Chapter 339: Disturbing the Layers

“If the Heavenly Father has already delivered punishment, causing him to die in the wild with no trace of his body, isn’t that enough?” Dominic asked.

What the other party was struggling with wasn’t the past itself, but rather wanted to definitively settle the long-standing conflict between the two families—yet they couldn’t believe one side’s word without evidence.

To quickly move into the phase of mediation, he seized on this point and prepared to close the matter once and for all.

“After death, the Heavenly Father decides the fate of his soul—that is an absolutely just judgment. The living can never know all things or see all things; speculating about events they never witnessed only leads us to commit the sin of arrogance and overreach.”

We cannot handle this matter. I advise you to stop here, or else you will be defying the Heavenly Father’s authority.

As expected, the stonemason hesitated. The will of the Heavenly Father might be vague and intangible, but openly disrespecting Him in front of cultivators would surely bring him no good days ahead.

Dominic pressed on: “If you still have doubts, you may invite old John’s son to come with you—see if he dares swear before the Heavenly Father that his father never desecrated another’s grave. If he speaks even one lie, let him be punished after death.”

“What if it’s true, but he simply doesn’t know?”

“Then it means he had no part in his father’s sins—you should resolve this misunderstanding and restore goodwill. Being neighbors, gaining one more friend and losing one more enemy is surely two good things.”

“Huh?”

The stonemason vaguely sensed something was off—how could both sides sound reasonable, yet he had no way to refute them.

“You may go home and think about whether this logic holds. Feuds are better resolved than entrenched.” Dominic spoke sincerely—he truly believed there was no better solution.

“We still need to pray for the dead and soothe the disturbed spirits. You may return home and reflect on whether this logic holds—the Heavenly Father’s door always remains open to those with a forgiving heart.”

“Ah, thank you, Father. I’ll go home and think about it.” The stonemason nodded, half-understanding.

“Hey, I’m not...” Dominic had wanted to correct the title, but realized the man likely didn’t understand church hierarchy—he bit back the words, helplessly swallowing them.

For ordinary people, anyone who helped mediate was simply a “Father”—what difference did it make?

As the man prepared to leave, Dominic suddenly realized he’d made a small mistake by rushing to send him away.

The mountain terrain was winding and uneven; without someone to guide them, they’d struggle to find their way back. But the words were already spoken—stopping him now would seem unprofessional, so he changed his approach.

“By the way, you mentioned old John’s body was dragged off by beasts, so it couldn’t be found?”

He hoped the man would catch the implication—the mountain was dangerous; it would be best to stay until the two cultivators finished their prayers and returned together.

“Yes, that fellow went up the mountain one day and never came back. The next day, we only found his dropped belongings, and we didn’t see anything in the valley below.”

Sweat began to bead on Dominic’s back. “What kind of beasts are there on this mountain?”

It didn’t sound like small animals—only a pack of wolves or a large beast could have left no trace of a corpse overnight?

Even with weapons, the two of them might not be able to handle such a threat.

Yet the stonemason showed no fear—he didn’t even seem to be thinking along the same lines, as if the possibility of attack had never crossed his mind.

“I’m not sure. Maybe wolves?” His answer was full of uncertainty, and even “maybe” felt shaky. “I’ve never seen one.”

“Who said that?”

“Um... everyone says so. There must be some.” The stonemason rubbed his dusty hair, struggling to recall where this common knowledge came from. “Otherwise, where did those missing people go?”

For his own safety, Dominic decided to ask a few more questions. “Has anyone actually seen them?”

“Not in recent years. Occasionally, stray animals that kill livestock are just wildcats or foxes—small things.”

Perhaps sensing the cultivator’s concern, he added: “Maybe it’s the Heavenly Father’s protection—I’ve never heard of beasts attacking living people since I was a child. Even wild boars or lynxes—the baron can easily gather a few hunters to deal with them.”

“You needn’t worry too much. We’ve come up this mountain many times—we’ve never seen anything larger than a wildcat.”

“Oh, of course not. We have this.” Dominic relaxed slightly, lifting his belt-hung sword. Though it had never drawn blood, if a wildcat or fox dared approach, they’d make a fine dinner.

Watching the stonemason disappear around the bend, Dominic remained motionless for a long time. There was one final worry he hadn’t voiced.

Could it be that everyone who encountered them never returned?

“What are you thinking about?” Field walked up from behind and slapped his shoulder.

“I’m wondering which prayer to recite next.” Dominic shook off the hand on his shoulder and asked, “You wandered around for so long—did you find anything?”

It was a casual question, not expecting an answer—the odds of an angel appearing to grant revelation were higher than them uncovering the truth themselves.

“Actually, I did.” Field raised his broken pickaxe, its head smeared with mud—clearly, he’d used it for something beyond its intended function. “The soil here has definitely been turned over.”

“You dug up whose grave?!”

“No, no, no, of course not!” Field quickly denied it. He’d only wanted to find symbolic evidence to convince the stonemason—he had no intention of offending every descendant of every corpse buried here.

“I deliberately avoided digging near the graves. I dug elsewhere and found the soil layers were irregular—hard to tell much, but the coloration between layers was mixed, some areas loose, others compact—exactly as if they’d been dug up and refilled.”

Dominic looked at him with deeper suspicion. “How do you know this?”

“Well, isn’t Father Green rising fast? I once considered joining the Inquisition and asked acquaintances about their main duties.” The result? Pure fantasy shattered—he’d spent three night shifts in his first week, lurking in graveyards, looking more like a grave robber than a grave robber.

“I learned this then—just a rough idea, no guarantee it’s right. According to their standards, of the several spots I randomly picked on the mountaintop, only one or two had soil untouched.”

“Even if someone was robbing graves, they couldn’t possibly plow the entire mountaintop, could they?” Dominic imagined grave robbers dragging plows back and forth across the summit, and the image amused him.

“Forget it. Let’s finish quickly and go down. I hope we don’t have to eat cold bread... Aaah!”

Field cried out in pain, hopping on one foot. Dominic immediately used his sword scabbard to prod through the dry grass, searching for venomous snakes.

Fortunately, it was only a large, jagged tree stump, its exposed roots jutting from the ground, kicked squarely by an inattentive foot.

With no outsiders present, Field didn’t care about appearances. “Don’t let me catch who did this! Why cut down trees below the hill but leave stumps beside graves? And why leave so many?”

Dominic listened to his howling for a long while without responding.

The persistent feeling of late returned—something was stirring inside him, nearly emerging.

Old graves, turned soil, jagged tree stumps—like sparks of inspiration, hinting at something just out of reach, hovering on the edge of his mind, tantalizingly close yet impossibly distant.

“I think I’ll go ask old John’s child privately first... If he really knows something, we’ll be better prepared, and won’t end up making things too ugly.” He offered this as an explanation for his curiosity.