My esoteric uncle Jules

Chapter 123 Old John's Abnormality
Jules looked in the direction of the sound.

Beside him, an unfamiliar old man staggered in.

Strangely, he couldn't hear any surging sound of blood emanating from the old man's body.

“Something’s interesting… Am I deaf, or am I deaf?” He raised an eyebrow and decided to follow the man secretly.

His actions were silent, without making a sound—the act of maintaining silence was itself part of the prayer, or rather, the ritual.

The cemetery was eerily quiet, with only the occasional rustling of the wind through the trees.

The surrounding crooked tombstones were shrouded in a hazy light and shadow, casting distorted shadows like countless pairs of prying eyes.

The old man walked with faltering steps, yet made no sound of dragging his feet. This unusual quiet made Jules even more wary.

Jules carefully controlled the force of each step he took on the fallen leaves so as not to make a sound that would break the silence.

The deeper you go into the cemetery, the thicker the fog that accumulates in the woods becomes, wisps of it clinging to the tombstones.

Throughout the journey, Jules patiently observed the old man's condition.

His skin was dry, his eyes were lifeless, and his body was hunched over.

Aside from the inability to hear the sounds of blood surging, the old man's movements were also extremely stiff, as if some obsession was driving him.

Not long after, the old man stopped in front of a tombstone.

This is deep inside the cemetery; apart from the gravediggers and those who have nothing else to do, almost no one comes here, not even when passing by.

The inscription on the tombstone, too, has long since faded into the past, lost to the passage of time.

The old man stroked the stone tablet, his lips and mustache moved slightly, and a glimmer of life seemed to appear in his cloudy, lifeless eyes.

Jules hid behind a tombstone not far away, holding his breath and staring intently at the old man.

The outline of the tombstone was vaguely visible in the mist, exuding an inexplicable sense of oppression.

The old man's throat bobbed, producing an extremely hoarse sound:

"I've come to see you..."

He didn't shed tears, but just murmured and stroked the stone tablet again and again.

After stroking it for a while, he trembled as he took out a bunch of withered lilies from his pocket and placed them in front of the grave.

Where he placed the flowers, there were many other flower stems standing side by side. Judging from the petals that were not yet completely withered, these bouquets were originally lilies.

The old man continued to stroke the stone tablet, but his movements gradually became somewhat hesitant.

"I have to leave now. It may be a long time before I can see you again."

He tilted his head back and let out a low, long sigh.

The voice seemed to be forced out of the vocal cords, carrying endless sorrow and resentment.

Immediately afterwards, his body began to twist in a strange way, and something seemed to be stirring beneath his originally dry skin.

Seeing this, Jules narrowed his eyes slightly.

He actually "read" from the old man's behavior the influence left by some kind of secret transmission.

A Gift of Pure White

[Quality: Second-order influence]

[Effect: When this effect is present in the environment, the deceased can be resurrected.]

[Description: My lips don't freeze from the cold when I talk about it. It's always like that.]

The old man's hands slowly slid off the stone tablet, his ten fingers curled like hooks, his nails instantly growing longer and gleaming with a cold light.

His shoulders began to shrug, and he let out low growls, his eyes turning into those of a wild beast.

He seemed to smell a stranger, turned around and sniffed, but found nothing.

Clearly, the ritual was effective.

Upon seeing this, Jules frowned slightly.

In that brief moment, the old man seemed to have completed a transformation from humanity to bestiality.

A strong sense of winter permeated the old man; though he moved, he was lifeless.

Undoubtedly, the old man standing in front of him, who had just been indistinguishable from a living person, was clearly a ghoul.

"No wonder I couldn't hear the rushing sound of blood earlier..." Jules shook his head, understanding dawning on him.

The ghouls were long dead, their blood dried up, so there was no ebb and flow of blood.

According to the boy, ghouls repeat the behaviors and habits they had in their previous lives.

In other words, the old man's act of offering condolences is a repeating behavior of the ghoul.
But the old man's behavior was much more vibrant than he had imagined—in fact, with a little disguise, he was indistinguishable from a living person.

That makes sense... Is this the principle of winter? The principle of things that have passed away and things that are not entirely gone.

The old man continued walking unsteadily deeper into the cemetery, and seeing this, he carefully followed.

He wanted to see where this "ghoul" was going.

The fallen leaves crunched underfoot, and despite Jules’s best efforts to control them, every tiny sound was amplified in the deathly silence, making one worry that the ritual might be disrupted.

However, as things stand, these ghouls aren't much stronger than the Deep Ones—but he will still be wary of them.

After completely transforming into the ghoul that Jules remembered, the old man's steps became heavy and dragging, a stark contrast to his previous lightness.

Each step felt like dragging a heavy burden, the fallen leaves crunching underfoot and echoing in the empty cemetery.

As they ventured deeper, the trees became increasingly dense.

The branches and leaves intertwined, almost obscuring the sky.

The few rays of sunlight struggled to penetrate the gaps in the branches and leaves, casting dappled light and shadow that formed strange patterns on the ground.

Jules could tell that in this deep place, even the tomb keeper might not come.

He saw no trace of any living person in the area, at least not on the surface.

The style of the surrounding tombstones is also quite different from those on the outer perimeter, clearly indicating that they are from an unknown period of time.

Layer upon layer of tombstones extend into the depths of the dense forest, silently recording the history of death that has permeated Blancouge for generations.

He keenly noticed a problem—the size of the cemetery seemed strangely large relative to the size of Blankocough itself.

Before entering the cemetery, he could even faintly hear the sound of distant waves.

He had been deep in the cemetery for a long time, but all he saw was the same dense forest, with no trace of "island scenery".

The cawing of crows suddenly echoed in the sky, startling Jules.

He turned his head sharply and looked in the direction where the old man was—there was nothing there.

Without him noticing, the old man disappeared right under his nose, and he was completely unaware.

“It seems that being cautious was the right thing to do…” Jules twitched his lips and looked at the old man’s tracks on the ground.

Although the old man had disappeared at some point, a series of footprints were left on the ground, stretching into the depths.

He looked up at the sky, confirmed that it was still noon, and then continued walking inside.

Since the priest said it was best to leave before dusk, he naturally wouldn't disobey.

Following the footprints, Jules finally saw a small grave mound, which had been dug up and the coffin was scattered all over the ground.

To his surprise, a familiar figure was huddled beside the grave mound—it was Old John.

The other person was sleeping peacefully with their eyes closed, like a baby.

He didn't disturb old John, but instead curiously peered into the grave mound to see what was inside.

The coffin was empty, with only traces of dust indicating that a corpse had once been inside.

Jules couldn't help but frown.

The coffin always gave him an uncomfortable feeling—a kind of instinctive resistance.

He glanced at old John beside him, pondering to himself:
Could old John have dug up this grave? But he's the gravedigger, why would he do such a thing? Or... is there some other reason?
"Wake up!"

He reached out and shook old John's shoulder. The latter groggily opened his eyes, yawned, and suddenly jolted awake, instinctively groping for something beside him.

After groping around for a bit without finding it, old John looked up and saw Jules in front of him, and was stunned for a moment.

"Mr. Jules?"

Jules stared at old John and said indifferently:

“You’ve made Bell so worried.”

Old John pursed his lips and murmured:
"I'm sorry, I'll apologize to him."

With Yu Le's help, he managed to stand up, and subconsciously glanced back at the dug-up grave mound behind him.

Jules noticed old John's gaze and casually asked:
"Did you dig up this grave?"

Old John answered almost instinctively:

"Yes...no, it's not."

His eyes darted around.

Jules sensed something was amiss, raised an eyebrow, and said:

"Then how did you end up here, and why didn't you go back all night?"

Old John shook his head and didn't say anything.

Seeing old John's appearance, his tone became sterner:

“I asked the priest. As the keeper of this tomb, how could you not know what the situation is like here?”

Old John paused for a moment, then said:
"It's nothing, really. I apologize for dragging you into this."

After he finished speaking, no matter how much Jules pressed him for answers, he remained silent.

Jules didn't ask any more questions, but he kept a close eye on things and noted down the unusual things he had seen that day, planning to ask the priest about them at dusk.

……

This time, after leaving the cemetery, we didn't encounter any more ghouls.

The old man selling books outside was right. Under normal circumstances, how could one encounter so many ghouls? An ordinary person would never see one in their entire life.

After leaving the cemetery and taking old John home, it was nearly dusk.

Even from a great distance, Jules could see the boy waiting at the door for his and old John's return.

Seeing the boy waiting at the door, old John seemed slightly moved. After his expression changed for a while, he finally sighed.

"Grandpa! Mr. Jules! Over here!" The boy waved excitedly.

The boy looked anxious, and as the two approached, he rushed to old John, his voice trembling with tears:

"Grandpa, you're finally back! I was so worried!"

Old John gently patted the boy's back, his eyes slightly reddening, but he remained silent.

Jules glanced at the sky and said to old John:

"I need to go find the priest; there are some things I need to clarify."

Old John sighed and said:
"Thank you very much."

The boy also bowed repeatedly in gratitude, almost kneeling down:
"Thank you so much for bringing my grandfather back!"

Jules simply nodded slightly:

"a piece of cake."

After exchanging a few more casual words, old John led the boy back into the house.

Jules stared at old John's retreating figure until the door slowly closed, then shrugged and turned to walk toward the monastery.

As the sun set, long shadows stretched across the town's streets, creating a quiet that felt somewhat oppressive.

Occasionally, a few barks could be heard from afar, adding to the desolation in the dim light.

The outline of the monastery gradually appeared in the twilight, its dilapidated walls covered with moss, revealing the vicissitudes of time.

The lights were on at the entrance, and a guard was standing there.

Upon seeing Jules arrive, he smiled and said:
"The priest is waiting for you inside, go quickly."

Jules stepped into the monastery. An old, musty smell permeated the air, mixed with a faint fragrance.

The dim light swayed in the breeze, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding walls, causing the shadows to distort and sway.

He walked along the familiar passage, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

Finally, Jules followed the instructions and arrived at the priest's room.

The door was half-open, and the light coming through was slightly brighter than that from outside.

He raised his hand and pushed open the door, revealing the scene inside.

The priest sat in an antique chair, with several ancient parchment scrolls on the table in front of him. Candlelight flickered on his bird-bone mask, outlining its mysterious silhouette.

"You're here."

The priest's deep, hoarse voice broke the silence in the room.

Jules noticed a hint of weariness in the other person's tone.

"Leave now?"

Upon hearing this, the priest paused for a moment, then slowly said:
"Wait a moment, I need to re-secure the sealing ritual of the ghoul graveyard."

Ghoul graveyard… Jules pondered for a long time, then said:
"I've found old John."

The priest nodded:
"I know."

He stared at the priest and said slowly:

"I also saw a ghoul in the cemetery."

Jules recounted in detail the behavior of the ghoul old man he had seen, as well as the various unusual things he had encountered along the way.

Although he couldn't see the priest's expression, he could tell from his unconscious leaning forward and upright posture that this news was no small matter for the priest.

After listening, the priest sighed and said:
"The fact that ghouls are constantly breaking free from the seal of the ghoul graveyard and leaving for the outside world is a very bad omen."

Jules frowned slightly and said:

"I originally thought the ghoul graveyard was some kind of evil place, but it seems it's actually used to seal away evil?"

The priest shook his head and said self-deprecatingly:
"Evil? Perhaps to such beings, the distinction between evil and justice is as laughable as a child's quarrel."

After saying this, he paused, and then said:

"As for the abnormality of old John that you mentioned... I suspect that he received some knowledge left behind by some being. Whether this is a bad thing remains to be seen."

Jules pondered for a moment and said:

"That coffin gave me a very uncomfortable feeling; it didn't seem like something a living person would use."

The priest smiled faintly:
"Are there still living people who use coffins?"

“No,” Jules shook his head seriously, “even the coffins for the dead are made by the living.”

"However, the coffin didn't feel like something from the waking world at all."

Upon hearing this, the priest lowered his head and said:

“I don’t know much about the occult, but since you say so, I will pay more attention to old John.”

Silence fell over the room.

After an unknown amount of time, the priest finally slowly rose to his feet.

“Come on, I’ll take you to see the so-called ‘silent housing’.”

(End of this chapter)