Chapter 280 | Transmigrated with a Sanity Gauge

Lu Yuan looked at the concern in the man's eyes, and the weight in his heart lightened significantly. He gave a small smile.

“I’m fine. You should have felt it inside the barrier as well. Instead of worrying about me, you are to suspend all missions immediately upon your return and focus on recovering your Sanity. That is an order.”

The Nightwatchers nodded in agreement.

On the way to the carriages, a young Nightwatcher finally couldn't hold back his curiosity.

“Captain Lu, are you really only rank 2?”

His tone carried a sense of bewilderment, as if his understanding of the world had been overturned.

“How is your Sanity so staggering? I could feel it from inside the barrier—your output alone was equal to three or four of us combined.”

Another slightly older Nightwatcher shot him a look. “Ignorant. Captain Lu’s Sanity is at least at the level of rank 4.”

Lu Yuan waved a hand dismissively.

“The bonuses provided by my pathway cannot be directly taught. However, I do have some insights regarding Sanity cultivation. We can talk about it when we have time; it might be of some help to you.”

The eyes of several Nightwatchers lit up almost simultaneously.

“Great! You said it, Captain Lu! Don’t you dare back out when the time comes!”

“I want in too!”

“Count me in!”

The one with the nosebleed also smiled. Though his face was pale, his spirits had improved considerably. “Captain, if you teach us, I’ll buy you a drink.”

The tense atmosphere finally relaxed.

Lu Yuan didn’t say anything more, simply following the group toward the carriages.

The offer to teach wasn’t entirely out of politeness.

He intended to use this as an excuse to pry the Nightwatchers' internal Sanity cultivation methods out of Kraus.

Lu Yuan didn't believe Kraus lacked such knowledge.

A man who had reached the position of Vice Director couldn't possibly be without a few trump cards.

Outside the Polymath Tower, the carriage drivers shook their reins as the Nightwatchers arrived.

The carriages rattled over the gravel road, the copper leaf springs emitting a continuous creak.

Lu Yuan leaned against the wall of the carriage and closed his eyes.

The surrounding Nightwatchers were speaking in low voices; some had already fallen asleep against their comrades' shoulders, their breathing deep and heavy.

Now that he had confirmed all the Nightwatchers who came with him were safe, Lu Yuan activated his Inner Vision to scan his own condition.

The Knowledge Worm was still coiled deep within his left eye.

The freezing effect was loosening, and the shifting colors had recovered somewhat, though they moved much slower than usual.

A thin trace of blood-red had appeared within the shifting colors.

It had been picked up when he was frozen by the inscriptions of the five-headed entity in the palace. The blood-red was embedded between the flowing colors, a thin strand like a red thread tangled in a ball of colorful yarn.

The symbiotic link had resumed its faint pulsing. Lu Yuan tried to contact the Knowledge Worm; the creature felt incredibly exhausted, barely offering a few weak responses.

His body wasn't injured, but it felt like he was recovering from a serious illness—curled up and only moving occasionally.

Lu Yuan noticed that trace of blood-red and frowned. He would need to examine it carefully once he returned.

The Key floated behind the worm's body, motionless.

However, its surface luster was at least thirty percent dimmer than usual.

In the palace, the Key had released water from the Sea of Knowledge to counter the five-headed entity, an act that had clearly taken a toll.

Still, a faint light was slowly gathering around the Key, as if it were recovering on its own.

It was good that it could recover, but Lu Yuan had to remember that the Key was not an infinite ‘protective umbrella.’

As his Inner Vision session neared its end, Lu Yuan remembered that piece of information.

The record that the greyish-white text had cached at the very last moment in the palace.

It had been weighing on his mind, heavier than anything else.

He called up the record cached by the greyish-white text.

The greyish-white text surfaced silently.

【Target Detected: Nora (God-chosen Transcendent)】

【A human chosen since birth; she has finally come to her home.】

Lu Yuan stared at those two lines for a long time without moving.

Nora.

He hadn't known her name until now.

In the Sea of Knowledge, in the vortex, and in the palace, she had always been just the "little girl."

The greyish-white text had remembered a name he had never thought to ask.

“God-chosen Transcendent”... He had never actually seen this classification before. He only knew of it from casual conversations with Old Morgan and Kraus long ago. It was a transcendent pathway chosen by a god, and the most powerful of all pathways.

Clearly, passing the trial in that palace had merely been a formality; she was born to be chosen.

“She has finally come to her home.”

Lu Yuan had seen that palace with his own eyes—the blood-colored vault thousands of meters high, the remains of non-humans everywhere, and the black-red congealed matter filling every crack in the stone slabs.

The greyish-white text called that place “home.”

He remembered her final words.

“I don’t have anything to miss back there anyway. I’ll just stay here.”

At the time, Lu Yuan thought it was the despondent talk of someone with nowhere else to go, or perhaps her disappointment with the Polymath Tower.

Now he realized that it might have been the literal truth. She wasn't at a dead end; she had gone home.

The carriage passed over a section of gravel, jolting violently.

Lu Yuan snapped out of his focus on the greyish-white text.

He closed his eyes.

Nora.

He whispered the name in his mind.

Then he opened his eyes and looked out the window. The lights of the branch's main building were already visible in the distance.

The carriage stopped at the side gate of the branch.

Lu Yuan first arranged for the injured Nightwatchers to rest inside the branch.

He gave special instructions for the one with the nosebleed, insisting he go to logistics for a Sanity-stabilizing potion and forbidding him from any missions for the next 72 hours.

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard you, I heard you,” the man muttered as he was supported inside by his comrades.

The others nearby couldn't help but chuckle.

Once the arrangements were made, Lu Yuan did not return to his quarters.

He walked straight to Kraus’s office.

He knew Kraus would still be there; for a mission of this magnitude, it was impossible for the Vice Director to be asleep.

The office door was open, and the lights were on.

Kraus sat behind his desk, which was cluttered with several documents and a cup of cold tea. It seemed he had been waiting.

When Lu Yuan entered, Kraus’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, taking in his pale face, the bruised knuckles, and his slightly bloodshot left eye.

Kraus didn't say much, simply nodding slightly.

“Sit.”

Lu Yuan pulled out a chair and sat down, immediately reporting the events of the mission.

“An accident occurred during the internal operation of the device; my consciousness was briefly yanked and remained outside my body for a time. I have recovered, and there are no lingering effects.”

“All ten Nightwatchers have been safely withdrawn, though everyone suffered from Sanity depletion. One individual has minor cracks in his mental barrier and requires rest.”

“The Church’s blessings played a crucial role at the critical moment. Without them, the barrier might not have held.”

Kraus listened without pressing for details about the “consciousness being yanked.”

He picked up the cold tea and took a sip.

“I am aware of the Church’s involvement.”

He set the cup down and looked at Lu Yuan.

“You know your own body best. Rest if you need to.”

Kraus paused.

“But if there is anything I need to know, don’t wait too long.”

Lu Yuan didn't take the bait, instead changing the subject.

“There is one more thing. During the mission, I promised several Nightwatchers that I would discuss my insights on Sanity cultivation with them when I had time.”

Kraus looked at him.

“I have developed some methods of my own, but they are not systematic. If the branch has more structured Sanity cultivation methods or related materials, I would like to borrow them for reference. It is partly to fulfill my promise, and partly—”

He paused.

“I need them myself.”

Kraus was silent for a few seconds.

His fingers tapped twice on the desk.

Then he opened a drawer and pulled out a thin manual. The cover was heavily worn, as if it had been flipped through countless times.

He placed it on the desk and pushed it over.

“This is my personal property. There aren't many records inside, but it should be of some help to you. Remember not to share it lightly.”

Lu Yuan took it but didn't open it then and there.

Kraus added, “Sanity cultivation is a personal journey; everyone’s path is different. The methods in that manual suit most people, but they might not necessarily suit you.”

He took another sip of the cold tea, his expression unchanging.

“After all, your pathway is too unique.”

Lu Yuan didn't respond. He stood up and headed for the door with the manual in hand.

As he reached the door, Kraus spoke one last time behind him.

“What about those children?”

Lu Yuan’s footsteps faltered.

He knew Kraus was asking about the students from the Polymath Tower.

“Not a single one returned.”

Having said that, he walked out of the office without looking back.

Behind him came the sound of a teacup being set down.

It was very soft.

In the sarcophagus room.

Calvin and Selena had already been carried away.

A low-level mentor followed the contingency plan and removed the tome, closing the copper sealing box with a sharp click of the lock.

The sarcophagus remained in place.

The shutter of the observation window was open.

The girl in the sarcophagus looked slightly better than before; her face was no longer transparently pale but held a very faint flush of blood, accompanied by a faint trace of a tear falling.

Her lips moved slightly.

It was very subtle.

As if she were saying something.

But there was no one in the room.

No one saw this happen.

On the third floor of the Polymath Tower’s main tower.

The lights were bright.

The copper sealing box sat on a round table.

Arthur Heinz sat behind the table, his greyish-white hair and deep grey robes contrasting with the golden eagle emblem on his collar, which reflected the cold light.

Kame stood opposite him.

Arthur opened the sealing box and took out the tome.

He flipped to the last page and checked the page number.

Ten pages—double the predicted five.

The two men exchanged a look.

In Arthur’s eyes was a cold, unsettling satisfaction. Kame, on the other hand, felt the relief of a survivor; his mouth was set in a tight line, but the relaxation deep in his eyes could not be hidden.

Arthur said only one thing.

“Notify headquarters.”

Kame nodded and quickly walked out of the room.

At the very top of the Polymath Tower.

The wind was strong.

No one was there.

From the deepest part of the thick darkness behind the tower’s peak...

A sound emerged.

It was a burst of laughter.

Hollow and echoing, as if coming from very, very far away.

Then, the inscriptions on the tower top, which had been dim for a long time, flared briefly.

Then they went dark.