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Page 273
"It's a pity. If I were a hundred years younger, I could return to Gormouth and perhaps be of some use. But the aftereffects of the Great Plague are too severe; daily maintenance is essential."
"If it weren't for the fact that the first type of ritual in my bones and brain was still barely functioning, I would probably have turned into a handful of dust long ago."
Although his words carried a hint of sighing, he himself did not show any signs of fatigue or haggardness, as if he were simply stating a given fact.
Since the great forerunner fell into eternal slumber, no matter how talented the exorcist in the Order of the White Cup was, they could not be promoted to the ranks of apostles. They could only quietly wait for death and decay to erode their bodies with time, gradually consuming their thoughts and intellect.
Grantham's physical condition was actually worse than he claimed.
At that time, in order to forcefully drive the incomplete state of the [Dream of Cherns], he had almost exhausted all the potential of his body and mind, activating his spirit and the three forbidden rituals nested together to the extreme.
Otherwise, it would have been impossible to cross the abyss between mortals and gods, and to severely injure the embodiment of the decaying evil crown in an instant.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Fran, I shouldn't have brought up such unpleasant complaints. Please forgive me."
"Although I am unable to leave Norrington, the White Cup Order can still provide assistance. After that, a group of unaffiliated individuals might happen to obtain our weapons, happen to appear in Gormouth, and happen to choose the Tidecallers as their indiscriminate targets."
The Star Abyss Society and the White Cup once shared the same origin, and now they are racing down a path of madness, and Grantham has no intention of remaining uninvolved. Of course, to avoid triggering a serious diplomatic incident, he will not rashly intervene in all of this.
Whether those well-trained "unaffiliated personnel" will ultimately take action depends largely on Dr. Fran's judgment.
Fran had thus achieved his main objective in coming to Norrington.
However, when she heard Grantham talk about his health, her amber eyes narrowed, a flicker of excitement seeming to pass through them. Although the notification for the monthly house call hadn't arrived, she still decided to begin implementing the medical plan she had already prepared for him.
After all, without his help during the Great Plague, Franlu might not have been able to so easily remove the 4-layered crown, the embodiment of the plague. —℃
"Mr. Grantham, considering your health condition, I may be able to offer some medical assistance. Of course, this does not mean that you personally need to intervene in this Gormouth incident... For the patient, rest and maintaining stable health are more important."
Upon hearing what the doctor said, Grantham's expression became somewhat subtle.
Whether in academic philosophy or esoteric research, he was undoubtedly a radical, never hesitating to dabble in taboos as long as rigor and risk control were ensured. But even for him, Dr. Fran's treatments were somewhat inexplicable and intimidating…
After all, this process is tantamount to handing over one's life and death entirely to the other party.
After a moment's thought, the solemn look on Grantham's aged face gradually faded, replaced by a self-deprecating smile. This signified that he had finally made his decision.
The unfinished "Dream of Cherns," the near-miss during the Great Plague, the toil of running the Order in recent years, and the increasingly uncontrollable aftereffects in his body have indeed changed him a lot.
When I was young, was I ever afraid to face the unknown? Have the ambition and arrogance of the old days died out completely?
"Then I'll have to trouble you, Dr. Fran. However, the first type of ritual in my body is in a state of nested equilibrium. If an uncontrollable error causes the system to collapse, the entire academy will probably be blown to bits."
"Of course, if the worst-case scenario really happens, I will erase myself from the material world before then. It would be too ridiculous for my precious students to die for me for such a reason."
"I have one last request..."
Lin Grantham wanted to say, "If I eventually die, I ask Dr. Fran to lead the white cup of refutations." But he didn't say it aloud, because Fran, who was beside him, was squinting and his lips were slightly pursed, seemingly unhappy.
“Mr. Grantham, I am a doctor, not an assassin, a funeral director, or an embalmer. If you have concerns about my skills, you can simply refuse outright; there is no need to make a deathbed entrustment.”
"Ha...that's true, forgive my abruptness. Then please begin."
Upon hearing this, Grantham realized that his words had been somewhat inappropriate. Perhaps it was because his physical condition had been deteriorating in recent years, and he had to consider what would happen to the Order after his death.
"Ah."
After giving a soft reply, Fran slightly closed his hands and activated the [Dust Removal] technique to ensure the surrounding area was clean and dust-free.
Upon seeing this technique, Grantham maintained his usual calm on the surface, but a subtle glint appeared in his eyes. Scenes from twenty years ago instantly surfaced in his mind under the influence of [Hyperthymesia].
That was Viola, the Medical Secretary, standing silently before the plague-ridden statue, her figure burning like ashes.
The spell she invoked then was identical in form and aura to the one Dr. Fran was using now; the only difference lay in the power of the spiritual energy output. Clearly, there must be a connection between Fran and the Medical Secretary.
The fact that the nightmarish plague would finally come to an end on that day was probably related to her, or perhaps it was her doing.
As if struck by a flash of inspiration, Grantham suddenly had a clear understanding of the threads of some past events.
Viola was originally just an unknown medical station worker. How did she rise to become one of the four chief physicians in just a few years?
Why did the Medical Division experience such an explosive increase in its philosophy and level during that period, breaking through several existing technical bottlenecks and overwhelmingly surpassing Shiropai's medical school?
Perhaps the answer is just around the corner.
Before his thoughts could settle, a sharp, piercing pain shot through his arm. Fran's spirit bone scalpel had already sliced through his skin, revealing the bright red muscles of his forearm, along with the blood-red ulna and radius.
The surface is covered with densely packed prayers and ritual arrays, etched like ants marching in formation, with a soft, pure white spiritual radiance flowing through it. In addition, some parts have been replaced by intricately crafted doll components, in the same style as Childe's work.
Fran then connected his psychic knowledge to it and began to examine the progress of the ritual.
After a moment, she lightly licked her lips and let out a sigh.
"Three nested Type I rituals: [Hyperthymesia] resides in the brain, [Mystic Staircase] in the limbs, and [Dream Shaking] in the internal organs and bones. All three suffer from severe structural damage and are on the verge of collapse. Yet, they have managed to find a delicate balance even at this level..."
"It's really not easy."
Grantham originally intended to use the three aforementioned first-type rituals as a foundation to construct the "Dream of Cherns," sufficient to liberate the Pure White Cup from its eternal slumber. However, these rituals underwent an overloaded process when confronted with the embodiment of the Crown of Decay, causing damage to the overall structure of the final ritual.
This created a chain reaction that spread from the inside out, revealing countless previously non-existent fallacies like cracks that were difficult to mend.
The reason he has survived to this day is that, under duress, he has used the different characteristics of these various fallacies to counteract each other, ultimately achieving temporary stability. For example, if the spiritual flow of array A is too large and array B is too small, then an additional channel is created to merge them, and a suitable array C is found to connect to it.
Such patches accumulate layer upon layer, creating inconsistent logical loops, to the point that any correction can have far-reaching consequences.
"Dr. Fran must know how troublesome my body is. That's why building a new tower is often much simpler than repairing an old one. This is what is meant by 'deep-rooted problems are hard to overcome'."
Seeing Fran's thoughtful expression, Grantham couldn't help but offer words of comfort.
Even an apostle from the lost era of the Pure White Age would likely be helpless in the face of this situation. It's like a doctor opening a patient's ribcage and finding their heart and lungs fused together, yet still functioning normally…
"Indeed, it's very challenging."
"Such a unique case, such novel symptoms, and accompanied by an abnormal fusion of taboo rituals and the human body... Oh, let's just call it 'Grantham Syndrome'."
Fran breathed a sigh of relief; the seemingly intractable situation before her had completely ignited her passion for the job. A fervent, excited light burned within her amber eyes.
"Then let's start with 'nested separation', 'structural optimization' and 'vulnerability auditing'."
As she spoke, she precisely brought down the spirit bone willow-leaf knife in her hand, meticulously separating the three almost fused rituals. The whole process may not have been fast, but it was quite orderly and well-organized.
The midday sun gradually dimmed, eventually sinking into twilight along with the dusk.
As the bright moon rises, the starlight grows ever brighter.
After nearly ten hours of intensive dismantling, Fran was able to completely restore the three inseparable rituals to their original, independent state, eliminate redundancies, and make preliminary optimizations to the corresponding occult structures.
"Phew... The first course of treatment is complete, and there is no risk of collapse, at least in the short term."
S set down the scalpel, a genuine sense of relief appearing in the doctor's eyes, and a feeling of satisfaction spreading across his face. This, perhaps, is the allure of rare and special cases…
U. "Dr. Fran, just as you said. I can feel that the three First-Class rituals that were mistakenly intertwined have been re-integrated into independent and complete individuals."
O. Grantham's tone was calm and composed, showing no sign of surprise.
He had already been genuinely surprised when Fran laid the first knife while the entire ceremony continued as planned. And with the separation process two-thirds complete, the rest was a foregone conclusion.
"It may be presumptuous of me to say this, but you have surpassed the ancient White Cup people in the field of cryptanalysis."
Despite possessing the physical attributes of a high-ranking priest, Grantham was, after all, getting on in years. And this surgery, which lasted for over ten hours without anesthesia and included a craniotomy... left him feeling uncontrollably exhausted.
"Hmm... I believe Mr. Grantham can complete the remaining self-checks and maintenance on his own. I'll take my leave now. This is only the first treatment; I'll complete the rest when the time is right."
After speaking, Fran made no attempt to linger and turned to leave the principal's office.
Besides the temple, she also left behind a set of post-operative medication. It consisted of three green capsules, labeled "Take once every two calendar months."
Grantham reclined in his chair, a long-lost sense of relief washing over him. Now, he no longer had to constantly strive to maintain the balance of the mystical arts within him... allowing him a moment to catch his breath.
After completing this highly complex surgery, Fran received a notification of a change in resolution.
[Anatomy (79.9%→80.%) exceeded the target by 0.3%, further improvement requires overcoming a bottleneck.]
"Anatomy? That skill has indeed remained at its current stage for a long time."
Fran pursed his lips, somewhat surprised.
The last major advancement in anatomy seems to have occurred during that experiment on the separation of self and personality.
"Let's list the reference options as usual."
Option 1: Perform an in-depth autopsy on one Elder Dragon (regardless of whether it's in the Old or New World), ensuring its survival throughout the process. This can be replaced with three different Elder Dragon corpses.
[Option Two: Perform an autopsy on an ancient Ork, requiring the completion of its internal structure and genetic engineering analysis to extract at least 30% of its biomechanical technology.]
Option 3: Dismantle a divine entity.
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soup!
Chapter 174 Eagle Owl Feathers
"The final stage of bottleneck research is indeed quite demanding..."
Upon hearing the three research proposals, Fran couldn't help but slightly purse his lips, seemingly having anticipated this. After all, anatomy is a fundamental discipline for understanding the organization and structure of living organisms, and he already possessed a certain level of expertise in this field.
To continue ascending, encountering challenging unknowns is inevitable.
As things stand, both Option 1 and Option 3 are showing some promise. While living ancient dragons are currently difficult to find, there's no need to specifically search for them... The "Feathered Dragon Tomb" in Norrington contains ready-made dragon remains, and we can try to cultivate a ready-made Black Eclipse Dragon using the Mad Dragon Virus.
For divine beings, one could consider the remains of the "Well" in Gormouth, but the corresponding risks would be slightly higher.
Oh, and as for the ancient orcs… even in the Warhammer universe, finding them would be no easy feat. Most ancient orcs perished and went into hiding after the War of Heaven. Unless they underwent a period of stasis, those that survived to this day would likely have long since degenerated.
Most importantly, they are all colossal creatures over ten meters tall, clad in sophisticated power armor, making them incredibly difficult to capture even if encountered. The Endless Tarasin's collection seems to contain a few, but infiltrating his museum is extremely difficult, so we're not considering it for now.
After wandering through the gray fog for a while, Fran returned to the Mordway branch in Golmouth.
The "Fog in the Door" ability to traverse space greatly facilitated the doctor's house calls. After the material anchor was established, the journey that used to take nearly half a month could now be completed in a short walk... This was truly a blessing for someone who was not good at physical labor.
"12 o'clock, that's a bit late. According to Sister Haida's healthy and regular schedule, she should be resting by now."
"Was she staying up late tonight?"
Looking through the window at the clinic's interior, still bathed in a soft, warm glow, Fran raised an eyebrow and pushed open the wooden door with a hint of doubt. Heida and Vivian were sitting on the velvet sofa in the main hall, seemingly discussing something.
“You’re back, Dr. Fran.”
Upon seeing the visitor, Haida lowered her eyes slightly and offered her greetings.
Fran also recounted his experience on this trip.
"Yes. I have given your transfer order report to Ms. Marian, and she will forward it to Alvin. In addition, I have revealed some information about the Star Abyss Society to both the White Cup Order and the Hunters."
"They should be sending support to Gormouth soon, but I can't be sure about the specific personnel and number. It's too far away; even if they complete the dispatch order on the same day, it will take at least a week to get to Foy by ship."
Upon hearing this, Haida nodded slightly, and then told Fran about Vivian's experience in Mordway.
“Vivian and I were discussing a special situation and were waiting for your return before informing us. In short, she encountered the ‘Secret Secretary’ today while conducting routine surveillance at a used bookstore on Mordway Belfarin Street.”
"Oh?"
Fran raised his hand and gently touched his cheek, seemingly showing some interest in it.
In fact, her curiosity about this chief agent of the Secret Service had been brewing for a long time. For the previous twenty years, this guy had never shown his face in Norrington in any form. Although he controlled the entire intelligence agency, he was practically non-existent.
"Did he do anything particularly unusual? Or did he leave any instructions or entrustments?"
Fran took off his doctor's coat in the entryway and hung it on the coat rack, then sat down next to the somewhat awkward Vivian. He began to gently guide her.
Feeling the gaze of those amber eyes so close to her, Vivian nervously pursed her lips and even straightened her posture.
Although he had already planned to tell Dr. Fran about this matter and seek his opinion, it was, after all, a matter concerning the Secretary of State, who was his superior's superior and his teacher's teacher... It seemed inappropriate to simply reveal all the relevant information directly.
After a moment's deliberation, she made up her mind and recounted her meeting with the Secret Service Secretary "Cuyu" that day.
It concerned the other person's image and appearance, and how to capture Mu Ning without leaving a trace. Vivian described it in considerable detail, only omitting the similarity between the two in their reading tastes, since that wasn't very important and there was no need to specifically mention it.
After listening, Fran also formed an initial impression of him.
Clearly, this self-proclaimed Secret Minister, known as Cluster Feather, is a rather laid-back type, quite different from the obsessive workaholic like Yaheng. Furthermore, she possesses the ability to profoundly alter her appearance, her true identity remaining unknown.
Therefore, we can only use "she" as a substitute for her.
"Hmm... Vivian, did Flywing leave you a feather from his Callbird?"
"Yes."
Now that the matter had been brought up, there was no need to hide it anymore. Vivian took out the tail feather from the "Calling Bird" Gurid from her pocket and handed it to Fran beside her.
As a spiritual creature embedded in the arcane array, the feathers of the Calling Bird are the perfect material for a beacon. However, due to the barrier of the fog-shrouded sea outside the clinic, the feathers are currently unable to locate Vivian.
"The brownish-black fur and markings suggest it is an eagle owl. Moreover, the spiritual aura it exudes is extremely profound, possessing a certain ascending quality."
Fran examined the feather carefully in her hand, occasionally bringing it to her nose to sniff it, and quickly described its origin. But even she couldn't help but show a hint of surprise at this moment.