Chapter 344: Believe in Science

"My friend, you have sincerely confessed to the Father your sins and those of your father, but I must remind you: repentance must be complete and genuine. Have you revealed every wrongdoing, without concealment or omission?"

Little John pondered carefully for a long time, until he was certain he had left nothing out, then answered nervously, "Yes, that is all I know."

That expression reminded Dominic of his graduation defense, when he had desperately squeezed every last drop of memory from his mind to deliver a cumbersome but as complete a response as possible to the dean and invited examiners.

He did not know which part of his answer had moved the examiners enough to sign off on his approval; just as Little John now did not know which part of his confession had suddenly gripped the two monks.

Field, who had been pacing about, also stopped and stood quietly to one side, listening.

"May the Lord have mercy on you and your father; may He, through the authority granted me by the Church, fully absolve your sins."

The trembling in the basket-maker's shoulders seemed to transmit to Dominic's own arms; he tried three times before he could grasp the holy emblem he carried and press it against the man's forehead.

"Now your soul has been cleansed and purified; continue to pray and remain faithful to your faith, lest you fall back into sin."

"Thank you, Father. If it is permissible, I would like to offer the Church a donation as a sign of gratitude."

Freed from his penance, Little John repeatedly traced the sign of prayer in the air before him with a distorted posture, trying to rise and go inside to fetch something.

The monks stopped him, stating they would not accept any form of payment for hearing confession.

The weak sunlight pierced the thin mist; the morning of the basin had arrived. Buckets clanged against well walls, pots and pans clattered, and the shrill screech of old doors opening and closing rose and fell in succession.

After warning Little John not to speak of this to anyone else, the two avoided the main road and hurried away along the path they had come.

After walking a distance, leaving the village behind, they opened their mouths almost simultaneously as they met each other's gaze:

"Do you think…"

"I think…"

Dominic stepped back; he needed others' perspectives to confirm whether he was mentally unwell or whether something truly had occurred. "You go first."

"The thunder he mentioned—wasn't it a bit like the one we heard that night?" Field added hastily, fearing his phrasing was unclear: "You remember, right? The first time, when we were still talking about midnight snacks."

"You remember too?"

Impossible to forget—the rolling roar had left an indelible mark in their memories, so vivid that no reminder was needed to confirm they meant the same event.

"I thought…"

That it was merely a momentary lapse of vision, a missed flash; that it was fear twisting the mind, fabricating a memory.

Even now, the subconscious instinctively denied its existence, trying to explain it away as yet another technical error of the mortal soul, using every excuse to paper over the truth.

But reality mercilessly tore open the still-raw wound of memory, dragging them back to that night.

"But what was it?"

Rockslides from above, with echoes rebounding through the valley? Like the resonance inside a church? Or perhaps a rare atmospheric phenomenon caused by clouds and mountains blocking light at a peculiar angle?

There still seemed room for interpretation, a logical explanation possible.

Contrary to common perception, though seminaries often leaned conservative, their attitude toward exploring "the laws God established for the material world" was in fact deeply conflicted: they disliked researchers making arbitrary interpretations, yet permitted them to explain phenomena within the framework, so long as they did not touch the core tenets of doctrine, using only universal natural laws.

This helped merge faith with rational knowledge, producing talents better suited to the Church's needs and more capable of defeating heretics in debate.

Natural philosophy suddenly became their final refuge; the two monks hid behind the shelter of a materialist worldview and found great comfort.

"I've heard that captains sailing to the far north sometimes see light hanging from the sky—perhaps what we encountered was similar, just a rare phenomenon confined to certain regions," said Dominic, whose broader reading gave him an answer—for his companion, and for himself.

"Do you think it's plausible?"

"All phenomena are irrational until explained."

Compared to being tormented by invisible, intangible feelings, Dominic felt he needed a clear question and a clear answer—right or wrong, as long as it looked credible, it would bring peace.

The good news was he had finally found that question; now he only needed to fill in the answer.

"Field, I have a great idea."

"What?" Field's impression was that his classmate was not usually someone who frequently had ideas.

"You wanted to add something new to the report, right? How about this: a local phenomenon never yet understood." Dominic grew more excited as he spoke; the idea stirred a faint thrill within him.

He could not pinpoint the source of the feeling—it was as if a traveler who had trudged through the night suddenly saw light ahead, and foolishly believed warmth and a hearth waited there.

"And we could also explain the overturned cart—at least half of it was an accident, not entirely due to our incompetence." Field had to admit the idea had merit, but its practical feasibility remained to be proven.

"The key is how you'll figure it out. Just from our experience and one oral account?"

"Personal observation is always limited. That is why the Lord taught men to write—to record knowledge on parchment. If it is an atmospheric phenomenon, then over time, however rare, someone must have recorded it."

"Just a reminder—you haven't forgotten the state of all the books in the monastery, have you? And Baron Prieur hardly seems the type to collect books."

"I haven't forgotten, but you must remember: our predecessors established parishes in these woods decades ago. You should find their legacy in the church outposts of most settlements." Dominic was utterly confident on this point.

As members of the Knightly Order, even if they couldn't borrow the books, he was certain most fellow believers would gladly allow them to read.

In short, the task was not difficult; the greatest hassle would simply be personally visiting every nearby settlement with a church, spending considerable time gathering and organizing relevant records.

But now, time was the one thing they had in abundance; the manor would not need them until the Blessing Festival. As long as they left enough time before each outing to submit their reports, four or five days would suffice for round trips between neighboring settlements.

"Doesn't this count as abandoning our duties?" Dominic still felt uneasy after envisioning the entire plan.

"No, according to Mr. Kraft, this is called exercising initiative and managing time wisely." Field extended a hand and slapped his companion's palm. "Our brilliant report will surely not disappoint him!"