There can't be a Harvest Moon in the RimWorld.

Gray scratched his head in confusion: "I don't think I've ever heard Grandpa mention this. I have heard that the ore in there is very pure."

"Never mind, I didn't expect you to be of any use anyway."

Gray, this master forging expert, was a self-taught amateur. Shebara didn't teach him any of the techniques he should have learned, let alone any background knowledge about forging and materials.

Even more unfortunately, Gray's forging philosophy was developed under my guidance, so it would be good enough if he didn't make things worse for me under these circumstances.

“But I think I’ve seen this style of thing before…” Gray said defiantly, racking his brains for some useful clues.

What do you know?

After thinking for a long time, Gray finally blurted out a sentence.

“I seem to remember seeing a similar pattern in Father Carter’s history book. I was in church with Yu and Mei when I happened to flip through the book and thought it was pretty, so I wrote it down.”

A priest's history book?

Is it that mysterious historical manuscript?

I recalled that history book, which was extremely detailed in its research, with various illustrations, paintings, field investigations, and extensive references, as if it wanted to include everything it knew. I also had a few clues in my mind.

Firstly, these two swords are products of highly sophisticated iron smelting, requiring advanced metallurgical techniques. Therefore, they must have been supported by a considerably large civilization. Even if they were located overseas, it's impossible that they would have left no trace of history.

If that history book truly contains a record of this pattern, then I can deduce which civilization it belongs to. Consequently, the mysterious structures buried in the mine can gradually come to light.

"Hmm...this is a good lead, I'll go ask about it."

Having made up my mind, I snatched the two swords from Gray and hid them at my waist, concealing them inside my trench coat.

Gray looked at his empty hands with disappointment and said reluctantly, "Boss, after you've finished asking your questions, you have to let me study these two swords! I feel that there's a technological breakthrough I'm looking for in them!"

"Next time for sure, next time for sure."

"Also, you should talk to Father Carter as little as possible; he's notorious for telling ghost stories," Gray added, apparently having received his fair share of threats from the unscrupulous priest.

Of course I know that. The existence of this priest is a disaster for the occult. Not only does he engage in feudal superstition, but he also particularly enjoys talking about strange and supernatural things, fabricating sensational news.

On the other hand, as the priest in charge of the town's church, he also maintained an extremely irresponsible attitude. He would throw away dangerous creatures without a second thought, turn a blind eye to potential dangers, and his only hobby was hiding in his house to sleep in, then using his dreams to scare people everywhere.

…………

After leaving the hospital, I walked about a hundred meters to the left and arrived at the entrance of the church.

The magnificent church still stands there silently, like an old man keeping watch, waiting for a grand occasion that may never come.

This church has never held a grand gathering or a lively Mass since its founding. And given Father Carter's attitude, it's highly likely that there will never be such an opportunity again.

I gently pushed open the heavy door and felt that the entire church hall was empty and cold, shrouded in an indistinct mist. This gloom was completely different from that of a hospital.

The terror of hospitals lies in their extreme coldness and desolation, like a skeleton with ice-cold skin and jade bones, coldly observing everything that happens, about to freeze all emotions. This environment evokes images of Frankenstein-like stitched-together monsters and mutated freaks, mocking the fragility of human emotions with a cold scientific attitude.

The terror of the church lies in an indescribable solemnity and immense pressure, like an iceberg about to topple before your eyes, a feeling of impending doom. The vast dome overhead also seems like a fragile eggshell, the terrifying dangers outside about to shatter the illusion of peace and reveal the true horror of the universe.

I stared blankly at the church ceiling, and it seemed as if I saw a face that did not belong to this world emerge from the religious paintings filled with stars, mythical beasts and monsters. It had a black, hollow mouth and blank eyes, looking down at everything below.

At that moment, the church felt like it had taken me back to a barbaric and dark Middle Ages, where cruel zombies, hidden vampires, ferocious liches, bloodthirsty monsters, and witches lurking among the crowd with their minds filled with forbidden spells roamed outside.

This church, like a last, lonely fortress, uses thin stained-glass windows to separate itself from terror, leaving people with the opportunity to gaze upon their true fears through the glass. From those fleeting glimpses, one can accurately discern the fear and helplessness in people's eyes.

"Father? Father, are you there?"

Since acquiring the Colonizer System, I've developed a mysterious intuition for external crises, almost a precognitive ability. This ability has helped me identify dangerous things countless times and provided me with accurate guidance.

Therefore, this time, I didn't dismiss my intuition as a misperception. I could only move forward more cautiously and carefully, hoping to find answers from the priest.

But just as I reached the middle of the church, a deep voice suddenly rang out, almost scaring me to death.

"In the boundless darkness, countless mysteries remain unsolved. Yet, there are always some curious people who bravely raise the torch of exploration in the darkness to peer into those mysterious, bizarre, and terrifying unknown worlds."

"Marcus, have you come here to find the answer in your heart?"

I don't know if you can answer or not. Did you copy that line from "Into Superstition"?

Chapter 244 Childhood Trauma

"Father...can you stop playing tricks on me?!" I was so startled I stumbled, only managing to steady myself by leaning against the chair beside me. I grumbled in annoyance, "Let me guess when I fell for it. Did I suddenly fall asleep when I walked in, and you sneaked into my dream?"

Father Carter, dressed in his magnificent priestly robes, stood elegantly before the pulpit and said with a smile, "Then you've guessed wrong. This time, it's not me who entered your dream, but you who intruded into mine."

"What a brilliant Zhuangzi dream of a butterfly..." I exclaimed. "Father, I'm a rough man. Could you please explain yourself more clearly?"

Father Carter shook his head: "I can answer that. But first, tell me how you realized you were in a dream?"

“That’s easy,” I said without reservation. “It’s mainly because your clothes are so clean and neat, Father, without a single wrinkle. How could a lazy…unrefined single man like you possibly do that?”

"..."

I think I saw the priest's expression on the platform suddenly freeze, and his hand, which was about to be raised, unconsciously stiffened for a moment.

“Marcus, I really don’t know why, but you always seem to have such sharp intuition at such unnecessary times…”

I said modestly, "You're too kind. It just so happens that my father taught me reasoning in Hawaii."

Father Carter frowned and thought for a long time: "What kind of place is this Hawaii?"

“Let’s go together sometime. Father, please answer my question first: why was the environment in your dream so strange?”

Father Carter stepped down from the pulpit, looked at me slowly, and spoke in a strange tone.

"Everyone's dreams are composed of various emotions within themselves. Remember, they are composed of emotions, not memories. And it is the fluctuations in emotions that affect the retrieval of memories."

"For example, if the emotion in a dream is joy, then the whole dream will be filled with the joy of being full, the joy of winning the lottery, the joy of a long-awaited reunion, and the elements within it will keep repeating. Even if there are some dream contents that I have never seen before, it is because they are combined with new content or reflect my inner thoughts and feelings."

As I listened, I couldn't help but retort, "That's not right, Father. According to your explanation, the emotions are consistent, but dreams often involve being startled. Why is that? And isn't it normal for emotions in dreams to change from joy to sorrow?"

Father Carter nodded: "That's what I'll talk about later. Actually, the consistency of emotions in dreams and the diversity of emotions in dreams don't conflict. Human emotions are very changeable, so it's impossible to maintain the same emotion for a lifetime, nor is it possible to have only one dream for a lifetime. Dreams are different every day, so it's normal for people whose emotions change quickly to have multiple emotions in one night."

Father Carter continued with an example: "For instance, if the initial emotion is sadness, and the dream is filled with details composed of sad memories, the brain will feel the need for comfort and will actively seek out happy emotions, relying on triggering happy memories to gradually achieve a transformation."

"But fundamentally, it's all driven by emotions, which is why various dream scenarios appear. It's not a result of chaotic collisions of memories. Because these memories aren't recorded in the brain in a coherent and logical way like when we recall them normally. Instead, they're deconstructed into fragments and factors, each labeled with a different emotion, and stored in various parts of the brain. When searching for memories in the subconscious, emotions always take precedence over chronological order."

"..."

Wait a minute... Father Carter, are you saying that I don't have these mind-polluting dreams because I know too much weird knowledge, but because I'm just a silly person?

“I didn’t mean that. But your reasoning is sound.” Father Carter once again used his mind-reading ability in the dream, seeing right through my thoughts.

I feel offended...

Father Carter smiled and glanced at me, then continued, “In my limited research, one can actually glean clues from the colors in dreams. Dreams differ from reality; primordial dreams almost never contain vibrant colors. For example, for people who are stressed or repressed, their dreams are often red, reflecting their emotional fluctuations—the entire sky seems to be stained with blood. On the other hand, in dreams where one maintains a calm and critical perspective, the color scheme is distinctly black and white, representing a detached and rational state of mind…”

"Incredible, Father Carter!"

This is the first time I've heard such a specific theory about dreams. Previously, both old Yorkson and old man Hook attributed the art of entering dreams to something called the "Dream Gate," as if simply entering this gate would instantly make one knowledgeable and self-taught.

Their insights, based on extensive knowledge of occultism and supernatural abilities, were truly a natural outcome.

Only Father Carter's description this time constructs a fairly reliable theory of dreams through various details of daily practice, peeling back the layers of various phenomena to restore them to a basic principle, and clarifying the truth of dreams.

Of course, this truth must not include the conclusion that "I am an idiot"!

"Father, why is your dream pitch black? As a clergyman, shouldn't your heart be filled with light, brimming with love and dreams—a pure white? And why is my dream a multicolored black? How do you explain that?"

"The multicolored black is probably because you're a sand sculpture."

Father Carter made no attempt to conceal his malice towards me: "Furthermore, white dreams are a color unique to those on the verge of collapse, not the holiness you speak of. Moreover, in principle, white is a paleness caused by excessive mental burden, and it has nothing to do with the nature of my work."

Hmph, Father, your in-depth research into dreams reveals that you've dedicated your finite life to the infinite cause of sleeping, doesn't it?

"..." Father Carter's expression clearly showed that he knew what I was thinking, but he deliberately pretended not to know and continued the conversation on his own.

"Of course, it's reasonable for you to think there's something wrong with my dreams. This goes back to the realm of psychology. The impact of a person's childhood experiences can almost determine their emotional tone and personality traits throughout their life."

“I was sent to a church school from a young age, and later went directly to a specialized school for clergy. I spent almost my entire childhood and adolescence in a very religious environment. Therefore…”

“Father, that’s not quite the right way to use it!” The blind student immediately spotted the crux of the matter. “What necessary connection does your religious education have with these kinds of demonic dreams?”

Father Carter said in a complicated tone, "Well... what I really wanted to say was that all the students at these church schools were masters of ghost stories, and they could even make the religious stories in the textbooks sound incredibly terrifying. It left me with deep childhood trauma. For the first three years of school, I was too scared to go to the toilet alone at night..."

Are you satisfied now?

Chapter 245 Historical Mysteries

“Father, I misunderstood you…”

I stepped forward and patted his shoulder with a sympathetic tone, "Is your bladder okay?"

"...I'm fine, thank you for your concern."

Father Carter slapped my hand away, sat down in a chair below the stage, and his whole demeanor became lazy and decadent again.

I can only pity his misfortune and be angry at his lack of self-respect. It's truly pitiful that Father Carter was sent to a den of charlatans at such a young age, and was so frightened he lost control of his bladder and bowels. But he shouldn't have become an accomplice to evil, cultivating frightening people as a hobby, and then spreading feudal superstition in Mineral Town…

"Don't slander me. I've never been incontinent. In fact, during my last few years at school, all I did was scare people to tears."

Why do you say such things with such pride? This is clearly bullying!

"I'm not going to waste time with your nonsense. What brings you here today?"

I glanced at the lifelike dreamscape beside me and once again felt the convenience of this skill, which is equivalent to being able to create a chat room anytime, anywhere.

“Father Carter, as a professional, you should be quite familiar with the strange events in this town. Do you know anything about the origin of these two swords?”

Even though I was dreaming, I still managed to draw two swords from my lower back without any hindrance.

"No doubt about it. I already noticed what you were carrying, so recreating it in the dream was no problem at all. Look at these two swords..."

Father Carter's expression suddenly turned serious. "These two swords... are not simple... Where did you find them?"

"The lake on Mount Mades. What happened? What's its origin?"

“Actually, I’m not quite sure either.” Father Carter looked at the two swords, frowned, and took out a thick book from the pulpit—the same old Voynich historical manuscript.

"Turn to page 79 and look at the second to last paragraph."

Following his instructions, I turned to the corresponding page and saw a mysterious illustration. The pattern on it was exactly the same as the pattern on the blades of the two swords in my hand.

Below the image was a beautifully titled, written in cursive script: "Pattern of a ritual object from a mysterious empire in Oceania, excavated from the ruins of the southern islands."

"Father, what does this mean? Why is there only this one lonely illustration without any explanation before or after it?" I flipped through the pages before and after, but couldn't find any relevant explanation. It seemed like a basic mistake caused by a typesetting error.

Father Carter hesitated for a long time before saying, "Because we don't know. There has never been a definitive answer as to the origin, meaning, and purpose of this pattern. The author of this book can only make a simple excerpt and guess about this most popular archaeological topic 120 years ago and put it in the appendix of the manuscript."

Is it that mysterious?