Chapter 730: The Bizarre Dormitory of Outstanding Talents

Chapter 730: The Bizarre Dormitory of Legends

By the time Karen returned to the guesthouse, the night had already grown deep.

On the open ground outside the guesthouse, that gargantuan crab had appeared once more, making the building before it look as tiny as a toy made of wooden blocks.

It was likely a specialized beast of burden kept by one of the academies, but as Karen passed beneath it, he felt a tremor that vibrated from the depths of a soul.

Not his own, but from the being high above him.

Karen lifted his gaze to look at it; its body was entirely still, yet it gave off the distinct impression of someone stifling a breath, enduring and resisting something with sheer willpower.

Was it tired, or just sleepy?

Karen did not dwell on it and entered the guesthouse, where a dozen tables of people were feasting in the large primary dining room on the first floor, a gathering easily recognizable at a glance as teachers and students celebrating a freshly completed project.

At this hour, even if the school cafeteria still offered late-night snacks, it could hardly compete with a proper commercially operated guesthouse, and as for the lakeside where Karen had just returned from, it was not a place ordinary teachers and students could afford.

Karen walked upstairs and returned to his room, where Philomena was sitting on a chair, holding a book in her hands.

This scene clashed somewhat with Philomena's usual image; Karen was still far more accustomed to the sight of her gripping a blade.

Karen spoke up, saying, "The serene aura of reading suits you quite well."

Philomena stood up and set the book down, and Karen noticed that it did not look like a formally published book, but rather an internally compiled and circulated notebook bearing the family crest of the Guman line.

It was a notebook summarizing and categorizing common magical arrays, practical in nature, primarily teaching how to dismantle and evade them.

Without needing to guess, this was undoubtedly brought out to her by Richard.

Karen actually possessed many precious books and notes on magical arrays himself, gifts from Mr. Hoffen and Mentor Piro, but those were only suitable for researchers of the craft and not for Philomena, for she could not possibly abandon her primary profession of assassination to study arrays from scratch.

A person's energy is always limited, and Karen knew that he himself was an exception, and even he, as an exception, now felt that even if one learned many things quickly in the early stages, one still had to stop and earnestly settle down when reaching the phase that truly required sublimation and accumulation; the higher one climbed, the fewer shortcuts there were.

"Chief, I shall head back now."

"Very well."

Philomena left the room to return to her own quarters; she had been arranged by Karen during the day to look after little Conna, though letting her watch the little bone dragon was inherently somewhat hazardous in its own right...

But who could help the fact that on this excursion, even the quota for assistants was strictly limited.

Once they reached the investigation team, his own status would likely resemble that of a leader of a band of errant errand-runners.

Karen remembered that back when the Church of Order held its meeting on Dark Moon Island, the former Chief Bishop, Wolfrun, had also occupied the lowest seat in the presence of those true big shots.

Little Conna was currently standing before the window, staring intently at the massive crab outside, with a single finger placed in her mouth, sucking on it.

Karen walked over, reached out to pat her head, and asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Little Conna replied with absolute honesty, "It must taste really good."

Karen finally understood what that peculiar emotion he had sensed earlier when passing beneath that beast had been.

Between powerful magical beasts, there existed a unique sense of resonant perception.

This colossal beast was currently facing the covetous gaze of a juvenile bone dragon possessing the inheritance of the Dragon God.

"Have you ever eaten one?" Karen asked.

"No, but it must taste better than those pills; I have never eaten it, but I feel it would be very fresh and delicious." After a brief pause, little Conna added, "There will be a lot of egg yolks inside."

"That is crab roe."

"The egg yolks of a crab."

In order to maintain his coat, Kevin was accustomed to eating some egg yolks to nourish himself, even though the bald spot on his canine head had never quite been restored.

Little Conna did not know what crab roe was, but in her instinctive awareness, or rather, within an inheritance memory akin to that of a child of god like Mavalio, that image and sensation must exist.

To a truly powerful dragon race, a magical beast of such immense scale was simply a delicious crab.

"Steamed tastes the best," Karen remarked.

Little Conna shook her head, retorting, "Barbecue, barbecue."

"Barbecue uses too many ingredients and loses the original flavor; steaming preserves the maximum degree of freshness."

Little Conna continued to shake her head, "No, barbecue!"

"You can dip it in vinegar, we have a whole vat of it at home."

However, for a crab this large, a single vat of vinegar at home would not even be enough for a single dip of a crab leg.

Little Conna shook her head forcefully, "It must be barbecue!"

"Children should not eat such heavily seasoned food."

Little Conna lifted her head to look at Karen, looking thoroughly displeased.

"Half barbecued, half steamed."

"Alright then," little Conna instantly broke into a smile.

Ah, she truly was a child raised by Purr herself.

The adult and the child stood facing the window for a while, studying the methods of consuming the crab, thoroughly satisfying their imaginary cravings.

Karen went to the washroom to take a shower, and when he emerged, he saw little Conna sitting before the coffee table, swallowing her pills.

For the worldly inexperienced little Conna, there were currently two things in this world that could inflict the greatest degree of misery upon her: ranking first was taking a bath, and ranking second was swallowing pills.

Yet, as fate would have it, these were the very two things she had to face every single day.

While Karen lay in bed reading a book, little Conna finished her medicine, picked up a dry towel and her clothes by herself, and walked into the washroom.

When she came out after her bath, she was wearing a white shirt that had been altered by Karen.

This was a habit she had retained all along; Purr wanted to dress her up as a delicate, elegant, and noble little lolita in accordance with its former aesthetic tastes;

But little Conna disliked it, setting her mind firmly on Karen's old clothes instead.

Nominally, it was for the sake of equality, but from a psychological perspective, it was Karen's clothing that could bring her inner stability and solace.

Karen put down the book in his hand, and little Conna lay down at the foot of the bed, settling into a sleeping posture with her hand cradling her head.

There was no need to worry whether her hand would grow numb in this position, because even if a truck were to roll over her, she would only feel as though she had been bitten by a mosquito.

Lights out, sleep.

His sleep was not particularly long, but the quality was excellent; while rising to shower and freshen up, Karen's resolve to temporarily refrain from reclaiming that Scythe of War was strengthened once more.

Little Conna was still fast asleep, and when Karen stepped out, Philomena, who had long been waiting at the door, proactively entered to take over the shift and care for the child.

Richard, on the other hand, accompanied Karen to have breakfast; in the dining area, that group of teachers and students had not yet departed, sprawled all over the floor in a drunken stupor, while the great crab outside still maintained its previous posture.

Midway through the meal, Karen signaled Richard to prepare some extra items for him to take to class.

Subsequently, Karen carried a small bag, donned a mask, and walked into the campus; he did not allow Richard to follow, for Richard had to leave this place today to head out in advance to rent a hotel outside the investigation team's gathering point, serving as a scout.

It was still the class on the History of Divine Philosophy, and he was still among the first batch to enter the classroom.

Karen did not sit at the back this time, but instead found a seat near the front and sat down; the remaining students trickled in one after another, many of them even bringing along small cushions.

Before the class had even commenced, more than half of the students had already entered the realm of dreams ahead of time; a habitual reaction that did not even require additional spiritual hypnosis.

When the class bell rang, Sidrod walked inside and greeted everyone in a gentle, warm voice:

"Good morning, students."

Everyone fell asleep; not a single soul held up their head save for Karen.

The old professor sat down behind the lectern with an air of profound contentment, unbuckling his briefcase while casting a glance toward Karen.

Karen stood up, vacated his seat, and walked over to the podium to sit as well, producing two teacups and a packet of tea leaves from his own small bag.

Siderod likewise brought out two teacups and a packet of tea leaves.

Siderod produced a cigar, while Karen brought out a pack of cigarettes specially provided by the Church of Thunder.

"The kick on those is far too strong, I would lapse into a slumber myself if I smoked one," Siderod declined in haste. "Let us have a cigar; they contain herbal extracts."

Karen nodded in agreement.

Immediately following this, each party produced teacakes and refreshments of their own, arranging them in due order upon the lectern.

No look of acknowledgment passed between them; it was a matter of pure unspoken understanding, for both had looked forward to today's tea gathering with keen anticipation.

Particularly when Karen had finished unpacking and set his bag aside, Siderod actually brought out a small iron stand, placed two pieces of quick-burning charcoal inside, and set a tiny ceramic cup atop it—he intended to brew tea properly, and had even provided brown sugar, honeyed dates, goji berries, and longans to accompany it.

"What do you think?"

"Teacher, you truly understand the art of living."

"Naturally. Life is akin to a book currently being read; to find your page, one is still accustomed to flipping from the very beginning, yet to find mine, it is far more convenient to flip from the back to the front.

As one grows old, one learns all the more to cherish and savor the life of the present.

Though, you ought to understand this even better than I do."

Karen shook his head, saying, "I would not dare claim so."

"There is nothing to be daring about; so many people pass their entire lives in utter muddle-headedness, and quite a few misinterpret their own clarity by fleeing from responsibility in the pursuit of selfish freedom.

In this life, to live through every single stage with crisp, distinct clarity is already a rare feat indeed.

Gods, in truth, are no different.

From the Era of Eternity to the Era of Light, and then to the period when my Lord held absolute dominion, many a deity accomplished multiple shifts in alignment—not purely for personal gain, but because a shift had occurred within their cognitive perception..."

The lecture continued in this manner until it was nearly time for class to dismiss.

Together, Karen and Siderod tidied up the items upon the lectern, and once everything was packed away, the master and disciple rose and walked toward the classroom door.

Siderod snapped his fingers, and precisely at that moment, the dismissal bell rang out in unison.

The students awakened one by one from their deep, restorative slumbers, beginning to rush frantically out of the classroom to claim the restrooms.

As Karen descended the stairs alongside Siderod, he remarked, "Why were so few restrooms planned for the academic building?"

Siderod replied, "Presumably because back when the ancient sages designed and constructed the academic building, the students generally harbored a fondness for truancy."

"Ah, so that is how it was."

Next came the hour for supplementary lessons.

Siderod led Karen through the academic quarter, then across the traditional residential sector, and after passing through an orchard enshrouded by a mist-formation array, they arrived at the long-abandoned dormitory buildings of the old residential quarter.

"Coo... coo... coo..."

Upon the fence of the dormitory building, a flock of owl-like birds perched, gazing down at the newcomers, while beneath the thick layers of fallen leaves, something uncanny seemed to be shifting about.

Siderod produced an ancient badge from ages past, hanging it upon his chest, before drawing out another to hang upon Karen, introducing it thus:

"This was the student identification card of yesteryear."

"How heavy."

"It is said that if one dared not to wear it anywhere outside the dormitory, points would be deducted—likely something akin to academic merits."

"Was it because the school was dangerous back then as well?"

"No, it was because the headmaster of that particular tenure had a screw loose in his head; he fancied standing inside the headmaster's office, watching the students walk to and fro with their little badges dangling. Moreover, that headmaster was rather well-versed in the preservation of health and proved resilient at living, not passing away until he was nearly two hundred years old.

I fancy that if that headmaster had held on just a bit longer, perhaps even the lifespan of a Temple Elder would have possessed no advantage before him."

Once the badge was donned, one could clearly perceive the other auras in the surroundings beginning to distance themselves from you; the environment here, too, began to accept your presence.

Karen reflected that if the Church of Order were to perish one day and the University of Order fell into ruin, this place would likely transform into an exceedingly perilous secret realm, drawing wave upon wave of later-generation adventurers to court their own doom.

Siderod led the way ahead while Karen followed behind; the pair ascended the dormitory building and came to the fifth floor. As they passed through the corridor, the door plate number 512 was succeeded immediately by 516—the original 514 had vanished.

"This is the place." Siderod began to grope about his pockets.

Karen perceived the surroundings with careful attention and remarked, "What an exquisite space-type formation array."

"I recall you mentioning you held no interest in formation arrays."

"I understand a smattering of the fundamentals."

"Heh, then here is the key for you; you shall open the door." Siderod handed a rusted key over to Karen.

Karen took the key, inserting it first into the door of 512, then into the door of 516, before finally closing his eyes and turning around. Another door materialized before him, its keyhole seemingly drawing the key into itself of its own accord.

"Click!"

The door was thrown open.

Karen opened his eyes and looked toward Siderod.

"Have you seen this before?"

"I have seen practical examples within books."

"How thoroughly dull that is; it amounts to knowing the answer in advance, losing the delightful process of unearthing a secret."

"You speak with great accuracy."

"Come, let us step inside."

Stepping through the doorway, the dormitory within was not draped in cobwebs and dust; nor, of course, was it exceptionally pristine. In short, it imparted a sensation that someone might still be living here.

The sole distinction lay perhaps in the color palette, which had shifted from bright and vivid to a distinct shade of grayish-white.

There were four beds within the dormitory, all of them top bunks, while the space beneath each served as an individual writing desk. An open balcony lay outside, and a shared washroom was situated within.

"This is Budalas's writing desk," Siderod observed.

Karen directed his gaze toward it; books and writing instruments were arranged upon the desk, exceedingly neat and well-ordered.

"This is the writing desk of that Temple Elder. He should no longer be with us now, after all these years have slid by, yet long after the other three had been dead, he returned to take a look. I told you before, I unearthed his visitor records.

Extrapolating by age, he must have been fast approaching the twilight of a Temple Elder's protracted lifespan at that time; prior to his demise, he likely wished to gaze upon his old acquaintances and reminisce about the past.

Ah, his name was Ukonga."

The student-era writing desk of this Temple Elder appeared rather cluttered by comparison; numerous novels were scattered upon it, textbooks had tumbled to the floor below, and a good many portraits of young ladies were plastered across the four walls of the desk—and not of the same young lady, either.

This desk instantly evoked the image of a seasoned rogue in the courts of love; it seemed that the Temple Elder, in his youth, had also been a man possessed of a colorful history.

"This is Dicalost's writing desk. Have you heard that name before?"

"Dicalost... an adventurer?"

His name had surfaced multiple times within the 'Worldview Notes' that Mr. Hoffen had bequeathed to him, owing to his status as a magnificent explorer. In regions where other explorers faced a ninety percent chance of death, he had successfully plumbed numerous locales throughout his life. Most remarkable of all was that upon every return, he would compose 'Exploration Notes'—holding nothing back in secrecy, allowing them to circulate in complete openness.

Later, there were even sacred churches that specifically commissioned him to explore their own lost secret realms; for who else could they send when their own kin would invariably perish upon seeking them out, while he always managed to emerge alive?

Puer would frequently utter this name aloud, for he was the natural idol of the entire explorer community.

Yes, he was a believer of the Abyssal Cult. He was an exchange student here back then, living in this very dorm. They say the reason he managed to survive so many perils without dying was that he had subdued both a holy angel and a fallen angel.

There were not many books on Decalost’s desk, but many clothes were hung around, including big boxers. It was plain to see that he was a bohemian sort who did not care for trivial details.

Karen murmured with emotion, The people who stayed in this dorm were truly out of the ordinary.

A four-man dorm that produced a Grand Priest of the Order Cult, a Pope of the Light Cult, a Temple Elder, and a Great Explorer. It was practically a hundred percent rate of peak career achievement.

Siderod smiled and said, It is inadvisable to deduce the premise from the outcome. Actually, when the dorm rooms were assigned back then, they could choose their own roommates. They chose each other out of mutual recognition.

So, they had a very good relationship back then?

Yes, it can be seen from the journals that they got along very well.

During the night-time chats after the dorm lights were turned off, Ukonga would brag about which new girlfriend he had made and even teach them how to chase girls.

Decalost would beg everyone to help him analyze how to crack a certain professor's laboratory formation, especially the ones from the Agricultural College. He loved going there to steal delicious new varieties of fruit and tender-fleshed little magical beasts, enjoying a taste of those students' graduation theses.

Budalas liked to look for the Mad Pope to talk about politics.

It is recorded in the Mad Pope's journals that they would often argue as they talked, and then go to the cafeteria together for breakfast the next morning.

Is this the Mad Pope's desk?

Karen pointed at the last desk and asked. On this desk, books of Order and books of Light each took up half the space. Notebooks were stacked very high, and there was also a candle, though it might have been used for aromatherapy.

Yes, that's right. Siderod walked over. This is the Mad Pope's desk. During his years studying abroad, it was right here that he completed the transformation of his own ideology. It is actually quite terrifying. If he hadn't truly and thoroughly understood it and fallen deep into it, then the opponent our cult faced in that era would have been an enemy completely familiar with us. He would have understood our cult better than most of our own people.

I am curious about one thing, Teacher.

Speak.

Why was this dorm room preserved so well? Could it be that as soon as they graduated, the school knew these four would achieve great heights in the future, so they sealed it in advance as a celebrity's former residence?

And also, after graduation, things should have been packed away to make room for the next batch of students. How are these books, journals, and daily necessities still laid out here?

Because something happened in this dorm building back then, causing the students who originally lived here to be evacuated temporarily. I have consulted a lot of school history materials—well, not hesitating to use special methods to read quite a few internal archives—and yet I couldn't find a precise result.

However, judging from some circumstantial evidence and the memoirs found later of other students who lived in this dorm building at the time, a contamination should have broken out here back then...

No, it shouldn't be contamination. It felt more like a leak.

A leak?

It feels a bit like the leaking power of a certain divine artifact. The location of the leak was right here. As for anything more specific, I don't know, because not only were the archives blockaded regarding this matter back then, but several rounds of tracing destruction and erasure were also carried out on this matter afterward.

I suspect they did it themselves. Budalas did become the Grand Priest, after all. For him to bury an event is simply too easy. And there is also Ukonga, who lived for a relatively long time; he could come back to clean the archives and records once every fifty years, able to come eight or nine times. In fact, he has always done so.

So that's how it is.

In addition, did you perceive anything, Karen?

Teacher, perceive what?

I suspect a spiritual imprint was left here, but I have never been able to trigger it. Or rather, my level is not enough to sense it, though when I used to sneak in here to revere and feel the atmosphere, I had a faint sensation.

A faint sensation?

Yes. For instance, I would occasionally hear the faint sound of a door opening here, but the door wouldn't move at all.

Karen saw the originally closed dorm door being pushed open from the outside.

Or for example, I would smell the scent of incense, but it hadn't been lit.

Karen saw the incense on the Mad Pope's desk catch fire.

Or else I would hear cries, not sounding like a human voice, somewhat miserable, very eerie, making one's hair stand on end.

Squeak, squeak, coo!!!

Through the half-open window of the washroom, Karen saw a young man wearing a black tank top with a crew cut slaughtering a multi-colored turkey inside. The turkey was letting out struggling, miserable shrieks.

Right, one time I even heard an extremely sinister laugh, which almost scared the wits out of me back then.

Hahahahaha!!!

A man with flowing golden hair held a pink paper-letter crow in his hand:

Brothers, she agreed! She agreed! Haha, caught her. I've already prepared to ask her out to the small woods tonight. Don't you guys be jealous, you poor little virgins, tsk tsk.

Karen shook his head. Suddenly, he could only hear Siderod's voice, but could no longer see Siderod.

Meanwhile, the originally grayish-white dorm scene gradually became vibrant.

A youth with an aquiline nose walked into the dorm holding a briefing paper, shouting excitedly to Karen:

The Light Cult has declared war on the Repose Cult! The Light Cult has invaded the Repose Secret Realm! Philias, my deduction was correct. Just you watch, next, my Order Cult will definitely support the Repose Cult's resistance against your Light Cult behind the scenes. We will provide war implements, personnel training, and even provide priests of our cult to strip off their Order divine robes and put on Repose divine robes to go as volunteers to fight.

In short, we must make your Light Cult constantly bleed in this war!

Ukonga pointed at the paper-letter crow and said, Heheh, I'm going to do some bleeding tonight too.

In the washroom, Decalost, who was slaughtering the turkey, shouted, Budalas, Ukonga, hurry up and help me find a basin to catch the blood. I'll make blood sausages for you guys to eat.

Just then, a voice rang out from behind Karen.

The foolish choices of the higher-ups will only lead my Light Cult into a more dangerous predicament. Acting against other cults will only force them to stand on the side of your Order.

A clean and handsome young man walked out from Karen's side, picked up a washbasin, and handed it through the window to Decalost inside.

Budalas, who had still been all smiles just a moment ago, immediately roared in anger:

Oh, damn it, Philias, that's my washbasin you're holding!

Karen was a bit dazed at first, but soon, he gradually adapted. It seemed he must have triggered the spiritual imprint. Once, in his own study, there had also been a spiritual imprint left behind by a Light priest.

However,

A scene that caught Karen completely unprepared suddenly occurred at this moment.

Ukonga, holding the paper-letter crow in his hand, suddenly looked toward him and asked:

Hey, classmate, did you run over from the dorm next door to freeload a meal?