Chapter 302: The Incurable Stubborn Disease

Theoretically, there should be no massive hollow structure beneath Dunling. This area does receive heavy rainfall, but the primary rock strata are not limestone, lacking the optimal conditions for cave formation.

Moreover, this is not the typical elongated structure with localized expansions found in ordinary caves, but a vast space that seems to expand infinitely.

Below the original hall lay the edge of the water body; the collapsed section formed a steep slope strewn with jagged rocks, slanting down into the water.

All hope of finding the missing persons was completely extinguished; that thing must have already returned to the lake water.

Only after spending nearly half a day completely clearing the passage behind them did the two dare, with sufficient fuel and support cover, to approach the water along the landslide debris.

The excessively dense water mist severely restricted visibility; even with torches held high for illumination, they could not light up an area large enough to provide a sense of security. It was hardly walking, but rather feeling their way down through the jumbled rocks.

Fortunately, the slope became gentler the lower they went, making movement easier. By the time they noticed the slow, rhythmic sound of water close to their ears, they were already standing on a shore paved with smaller fragments of rock.

The waves of the subterranean lake shattered against the rock edges into small streams, filling the gaps between them like breathing before slowly receding, emitting a low, mournful tone akin to sobbing, possessing an indescribable living quality.

The water was inconceivably clean; in the gloom, it flowed like black crystal, devoid of any impurities, lacking the algae and decaying matter common in enclosed bodies of water.

Looking upward, the shape of the dome was indistinct, and its height could not be judged; there was only a pure, gray-black chaos, as if another sky unique to this place.

The space between the water surface and the dome was not empty; farther away, massive, stationary outlines could be vaguely seen. They might be natural rock pillars supporting the dome, yet certain overly regular lines within those outlines always suggested features of artificial construction.

The light source in their hands was surely far from enough to illuminate that far; within this space, there seemed to be some extremely faint, dim light, yet one that was misty, pervasive, and omnipresent. Nothing fell into total darkness, allowing those who entered to glimpse a faintly visible, profound, and terrifying corner of it.

An uneasy call came from behind; at this distance, they and the support personnel could barely see the faint light of each other's torches.

"What should we do?" Before coming here, Brother Wading had never imagined such a scene.

In expectation, they would at most trace a path through the sewers to find some creature's nest, then use human wisdom to negotiate with it, retrieving surviving colleagues with slim chances or at least their belongings. Finally, they would find clues related to the earthquake.

But before them lay an endless underground lake; even if they could confirm there was a problem within it, what could they do?

Kraft was also stunned by this situation, still pondering how this place was formed and what it meant. Upon hearing the question, he directly gave an answer that hadn't even been fully processed in his mind: "Row a boat."

"Row a boat?"

In Kraft's view, this plan was feasible: "Although it will be difficult, perhaps we can bring boat components down here to assemble, or use barrels and similar items to provide buoyancy."

"Although it looks vast, since part of the rainfall in the Dunling region can cause noticeable changes in water level, it implies the area should be relatively limited; even if it is large, it can't be that big... right?"

Brother Wading was almost convinced by the argument, but the final particle of uncertainty exposed that the professor himself lacked confidence. All arguments were built on "I think" and "it should be," making it somewhat difficult to persuade anyone to get into the water and row.

"That would be very dangerous." Feeling that saying just that might seem overly cowardly, Brother Wading added, "Besides, there is the biggest problem."

"The Bishops recently ordered a ban on all exploration activities. Even if we could persuade others to turn a blind eye, it would mean we would receive no support, neither in manpower nor resources."

"They will change their minds." Two earthquakes should be enough to make those who know a little about the situation wary; if that is not enough, one more will make them realize that the Cathedral of the Holy Mother and the sandcastles on the beach are no different.

Such an active attitude left the monk somewhat confused; logically, someone whose family lands are in the north and whose ecclesiastical post is in Westmin Castle should be the most indifferent person here.

"Are you sure?" He felt this enthusiasm for exploring downward was somewhat hard to understand. "I do not mean to doubt, but... are you truly determined to go?"

If considering it objectively, Kraft felt he himself was not that certain either, existing in an ambiguous state where going or not going were both options.

He could continue exploring despite the risks, seeking the cause of the earthquakes. He could try, as in the past, to cut off the source before the situation became uncontrollable.

The risks were obvious. It was known that beneath Dunling lay a civilization site of super-large scale, burying their final creations before they marched toward destruction in irreversible madness. The royal family and the church of that era had only touched a fraction of it, yet paid the price of forcing them to permanently seal away this past.

Let alone a few people; even dozens or hundreds would not be enough to fill a tooth gap here.

Of course, he could also turn and leave, immediately dragging the entire academic tour group back to Westmin Castle, far away from this place of trouble, perhaps even finding an excuse to invite a few acquaintances he was friendly with along the way.

Besides, this matter did not fall on the head of a medical professor; first and foremost, it was the church and the royal family themselves, who had kept this secret for over a hundred years, who should solve it—although whether they had preserved detailed records for inheritance was itself a question. Now it seemed that, if not completely lost, it was at least incomplete.

Objectively speaking, the best choice was the latter. He knew it clearly, and Brother Wading knew it clearly; the monk stood silently, waiting for an answer as if listening to a confession.

But the answer was not given for a long time. The two stood side by side on the lakeshore for a while. He turned his head to look at the professor, probing the focus of those young eyes, only to find they were always fixed on the front, lingering on the lake surface shrouded in thick mist and the shadowy giant forms.

Perhaps due to non-stop busyness and the strain of travel, they showed a slight weariness; like a sapphire covered in dust, the complex emotional luster refracted by all things within them had slightly receded.

The rationality of logical analysis, the inherent concern of his profession, the barely perceptible arrogance, and the irritability caused by urgency—all were temporarily superficialized and dimmed.

Something rare thus revealed itself, flickering within.

Without a doubt, Brother Wading could confirm he had seen that thing before, but for a moment he could not connect it; no matter how he recalled, it was always just a little bit off.

"I want to know what is going on," Kraft said, as if it were merely a casual excuse. "Notify me when there is news."

Familiar memories were activated; the monk remembered where he had seen it. It was every time he visited the medical school for examinations, passing through the corridors.

In the eyes of the portraits hanging in the corridors, that very thing flickered.

An incurable stubborn disease named "curiosity," which spreads through every mind cursed by knowledge and cannot be suppressed even by the threat of death.