Chapter 345: Gao Ta

"No need for courtesy; all the books here may be read at will, just be a little gentle, as some are not younger than I am."

The white-haired old priest opened the window for the two visitors; long-forgotten light from outside entered the only locked room in this small chapel, illuminating the shapes covered by cloths.

The wooden floor creaked underfoot, with scattered bits of old grain and bran in the cracks.

"Sorry, the dust is a bit heavy; it hasn't been opened in a long time." The priest let out a string of coughs, pulled back half the covering cloth, and revealed shelves stacked with scrolls and small bags of gray ash.

"Since then, few young monks have come to stay permanently. When there isn't enough manpower, these can become a great trouble, after all, many do not understand the value of knowledge, but few do not know the price of books."

He wiped the surface dust from a book with a corner of cloth. The collection showed obvious aging, yet the condition was acceptable; the dry, cracked leather covers bore hand-painted saints and holy symbols, mostly sewn rather than glued, some even adorned with decorative panels, suitable for long-term preservation.

For a village chapel maintained by only one old priest, this collection was indeed too large, making even upkeep a problem.

"You look around; I'll go to the backyard first to pick some peas, and let you taste my cooking for dinner."

"Thank you for your generosity."

Dominic thanked this worthy senior, held his nose, and slowly lifted the remaining half of the covering cloth, revealing the entire bookshelf.

Things went more smoothly than expected; the two had merely chosen a village church that was recent and conveniently located, yet they happened upon such a rich collection.

Even as a village near the monastery's communication line with the outside world during its prosperous period, it hardly seemed like it should have left so many paper items. For rural chapels, many possessed only a single holy scripture.

If it were not that their luck was particularly good, then the local diocese must have had such customs and special preferences, spending vast sums of money and energy on book collections, an investment with limited effect on missionary work.

Of course, due to funding constraints, most here were not purchased; the majority were handwritten by themselves, so the format appeared quite uniform.

Without Dominic calling, Field eagerly dove into the pile of old papers to search.

For the uniform holy scriptures and liturgical books, the two skimmed and passed them over, focusing their target on the written content of monks' amateur accounts.

Surprisingly, such content was not scarce. The Heavenly Father was even helping them find supporting materials for their report; after merely screening the first shelf, they discovered several volumes that might meet the requirements.

Excluding two related to logical philosophy and literature, the rest all had some connection to the monks' life experiences in the locality.

Some could not even be fully counted as books; they were merely personal notes, recording insights and memoranda on missionary work and personal life.

Records regarding celestial phenomena were limited, and mostly related to agricultural activities; specific accounts of thunderstorms were few.

But upon closer inspection, they found other content that resonated quite well; for instance, not only the two of them had noticed the local special basket-weaving technique.

In books of different handwriting, one or two sentences recording this appeared, mentioning these uniquely styled creations and their widespread existence.

Nor was Field the only one who received a gift after providing help; sometimes it was a woven hat, sometimes a fruit basket filled with wild fruits. Similarly, some had speculated on the specific origin of the spiral patterns woven into local customs.

"So it means not only the Prial domain has this kind of... these things?"

"Indeed, and quite uniform." Field habitually wanted to lick his fingertip to facilitate turning the page, but considering the age of the document in hand, he forcibly restrained the reflex and instead used his nail to carefully lift the next page.

The original owner of this booklet had moved from another church quite far away and discovered that in two unconnected semi-closed settlements, there existed quite similar and complex woven handicrafts.

As someone with strong curiosity and free time, he took the opportunity to pay attention to this matter during several outings passing through nearby towns.

The result was that the vast majority of settlements in the diocese, despite significant differences in accent and customs, all possessed similar woven products.

Materials and uses varied, but the finished appearance and technique details were extremely uniform, one could even say they were exactly the same.

He described it as "Gao Ta".

Just like after that tower reaching the sky collapsed, every fragmented settlement received a brick or half a tile; with the long-term separation, they gradually forgot its source and meaning, yet that exceptionally magnificent brick remained firmly embedded in the foundation of the new building, impossible to remove.

Subsequent records on this matter ended inconclusively; the reason was that in a place where the illiteracy rate approached one hundred percent, no information traceable beyond three generations existed.

Some families were not even indigenous when tracing back three generations; they were immigrants who moved with the lord, not knowing where they learned it, but feeling it was indeed beautiful, so they preserved it as a craft and a symbol of some kind of protection.

Personal ability limited the play of curiosity; the recorder soon gave up halfway, leaving only two monks who did not see the continuation scratching their heads in frustration.

Regrettably, this was already the most complete record; most monks, like the local residents, were trapped by Chongshanjunling for most of their lives, exhausting all their energy on the localization of doctrine.

Searching higher on the bookshelf, the books were much sparser, the material simple and cheap, obviously from an earlier era, when the church was still in its pioneering stage here, with little free time.

"I find this very interesting; it can serve as backup content for the report. After all, rare celestial phenomena are scarce, while local customs are everywhere; it is much easier to write something new."

Field stood on tiptoe to reach the top shelf; Dominic held the ladder with one hand while reading the notebook of that curious senior with the other.

The dim cold light rose and fell with the wind-blown pages; the simply drawn patterns were quite vivid, capturing the essence of that vortex-like dynamic sense.

His attention was inevitably drawn to it; substituting himself for the writer, he imagined under what circumstances it was written and how it was thought.

"Why use 'Gao Ta'?" Fragments of inspiration fell like debris; he instinctively looked up, seeing only the dust raised by his companion moving books, blown by the slight airflow communicating between indoors and outdoors, spinning and floating.

"Indeed quite vivid."

"I mean, doesn't it look like a reference? The shapes of these hats, baskets, and such things; the possibility of coincidence is infinitesimal; they must come from something larger, more uniform..."

The words stopped abruptly; thought paused; he could not produce anything to describe the concept in his mind; it was some kind of unity on a vast scale of time and space, covering the mountains both tangibly and intangibly.

Just the imagination sparked a trace of instinctive awe for the grandeur amidst inexplicable panic.

That feeling came again; it swam over the tall bookshelves, leaving illusion-like ripples.

"Don't just stand there, help me catch it." Field bent down and handed a book on the verge of falling apart right before his eyes.