The so-called "public school" in the city-state of Prande is completely different from the real universities in the upper district. These schools, funded by the city hall, are not meant to cultivate true scholars. Their main purpose is to train skilled workers for the factories in the lower district and for the church's steam machines, while also providing basic literacy education to the public. Given this context, one can imagine the level of resources available at the public school in the Cross District.
This was Duncan's first encounter with Morris, but even with just a first impression, he could tell that this old gentleman was quite knowledgeable. He was the kind of expert who could spot an ancient artifact among a pile of junk at a glance and accurately state its age and historical background. Such an expert would be more than enough in the upper district's universities.
To put it simply, having all his knowledge in a public school in the Cross District felt like a waste. Nina had mentioned that hardly any of her classmates cared about what the old man taught; just staying awake during class was seen as a sign of respect.
Moreover, this Mr. Morris could pull out a large sum of money to buy a dagger from a century ago—someone who carries a checkbook doesn’t seem like an ordinary citizen.
Duncan thought for a moment. Asking directly, "How come you have so much money?" felt too abrupt, but he rephrased it more naturally: "I'm actually curious. How does a scholar like you end up teaching at a public school in the Cross District?"
"You're not the first to ask that," Morris replied, seemingly used to such questions. He smiled lightly while carefully putting away his things and continued, "There's really not much to it. I'm older now and tired of the intense academic atmosphere in the upper district's universities. Instead of competing with young people for limited resources, I prefer a quieter place to finish my research... and in my later years, I can pass on my knowledge to more young people. Isn't that nice?"
The old man seemed to be holding back part of the truth, but Duncan sensed he didn't want to go into detail, so he didn't press further. He casually mentioned, "But I heard from Nina that her classmates don't really value the knowledge you teach... In this tough lower district, isn't it a bit too far-fetched to chase the glory of the ancient Kingdom of Crete?"
"Even in the darkest alleys, as long as there are thoughtful minds, 'history' is always valuable," Morris shook his head. "It's because of the history of the past thousands of years that we can be where we are today.
"Human life is short, but our inheritance and respect for history allow civilization to last far beyond individual limits. This is also what sets us apart from those strange, blind creatures in the deep sea—they may be ancient, but they don't understand how to record civilization, and thus they can never erase us.
"Of course, Mr. Duncan, you’re right. In this lower district, few people are willing to listen to my lengthy speeches... But if I can teach just one student, I feel my years haven't been wasted."
Morris spoke slowly and calmly, then suddenly seemed to realize something, offering a gentle and apologetic smile. "Sorry, it's a habit of mine to lecture a bit."
"It's fine. I think it's very valuable 'lecturing'," Duncan quickly waved his hand. "In fact, I'm quite happy to talk with you—after all, you’re a history expert, and I’m an antique dealer. In a way, we’re in the same line of work."
From the perspective of "teachers," they were also in the same line—Duncan added silently in his mind.
"Honestly, if I only go by the first impression of stepping into this antique shop... I really wouldn't believe you when you say 'same line of work,'" Morris said, spreading his hands. "But now I somewhat believe it—you at least have one genuine item."
Duncan wore a calm expression, thinking to himself that it wasn't just one genuine item—at the moment the old man filled out the check, he had already mentally gone through all the inventory of the Lost Homeland. If he weren't worried about upsetting the market, he could have even planned the decoration style for the eighth branch by now...
After steadying his thoughts, Duncan continued to maintain a smiling and relaxed demeanor. "I heard from Nina that your expertise is actually in ancient history, especially the history around the ancient Kingdom of Crete?"
"Strictly speaking, there's only 'after,' not 'before,'" Morris corrected him immediately. "The ancient Kingdom of Crete marks the beginning of civilization in the deep-sea era. Before the ancient kingdom was the Great Cataclysm, which was the point where civilization broke. No one can clearly describe what the world was like before that time—what exists are just contradictory tales from various city-states."
Duncan pondered, "The point where civilization broke... like a 'horizon limit' across the river of history?"
Morris clearly heard this term for the first time. "Horizon limit?"
"It's a concept. In relation to the 'Great Cataclysm,' you can think of it as an invisible wall of time. Everything on the other side of the wall cannot be transmitted to this side, whether it’s optical observation or the causal connections of events—they are all cut off at that boundary. You can never stand on one side of the boundary and know what happens on the other side, as if the timeline of everything only suddenly appeared from that boundary."
"That's quite an interesting way to put it!" Morris's eyes widened slightly, even sparkling with a hint of light. "The horizon limit in history... a wall of time... indeed, very fitting! Mr. Duncan, forgive me for my initial misjudgment and... underestimation. You're more professional than I imagined. Do you often study ancient history as well?"
"No, I don't know much about ancient history. I'm just flexible in my thinking and sometimes come up with some interesting metaphors," Duncan quickly replied, knowing he should appear a bit ignorant. "But I am indeed curious about the events of the Great Cataclysm... You just mentioned that the mainstream academia has no consensus on the history before the Great Cataclysm, yet there are many contradictory records in the 'wild histories' of various city-states? What are those records like?"
"Just wild tales... but I have indeed studied some," Morris pondered and slowly began to speak. "For example, there was a record from the city-state of Prande, a handwritten copy from the year 1069 of the New City-State Calendar. The original is no longer traceable, but the copy describes the world before the Great Cataclysm like this:
"The world is a sphere, floating in the vast sea of stars, with countless celestial bodies dotting the night sky. There is one sun and three moons. Humanity occupies three continents, one of which is permanently frozen. Therefore, people built a device called the 'Dome' to cover the continent and create 'eternal spring.' The energy for this dome mimicked the sun in the sky, using some substance from the sea as fuel, and could last almost forever..."
Morris paused here, seemingly giving Duncan some time to think, remember, and organize his thoughts. Then he continued:
"On an island near Cold Harbor, explorers discovered a record carved into a rock. This record also describes the world before the Great Cataclysm. After much effort, scholars deciphered it but were left puzzled—
"The stone tablet describes a homeland called 'Mother Star' that has withered, and everyone is aboard a giant ship named 'Abinix.' This great ship can cross the sea of stars, using dust and gas captured from the void as fuel. The ship sailed for forty-seven thousand days and nights, suddenly caught in 'a great flash and vortex,' and then the ship disintegrated and disappeared in the whirlpool. The survivors emerged from the sea, leaving memories of their homeland in caves.
"Of course, these records are not as bizarre as the legends left by the elves of Light Wind Harbor.
"The elves have a lifespan of a thousand years, so their history should be more detailed and reliable than that of other short-lived races. Yet for some reason, the history of Light Wind Harbor is the most fragmented and absurd among all city-states. Many of their records have been twisted into unreadable 'lost scrolls' by unknown forces and had to be sealed due to severe pollution. In the oral poetry passed down by the elves, the world before the Great Cataclysm is described like this:
"The world is a dream, a breath taken by the great demon Sasuklaka in a half-dream state. The elves were born in the dream, maintaining Sasuklaka's peaceful slumber. But one day, the demon suddenly dreamed of a great flood coming. He woke up, and the flood leaked from his dream into the real world, sweeping the elves into reality... The great demon Sasuklaka vanished upon awakening, and the elves could never return to that peaceful home, settling down in the deep-sea era after the flood."
(End of Chapter)