Chapter 326: The Place of Ascension

The Priyere family's hospitality at least served to maintain vital signs.

Kraft distinguished the identifiable parts from the food passing before him, selected a few that looked relatively safe to fill his stomach, then cleanly set down his utensils, pretending to be a Puritan highly restrained regarding gourmet delights.

The Baron expressed appreciation for this state of renouncing bodily desires and ordered the butler to summon a guide to lead the well-rested caravan to the monastery.

Although he had not been there for many years, the current Baron Priyere could still easily locate that building.

Standing atop the tower and looking in the direction he pointed, a gray-black corner appeared and disappeared amidst the chaotic masses formed by mountain vegetation and swirling mist.

That was on the other side of the basin, where the mountain slope, not very friendly, was occupied from its midsection by large expanses of exposed rock walls, like a wooden stake casually moved by the Heavenly Father, chiseled a few times, and driven straight into the ground, forming a fence with other Shanfeng to protect the human lambs in the basin.

The guide repeatedly reminded everyone to calm their horses in advance to avoid accidents on the only passable road.

It must be said that the person who originally chose the site for the monastery possessed far greater strategic vision than the local families; if this broken place had sufficient food plus a water source, even without specially built defensive works, it would be enough to disgust an attacking force until the end of time.

No matter how many troops, they would be blocked on the mountain path, with a maximum frontal force of only a dozen or so people, and some places would be even more difficult.

However, the part belonging to the monastery did not start from the mountain path.

Before stepping into the shadow of the mountains, they noticed some abandoned land and buildings, separated by an invisible boundary from the surrounding fields nearly ready for harvest, clearly distinct.

Weeds and shrubs that had rotated for an unknown number of years submerged the Tian Geng; occasionally, plump wild berries could be seen hanging on vines covered in fine small thorns, making the long-idle soil appear very fertile.

Climbing plants, like scales, covered the building walls; most of the woody parts had deteriorated due to erosion by the humid climate, deforming into a loose, softened, semi-rotten shape that sagged downward, while the parts rarely seeing sunlight were smeared with green and white spots in a truly nauseating manner.

But the main structure built of stone remained intact; one could discern stables, windmills, and even some houses for the farmers from their shapes, indicating that the former permanent population was no less than that of some small to medium-sized villages.

All this was part of the monastery's estate; according to the guide, many low-level cultivators and tenant farmers once lived here, but everything fell into ruin after the cultivators left.

It seems the Priyere family faithfully executed the will left by the Church; even under poor economic conditions, they did not put these idle lands to use.

The desolate scene extended all the way to the foot of the mountain, where the guide found a few dozing soldiers, or rather, hastily armed militia, whose calluses looked more like those from using farming tools than weapons, with dirt still remaining in the crevices of their fingernails.

The guard duty was probably more leisurely than that of most gravekeepers, after all, not even the dead would visit this place forgotten by the Heavenly Father for twenty years.

The guards, with sleepy eyes, cleared away various sundries, extinguished the cooking fires, and made way for the procession.

Kraft dismounted and stepped onto that road which had been repeatedly warned to be traversed with extra care, finding it differed greatly from his imagination.

Before they had walked halfway, they began to regret why they had unloaded everything from the carriages and switched to transporting it by horse.

This road paved with gravel, after twenty years, had not yet been completely eroded; even at its narrowest point, it retained a width of about one and a half loaded carts, and the surface was not much raised by overgrown plants.

At the inaccessible cliff sections, instead of constructing convenient and labor-saving suspended plank roads, a road was directly hollowed out into the rock.

The builders clearly loved their work, adding numerous carvings based on stories from the Holy Scriptures on the inner side of the road, seemingly hoping that passersby would linger longer to appreciate this costly section.

More than twenty years were far from enough to erase these works; mineral paint particles that repeatedly dissolved and dried stubbornly remained on surfaces where even moss could not grow, some trickling down along the carving lines, giving the whole a grotesque, flowing image where outlines and colors were disconnected.

The unpredictable wind directions in the mountains blew clouds and mist carrying light rain, slowing the procession's speed.

Brother Lei Mengde had time to explain the content to the self-taught team leader and his two disciples.

At the very bottom was the Prophet receiving the Ten Commandments, with followers standing closely behind the Prophet on high, receiving enlightenment from the upper part of the composition, while the continuous mountain slopes beneath cleverly utilized the deep brown of the rock itself, with clouds opening above.

He emphasized that the Prophet's robe was generally blue or purple to embody holiness and authority, while the mountains and clouds located at the lower left and upper right were decorative elements used to embody a sense of mystery; they were not the protagonists but were indispensable.

Many contents that passersby might glance over actually had corresponding default rules or metaphors.

Including the sequence of these relief paintings, starting with the Prophet receiving the commandments, moving upward to the birth of the chosen one: an infant with a halo born in a humble room, surrounded by angels and gathering flocks of sheep, where the sheep even had their own names and specific standing positions.

Such tedious details were actually reflected in the work, showing the effort invested.

Further up were the deeds of the Prophet and the chosen one on earth in the name of the Heavenly Father; it was truly remarkable that Lei Mengde could still treat these contents so seriously after his trip to the underground lake of Dunling.

Kraft and Kup, listening, could not say they were captivated; at best, they were drowsy, feeling a sense of confusion like entering a scenic spot only to find the tour guide was a history teacher lecturing on key points, secretly guessing whether those who previously fell had simply been dozing off, thus stepping into the void on such a wide path.

The fresh graduates from the Church school in Dunling might be even more familiar with these than Lei Mengde and had no interest in hearing it again.

Yvonne, however, showed considerable interest; this was the first time someone had told her stories exclusively. Although the content was slightly clichéd, she had hardly heard it before, and Kraft was obviously not someone who would have time to tell bedtime stories.

Having a single listener somewhat comforted Brother Lei Mengde, giving him the motivation to continue explaining.

The procession continued to climb in the drizzle, resting occasionally on flat clearings along the way. As they approached the summit, the rain finally subsided; the dim light pierced through the clouds and sparse tree canopy, falling between the wet eyelids, where the colored arc-shaped halos formed by refraction diffused in the dense mist.

Perhaps the first cultivator to ascend here saw a scene like this; the rainbow after the rain seemed like the Lord's revelation falling from heaven as the Prophet climbed to the summit. Thus, the site for the monastery was chosen.

But in the eyes of later arrivals, those mottled reliefs and changeable weather only brought an indescribable sense of oppression.

The sky within the clouds was close at hand, creating an illusion of suddenly walking from a church hall into a small, dark room; the infinite space beyond the field of vision triggered an instinctive unease of being secretly watched from the depths of primal memory.

The hidden pain in consciousness seemed to intensify; Kraft looked around alertly, but his intuition detected no strange aura.

However, Lei Mengde's explanation stopped; he halted before what might be the last relief, the information of which even a layperson could identify.

It was a scene of saints ascending to heaven; the gates of heaven stood wide open, clouds receding layer by layer and curling in a vortex, creating a sense of real dynamic space. Exquisitely carved, intricate wings spread out in the high sky in a welcoming posture; behind the doors and wings was nothing, neither celestial bodies nor carved scenes of prosperity in heaven.

Saints of transcendent status stood at the highest point of the mountains, while angels holding holy emblems, horns, and flags stood on both sides of the path to heaven, led by the Virgin Mary to welcome new members of heaven.

Believers in various postures looked up at the sky amidst the surrounding mountains; some were in prayer, others reached out as if to embrace and grasp a wisp of holy light, which was utterly out of reach.

"What's wrong? Do you want to rest for a while?" Lecturing while climbing was a high-difficulty operation that tested lung capacity, especially when the students weren't listening seriously; Kraft was quite willing to understand his physical and mental exhaustion, "But we will reach the summit very soon."

"No, no, no, just a small problem." Lei Mengde wore that uncomfortable expression one gets when an OCD sufferer sees a corner of paper sticking up and can't flatten it, "Something is a bit wrong here."

Out of respect, although Kraft actually didn't care at all, he was willing to play the role of an accomplice: "What is it? Could you explain it to us?"

"This mountain is not quite right; logically, the ascension should be on the Mount of Olives, the only mountain on a plain, lifted up by the Heavenly Father's miracle."

"Could it be that a stonemason who didn't understand carved it wrong?"

"Logically, that's impossible; this differs too much from the Mount of Olives; it absolutely wasn't unintentional; it's a bit like..."

Following Lei Mengde's train of thought, Kraft also observed this relief; the time and patience invested in it were even greater than in the previous ones seen, so there was no reason for the key points to be carved incorrectly.

However, the terrain in the picture was indeed not a peak rising from flat ground. The mountains were continuous and surrounding, actually looking a bit like...

【A basin?】