I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The mornings in Briston are gloomy.

The air was damp and cold, carrying the smell of coal smoke and the fishy stench of the river not far away.

In the industrial era, the rivers in the city were basically open sewers, and they were extremely smelly.

There was an old woman wrapped in a scarf selling hot pies on the street corner, one penny each.

The aroma made Richard, who hadn't eaten much that morning, feel a little hungry again.

Soon, the school bus arrived on time at 7:45.

Richard pulled his coat tighter and followed his sister into the line.

Evelyn had found two girls who were whispering to each other by a streetlamp.

Richard didn't go over; after getting in the car, he sat down by the window.

As he looked at the industrial-era scenery, he took stock of his own situation.

First of all, my health is poor, so I need to do my best to recover.

Breathing is improving, but we can't expect skill upgrades to replace proper health maintenance.

Perhaps we can think of a way to improve the meals.

Secondly, the family is under great pressure, and both parents are gritting their teeth to maintain a respectable image.

He was unaware of the extent of class mobility in the world.

But at least in this family, the idea of ​​"moving upwards" is ingrained in their very bones.

Third, the grades may not be good, but we'll find out exactly how bad they are once they get to the school.

Fourth... He glanced at the transparent panel.

In the "Body" section, only the "Breathing" option is lit up; the other three options are grayed out.

The three items in "Wisdom" are all grayed out, and "Spirit" is still locked.

The only thing that's certain right now is that [Breathing] is increasing, triggered passively, and he doesn't need to do anything intentionally.

As long as it's alive and can move, eat, drink, and relieve itself, it will move forward a little bit.

When the school bus arrived at the station, he followed the flow of people and got off the bus.

After entering the school, you must go to the chapel first.

Morning prayer begins at 8:00 AM every day, and all students are required to attend.

The chapel's stone pillars support pointed arches, and the stained-glass windows depict "Saint George Slaying the Dragon."

But the stained glass windows were old, the dragon's colors had faded, and St. George's spear was missing half its length.

Looking at it now, it's like a dusty old knight confronting an equally aged giant lizard.

The students sat down according to their grade and class, with boys on the left and girls on the right, clearly separated.

The principal sat motionless in the center of the front row, like a wax figure in a display case.

The pastor stepped onto the pulpit, opened the prayer book, and began to lead the recitation:

"Lord, teach us to be diligent in our studies, that we may become instruments of Thy purpose...

(Lord, teach us to study diligently, so that we may become instruments of Your will...)

Richard stood in the line, mouthing the words to himself.

How boring.

The pastor was still reciting, his voice echoing between the stone walls.

When the last word "Amen" was uttered, the entire audience repeated it.

The voices were uneven; some were devout, some were perfunctory, and some didn't utter a sound at all.

After the morning prayers ended and the crowd dispersed, Richard followed his classmates toward the teaching building.

The school emblem is engraved on the main gate of the teaching building: an open book, an oil lamp on the book, and a line of Latin text:

"Lux Rationis Semper Vincit.

The light of reason will always prevail.

………………

Ironically, the first lesson in the morning was about things that weren't so rational.

Mr. Hutton on the stage was probably in his fifties, thin, and a little hunched over.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he placed the chalk in the slot on the podium, "today we will talk about the rationalization process of mysticism."

Someone in the back row sighed softly.

Mr. Hutton ignored the sigh and continued:

"I'd like to ask everyone a question first."

What is meant by "misunderstanding"?

After a brief silence, everyone waited for someone else to speak first; no one wanted to stand out at this moment.

"Warren," Mr. Hutton said, pointing to the boy in the back row with slicked-back hair, "you tell us."

Warren stood up lazily and answered casually:

"Misunderstanding is... misunderstanding something?"

For example, thunder used to be said to be the anger of the gods, but now we know it's an atmospheric discharge. Is this a misunderstanding?

"Very good." Mr. Hutton nodded. "Then let me ask you, which explanation is more plausible: a miracle or atmospheric discharge?"

Warren frowned. "Of course it's electricity. Electricity can be measured, but God can't."

The professors at the Royal Society have already made this clear enough.

"Well said." Mr. Hutton paced back and forth on the podium a couple of times.

"The 'reality' you're referring to is something that can be measured."

So, if there's something that can be perceived and has an effect, but cannot be measured by instruments, would it be considered real?

Warren paused for a moment: "Then...that shouldn't exist. The perception might be wrong, but the instruments don't lie."

"Instruments don't lie," Mr. Hutton repeated.

"Okay, let's remember this saying; we'll need it today."

Richard sat in the third row by the window, his textbook turned to the corresponding chapter.

The textbook uses that standard narrative style.

Mysticism is a product of the limitations of human cognition in the old era, and with the progress of science, these phenomena have been rationally explained, and so on.

Mr. Hutton was talking about something else entirely.

He was talking about the priestly class in the Black Earth River Valley, how they wove together the astronomical calendar and the oracles, making the two inseparable.

Those priests were not the witches and shamans people imagined; on the contrary, they were among the most learned people of their time.

"It's not superstition that's clouding the judgment of science," he said. "Those people understand what they're doing better than we usually think."

He spoke of the temples on the Sea of ​​Aegeus, saying that those places were both religious sites and the earliest networks for exchanging information.

Pilgrims bring news, which the priests are responsible for organizing and interpreting.

They possess a classification system that outsiders cannot understand, turning seemingly unrelated information into useful predictions.

"The oracle at Delphi was very accurate," he said.

"But perhaps there is no God speaking at all, and the people there simply heard things that others could not hear."

"Speaking of this, you may have heard that the most popular social activity in salons in the capital is no longer Whistler."

Several students looked up.

"From duchesses to practicing lawyers, they were all keen to draw the curtains and light candles in their living rooms and invite mediums to communicate with the deceased."

There were whispers coming from the back row.

Mr. Hutton was not interrupted and continued speaking.

He spoke of the history of colonization and expansion in the New World.

He used several specific examples, all of which were ambiguously worded in newspapers, but in class he elaborated on the details.

Before a certain pioneering team disappeared, the three survivors each described the same sound;

Large-scale anomalies occurred in the area after the indigenous ritual sites were destroyed by the army;

There is also a government report that has not been made public to this day, with the conclusion section crossed out.

He left only one last sentence, which he read aloud carefully in Albion:

"We recommend no further investigation.

(We recommend halting further investigation.)

He put down the chalk and turned to the blackboard: "You can all figure out what this sentence means for yourselves."

Richard drew a circle on his notebook with his pen, wrote "Stop the investigation" inside the circle, and put a question mark next to it.

Just then, Mr. Hutton wrote something on the blackboard.

He had his back to everyone:

"Of course, the real danger has never been those country folk who put their hats at the crossroads as sacrifices to the 'road god'."

The chalk scratched across the blackboard as it finished writing a line.

"The real danger lies in what appears inside those hats."

Someone in the back row chuckled softly; it was Warren again.

"Mr. Hutton, are you telling a ghost story?"

"It's about history," Mr. Hutton said with a gentle smile.

"Everything that has happened in the past is history, including those parts that have not been recorded in textbooks."

After he finished speaking, he turned around and his gaze fell on the window seat in the third row.

"Williams".

Richard sat up straight in his seat.