Krafft's Anomaly Notes

Chapter 345: Wrong Path

Dominic woke up exactly according to the biological clock he developed during his school days, but it seemed a little too early here. The daylight in the mountains was still trying to find a way out among the numerous peaks, and only a layer of faint light highlighted the huge shadows of the undulating rocks.

Unexpectedly, when they arrived at the stonemason's house, they found that the other party had already prepared to set off. He was sitting on the stone slab at the door, wearing a local-style straw hat and with a backpack filled with sundries beside him.

It was indeed necessary to set off early. When the three of them walked along the river bank through the large wheat fields and stepped into the shade of the trees at the foot of the mountain where few people had been, the blazing celestial body above their heads had already begun to move to its highest point.

They had to take a short break, eat the food they brought with water, and prepare for the next climb.

To be honest, the two of them had already begun to regret agreeing to the on-site inspection. It seemed that there was still a long way to go, and the actual distance was often farther than the visual distance, so far that the presence of the villages and towns behind them began to fade.

They never realized that those abandoned farmhouses and barren fields were once the source of security cues.

When you reach the edge of human activity, there is only an intermittent path. The grass on both sides seem to be leaning towards the road under the pull of some invisible force, making it difficult to distinguish it from the background, like a cotton thread that may break at any time.

"We don't come here often, so I wonder why old John had to come here to pick plantain. Fortunately, he was careful, otherwise my poor grandfather would have suffered."

The stonemason talked about what happened at that time again. He must have had some prejudice against Old John, otherwise he would not have suspected him of tomb robbery just because he came here.

However, this is indeed not a good place for picking wild vegetables. The soil mixed with stones is attached to the mountain, and it looks difficult to retain water and soil.

Hardy tree species occupy the main ecological niches, being shorter and more scattered than their counterparts elsewhere, leaving room for shrubs and weeds.

The gray-brown hawthorn branches and thorny leaves are sparse and tangled, and they stingily protect the dry and sour fruits with heavy thorns, making it almost impossible to reach into the bushes where they exist, let alone pick the young plantain leaves.

It seems that even birds have no interest in visiting this place, and the poor-looking vegetation does not conform to the aesthetic standards of living, whether for the living or the dead.

The only commendable thing is that he does look taller, as his skinny frame would make him look more rugged and slender than a normal person.

At least most middle-aged priests in the church would not like this place, as they always have the illusion that their hairstyle is being targeted.

Even with someone leading the way, the climbing process was still not smooth. Even the stonemason himself occasionally needed to stop for a moment. Dominic guessed that he was thinking about where the next section of this semi-abandoned road would jump to.

The long and endless consumption almost makes people forget the purpose and just keep moving forward.

So after an unexpected turn, they ran head-on into several rough-looking stone tablets.

The road ahead flattens out, as if hinting at the end. The vegetation is the same as before, only more desolate and dry. The uncovered air currents from high above tear the trees into disarray and become crooked. The bark seems to have been eroded and polished, with tiny cracks dotted on the smooth, grayish-white surface, reminiscent of skinny finger bones sticking out from the ground.

There is no higher place after the gentle slope, leading to the open and empty sky.

The sky here feels a little different from the ground, but Dominic's mediocre color vision and language skills make it impossible to translate it into words.

The clouds rolled and floated silently, layer upon layer, but there was no longer a sense of crowding, but instead there was an almost empty void.

There was no sound of birdsong or wind, the void itself occupied an infinite space, so there was nothing outside of silence.

It was not until the stonemason tried to greet him that Dominic realized that those stone tablets were the destination of this trip.

It's no wonder they were here, this place really didn't look like a cemetery, and the tombstones were much smaller than normal, probably to facilitate transportation, or they were simply carved from the stones on the top of the mountain. The tombstone of the stonemason's grandfather was one of the older ones, and he didn't receive much treatment for his craftsmanship. He only had a simple church emblem compared to his neighbors, indicating his experience in serving the monastery.

Pointing to the plot of land behind the tombstone that had been re-covered by weeds and shrubs, the stonemason tearfully described how messy the scene was at the time. The layer of soil now covered was completely different from the one next to it. The guy with no moral bottom line even left traces of destruction on the tombstone.
The two people who came with the investigation did not absorb much useful information from it. They listened to the description awkwardly but politely, not knowing whether they should nod in response.

As I thought before, too much time has passed and there is no evidence to directly determine who did it.

Field finally couldn't bear it anymore and left under the pretext of checking the scene.

Dominic, who was left behind, tried to ask questions proactively, hoping to shift the initiative into his own hands and persuade the other party to give up their hatred and return to their daily routine.

"Excuse me, are there any burial objects left in the tomb?"

After all, given the economic conditions of the Priyère Territory, it is customary to seldom allow any important items to be buried with the deceased. The church itself does not support extravagant funeral customs, and prefers a simple form that maintains good interpersonal relationships.

However, the basic conditions for the typical corpse theft case in Dunling do not exist here, after all, there is no medical school nearby.

If it was Old John who did it, he should be very sure that there was something in the tomb worth risking, but this raises other questions - how did he know and where could he sell the stolen goods.

"This……"

The stonemason hesitated, but Dominic keenly discovered the unspeakable secret and used it as a breakthrough point. "Our heavenly Father teaches us not to store up for ourselves treasures on earth, where moths and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal."

Read more latest popular novels at 6.9*shuba!

"You are all believers of the Lord, so you should understand this truth and confess everything to me, because the soul's ascension to heaven is not determined by the amount of wealth."

"No, no, no, you misunderstood." The stonemason explained quickly, "Because my grandfather was a devout believer in God, we followed his instructions and put a few of his personal belongings in there."

"What is it?"

"According to what my father said, there is a bronze holy emblem and a gift in return for helping to repair the monastery."

It doesn't sound like something of particular value. Dominic understood that these return gifts were mostly small items with limited economic value, such as handmade holy emblems, holy water bottles, and one or two pages of handwritten scriptures made by the monks in their spare time. They were meant to show the transmission of faith and blessings, and it was normal to put them in the coffin for blessing.

If the stonemason said so, then Old John shouldn't even have a motive to commit the crime.

The young monk hissed in confusion, feeling that there were logical contradictions everywhere. Perhaps the whole thing was just a misunderstanding.

"Why are you so sure that it was Old John who robbed your grandfather's grave?"

"During that period, I only saw him come here, and he always looked flustered after he came back. He wouldn't say anything when asked. Not long after, he fell to his death. It must be a punishment from God!"

"He fell and died?" That was a reasonable way to die. He had already experienced the consequences of walking on mountain roads when he was not in a good mental state. "What about old John's grave? Where is it?"

"That one over there is his." The stonemason pointed to a place where there was no stone tablet. Only the slight undulations of the land showed that it was different from the surrounding area. "But there is no one inside, otherwise I would have dug it for him a long time ago..."

"There's no body in there?"

"No, I didn't find it. It happens sometimes. Maybe it was dragged away by a wild animal."