Grantham

As an absolutely devout believer, Little Ox never wavered in his faith until the day he died. If loyalty could be measured numerically, his score would surely have been 100%.

So, even though he had something weighing on his mind, Little Ox didn't choose to turn back halfway and go home to work out the problem Hooke had left him. Instead, he planned to continue on to Grantham for the gathering.

And so,

once Hooke's carriage had gradually disappeared into the distance, the group gathered up their luggage again and set off once more.

Three hours later,

after stopping to rest twice along the way, the eight travelers finally arrived, travel-worn and weary, at the entrance to a town.

It was a small town surrounded by a wall about four meters high. A stone sign stood at the entrance.

An English name was carved into it. Translated, it read "Grantham."

During the two years Xu Yun had spent in Britain as an exchange student, he had visited the town once and stayed for three and a half days.

After all, this was Little Ox's hometown. In a sense, it could be considered a "holy site" of the physics world, and most physicists who had a chance to visit London would stop by to check it out.

Back then, short on money, Xu Yun had stayed at a hotel called Ramada. It was right near the entrance to Grantham's walls; once you entered the town, you could see it on your right.

The hotel was rated four stars, but the price, including tax, was only a little over 290 Huaxia currency—extremely, extremely cheap.

The soundproofing was a bit poor, though. At night, you could hear some clapping.

The hotel owner had even thumped his chest and assured Xu Yun that the hotel was more than four hundred years old. It had simply been renovated several times, which was why it didn't look particularly old.

There had even been a plaque on the wall certifying its four-hundred-year history, issued by the John Bull government. So Xu Yun had foolishly believed him, paid three euros, and posed for a photo with the plaque.

But now that he was in Grantham, he really wanted to spit on the owner's bald head, which had about as much hair as a programmer's:

That hotel was nowhere near four hundred years old! The spot where it stood in that era was clearly a fruit stall!

You really couldn't believe a word anyone said when traveling these days. Some people even questioned their own country's history, while others fabricated theirs to this extent. (Note 1)

Aside from the hotel having been replaced by a fruit stall, the buildings throughout Grantham were also vastly different from those in later generations:

Later-era Grantham had preserved its classical appearance, but both the buildings and streets were spotless. It was somewhat like a local celebrity's former residence, with the emphasis on its historical atmosphere.

But right now—

Almost everything visible in town was a two- or three-story brick house. There was no discernible architectural style; the exteriors were damaged and blackened, and the shady sides were covered in moss.

Xu Yun only had to glance around to spot several clumps of filth at the roadside corners that would have needed to be pixelated.

The town's main road was relatively clean. Paved with stones, it was seven or eight meters wide, and pedestrians and vehicles passed along it constantly.

But on closer inspection, some of the gaps and edges between the stones were smeared with a strange, slightly yellowish slime.

The flies that kept passing over it made it easy to guess that the slime was probably nothing good.

What surprised Xu Yun at first, though, was that many small, raggedly dressed paupers in town seemed not to notice it at all. They sat—or even lay—right in the filth.

Their eyes were numb as flies, rats, and cockroaches crawled nearby and even over them.

Xu Yun sighed softly at the sight.

Whether in the early days of colonization or the coming age of the Industrial Revolution, the lower classes of the British Isles had a hard life.

Some people might have been lucky enough to rise in the world, but far more became the denominator in someone else's statistics. With tears and hatred, they turned into a dark cloud over London, still unable to rest in peace to this day.

Then, guided by Mr. and Mrs. William, the group headed straight southwest.

Grantham wasn't large. It took only a little over ten minutes for them to reach the tallest building in town apart from the clock tower: St. Titus Didymus Church.

St. Titus Didymus Church stood about twelve or thirteen meters tall and had a square layout. Its columns were arranged in groups of three, its bays varied greatly in width, and its facade had a strongly uneven profile. A red cross stood on the roof.

Noble and solemn, imposing and magnificent, it exuded an overwhelming sense of authority.

Clearly, this was a building in the standard Baroque style. Early European churches had been Romanesque, then developed into Gothic, and by this point in time, Baroque decoration had become fashionable.

But by the eighteenth century, architectural styles would come full circle again:

Gothic would rise from its deathbed, sit bolt upright, and flourish for centuries, even influencing architectural design in China.

At the church entrance stood a kindly-looking priest, around sixty years old. His clothes were plain but well-made, and his hair was slicked back until it shone.

The priest warmly embraced everyone he met, showing no distaste for their body odor or the grime on their clothes.

Perhaps because it was the town's only place of worship, a long line had already formed outside the church. More people kept arriving from every direction, filling the gaps at the end.

Xu Yun and the others queued for about ten minutes before finally reaching the priest.

The William family were clearly longtime members of this congregation. The moment he saw them, the priest called William by name without hesitation:

"Hallelujah! Mr. Ace! What a joy to see you. May you be anointed by God, and may your family receive His grace!"

"Hallelujah! Pastor Yarlin! Thank God for His guidance!"

William warmly embraced him without reserve, followed by Mrs. William, Lisa, Lilani, and the others.

When Little Ox stepped forward, Pastor Yarlin grew even more enthusiastic. After all, in over a decade, he was the only student admitted to Trinity Theology Department with a reduced tuition fee as an exception:

"Little Isaac! Praise God! Your coming will surely please our Lord. May God guard your heart above all else, for everything you do flows from it."

Faced with Pastor Yarlin's praise, Little Ox displayed a humility and respect he very rarely showed. It was practically impossible to see him wearing that expression in everyday life:

"Hallelujah! Mr. Yarlin."

Yarlin gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder, then turned his gaze to Xu Yun:

"Oh, my Lord, who is this?"

Little Ox motioned for Xu Yun to step forward, then introduced him:

"Mr. Yarlin, this is my friend from the East. His name is Fat Fish. He's joining us in worship today."

Xu Yun stepped forward at that and nodded to Yarlin in greeting:

"Hello, Mr. Yarlin."

Yarlin studied him carefully, then said:

"Welcome, child. May God bless you."

Note:

I was talking with someone in the group chat about revising the book, and suddenly remembered that its original title was going to be Technological Empire Starts by Eliminating Cockroaches. A lot of people rejected it, so I wanted to ask everyone: do you really think it sounds bad?

If you think it sounds bad, leave a 1 here.

If you think it's okay, leave a 2 here.

Let's see if I'm really that terrible at coming up with titles.