[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies":3,"chapter-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-326":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Notes on Kraft Anomalous Studies",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2283804,4467,"Chapter 326","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-326",326,"\u003Cp>The Priyel family’s hospitality at least served to sustain life signs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kraft identified recognizable portions among the food before him, selected a few that looked safest, stuffed his stomach, then neatly set down his utensils, pretending to be a Puritan who strictly restrained his appetite.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The baron praised this level of detachment from sensual pleasures and ordered his steward to summon a guide to lead the well-rested caravan to the monastery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though he had not been there in years, the current Baron Priyel could still easily pinpoint the building’s location.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Standing atop the tower, following his gaze, a gray-black corner flickered in and out amid the chaotic tangle of mountain vegetation and mist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It lay at the other end of the basin, where the steep slope of the mountain was dominated from mid-height onward by vast exposed rock faces—like a log casually lifted and carved by the Heavenly Father and driven straight into the earth, forming a fence with other peaks to protect the human lambs within the basin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The guide repeatedly warned everyone to calm their horses in advance, lest accidents occur on the only passable path.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One must admit the original selectors of the monastery’s site possessed far greater strategic vision than the local family; this wretched place, if supplied with adequate food and water, would be enough to disgust any attacker into eternity—even without deliberate fortifications.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No matter how many troops arrived, they would be choked on the mountain path, able to deploy at most a dozen men across the front, with some sections even more constricted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the monastery’s domain did not begin at the mountain path.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before entering the mountain’s shadow, they noticed abandoned land and structures, separated from the surrounding fields—nearly harvested—by an invisible boundary, sharply distinct.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Decades of alternating weeds and shrubs had swallowed the field ridges; occasionally, plump wild berries hung from vines thick with fine thorns, revealing the soil had long lain fallow yet remained fertile.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Climbing plants, scaled like fish scales, covered the building walls; most wooden parts had decayed from damp climate erosion, sagging inward in loose, softened, semi-rotted forms, while shaded areas were smeared with green-and-white blotches that made one feel nauseous.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet the stone core remained intact, its shape revealing animal pens, a windmill, and even dwellings for farmers, indicating the former resident population rivaled that of some small to medium villages.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These were all part of the monastery’s estate; according to the guide, many low-ranking monks and tenant farmers had once lived here, but all had been abandoned after the monks departed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It seemed the Priyel family faithfully upheld the Church’s lingering will, even under poor economic conditions, refusing to repurpose these idle lands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The desolation stretched down to the mountain’s foot, where the guide found several soldiers dozing—or rather, hastily armed militiamen—whose calluses resembled those from farming tools, not weapons, and whose fingernails still held traces of soil.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their guard duty was likely quieter than most gravekeepers’, since even the dead never visited this place forgotten by the Heavenly Father for twenty years.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The guards groggily cleared away their clutter, extinguished their cooking fires, and made way for the caravan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kraft dismounted and stepped onto the path repeatedly warned to tread carefully, and found it vastly different from his imagination.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before they even reached halfway, they regretted why they’d unloaded their cargo from the carts and switched to horseback transport.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This stone-paved path, untouched for twenty years, had not yet eroded away; even its narrowest sections retained the width of one-and-a-half cargo carts, and the surface showed little uplift from growing vegetation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On treacherous cliff sections, instead of constructing convenient suspended walkways, the builders had directly carved tunnels into the rock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The builders clearly loved their work, adding numerous carvings depicting biblical stories along the inner walls, seemingly hoping travelers would linger longer on this immensely labor-intensive stretch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Twenty years were far too short to erase these works; stubborn mineral pigment particles, repeatedly dissolved and re-solidified, clung to surfaces where moss refused to grow, some trailing down the carving lines, creating a bizarre, dislocated flow of outline and color.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The capricious mountain winds carried mist laced with light rain, slowing the caravan’s pace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brother Raymond seized the opportunity to explain the content to the half-recruited commander and his two disciples.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the bottom was the Prophet receiving the Ten Commandments, followers closely trailing the Prophet standing high above, receiving enlightenment from above the composition, the rolling mountains below cleverly using the rock’s natural dark brown, while clouds above parted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He emphasized that the Prophet’s robe was typically blue or purple, to signify holiness and authority, while the mountains and clouds at lower left and upper right were decorative elements meant to evoke mystery—not protagonists, yet indispensable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Much of what lay unnoticed by laymen carried implicit rules or metaphors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Including the sequence of these reliefs and paintings: beginning with the Prophet receiving the commandments, ascending to the birth of the Chosen One—a haloed infant born in a humble room, surrounded by angels and gathered flocks, the sheep even bearing individual names and specific positions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All these intricate details were rendered in the artwork, revealing the immense effort invested.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Above that came the Prophet and the Chosen One’s earthly deeds in the name of the Heavenly Father; it was truly remarkable Raymond, after his journey to the underground lake of Dunling, could still treat these with such seriousness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kraft and Kup listened without awe, merely half-asleep, feeling as lost as if entering a scenic spot only to find the guide was a history teacher drilling key facts—secretly wondering if past accidents had occurred because people had simply nodded off and fallen from such a wide path.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The recent graduates from Dunling’s Church school likely knew these better than Raymond and had even less interest in hearing them again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only Yvon showed genuine interest—it was the first time anyone had told her a story exclusively for her. Though the content felt dated, she had rarely heard such tales, and Kraft clearly had no time for bedtime stories.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The lone listener gave Brother Raymond some comfort, motivating him to continue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The caravan climbed onward through drizzle, pausing occasionally on flatter resting spots along the way. As they neared the summit, the rain finally ceased; dim light pierced through mist and sparse tree canopies, falling on damp eyelashes, scattering rainbow halos in thick fog.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The first monk to reach this place may have seen the same scene—the rainbow after rain resembling the Prophet ascending the mountain, as divine revelation descended from heaven. Thus the monastery’s location was chosen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To later observers, the weathered reliefs and capricious weather evoked only an indescribable oppression.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sky within the mist felt unnervingly close, like stepping suddenly from a cathedral nave into a cramped, dark chamber; the boundless space beyond the field of vision stirred primal instincts of being watched from the shadows.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The hidden ache in his mind seemed to intensify; Kraft scanned warily, yet his instinct detected no unusual scent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Raymond’s explanation halted—he stood before what might be the final relief, its meaning discernible even to laymen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It depicted a saint ascending to heaven: the gates of heaven wide open, clouds diminishing layer by layer, swirling into a vortex, creating a sense of dynamic spatial depth. Exquisitely carved, intricate wings stretched high, in a welcoming posture; behind the gates and wings lay nothing—no celestial bodies, no depictions of heaven’s splendor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The exalted saints stood atop the highest peaks, angels holding holy emblems, trumpets, and banners flanking the path of ascent, led by the Virgin Mary, welcoming the new member of heaven.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Believers of varied postures gazed upward, encircled by mountains—some in prayer, others reaching out as if to embrace a strand of holy light, impossibly distant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s wrong? Need a rest?” Kraft said, knowing lecturing while climbing was a grueling test of lung capacity, especially when students weren’t paying attention—he was happy to sympathize with Raymond’s exhaustion, “But we’re almost at the top.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, no, just a small issue.” Raymond wore the expression of an obsessive-compulsive seeing a corner of paper curl and refusing to flatten, “Something’s off here.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Out of respect, though Kraft truly didn’t care, he played along: “What’s wrong? Could you explain?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This mountain is wrong. Ascension should occur on the Mount of Olives—a solitary hill rising from a plain, lifted by the Heavenly Father’s miracle.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Could an ignorant stonemason have carved it wrong?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Logically impossible. This differs too drastically from the Mount of Olives—it’s certainly not accidental. It’s more like...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Following Raymond’s line of thought, Kraft studied the relief again, investing more time and patience than he had for any previous carving—there was no reason for such a critical error.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet the terrain in the image was clearly not a flat plain rising abruptly—it was a chain of surrounding mountains, somewhat resembling...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>【Basin?】\u003C\u002Fp>",1476,"2026-06-20T02:15:56.940Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","c56440539c32c9fd58a944dc4587fb999b6468f25f4eae55eb35b6d0842add9c","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-327","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-325",406,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fnotes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-cover.jpg"]