Chapter 29: Chapter Twenty-Seven: Notes

In the candlelight, Kraft spread out the paper.

He was now staying at the same inn where he had lodged during his last visit to Wenden Port, even in the same room.

That night, Kraft had hesitated for a long while at the door of the professor's provided housing, key in hand, before finally turning back to the inn.

It wasn't that he had lost trust in the professor; rather, the various incidents indirectly revealed Karlman's mental state was far from normal, and people in such a condition rarely acted reliably.

Moreover, before this trip, his grandfather had given him enough money to settle permanently in Wenden Port, so Kraft chose to make do with the inn for now, attending classes for a few days before finding long-term accommodation.

Now he intended to organize everything he had encountered in written form, recording his knowledge in a reliable, fixed format.

As someone deeply shaped by his grandfather's teachings, he was inclined to classify such events as "anomalous phenomena," since they were indeed bizarre enough; once bound into a notebook, they could be called "Anomalous Studies" notes.

First, based on his own firsthand experience, he could make an immature judgment—that so far, all the anomalous phenomena he encountered had limitations.

Whether the hallucinations and fever triggered by Shi Zhu, or the black liquid's inducement of humans, he was only affected after approaching and visually observing tangible, material objects related to them.

He had reason to suspect that the black stone pillars discovered in the village fields had limited influence, causing the village's unique "fever disease," and that this influence could only affect certain individuals under unknown conditions.

The black liquid, moreover, required being brought directly before one to produce noticeable inducement—but this influence seemed easier to trigger, as Professor Karlman, Lu Xiusi, and Kraft himself had all been affected.

In short, this limitation meant a tangible "medium" must exist within the knowable realm, requiring visual contact and entry into a certain range, and even the observer must meet certain conditions to trigger the effect.

This conclusion was also why Kraft still planned to return to class; after locking everything away in his secret lab, he felt somewhat reassured, and now all he needed to do was keep an eye on Lu Xiusi.

If conditions allowed, he also wanted to check whether any uncollected items remained, and deal with them as well—ideally figuring out where the samples the professor had taken for himself had gone.

Lock what needed locking, bury what needed burying, hide everything thoroughly. Then, when the professor returned, give him a proper lesson in lab safety.

Undeniably, Kraft harbored a considerable amount of侥幸 psychology; in both encounters, the first had been a close call, the second even less serious by comparison, leading him to believe such things were no different in prevention than certain contagious diseases, at most linked to magic in novels.

On the other hand, he couldn't yet abandon them entirely, since he still knew people here, after all, this was the only medical college nearby, and after all… he would still need to rely on them in the future.

After reassuring himself with "if I don't touch it, nothing will happen," Kraft noted his second point:

As mentioned in the first point, the medium's effect on humans was not indiscriminate.

He himself seemed more sensitive to the medium's differences, more aware of the existence of "anomalous" objects, and exhibited reactions distinct from others—he was a special individual.

The village doctor had mentioned that everyone in the village who contracted the "fever disease" died within two days, yet he had inexplicably survived; moreover, he alone had sensed, without reason, that the black liquid was inducing living beings to contact it.

Kraft listed two possibilities: either his physically trained body was exceptionally healthy and his awareness unusually sharp, accounting for the difference.

Or it was a side effect of his "transmigration"—perhaps after two souls merged, he received special treatment like a product with extra quantity but no extra price?

Hmm, for now, note it down; perhaps he'd someday be unfortunate enough to test his hypothesis.

The black liquid itself had another key point to note—he didn't understand why, but why did it induce living beings to contact or even ingest it? What purpose did it serve?

The worst possibility he could imagine, based on his meager experience, was that it was some kind of magical parasite, needing to extract nutrients from other organisms; Lu Xiusi's temporary normalcy might merely mean it hadn't yet breached the mucosal barrier of the digestive tract, or was still growing.

It was frustrating to admit, but if it truly turned out that way, even if Kraft noticed Lu Xiusi's changes, his own skills would likely be useless—he'd have to take it one step at a time.

More likely, it was meaningless, similar to the "gift" left by the Snowy Night Dream—ordinary people could only comprehend and utilize those aspects within their own cognitive range.

Karlman believed it was the "black fluid" of the Four Fluids theory; Kraft believed it had central nervous system toxicity, yet its nature transcended common understanding, unsuitable and impossible to investigate.

Kraft paused, drew a dividing line, and started a new paragraph:

But for now, from their outward manifestations, these things resembled magic or curses in literature—explicit dangers were limited, yet they remained fundamentally incomprehensible.

Frankly speaking, worrying about them was less urgent than worrying about outbreaks of infectious diseases, which were the most likely to cause chaos in this era, and the very scenario Kraft feared most after learning the current state of medicine.

After all, an otherworldly soul was merely a soul-transmigration—he hadn't brought a single vaccine from childhood, and in an age without antibiotics or antiviral drugs, survival was pure luck.

Right now, he was thinking about how to repackage "Microbiology" and "Parasitology" and slip them into the medical college's curriculum, lest one day he himself fell ill and got bled as treatment—what a joke that would be.

Finally, returning to the task at hand, Kraft unexpectedly realized he had already done everything he could.

He had isolated the black liquid and the experimental records; he had prepared to observe Lu Xiusi during each class visit—that was all he could do.

Limited by current communication and transportation, he couldn't pursue Professor Karlman to uncover everything, especially since the origin did not lie with Karlman himself.

Far away in Dunling, at the heart of the kingdom, beneath the watchful eyes of the king and the church, Professor Mo Lisen had somehow produced the black liquid.

He claimed it was extracted from human bodies, and had asked Karlman to personally come assist in the research; viewed against existing clues, this was riddled with red flags.

Most likely, it was a scam based on anomalous phenomena—and that would be the better outcome.

Less likely, every word Mo Lisen spoke was true, in which case the horror would send chills down one's spine: it meant he had synthesized from human bodies something that should never exist within them—a logic so chilling it was unbearable to contemplate.

Kraft confirmed his morning thought—he had arrived too late, and far too late.

The best chance to stop this was to have transmigrated to Dunling and seized Mo Lisen, forcing him to return and pursue proper medicine, not Anomalous Studies.

The second-best chance was intercepting the samples sent to Karlman, preventing the entire chain of experiments, and stopping him from secretly taking black liquid to do something even Lu Xiusi couldn't be told about.

The worst opportunity was a week ago, when he could have used his formidable physical persuasion to knock some sense into the two experiment-obsessed men and prevent Karlman from traveling to Dunling.

Now, Karlman's fast ship had sailed for a week; Kraft was stuck here cleaning up after him, watching over Lu Xiusi, vigilantly monitoring every possible point of failure, playing Sherlock Holmes in a murky mystery.

He had never been good at deduction games, even with his powerful awareness—he mostly applied it to his own profession, not criminal investigations; analyzing changes in the professor's handwriting was already his limit.

The earliest part of the experimental records was neat; the letters had also been written at that time.

Then came the professor's handwriting gradually spiraling out of control, twisting and distorting until it became unrecognizable symbols.

It was certain that the professor's mental state had deteriorated steadily; he could only hope that before leaving, he hadn't used the black liquid to do something Kraft couldn't possibly handle.

There was much to do, but little he could actually handle. At the end, deeply disgusted, Kraft made his current summary:

Maintain distance, ensure containment, and under no circumstances, touch it unless absolutely necessary.