The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

Page 340

The flames stained the dancer's grey-black robe, but thankfully it didn't slow him down. He ran all the way to the end of the corridor, and with his last bit of clarity, he pushed open the fire door, then leaned against the wall, panting, and closed his eyes.

The transformation of the body is imminent and can no longer be delayed.

The backstage support staff had already begun evacuating when the fire spread, and most of the theater's security guards had been reassigned to the underground warehouse beforehand, which meant that the inchworm didn't encounter anyone else along the way. It sounds a bit unlucky, but it's not all bad in a way.

To be honest, he wasn't actually worried about his personal safety.

After all, the Hermit Lady was right there in the audience, and she should have readily offered help for such a small matter. It was just a little embarrassing for his boss to see him in this disheveled state; if possible, he would prefer to overcome his current predicament on his own.

Oh, this is also related to the inchworm's personal experience.

He had been left idle in Attilon for quite some time by the Misty Society, to the point that some habits had become deeply ingrained... Rather than pinning his hopes on others, he should give up those unrealistic ideas sooner and think carefully about what else he could do.

Moreover, the apostles belonging to the Velvet Moth are mostly full of whimsical ideas, and sometimes cannot be judged by common sense. What if the Hermit Lady thinks it amusing that a Night Moth Priest about to step into the fourth stage perishes in the fire... that would be quite unfortunate.

As the chaotic thoughts gradually subsided, the inchworm's spirit and flesh melted and transformed, beginning to shed the shackles of mortal nature.

Although this guy had reached a barely safe area, it seemed that fate did not want him to complete his advancement so peacefully and without any setbacks. Just as he isolated all external senses and devoted himself to completing the cocooning process from the inside out, a few scattered footsteps echoed in the corridor.

"Tap, tap, tap."

Three figures appeared in the dim corridor lights.

Looking around, the newcomers seemed quite familiar.

They are Elsa, her father Eugene, and a theater attendant who is responsible for guiding them.

Large public venues like the Drowning Theater have fire safety plans in place from the initial architectural design stage. There are two spacious safety exits next to the regular audience seating area for people to evacuate in crowded situations.

Each VIP seating area on the second floor has an additional secure passageway to ensure these distinguished guests can leave without crowding, and this passageway leads directly to the theater's backstage area. It also provides direct access to the lounge and dressing areas, facilitating visits from wealthy patrons who wish to meet the dancers.

Elsa had originally planned to meet the Gormouth dancer after the performance.

Natural history has always been known for its rich practical content. When teachers talk about many things in school, we can only remember the general idea, which is far less impressive than the accounts of local people who have experienced them firsthand.

Besides, the black-haired girl looked to be about her age, and the two might have other things in common... University students her age usually have the enthusiasm of youth when it comes to making new friends.

However, the flames that gradually engulfed the entire stage made Elsa realize that the scene at the end of the act was not a prop, but a real fire. She had to evacuate with her father and the waiters, which was inevitably regrettable.

At the same time, she couldn't help but worry about the other person.

"That dancer seemed to stay until the very last moment of the final act before leaving, when the fire backstage was already quite large. Was she in danger? Honestly, even if she was dedicated, there was no need to go to such lengths..."

Elsa kept her mouth and nose covered as she walked forward. While she was thinking, she suddenly slipped and almost fell.

She spends most of her time outdoors conducting field surveys, so her athletic ability is quite good; she wouldn't normally stumble and fall on flat ground. Besides, the sensation under her feet just now was strange, like stepping on soft silk.

After quickly regaining her balance, Elsa immediately looked at the strange object at her feet and saw a layer of dark silk gauze covering the ground, as well as a black-haired girl leaning against the wall with her eyes closed and her breath weak.

Without a doubt, the other party was the new lead dancer from the Kingdom of the Abyss.

-

Ferranes, the Black Wasteland.

A thousand years ago, this place was one of the battlefields of the end-of-era cataclysm. There were roars that echoed through the heavens, chariots that raced across the battlefield, gunfire and rain of iron that raged through the night, and corpses that floated and drifted in the overflowing filth and blood…

Even today, life is still a rare commodity in this place.

This is the eternal scar of a pure white kingdom from bygone days; the ominous desolation that stretches as far as the eye can see is the only trace left of those who perished here. Logically speaking, with so many dead buried here, it should have become a rich and prosperous land after absorbing their nourishment.

However, the truth is that even scavengers and flies struggle to survive in this wasteland.

Just then, from the long-lost ruins of a collapsed stone tower, came the long-lost whispers of humans.

The diffusion and aggregation of the "[skin-covering depiction]" were forcibly terminated.

"The illusions I had stored in the painting were also dispelled."

A man dressed in an Ahanta-style robe frowned, his expression slightly puzzled as he remained hidden in the shadows.

Based on his assumptions and experience, his probing should at least have some impact before being noticed by the Hunters. After all, both the great plague caused by the Corrupted Crown Cult and the Descent of the Drinkers constructed by the Crimson Cup High Priest were only countered after they were successful.

Although my own attempt cannot be compared with the two mentioned above in terms of scale and harm, it should not be suppressed at such an early stage.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but feel a bit troubled.

Perhaps the hunters' sense of smell has become sharper after being honed by numerous natural disasters. Blade wielders have always possessed this talent; the more scars they bear, the closer they are to death, but also the stronger and more cunning they become.

"Perhaps we should give up on this place."

The man sighed, his words filled with undisguised regret.

He seemed to have made a decision, but before the last syllable of the previous sentence had even fallen, he suddenly and urgently changed his tone, altering both his manner of speaking and his usual expressions.

“Give up? Do you know how much time I spent researching the fragments of the molting plague's guidelines and creating these scrolls? Even though only one-tenth was released this time, that's still nearly five years' worth of production…”

"Besides, if we don't hold the ceremony in Norrington, we'll have to prepare for at least another century. There's no other ancient city of this scale in Ferranes. A large population, a rich artistic atmosphere, a solid industrial base, and an area that hasn't been fragmented by those lost principles."

You can see a human mouth covering the man's throat, and the sound comes from there.

“You know what it’s like in other areas. In a godforsaken place like Marbein, you could even die from stepping on your right foot first. It’s full of absurd loopholes, and the inhabitants are a bunch of cowardly survivors.”

Having said that, he closed his mouth, waiting for the other party's response.

The man remained silent for a few moments, seemingly considering the matter.

But judging from his expression, he was clearly more inclined to his original judgment.

"Going to Malbein would only take more time. Although harvesting live animals would be less efficient, at least it would be less likely to attract attention. Professor Karmion, are you determined to take the risk in Norrington? Or do you think we can withstand even a moment of this year's Undertaker in our current state?"

Upon hearing the title of Funeral Minister, the voice from his throat clearly carried a hint of insecurity.

"Of course not..."

"However, something unexpected happened to the [Skin Covering] relics I released. Due to their aggregation properties, the fragments of principles contained within the scroll would normally return no matter how they were destroyed, but now, they have been absorbed by someone."

"Perhaps an apostle used a secret technique to create a barrier, or perhaps the high priest of the Moth just happened to be ascending, drawing in and absorbing the transformative influence from the stored relics."

“If it is not manually retrieved, the entire ceremony cycle will be doubled.”

Upon hearing the explanation from the mouth, the man finally frowned, his eyes showing a hint of seriousness.

As a high-ranking priest, he would not reach the end of his life for at least another three hundred years. The time spent on the secondary ritual site of Malbein was within an acceptable range... but if the entire cycle were to be extended by double under this premise, he would not have enough time.

"In that case, we'll have no choice but to go to Norrington."

"But I still stand by my opinion. If the risk is too great, I will not try again even if it means losing that piece of the code."

-

-

Soup! (Vote for this!)

Chapter 42 Radiant Resonance

The night the dance drama ended, at the Foggy Street Clinic.

"I don't know if it's just my imagination, but it seems that the possibility of accidents increases when there are inchworms around."

Fran, returning from the Drowned Theater, was sipping the ginger tea Sigrid had offered him slowly and silently, warming his fingers which were slightly chilled by the night breeze.

While maintaining a normal level of physical comfort, this doctor often experiences minor ailments such as fatigue and poor peripheral circulation. These symptoms are not very noticeable in the summer, but become particularly pronounced as temperatures begin to drop in winter.

"A teacher, Lu, who simultaneously holds the dual roles of instructor and dancer, and a student who is still unaware of the truth—oh, what a dramatic combination of characters! I'm starting to wonder what will happen to him after Elsa rescues him..."

Fran parted his lips slightly and exhaled a wisp of white, warm mist carrying the scent of ginger and rice.

Thanks to the left eye she had given to the inchworm, she was able to know what had happened to him through a shared perspective. The fire backstage was not a threat to him at all, but he happened to be in a transformative moment of spiritual awakening, which is why it seemed somewhat dangerous.

Just like the habits of moths and their position in the food chain, these not-so-tough little creatures, once they transform into pupae, can only do their best to hide themselves... otherwise most insectivorous creatures wouldn't mind enjoying this liquid protein can placed right in front of their mouths.

"This time I got a close look at the whole process of the Moth Minister's disciple being promoted to high priest. I'll write an observation report later. I've almost forgotten when it was last time I updated the detailed content of the 'Thousand Religions'."

Fran put down the floral porcelain teacup, a hint of contentment on his face.

The inchworm's experience, esoteric knowledge, and accumulation of spiritual essence and physical body were all at their peak. For him, breaking through the current bottleneck of the third tier was a perfectly natural occurrence. It's just that this opportunity came a little too quickly.

Ordinary practitioners of esoteric arts, seeking deeper desires and revelations, often need to prepare materials and influences beforehand, thus establishing a third type of ritual in this area. But for dancers, a successful and enthusiastic performance can propel them to the next level of the secret realm.

After all, dance itself is the oldest sacrificial ritual.

In the distant past, before language and writing were invented, our ancestors had already learned the art of moving their bodies around campfires and in caves.

Seeing that Fran had finished her ginger tea, Sigrid wanted to pick up her porcelain cup to wash it, but before she could do so, Fran had already taken her arm and kept her there.

"Put the cup here for now, Sigrid, sit with me for a while."

In any case, we must leave this human-shaped stove in the main hall first.

"Ah, okay."

Feeling the doctor's cool, soft fingertips, Sigrid nodded obediently and then found a seat next to Fran. The maid was never one to shy away from sharing her warmth; on the contrary, she was almost overly enthusiastic about it.

After sensing that the surrounding temperature was beginning to stabilize and rise, Fran took out his brass pocket watch from his sleeve and glanced at it.

The clock had already passed 11 p.m., and there were still about 50 minutes until midnight.

Perhaps as some kind of aftereffect, this doctor has always had a slightly problematic sense of time, leading to occasional minor lapses in timekeeping. However, this has improved since she developed the habit of checking her watch frequently.

Before heading out for the quarterly clinic, there was some time to have an evening tea party. She doesn't often attend art events like ballets or exhibitions, so it would be a shame not to take this opportunity to discuss them.

"Sydya, you've finished watching 'Under Naurmaran' at the Drowning Theater. What are your thoughts and opinions?"

Sitting upright on the velvet sofa, Shitia seemed to be deep in thought, maintaining a serene, almost stone-like state until she heard her own name called, at which point she slowly came back to her senses.

"It lacks some historical accuracy, but it's very thoughtful."

After a moment of careful consideration, she gave her reply.

Xitia was the first to give her conclusion, and then she explained the reasons in an orderly manner, which was quite in line with her usual speaking style.

"It is obvious that the choreographer modified the outline and plot structure of the original 'Under Naurmaran,' transforming a purely celebratory drama into a satirical tragedy... and the overall content is much more historically accurate. For this reason alone, I have to give them my praise."

"Besides that, the lead dancer, Liu, really put in a lot of effort. She really knows how to present beauty and how to evoke the audience's emotions. And she used a lot of the 'moth's secret technique of blending and resonance' during the dance."

Upon hearing this, Fran pursed his lips, his amber eyes curving slightly into an arc.

Using "she" as a personal pronoun... it seems that Shitia has not seen through the inchworm's disguise.

This is not surprising. First of all, the inchworm's mimicry method is to modify its body shape. After completing the transformation, no more spiritual essence is released, and it is impossible to distinguish between male and female individuals based solely on the differences in their bone structure.

Secondly, the Abyss Clan is not known for its keenness.

These ancient and mysterious mythical races are generally somewhat slow-witted in some ways, otherwise they wouldn't have only discovered the Tide Listeners' conspiracy when the War of Annihilation broke out.

To be honest, Fran really wanted to reveal the identity of the black-haired lead dancer at the Drowning Theater right there. But since it was just a discussion among members of the Fog Street Clinic, there was no need to worry about it spreading or its aftermath.

But after a moment's thought, she held back.

Indeed, it would be more interesting to let Shitia discover this herself.

After concealing the faint smile on her lips, Fran followed up on the implication in Shitia's words and asked a question.

“Sydya, you first explained the part about ‘thoughtful’, so where does the ‘slight lack of historical accuracy’ manifest itself?”

"The celebration format in Act III differs slightly from what we originally used. It includes songs, dances, and song prayers. Of course, we can't blame the choreographer for that... after all, even the original version of Naurmaran by the Tide Listeners didn't fully understand the culture of Heir."

“A thousand years have passed since the end of the era, and human history is always prone to gaps. The dancer’s level of accuracy in recreating the original is actually quite high. To ask for more would be like me nitpicking.”

Xitia raised her hand, picked up the floral porcelain teacup in front of her, and took a sip of the ginger tea inside.

Feeling the slightly spicy and hot liquid flow into her throat, she quickly and subtly stuck out her tongue. One could vaguely see that her tongue, hidden between her lips, also had a translucent color like tassels, long and soft.

For the clans born from the deep sea, the flavors of spices like ginger and rice are still a bit too strong.

While these warming seasonings weren't a burden or harmful to the constitution of the mythical creatures of Siodia, they were still slightly against her taste. She preferred light, fresh flavors to cooked food.

Oh, that's just racial characteristic.

As a member of the Heir nobility, she is unafraid of all types of parasites except those carrying the curse of the Abyss, and her digestive system is also sufficiently superior. For humans, cooked starches and proteins are undoubtedly much healthier.

"If the opportunity arises, I wouldn't mind providing some reference material when she performs again."

Although there are clear arguments about the merits and demerits, Shitia generally maintains a relatively clear attitude of approval.

At this point, she seemed to have thought of something else.

"However, I sensed a strange spirit in this dance drama. It was mixed in with the audience's overflowing emotions and was somewhat difficult to identify, but it should be a derivative influence of the moth phase principle fragments."

"And that fire, which was clearly an accident... I think Dr. Fran, you might have other motives for inviting me to the performance."

Fran neither confirmed nor denied Xitia's speculation.

"Going to see the performance of the new dancers at the Drowned Theatre was indeed the main purpose. However, there is something special about that place, and I can also learn some things along the way. As far as I know, the owners of this theatre are secretly involved in the circulation of contraband, and there are dangerous works of art in the goods that are linked to the Dwyer case."

"However, I don't need to worry about this kind of thing; the Funeral Court hunters can handle it themselves." —℃. —№∝』