[{"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-338":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},2283816,4467,"Chapter 338: Treading the Wrong Path","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-338",338,"\u003Cp>Dominic woke precisely according to the biological clock formed during his studies, but it seemed far too early here—the daylight in the mountains was still struggling to find its way through Cengcengdiediedefengluan , leaving only a faint glow to outline the towering, undulating rock shadows.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unexpectedly, when they arrived at the stonemason’s home, they found him already prepared for departure, seated on a stone slab at the door, wearing a local-style straw hat, with a woven basket of supplies beside him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Setting out early was indeed necessary. By the time the three crossed vast wheat fields along the riverbank and entered the rarely trodden forest at the mountain’s foot, the blazing celestial body above had already begun its ascent toward its zenith.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had to pause for rest, eating the food they’d brought with water, preparing themselves for the climb ahead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To be honest, both men had already begun regretting their decision to conduct the on-site inspection. It was clear there was still a long way to go, and actual distance often stretched far beyond visual perception—so far that the presence of the village behind them had begun to fade.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They had never realized that those abandoned farmhouses and overgrown field borders had once been sources of safety.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the edge of human activity, only a fragmented path remained, its sides’ grasses leaning inward as if pulled by some invisible force, making it nearly indistinguishable from the background, like a thread of cotton ready to snap at any moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We don’t come here often, which is why we wondered why old John insisted on coming to collect plantain. Luckily, we kept our wits about us—otherwise, my poor grandfather would’ve suffered.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The stonemason went on to recount the events. He must have held some preexisting resentment toward old John, otherwise he wouldn’t have suspected grave-robbing simply because the man had visited.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet this place was hardly a good spot for gathering wild greens—the soil, mixed with stones, clung stubbornly to the mountainside, appearing incapable of retaining moisture or earth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hardy tree species dominated the primary ecological niche, shorter and more scattered than their counterparts elsewhere, leaving room for shrubs and weeds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gray-brown hawthorn branches, sparse with thorny leaves, grew tangled and dense, miserably guarding their shriveled, sour fruits with thick clusters of thorns—making it nearly impossible to reach into any thicket containing them, let alone pluck tender plantain leaves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even birds seemed uninterested in visiting; the unattractive vegetation also failed to meet aesthetic standards, whether for the living or the dead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The only redeeming feature was perhaps its actual height—the gaunt skeleton of the land naturally appeared more jagged and elongated than ordinary terrain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most middle-aged priests in the Church certainly wouldn’t like this place; it gave one the odd sensation that their hairstyle had been personally targeted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even with a guide, the climb remained difficult; even the stonemason occasionally had to pause, and Dominic suspected he was trying to determine where the half-abandoned trail jumped to next.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The endless, draining ascent nearly made them forget their purpose, moving upward only out of habit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, after an abrupt, unannounced bend, they came face-to-face with several rough-hewn stone steles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ground ahead leveled out, as if signaling an end. The vegetation was no different from before, yet even more desolate and dry; the unobstructed winds at height had torn the trees into chaotic, crooked shapes, their bark seemingly eroded and polished smooth, gray-white surfaces cracked with fine fissures—reminding one of skeletal fingers rising from the earth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beyond the gentle slope lay no higher ground—only an open, boundless sky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sky here felt different from the ground, but Dominic’s mediocre color perception and linguistic ability rendered it impossible to describe in words.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clouds rolled and drifted in silent, layered layers, yet no longer felt crowded; instead, they offered a near-empty vastness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were no birdcalls or wind sounds—emptiness itself occupied the infinite space, leaving nothing beyond silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only when the stonemason called out did Dominic realize those stones were their destination.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No wonder they’d been confused—this place didn’t resemble a cemetery at all. The tombstones were far smaller than normal, perhaps for ease of transport, or simply carved directly from the mountain’s rock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The stonemason’s grandfather’s stele was among the oldest, receiving no special treatment due to the family’s craft—only a simple church emblem, indicating his service to the monastery, distinguished it from its neighbors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pointing to the patch behind the stele now reclaimed by weeds and shrubs, the stonemason wept as he described how chaotic the scene had been, how the newly replaced soil differed entirely from the surrounding earth, and how that utterly immoral man had even left visible damage on the tombstone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two investigators absorbed little useful information from his account, listening politely but awkwardly, unsure whether to nod in agreement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As previously thought, too much time had passed—there was no direct evidence to pin the crime on anyone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Field could no longer contain himself and excused himself under the pretense of examining the site.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Left behind, Dominic attempted to ask questions, hoping to seize control of the conversation and persuade the man to abandon his grudge and return to mundane indifference.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“May I ask if any burial goods were left in the original grave?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Given the economic conditions of the Priell region, important items were rarely buried with the dead; the Church itself discouraged lavish funeral customs, favoring simple yet socially appropriate rites.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the kind of corpse theft common in Dunling simply couldn’t occur here—there was no medical academy nearby.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If old John was truly the culprit, he must have been certain the grave held something worth risking his life for—but that raised other questions: how did he know, and where would he have sold the stolen goods?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The stonemason hesitated, and Dominic, keenly sensing his unspoken secret, seized it as an opening: “The Father teaches us not to store treasures on earth, where moths and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You are all believers of the Lord—you should understand this truth, and should confide in me, for the soul’s ascent to Heaven depends not on wealth.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, no, no, you misunderstand,” the stonemason hurried to explain. “Because my grandfather was a devout follower of the Father, we followed his wishes and placed a few personal items he never parted with inside.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What items?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“According to my father, there was a copper holy emblem, and a gift he received for helping repair the monastery.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These didn’t sound like particularly valuable objects. Dominic knew such gifts well—mostly handmade holy emblems, holy water flasks, or a few pages of handwritten scripture, low in economic value but symbolic of faith and blessing; placing them in the coffin for spiritual protection was normal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the stonemason was telling the truth, then old John had no motive at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The young priest was baffled, his mind tangled in contradictions—perhaps the whole affair was simply a misunderstanding.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Why are you so certain it was old John who robbed your grandfather’s grave?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Only he came during that time, and when he returned, he always looked panicked, refused to answer any questions, and soon after fell to his death—it must have been the Father’s punishment!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fell to his death?” A plausible way to die—he had personally experienced the consequences of walking mountain paths in poor mental condition. “Where is old John’s grave?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That one over there,” the stonemason waved vaguely toward a spot with no stele at all, only a slight rise in the earth distinguishing it from the surroundings. “But there’s no body inside—otherwise I’d have dug him up long ago…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No body inside?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, none found. Sometimes it happens—probably dragged off by wild animals.”\u003C\u002Fp>",1286,"2026-06-20T02:15:56.940Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","10b4c36486669cc73218ff41d566366203c7f9bd91fc3742ba88a8cdd99b9cb1","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-339","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-337",406,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fnotes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-cover.jpg"]