[{"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-345":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},2283823,4467,"Chapter 345: The Tower of Heaven","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-345",345,"\u003Cp>“No need to be formal—feel free to browse any of these books, just handle them gently; some are older than I am.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The white-haired old priest opened the window for the two visitors; long-absent daylight entered the only locked room in this small chapel, illuminating the shapes covered by cloth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The wooden floor creaked underfoot, its cracks scattered with a few ancient grains and bran.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sorry for the dust—it hasn’t been opened in ages.” The priest coughed repeatedly, lifting half the cloth to reveal shelves stacked with scrolls and small bags of powdered lime.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Since then, few young cultivators have stayed long. When manpower is scarce, these become a real nuisance—many don’t understand the value of knowledge, but few don’t know the price of books.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wiped the dust from the book surfaces with a corner of cloth. The collection was clearly aged, yet in decent condition: dry, cracked leather covers bore hand-painted saints and holy symbols, mostly stitched rather than glued, some even adorned with decorative panels, ideal for long-term preservation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a village chapel maintained by only one old priest, this collection was far too large—even maintenance had become a problem.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Take your time—I’ll go pick some peas in the backyard and treat you to my cooking for dinner.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thank you for your generosity.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dominic thanked this worthy elder, pinched his nose, and slowly lifted the remaining half of the cloth, revealing the full extent of the bookshelf.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Things had gone better than expected; they’d simply chosen the nearest village chapel with decent access, never imagining they’d stumble upon such a rich collection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even as a village near the former monastery’s trade routes, its prosperous days never seemed to justify leaving behind so many paper artifacts. For a rural chapel, even having just one holy scripture was common.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unless they were exceptionally lucky, the local parish must have held a special preference for this—spending vast sums of money and effort on book collecting, which offered limited missionary returns.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, due to financial constraints, most here weren’t purchased; the majority were handwritten, giving them a remarkably uniform appearance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without needing Dominic’s prompting, Field eagerly plunged into the pile of old papers to search.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They skimmed past the standardized holy texts and liturgical books, focusing instead on the monks' personal writings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To their surprise, such content was plentiful. The Heavenly Father seemed to aid them in finding supporting material for their report—just by screening the first shelf, they found several volumes possibly matching their needs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Excluding two on logic and philosophy, the rest all related in some way to the monks' local life experiences.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some weren’t even proper books—merely personal journals, recording reflections and notes from missionary work and daily life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Records of celestial phenomena were limited, mostly tied to agricultural activities; few specifically documented thunderstorms.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet closer inspection revealed other resonant details—for instance, they weren’t the only ones who noticed the village’s unique basket-weaving technique.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In writings of different hands, one or two sentences occasionally appeared, mentioning these distinctive objects and their widespread presence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn’t just Field who received gifts after offering help—sometimes a woven hat, sometimes a basket full of wild fruit. Others had also speculated on the specific origin of the spiral patterns in local customs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So it’s not just in Puliya’s territory that these... things exist?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Indeed, and they’re remarkably uniform.” Field instinctively licked his fingertip to turn the page, then remembered the age of the manuscript and forcibly suppressed the reflex, using his nail instead to carefully lift the next page.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The original owner of this notebook had moved here from another distant chapel, discovering that two isolated, unconnected settlements shared remarkably similar and complex woven crafts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As someone curious and with spare time, he took note of this during occasional trips to nearby villages.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The result: nearly all settlements in the parish, despite stark differences in dialect and custom, possessed identical types of woven items.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Materials and uses varied, but the final appearance and craftsmanship details were extremely uniform—even identical.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He described it as the “Tower of Heaven.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Like the great tower that reached the heavens and shattered, each fragmented settlement received a brick or tile; over time, as they grew apart, they forgot its origin and meaning—but that extraordinary, ornate brick remained firmly embedded in the foundation of every new structure, impossible to remove.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Records on this matter soon faded, for in a place where illiteracy approached one hundred percent, no information survived beyond three generations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some families hadn’t even been native for three generations—they were immigrants brought by the lord, unaware of the origin, yet found the patterns beautiful and preserved them as a craft and a symbol of protection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Personal limitations curbed curiosity; the writer soon abandoned the task, leaving only two bewildered monks scratching their heads, never seeing the conclusion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unfortunately, this was the most complete record—most monks, like the locals, had spent most of their lives trapped by the towering mountains, expending all their energy on localizing doctrine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they searched higher up the shelves, the books grew sparser, made of humble, cheap materials—clearly from an earlier era, when the Church was still struggling here, with little leisure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I think this is fascinating—perfect as backup material for our report. Rare celestial phenomena are scarce, but local customs are everywhere; it’s far easier to find something new.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Field stood on tiptoe to reach the top shelf; Dominic held the ladder steady with one hand and read the notebook of the curious predecessor with the other.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dim, cold light flickered with the turning pages; the simple sketches captured the essence of swirling motion with striking clarity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His attention was drawn in, imagining the writer’s context, the thoughts behind each stroke.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Why call it the ‘Tower of Heaven’?” A fragment of inspiration fell—he looked up instinctively, seeing only the dust stirred by his companion moving books, drifting and spinning in the faint air current between inside and outside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s quite apt.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I mean, doesn’t it feel like a symbol? The shapes of these hats and baskets—chance is negligible; they must stem from something larger, more unified...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His words halted. His thoughts froze. He had no term to describe the concept in his mind—a vast, unified presence spanning time and space, tangible yet intangible, enveloping the mountains.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Merely imagining it stirred an instinctive reverence, mingled with inexplicable dread.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That feeling came again—it glided over the towering shelves, leaving behind phantom ripples.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t just stand there—help me catch this.” Field bent low, handing up a book on the verge of falling apart.\u003C\u002Fp>",1090,"2026-06-20T02:15:56.940Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","024a021463c5defc3bd8dd021a75b4684fd5956ea8d1cd1edd1369f2bcd1c7f5","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-346","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-344",406,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fnotes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-cover.jpg"]