestly, I think it's worth considering. You've done enough; treat it as a rare day off. Even the Heavenly Father rested one day after creating the world." Brother Wading was swayed first, but he knew better than to let Green abandon all his duties. "I will bring new documents to you every day."

"That is indeed a solution, though it will trouble Brother Wading." Under the pressure from his friend and Kraft, the priest finally showed signs of wavering. "I still need to explain to my superiors why I must leave the city during the restriction period."

"I'd be happy to."

Brother Wading's face read, "If you're willing to temporarily stop struggling with these things, I won't have to go through so much trouble," but wisely he didn't mention it. The two maintained an extraordinary tacit understanding: get Green out the door first.

"But..." Just as things seemed about to succeed, Green had another turn.

"No 'buts'. Right now, the most important thing is treating your condition. Leaving a priest in poor mental state at his post is also disrespectful to the Heavenly Father." Kraft tried to cut him off by adopting the Church's perspective.

"No, no, no, that's not what I mean." Green drained the water in his cup. "I have an idea."

"Professor Kraft, do you think it might be because we are too close, and that thing is still exerting influence on us? Is that it?"

"Exactly."

"You gave me a small bottle before, containing... yes, it's called 'Black Salt'. It melts when those things approach." The priest connected a line of thought, opened a drawer, and pried off a sealed small metal bottle that had been glued to the top with wax.

"Since that thing can already influence people, could it influence Black Salt at this distance?"

"Ah?" Kraft had almost forgotten about this item. After all, practical combat proved its effect was extremely limited; by the time one could remember to shake it and hear a distinct melting sound, the problem could be detected without using it.

He was truly stumped, like a patient asking a question from a completely unexpected angle during rounds. He struggled to rummage through the information in his mind to organize a reply. "Theoretically... I'm not sure if the influence on Black Salt and the influence on humans belong to the same type."

"Even if they are the same type, the degree of influence on the human mind should be far less than the power that creates unnatural phenomena. The change in Black Salt might be far too slight to cause any difference in the sound of shaking the bottle."

"Then is there a way to observe such subtle changes?" Green, a complete layman, proposed a new functional requirement. "That way, we might be able to directly 'see' its influence?"

"Makes sense. I need to think about it."