Academic gathering with a lich

Oh, my Holy Light.

In front of the priest was a long table, on which lay a man in his thirties or forties, gaunt and skeletal. He was scarcely clothed – a vagabond or a beggar, Lyle could not discern – but the man gazed at the priest with a fervor that suggested he saw nothing else, a zeal that chilled Lyle to the bone, though he could understand it.

Fifteen minutes earlier, a man with severe abdominal bleeding was carried onto the long table by two knights. He clutched his bleeding wound in agony, but his incorrect posture did nothing to stem the flow of blood, which quickly spread beside him, staining deep red.

"He needs to stop the bleeding."

"Suture the wound."

"He also needs medication to prevent infection."

The surrounding medical students offered their opinions.

He needed a diagnosis to determine whether there was a penetrating injury to the internal organs before deciding how to proceed.

Clearly, the priest had not brought an injured man here to showcase the doctors' talents.

Ignoring the voices around him, he looked at the one-foot-deep wound from which blood spurted in time with the man's convulsions.

"Good, the filth within your body is draining out with the blood."

At these words, curses arose from all around.

This approach was not unfamiliar to the healers; it was the notorious practice of bloodletting.

It was the first therapy listed in the textbooks of Eiffel Medical Academy, popular among the clergy.

Westerners believed that life depended on four bodily humors: blood, phlegm, black bile, and yellow bile, corresponding to the four elements: air, water, earth, and fire. Blood was seen as the chief humor; an excess was thought to unbalance the four elements and provoke disease, hence bloodletting was born.

The difference was that scholars considered bloodletting to be targeted therapy, meaning they would bleed an area that corresponded to the injury, and avoid excessively large wounds that could lead to shock from blood loss.

The Church, however, viewed disease as impurity – the result of original sin and impropriety, opting for bloodletting irrespective of the bleeding's location or the wound's size.

But Lyle had never heard of bloodletting being used for cases of severe bleeding; this priest's mind was likely scrambled by the Holy Light.

Lyle also knew that subsequent ages gradually confirmed the dangers of bloodletting to the human body, leading to its abolishment.

The tremors of the man on the table grew feebler; he was not going to last much longer.

In contrast, the students around began to grow restless, with those in the front row getting a harsh blow from the knights after some shoving.

They knelt on the spot, clutching their abdomens.

"Executioner!" "You're an executioner!"

The man's eyes began to roll back; he was about to be called by the Lord.

The students felt helpless, having come to protest but causing such a tragedy instead; guilt overwhelmed them, several started to sob.

But the priest's expression remained utterly unfazed.

He felt it was about time.

"Oh merciful Lord, save this lost lamb," he prayed.

Light.

Blinding light.

The priest held a ball of light in his hands.

He brought the light close to the wound, which began to close; the wound healed itself at a visible rate.

His complexion turned from pale to ruddy, from fear to peace.

The light went out.

The man came back to life.

Silence reigned.

Even the sound of weeping ceased; everyone's eyes were wide open, staring at the spectacle in such quiet that one could hear a teardrop hit the floor.

Oh, my Holy Light!

Even those healers who were previously antagonistic could not help but marvel at the miracle wrought by the Holy Light, a miracle beyond the reach of medicine.

Everyone was in awe.

Lyle's mind was in upheaval.

Holy shit! Magic! There's actually magic in this world!

Lyle felt as if all his reading had been for naught.

Lyle understood the teachers' words.

In the face of the all-powerful Holy Light, how much can limited medical skills achieve?

The Holy Light can even bring back someone on their deathbed, which is simply, too unreasonable.

If one is born to medicine, why be born to light?

No wonder medicine was suppressed, in front of the Holy Light, medicine seemed like an inferior, defective product.

If one could face the bright and gentle light, who would want to contend with syringes and scalpels?

Although it was still uncertain whether the Holy Light could target all diseases, Lyle had a bold guess.

Resurrection of the dead.

Resurrection Technique.

It was like being a winner at the starting point of life.

The priest was pleased with the attitude of those around him. He looked down at the fervent man.

"Your name, lost lamb."

"I am Baz, Father, I am the lamb of the Lord."

"Baz, remember, it is the Lord who healed you, you must thank Him, cherish Him, and from now on, work diligently and serve the Lord wholeheartedly."

"I understand, Father, every penny I beg is a gift from the Lord, I will beg for the Lord."

Watching the increasingly bizarre sermon, Lyle didn't know what to say.

"So what should we do?" asked a young student, whose attire was similar, perhaps slightly better, than Lyle's.

Medical students were full of confusion about their future.

"Believe in the Holy Light," a voice came from the crowd; it was a protesting student, now with the same fanaticism in his eyes as Baz, he had been converted by the light, a turncoat in the midst of battle.

The priest wore a smile; this was a successful sermon. The king had already started to fear the church, and now in Cassandra, although preaching to the commoners was not explicitly forbidden, the government guarded over the commoners like a hen over her chicks. The ignorant masses, in the end, couldn't escape being crushed by the inevitable march of destiny. The future belonged to the Holy Light.

The call of the light was like flipping a crucial switch, and students around Lyle were being converted one after another.

Because of age and experience, professors and scholars only felt dejected, but passionate students naturally yearned for better things.

Lyle had more conviction than these fanciful youths.

The Church, ah, doesn't seem to manage things too strictly, though it claims to serve the Lord wholeheartedly, but at least its people have good welfare and treatment, and they can even learn the Holy Light Technique!

My Holy Light!

Please, unseen Lord, shower me with the same spotlight effect as others, I too want to be your charlatan!

A breath.

A quarter of an hour.

An hour.

The easy conversion that came to others as naturally as breathing did not come to Lyle.

Watching the new members of the church gather orderly together, preparing to head for the chapel for a Mass.

Lyle panicked.

He grabbed a student, not caring about losing face anymore.

"Could you enlighten me, I have been shaken by the glory of the Lord and wish wholeheartedly to serve, but why can't I receive the Lord's favor?"

"Your heart, it is not sincere."

"What is a sincere heart?"

"If you have wealth, offer it to the Lord; if you have land, give it to the Lord; if you have a singing voice, praise the Lord. Live for the Lord, die for the Lord, a name is but a code, the real self, merely a servant of the Lord."

Hiss.

Lyle understood.

The Lord doesn't want to be your shelter, the Lord wants to be your father, even more so than your father.

Lyle questioned his heart, although life pressured him, this Paladin's dream was still too fanciful.

People must live their lives firmly grounded in reality.