Chapter 405: Extra Chapter: Another Worldline [4]

Extra Chapter: Another Worldline 【4】

"Oh, sorry, that was truly presumptuous."

Before Jerome could think of how to decline, Lei Mengde volunteered an apology, as if suddenly realizing the potential problems of a spur-of-the-moment idea.

He withdrew his gaze from the stack of manuscripts, naturally patted the young cultivator's shoulder, and showed no concern that his curiosity remained unsatisfied.

"Times have changed; unpublished results indeed should not be shown to others at will.

"I have been away from Dunling for too long, usually busy managing secular affairs, and have become somewhat dull regarding matters within the academy. If I accidentally commit any error, please remind me directly to correct it, so that no resentment arises in the heart."

This open attitude made Jerome feel quite ashamed, making himself appear as a narrow-minded person who judged others' thoughts based on personal gain.

Thinking of the series of suspicions that had flashed through his mind subconsciously just now, he felt even more guilty, believing he had violated the Heavenly Father's teaching: "Believe all things, judge no one."

"It is not anything important," he said with an embarrassed smile, taking the initiative to explain his current work, "I was merely entrusted to organize the lineages of various surnames and territories within your diocese, tracing bloodlines back to their ancestral roots."

"As you know, after some families have passed through several generations, the kinship relations become terribly chaotic. I haven't even sorted them out yet; it will take at least a few days."

"You have worked hard. Compiling family trees concerns the maintenance of secular order; it is no small matter."

Lei Mengde affirmed the value of his work but showed no further interest. After offering two words of encouragement, he took his leave, not forgetting to remind Jerome to rest peacefully tonight and avoid wandering about or violating any taboos.

Jerome was deeply moved. For the Dean of the Academy to personally come and offer comfort, acknowledging the significance of historical and literary work—this was the first time he had felt his profession and self were valued.

Compared to leaving a note on the table for someone to go there on their own, a fellow townsman from Dunling was far more humane.

In a good mood, Jerome's appetite opened wide; he couldn't help but eat two bites of the late-night snack early. Drowsiness rose along with the feeling of fullness.

Remembering Lei Mengde's parting reminder, he extinguished the thought of going out for a stroll, stuffed the manuscripts under his pillow, blew out the candle, and prepared for bed.

Several clusters of dense footsteps passed the doorway, stopping nearby. Intermittently, there were extremely fast-paced arguments where people interrupted each other. It seemed the professors and lecturers of the Medical School, having not fully exhausted their topics in the lecture hall, had brought their unfinished discussions from the dining hall to their residences to continue the battle in the corridor.

One could not help but marvel at the open atmosphere of the Bai Ta Monastery. When they discussed certain contents that would be summarily executed in Dunling, they had no intention of lowering their voices at all. Keywords that would make the Inquisition imagine all sorts of things echoed in the corridor, clearly audible even inside the room.

Besides research, the most frequently mentioned figure was the master of the monastery, the Grand Master of the Hospitalier Order, whose fame had spread far and wide.

Whenever they discussed current unsolvable problems, someone would always hope he could appear and provide some directional guidance.

However, it had been too long since he last presided over a gathering. So long that even a certain eyewitness could not recall the specific time, only saying it was a matter of years ago.

Jerome's curiosity about this legendary figure grew strong; he pricked up his ears to eavesdrop on the doctors discussing the monastery master's physical condition.

Retiring behind the scenes due to illness was a consensus among everyone. Some believed he was infected by lepers during his early medical practice; others thought it was a congenital family disease. An extreme group even claimed he was secretly poisoned by high-ranking church officials, a theory that surprisingly gained considerable support.

After listening for a while, all theories were limited to rumors and speculation, with no factual basis.

The Grand Master seemed to have become something akin to the Heavenly Father, capable of solving all problems, but was unable to appear due to various constraints, including illness.

After a moment of sighing, the crowd began to disperse. The sound of conversation gradually thinned out, leaving only a few voices that sounded older and steadier, with different accents, discussing another matter.

They did not deliberately avoid the topic, but out of certain considerations, they lowered their voices. Through the door, only fragments of words and individual terms repeatedly mentioned could be caught, such as "ethics" and "review."

These words were often linked to funding and experiments, as if factors outside the church were restricting research progress.

The various rules and regulations were quite complex. The few present were largely puzzled by them, yet when it came to the source of the system, they tacitly remained silent, not even uttering a single complaint.

However, it sounded like things were turning around. "Ethics" was becoming increasingly ambiguous, and "approval" had room for discussion. That colossal, unspeakable entity sitting atop all schools of thought seemed to have an intention to make changes.

Regardless of the reasons behind this change, it was a good thing for everyone.

The voices outside grew lower and lower until the night patrol passed by, at which point the conversation ended completely.

Jerome closed his eyes, savoring what he had seen and heard today with satisfaction, preparing to sleep. However, sleepiness had disappeared completely at some unknown time.

He realized he had already missed the optimal time to fall asleep. Fortunately, he did not need to wake up early for morning prayers tomorrow, so he enjoyed the tranquility of the night with a clear conscience.

His ears became eyes in the darkness, distinctly counting heartbeats. Chaotic thoughts flickered in his mind like fish swimming in clear water, vaguely connected by some pattern, yet he could only catch a fleeting glint of their scales.

Without the interference of daytime noise, his consciousness was exceptionally clear. Information was scattered like a puzzle; some parts were filtered out while others were retrieved. Among them, the most numerous were the coats of arms he had read.

His solid foundation in heraldry deconstructed them into basic patterns. Filtered by rigorous textual evidence and leaping subjective imagination, it was like panning for gold in sand or picking wheat from husks. The superficial embellishments added by later generations were stripped away, leaving the ancient and stable parts to settle.

A strange sense of unease arose in his heart, as if he were walking along a winding path. The curves were regular and smooth, each bend continuing the direction of the previous one. The sand and soil at the edge of the path were slightly raised, as if formed by friction and squeezing.

He did not know how such a vivid association was formed, but he was walking further and further along the path, going deeper.

A light rustling sound arose from somewhere. At first, it was dragging on the sand, then it became a tight, rhythmic, faint tapping of nails on a ceramic bowl. Rising from low to high and forming a continuous line, it was a hard object bumping and rubbing against the stone wall cracks, section by section, piece by piece.

Finally, it pressed against a smooth, hard surface, emitting a continuous, muffled scraping sound. Occasionally, when it hit a tiny uneven spot, a short, sharp vibration would transmit, like a needle tip lightly touching porcelain glaze.

He realized the sound existed not only in his imagination but was also crawling on the glass.

Jerome suddenly sprang up from the bed, scrambling with hands and feet to flee in the direction away from the window. After trying several times, he managed to pull open the doorknob and shouted for help loudly.

Making such a move required no thought at all; a deep-seated fear controlled his body, and instinct replaced reason.

The patrol team, which had not yet gone far, heard the cry for help and rushed over immediately. Before the shaken cultivator could catch his breath, the room was packed to the brim with shining armor and weapons.

Several lanterns illuminated every detail with crystal clarity. The light passed through the transparent glass windows and fell on the empty windowsill.

The night sky was washed clean. Bai Ta stood silently, its stone color pale, its cold light silent.

"What happened?"

"Outside the window, it seemed like... a snake?"

He strangely felt that the spiral lights on the tower resembled the coiled spine of a snake.

Two prisoners pushed onto the stage amidst blood and political intrigue, a symbiosis wavering between slaughter and dependence.

The absurdity of cyberpunk, cold and glamorous violence, mad entertainment, deep depravity, and a warm underlying tone—a magnificent nightmare.

Welcome to watch "Prisoner's Game"! The best book I have discovered recently; highly recommended!

?? 〃???? 〃?