Chapter 178 — Waking

Gao Heng could not help but marvel at the wonder and convenience of those healing spells. This world had no advanced medical thought, no complete understanding of microbial infection, human anatomy, or cell biology. For common folk, an ordinary infected wound could be fatal—yet at the same time, those who commanded the Holy Light and the Path of Nature could use magic to achieve "healing" beyond imagining. So long as one could pay the price, even a man with only half a breath left could have his wounds close and be pulled back from death within minutes.

The Kant Domain had no druids, but it did have several Holy Light priests, one of whom resided year-round in the small chapel within the castle. He served as the lord's religious advisor and was likewise charged with maintaining the lord's health. Promptly summoned by the servants, this Holy Light priest soon arrived at Victor Kant's study and used a Holy Light spell to save the old viscount's faltering life.

Gao Yang stood to one side, watching the priest's bustling work. The druidic potion had already replenished the vitality Victor Kant urgently needed; the knight's "Blood Inspiration" had, by drawing on that vitality, rapidly restored the blood the viscount had lost; and now the healing Holy Light was laid over the wound. The priest prayed devoutly as he carefully gripped the dagger's hilt, then cried aloud the name of the God of Holy Light and swiftly drew out the weapon.

The Holy Light surged at once, closing the wound with all speed while mending the torn muscle and bone within. Throughout the process, the Holy Light priest kept praying unceasingly to the God of Holy Light, so that the healing effect upon the viscount would not be interrupted.

Gao Yang nodded silently to himself, thinking that he had finally seen a Holy Light priest who looked the way one ought to—just where did those priests who used rising-dragon bone-setting techniques and inch-punch mind-clearing techniques get their skill points?

The healing would likely continue a while longer. The servants were gathered around their master, and Gao Yang looked about, then began examining every corner of the study on his own.

No one questioned his actions. The ordinary servants took it as the duke inspecting the scene of the crime, while the steward Carter, who might otherwise have obstructed him, had become the culprit and fled the place.

Gao Song's gaze moved through the enclosed study, his brows knitting slightly.

This was hardly a fitting place for a study. Though it lay on one of the castle's upper floors, its lighting was quite dreadful—the narrow, uncomfortable windows typical of old castles were especially pronounced here. The whole room had only that single narrow window, so that even at the brightest hour of the day it brought little light indoors, and the magic-crystal lamps set into the walls were plainly problematic: even with every lamp lit, the room remained shrouded in a hazy dimness.

No—perhaps it was not necessarily the magic-crystal lamps that were at fault...

Gao Song's gaze fell upon one of the lamps. Its light was in fact quite bright, only it seemed bound by some force, and so could not spread through the whole room.

Was that kindly, cheerful-looking Viscount Victor accustomed to working in such an eerie study?

Gao Yang came to one side of the room. Against this wall stood a massive bookshelf, upon which a great many finely bound, thick-covered books were arranged in neat order. Many even had gold and silver ornaments inlaid in their spines—the hallmark of a noble's book collection.

To Gao Yang's mind, this was versatility embodied: when knowledge was needed, they could be read; when self-defense was needed, they could be used to club someone; and if the family fortunes declined, one could even pry the gold off the covers and use it as starting capital to revive the household. Apart from the risk of being smacked in the face and left half-paralyzed when reading in bed at night, these heavy, gorgeous books were simply the model of "knowledge is power, and also money."

And in truth, most books of this era were heavy and gorgeous like this—they were luxuries that only the wealthy could own to begin with. Sometimes the number of books in a castle directly displayed a noble's wealth and depth of heritage, even if the owner himself might never leaf through them more than a few times in his whole life.

But Viscount Kant was plainly not merely collecting these books for show. The covers of most showed wear and distortion to varying degrees—a sign of frequent reading—and some even bore traces of repair with glue, leather, and gold or silver foil. Such things were done only by those who truly loved books.

Yet as Gao Song's gaze swept across book after book, he found that all the repairs seemed to have been made long ago: the gold and silver foil had discolored, the glued leather was badly worn, and nowhere on the entire shelf could a comparatively new book be seen.

It seemed that from some point onward, this Viscount Kant had lost all interest in these "ordinary books."

Then what was he reading? The forbidden texts on dark arts left to him by the Order of Eternal Slumber?

Gao Yang turned to another small table behind the desk, piled with documents and case files not currently in use. His gaze was suddenly caught by a single unfolded sheet of paper among them.

On it were hastily recorded some account transactions—raw material that seemed not yet entered into the ledger. Most conspicuous among the few entries were the fee paid to a certain mercenary company and the deposit for the next operation; under the specific terms of employment were written the words "collect raw materials."

Was this a record of hiring mercenaries to capture vagrants? Evidence?

Gao Qi frowned and was about to step closer to the paper when he suddenly heard a small stir among the servants behind him, and a little extra light fell into the somewhat dim study.

Gao Yang turned back in some surprise and saw the Viscountess Lilith Kant standing in the doorway. This frail lady, so slight she seemed a shadow, carried a lantern—it was likely by its light that she had run all the way here from the North Tower. Her eyes were wide, staring blankly at Victor Kant, who was surrounded by the crowd, her face written all over with terror and shock.

"What happened!?" Lilith cried, her voice faltering. "Who... who can tell me... what is wrong with Victor?"

"My lady, my lady, please do not panic—the viscount is unharmed," the Holy Light priest said, rising quickly. "Thanks be to the grace of the God of Holy Light, the viscount has only suffered a minor flesh wound and fainted from shock. Duke Gao Yang gave him a potion in time, and with my healing he is now safe."

As he spoke, the Holy Light priest raised a hand to summon a Holy Light to soothe the frightened lady, but Lilith Kant ignored the priest outright and hurried unsteadily to Victor's side. Only after checking that he was indeed still breathing did she relax a little and look to Gao Yang: "Thank you... thank you for saving him."

"It is what I ought to do," Gao Yi said with a slight nod, then looked at the servants around them. "Too many people have crowded in here—your master needs fresh air. Everyone except the personal attendants, withdraw."

Gao Yang was not the master of Xuanque Castle, yet at that moment no one opposed his words, and soon most of the servants had left the room. And once it was confirmed that the healing spell had taken effect and the viscount himself no longer required additional casting, the Holy Light priest too withdrew.

Viscount Kant's wound had closed. A senior manservant wiped the blood from the viscount's body, and at last the latter slowly came to.