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Page 126
The cast-iron hands of the clock tower were spinning in an almost frantic reverse direction, and the "Pendulous Heart Clock" in Fran's breast pocket seemed to resonate with it, starting to reverse in the same rhythm.
It was as if time had turned back, and everything returned to its pre-damaged state.
But the apocalypse and natural disasters have not subsided, the war between the gods continues, and this long-dead nation... has simply returned to the moment when it was about to be killed.
"It brings me back to the time that left the deepest impression on me..."
Fran stood with his hands behind his back, his amber eyes flashing slightly as he admired the apocalyptic scene before him with great interest.
Haida stood beside her, raising a large, straight-ribbed black umbrella to shield her from the continuous rain of crimson blood. Nine
The nun's umbrella, though quite large, barely covered the three people and the deer, making it a little cramped.
Sigrid peeked out from under the umbrella, looking at the floating, colossal afterimages above the storm, and was momentarily speechless.
She reached out her hand, as if wanting to step out of the membrane blown up by Luya and into the rain to observe more immersively this scene that only appears in myths and epics.
Sigrid didn't recover from the intense shock until Fran tapped her on the back of the head with his knuckles.
"Well."
Sigrid clutched her head and then turned to look at Fran, who had knocked on her.
“Sigrid, don’t get too absorbed, or you’ll easily lose yourself in your dream. Guests in the audience aren’t allowed to step onto the stage…” Lin
"Besides, this is merely a manifestation of Grantham's consciousness; no real images of deities will appear here." (Tai)
Fran gently stroked her head, gazing casually at the high sky.
"Such a heavy nightmare right off the bat, it seems that Principal Baibei doesn't sleep well...maybe he has some kind of psychological trauma."
"Long!"
The sudden thunder was like the bugle call before the start of a war, and those colossal creatures hovering in the sky were no longer silent.
Their distant and hazy figures began to intertwine, each contact causing a tremor as if the earth were splitting and the sky were collapsing.
Luya scratched her hooves and shrank closer to Fran's feet. But at the same time, there was a hint of eager excitement in her eyes.
As the grand destruction reached its climax, Luya let out a long exhale, then took a deep breath.
"call……"
The immense echo of the deity and the dust that enveloped the entire ruins dimmed in that instant, as if a portion of it had been inhaled by Luyala.
Her originally slender abdomen was stretched a bit, not exactly bloated, but it was certainly much fuller.
Fran then reached out and gently stroked the fine downy hair on Luya's abdomen, using his usual palpation to assess her eating habits.
Oh, actually, a digital rectal exam would provide a more accurate diagnosis, but the child is clearly unwilling to do so…
"Eating so much might cause bloating, right? Are you feeling any discomfort now?"
"Na."
Luya shook her head gently, looking quite satisfied.
"Okay...we should go then."
Although we didn't manage to uncover more of Grantham's hidden history, the trip was still somewhat fruitful. At least we fed Luara...
Moreover, the changes just now might have alerted him; after all, this is someone else's dream, and it's not advisable to linger here.
Fran lightly raised her index finger, her glossy nail flicking at the bubble Luya exhaled, the translucent membrane instantly melting and shattering… (The rest of the text appears to be unrelated and possibly machine-generated gibberish.)
The figures of the three people and the deer in the bubble also left Grantham's dream and disappeared.
The following day, Grantham awoke from a deep sleep.
He rubbed his temples, feeling his heavy thoughts inexplicably clear up, and the weariness he had been experiencing from studying the esoteric rituals recently seemed to be greatly relieved.
An improvement in mental state is reflected in the body to some extent.
Grantham even felt that his chronic illnesses had lessened considerably. Unlike usual, he no longer felt back pain upon waking up.
How strange...
After pondering for a moment with a hint of doubt, he got up and made himself a cup of coffee.
-
Foggy Street Clinic.
Fran reclined on the velvet sofa in the main hall, yawning lazily.
Last night, she took Luya into Grantham's dream, intending to conduct an in-depth examination of his mental state.
This guy is also a potential patient, but his symptoms aren't as obvious as those of the Funeral Court's chief hunter.
However, in terms of the level of danger after things get out of control, the two are probably about the same.
As for why we wanted to pry into the hidden history deep within his consciousness... that was just a side effect, like paying for a consultation.
However, the darkness deep within the old man's heart was far more treacherous than anticipated, forcing Fran to abandon his plans to explore further. Luara left after finishing her foraging.
She had only swallowed a small portion of the Nightmare Echoes, and today she experienced indigestion symptoms. She only began to feel better after taking a dose of domperidone.
If the condition stabilizes afterward, switching to digestive tablets will have a similar effect...
Because Luara is in the dream dimension, all the medicines she consumes are dream manifestations of Fran's spirit and do not actually deplete the Fog Street Clinic's inventory... but they do slightly deplete the doctor's resources.
Fran looked up and glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall.
January 25th, the Dragon Boat Festival is coming to an end.
It's not yet February 8th, otherwise yesterday's situation would probably have triggered a monthly house call.
But it's fine if it doesn't trigger, she's used to starting treatment when she's well-prepared... After all, Grantham isn't at the point where he's terminally ill and needs drastic measures, so she can arrange the treatment and medications more meticulously.
If his mental illness can be eradicated properly and without leaving any hidden dangers, it would probably be a completion at the level of Apollyon.
Thinking of this, Fran suddenly remembered something else.
"Hmm... I think the White Cup academic conference is in early February."
She rummaged through her small medicine box for a moment, then took out an exquisite invitation. Using her spirit bone willow leaf knife as a letter opener, she pried open the sealing wax.
[Dear Ms. Fran: On behalf of Norlington Central College, I would like to extend a warm invitation to you to this year's Mid-Autumn Festival academic conference. The conference will be held on February 1st in the College Council Room.]
Related topics include: 'Mechanical Design', 'Arcane Solidification', 'Artifact Studies', 'Alchemy', 'Mythological Natural History', etc.
You are free to choose which meetings and lectures to attend based on your interests and needs, without any order restrictions. Similarly, you can choose to participate anonymously, and we will provide confidentiality services (a confidentiality agreement is attached).
[Great pioneers above, may pure thoughts overflow in your hearts.]
—Terrence von.
Fran removed the confidentiality agreement attached to the letter, checked it to make sure it was correct, and then put it back.
"Professor Terence's handwritten invitation... It seems the scholars at White Cup put quite a bit of thought into it."
She raised her hand to gently cup her cheek, her amber eyes shimmering slightly.
They help you conceal your identity, you can decide whether to listen in or speak, and you'll receive a spirit-nurturing material as a reward just for participating... Oh, the White Cup Cult's attitude is so good it makes you wonder if they're a scam...
"It's alright, I prepared a suitable topic in advance... I can showcase some less important interim results."
In fact, Fran had already spread many modern medical ideas through Viola, who later became the Minister of Medicine... This gave the Order of the Hunters an unparalleled advantage in the medical field.
At the same time, this has made medical technology more accessible to the general public, no longer a secret discipline that is difficult for ordinary people to access.
Therefore, if she wants to produce sufficiently impressive results at the academic conference, she needs to start from other aspects...
However, one should also be restrained and not display anything too important.
Rashly disseminating knowledge that could trigger a technological explosion is like handing the nuclear launch button to the ancients... the devastating consequences are almost predictable.
Even if a low-probability event occurs, and humanity does not destroy itself, there are lessons to be learned from lost eras.
"Sigrid, please bring me that half-finished item from the bedroom."
Fran called out to the maid who was working on casting design drawings at her desk.
"Is it that graduation gown in the style of the Star Abyss Academy?"
Sigrid looked up, thought for a moment, and then asked.
"Yes."
With light footsteps echoing across the wooden floor, Sigrid brought over a graduation gown that had been partially sewn.
The dark-patterned blouse with white silk cuffs is almost identical to the attire worn by Nicholas, the organizer of the Star Chart Study. This type of clothing is not gender-specific; it can be adjusted to fit different body sizes.
"Hmm... let's make one last adjustment. I'll wear this to the meeting."
Fran picked up a strand of thread, moistened it by licking his lips, and then threaded it through the eye of the needle, beginning to tighten the stitches of the replica.
Sure enough, this kind of self-made imitation is not as satisfying as directly taking it from the other person...
But Nicholas's graduation gown was completely soaked in blood and badly damaged. Removing it would only make the perpetrator look like a psychopath; it had no value whatsoever…
So she had no choice but to settle for second best and make the same style herself.
Fortunately, the fabrics produced by the Star Abyss Society do not possess the mysterious properties of the Moth-shaped Robe; therefore, replicating them only requires making the design.
After putting away his needle and thread, Fran changed into the researcher's attire, which was full of Gormouth style.
She pulled up her hood, put on the silver-rimmed glasses she usually wore when lecturing, and then patted her cheeks.
After a brief moment of managing her expression, the seemingly unchanging professional smile on her lips quietly disappeared.
His once cunning and unpredictable amber eyes were now clear and transparent, almost innocent... like a naive young student, full of scholarly air.
"Sigrid, how is it? Is there anything that needs to be revised?"
She asked the maid beside her for her opinion. The maid's lips parted slightly, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes.
Although it was just a change of clothes, the doctor gave off a completely different vibe. Even the shyness and bashfulness in her tone were so genuine, like an ordinary girl asking a stranger for directions.
"...Perfect."
After a moment's consideration, Sigrid slowly gave her evaluation.
-
South Side, Sandrank Street, Old Will's Bookshop.
With the New Year approaching, business at the bookstore has been good lately, and old Will is no longer worried about his grandson's tuition fees for the next school year.
He was wrapped in a thick black felt blanket, and the charcoal in the stove beside him crackled softly from time to time.
However, something happened during this period that worried him.
Besides attending classes at Norrington Central College, his grandson would secretly work part-time as a bartender at the Mandala Pub at night to supplement the family income. And recently, a very gruesome murder had occurred at that pub…
Although the child didn't witness anything, he seemed to be a little frightened and has now stopped working part-time.
In any case, I listened to their advice in the end.
Vivian was currently in a corner of the bookstore, quietly flipping through the books in her hands amidst the crowd.
If Heda were here to see this, she might be surprised... because this Secret Service agent with rather peculiar tastes is currently holding "The Epic of Monroe".
This is a profound myth of Attilium.
Many of its obscure allegories contain clues to hidden histories, making it almost essential reading for anyone studying the ancient history of the Land of Shifting Sands. Any scholar of esoteric literature inevitably comes into contact with it, the only difference being the depth of their understanding.
Vivian slowly and meticulously scanned every line of text on the book's pages, her gaze occasionally glancing discreetly at the two people standing by the bookshelf in the distance.
A tall, thin, and resolute middle-aged man, and a young man with a hint of impatience in his eyes.
The two were Nigel and Albert, the two "Sons of the Bearded Tree" who fell into complete silence after arriving in Norrington.
Although this secretive sect has consistently maintained absolute neutrality, it remains to be seen whether they harbor malicious intentions before their ultimate goal is revealed... Appropriate surveillance is essential.
Just as Vivian was concealing her presence and maintaining surveillance, a girl wearing a dark-patterned blouse slowly walked over.
She wore round, silver-framed glasses, her expression a mixture of curiosity and shyness, probably searching for a book she liked.
After pausing for a long time by the bookshelf where Vivian was, she seemed to have mustered up her courage and finally spoke softly.
"...Um, ma'am, do you also enjoy reading 'The Epic of Monroe'?"
Her voice was barely audible, but her enunciation was very clear.
Vivian was initially puzzled as to why the girl wanted to talk to her, and even instinctively released the safety on the portable handgun hidden in her sleeve. Then she realized that there was only one copy of "The Epic of Monroe" in the bookstore... probably because the other girl wanted to read it too.
"You can take a look first, I've already read it. We can just switch to another one."