Knowledge Corruption

Hutton's class was the last one in the afternoon.

It covered the city-state politics during the decline of the Aegeus Sea civilization, which had nothing to do with the occult and fell under the category of a standard history lesson.

But Richard listened very carefully; Hutton had a habit of burying foreshadowing in the corners of every lecture.

After the bell rang, the students surged toward the door like water released from a sluice gate.

Richard deliberately slowed his movements as he packed his bag.

Once only he and Hutton remained in the classroom, he zipped up his bag and walked to the front of the podium.

"Sir, I have a question I'd like to ask."

Hutton was putting his lecture notes into a folder. "Go ahead."

"You mentioned the Delphi Oracle in the last class. I've been reading some materials on ancient priestly knowledge systems recently, and there's one question I haven't been able to figure out."

He phrased his words carefully, letting every word pass through his mind before letting it out:

"Do you think those priests' 'predictions' came purely from information synthesis, or were there other factors involved?"

Hutton placed the folder on the desk, and the way he looked at Richard changed.

It wasn't the way a teacher looked at a student; it was closer to how one might look at a potential peer.

"The question you're asking is already beyond the scope of the textbook."

"I know."

The old man took out his pipe and reached for a lighter, but after glancing at Richard, he ultimately didn't light it.

"Williams, have you ever heard of a term—Aether?"

Richard recited the answer he had prepared long ago:

"The Greek word pneuma, Spirit Breath or the breath of life. The Stoic School used it to refer to the rational force that permeates all things, and Aristotle also used a similar concept when discussing celestial motion, as an alias for the fifth element."

"Textbook answers." Hutton smiled. "Not bad, but incomplete."

"The ancients chose this word because, under certain training, people can indeed perceive things that do not belong to the air."

Hutton rubbed the pipe in his hand.

"Of course, within the contemporary scientific framework, there is no evidence to support this. The professors at the Royal Society would say it's psychological suggestion, and I am required to teach it that way in class."

He set the pipe back on the table and sat on the edge of the podium.

"But personally, I believe a truly rigorous scholar should not conclude that something does not exist simply because it cannot be measured by existing instruments. What do you think?"

"I think you're right," Richard said. "The range of instrument measurement is constantly expanding; people three hundred years ago couldn't measure electromagnetic waves either."

The old man nodded, looking somewhat gratified.

Richard seized this gap to tentatively steer the topic elsewhere:

"Sir, I ran into Lillian Hayward on the third floor of the library. She seems to go to that floor quite often."

The old man's eyebrows arched, and he teased:

"Williams, isn't it a bit inappropriate for you to be asking me about a female classmate?"

"That's not what I meant..."

"Young man, it's normal to notice a pretty girl."

Hutton waved his hand with an "I understand" expression. "But asking about this in front of a teacher—I can't exactly play matchmaker for you, can I?"

Richard felt a bit helpless; the old man had diverted the topic cleanly and efficiently.

But precisely because the diversion was so smooth, he confirmed that the other party had no intention of revealing any information on this matter.

Of course, that in itself was information.

He put away his probing and turned to the question he really wanted to ask: "Sir, I've finished Appendix C."

"Three days, including the decryption of the code."

Hutton's expression turned serious. "Three days?"

Richard did not deliberately hide his light; only by letting the other party know his true level could he obtain the next step of guidance.

"The second part mentions the classification of the Breathing Technique, but it doesn't provide specific cultivation methods. I want to find those methods."

The old man stared at him:

"Do you know why I used such a troublesome method to make you decipher it yourself, rather than just telling you the content directly?"

"Screening," Richard said.

"Elaborate."

"You must need to confirm two things. First, whether I have a sufficient knowledge base to understand that content;"

"Second, do I have enough prudence to handle that content?"

"Not entirely correct, but close enough." Mr. Hutton stood up and pushed his chair back under the desk.

"There is a third thing. I need to confirm whether you have enough discretion to know what can be asked and what you must find the answers to on your own."

He walked to the window and shut it tight.

"Williams, the reason some knowledge is encrypted, written in code, and hidden in the appendices of obscure books isn't because the authors enjoyed being pretentious."

"It is because that knowledge itself carries a certain... corruption."

"Occult knowledge written in plain text can place a heavy burden on those who read it without the proper foundation."

"The mildest result is a headache and hallucinations; as for the severe ones... you probably don't want to know."

"Encryption is a protective mechanism; those who can decipher it usually possess the foundation to withstand the content."

Richard marked this information as the highest priority in his mind.

Knowledge corruption, combined with the word "Wandering Soul" in the warning at the end of the third part of Appendix C—the world behind The Veil was indeed extremely dangerous.

"So, the specific details of the Breathing Technique..."

Mr. Hutton interrupted him:

"Have you counted how many books are on that shelf you saw on the third floor?"

Richard recalled, "About twenty or so."

"Correct. What you can decipher from them depends on your own ability."

The old gentleman picked up a red pen and began annotating his lesson plan.

"Some books contain nothing at all; they are just legitimate academic literature."

"Some books hide appendices, some hide them in the main text, and some only contain half a sentence."

He didn't look up as he said, "I've pointed you to the bookshelf; everything else is up to you."

"Furthermore, I suggest you treat deciphering as a long-term skill to cultivate."

The tip of the pen drew a red line across the paper.

"If you want to go further in this line of work, you will only encounter more and more complex encrypted texts. If you can't read them, you won't be able to enter the next door."

Richard nodded. "I understand. Thank you, sir."

He turned and walked toward the door.

"Williams."

"Yes, sir?"

"The Cicero Cup is more important than you think. Prepare well and don't get distracted."

The door closed.

Mr. Hutton set down the red pen, leaned back in his chair, and looked at the old map on the opposite wall.

The map depicted the coastline of the New Continent; the edges were curled, and the thumbtacks had left rusty brown stains.

He weighed his two students against each other in his mind.

Lillian, that girl, has good learning ability and sufficient sensitivity to steganographic text.

She took that book last month and spent two weeks restoring the code in the appendix with an accuracy rate of about seventy percent.

For a student with no background in deciphering, that was quite impressive.

But Lillian hadn't come to see him on her own initiative after that; he didn't know if she was afraid to ask or simply didn't want to delve deeper.

Richard Williams deciphered all the codes in three days, including that second layer of nested substitution.

Now, he had taken the initiative to ask about the Breathing Technique, and his questions were precise and restrained.

This child knows where he stands and where to go next, which shows he possesses clear self-planning and sufficient drive.

Mr. Hutton twisted the cap onto his red pen and tucked it into his breast pocket.

When he was young and studying in the Imperial Capital, all the clever people in the empire gathered there; geniuses were as common as copper pennies.

But the gap between people, aside from talent itself, lies in that drive to push forward.

Lillian would push the door open a crack, peek inside, and if it felt too dark, she would retreat.

Richard, after pushing the door open, would first call out to judge the size of the space by the echo before deciding whether to walk in.

The latter is much more dangerous than the former, but it also yields much more.

The old man sighed and closed the lesson plan.

"This young man..." he muttered to himself.