Bear School Astartes

Chapter 419. Bleeding

"Once again, my apologies, Regis."

Lann said as he led Bopai, following behind Regis and walking through a vast array of tombstones.

"But I must say, a barber-surgeon appearing in this large cemetery was indeed beyond my expectations."

At this moment, the full moon had risen high in the sky, and the fog that was originally tinted yellow by the setting sun’s glow had now turned a cold white.

Bopai was agitated by the sagebrush scent from Regis, now somewhat reluctant to follow. So, Lann had no choice but to struggle with his mount.

He didn’t want to use the [Yakxi Rune] at this time. As always, the brilliance of magic could scare away ninety-nine percent of the world’s people.

"Aren’t you afraid of ghouls or tomb banshees or anything? Those things are quite fond of cemeteries."

Lann asked curiously.

Though Regis was dressed like a countryside tax collector, his unhurried tone and refined grammar suggested he was of noble descent with a long history.

"Don’t worry about that, sir. This cemetery’s history is over five hundred years. Ghouls and tomb banshees aren’t picky eaters, but they’re flesh-eaters nonetheless, and a pile of bones over five hundred years old won’t attract them. So, although there are countless tombstones here, there aren’t any monsters."

"Oh." Lann smiled awkwardly. "I’m indeed unfamiliar with this place."

In fact, he should have been able to smell whether there were any carrion-loving monsters nearby when he first entered this cemetery.

But the herbal scent from Regis was too strange, too strong.

Being near him made it impossible to smell anything else.

Initially, Lann thought that this herbal scent was probably meant to cover up any corpse stench on him.

The demon hunter assumed this barber-surgeon was one of those industry pioneers.

In the ignorant times of medicine, the profession of a physician was often undertaken by barbers.

Because they also used knives on people’s bodies, though unlike butchers, they didn’t leave people unable to get up again. Their craft in wielding knives formed the foundation for their widespread recognition as physicians.

And in the pursuit of human medicine, there’s always a need for experimental and learning subjects—corpses.

In the early days of Lann’s homeland, London and Paris, the stolen items in grave robbery cases were often sold to these barber-surgeons for research.

But once they reached the cemetery, Lann immediately realized, just as Regis said, it was indeed a cemetery over five hundred years old.

There was no fresh human tissue in these cemeteries, only piles of white bones.

At the Magic Academy, they had already begun tissue cultivation, while normal civilian medicine was still searching for corpses... Such a divide in this world was evident at a glance.

The two men and one horse soon traversed the cemetery and arrived at a small wooden house.

As Regis opened the door, he spoke politely.

"Please come in. It’s not large, but at least it’ll save you from spending a night under the sky. There’s a spring nearby, and inside the house, there’s a stove that can provide you with something warm to eat. Would you like me to prepare some dinner?"

"No, no need to trouble yourself. I brought some dry rations, just a cup of hot water will do."

Lann first thanked Regis for his hospitality, then ducked his head and entered the house.

The inside of the cabin was quite dim, filled with a warm, intoxicating scent that made one’s nose itch—the scent mainly came from bundles of herbs and plant roots hanging on all four walls. There wasn’t much furniture in the room, including a simple bed also laden with herbs, and an old, weathered table covered with countless glassware, pottery, and porcelain bottles.

A peculiar, pot-bellied stove that resembled a bloated hourglass was burning coal, providing the room with faint illumination. Surrounding the stove were a web-like array of shiny, varied glass tubes twisted into arcs and spirals. One of the glass tubes had a wooden barrel placed under it, with some liquid dripping into the barrel.

Though the design had changed somewhat, Lann’s knowledge immediately allowed him to recognize what this glass apparatus setup was at first sight.

"An infusion stove, a distiller, a condenser... Did you custom-build this yourself?"

Lann examined with interest.

This era had no international standards to dictate what glassware in experiments should look like; it was all communicated between the user and glass craftsmen to acquire the desired equipment.

Variations in design were to be expected.

"Of course," Emile Regis modestly acknowledged, "my work involves making spirit medicine, which requires distilling mandrake root and extracting the fifth element from it."

"Wow," the young man couldn’t help nodding, "this kind of work content for a barber-surgeon is truly technical... Your shop must do well in business."

"My shop is in Dillingen," Regis said succinctly, his voice carrying a composed, tranquil magnetism.

"It does indeed do well, but I’m also very aware of the reasons why business performs well, which is why I take a few months each year to collect mandrake root here in the Fin Kahn cemetery."

Regis explained the reason for having an outpost beside this large cemetery.

It was Lann’s first time learning the name of the place was Fin Kahn.

The name sounded like it came from Elvish, which made it clear who was buried here.

When humans came to this world, they caused many massacres.

"Can I...?" Lann pointed tentatively at the small stove under the distiller.

"Ah, of course, please go ahead. What’s inside doesn’t need constant heating,"

Regis quickly said. As the host of the cabin, he even helped Lann remove the small stove.

This allowed the demon hunter to busy himself preparing a hot meal.

Regis provided him with an iron pot, and Lann fetched a pot of water from the spring outside the house.

He then placed his special dry rations in the water, setting it on the stove, waiting for the ceramic compound within to soften into porridge.

Regis seemed to be a very hospitable person, assisting Lann and adding fuel to the stove for him.

"Phew, as you can see." After a flurry of activity, Regis breathed out, spread his hands, and sat on the ground.

"My own bed has been given over to medicinal herbs, I usually sleep on the floor. You don’t mind the room being full of medicinal herb scent, do you?"

"Not at all. When traveling, having a shelter from the elements is more than enough. Once again, thank you for your invitation, Regis."

"No need for thanks, turning a blind eye to those in need while traveling is asking for a bolt of lightning to strike."

The flames in the stove were the only source of light in the house.

And when the pot was placed on the stove, the light from the flames flickered and dimmed.

Lann was fiddling with the iron pot when he seemed to get a cut from a rough edge left from poor maintenance and quickly pulled his hand back.

Regis’s gaze flickered: "Ah, please be careful, this pot is quite old, aside from the bottom, it’s probably all but ruined. Do you need a bandage?"

As he spoke, Regis was about to get up to assist.

But Lann waved him off.

Blood, with his gesture, splattered on the ground, appearing as small scarlet dots.

"No, it’s nothing, Regis. Compared to this small cut, I’m more interested in one thing..."

"What?"

Regis’s eyes, previously bright, lowered in response to this inquiry.

Lann softly uttered his question: "How long has it been since you last drank blood?"