[{"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-347":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},2283825,4467,"Chapter 347","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-347",347,"\u003Cp>“Come, try this—I picked the tenderest batch myself, I guarantee it’s delicious.” The old priest set a clay pot wrapped in a damp cloth on the table and ladled a generous bowl of hot soup into each guest’s bowl. “How’s it going? Have you found what you’re looking for?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thank you for your help—these documents are of great significance; they will help the monastery understand this land.” Dominic scooped up the peas at the bottom of the bowl, shoved them into his mouth, and chewed mechanically.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The beans picked that morning were crisp, tender, and sweet; a pinch of salt was more than enough to make them exquisite, but he had no appetite at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The spoon stirred the broth, clinking against the bowl’s rim. Foam swirled inward, coalescing into shapes that stirred uneasy associations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A sudden wave of dizziness struck him, bringing nausea and a dry heave—as if it weren’t pea soup being stirred, but the soft tissues inside his skull, throbbing with pain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Young man, you don’t look well.” The priest quickly steadied Dominic’s upper body, preventing him from toppling face-first into the bowl. “If you’re not in a hurry, you’d best rest for a few days before continuing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Mountain trails demand absolute caution. Mont was taken from us too soon because of this—when I first came here, I’d only been here a few years.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The whole village searched the mountains for days, but we never found even his body.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The priest touched Dominic’s palm and forehead—cold to the point of alarm, beads of sweat slicking his skin, damp and clammy like an eel pulled from icy water.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A terrible sign. Patients who showed similar symptoms in the past were usually in the final stages of severe trauma or terminal illness, their lives ebbing away as their body heat drained, prayers and medicine powerless to save them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet when he met the young monk’s gaze, he saw no distant, fading indifference. On the contrary, those eyes burned with unusual brightness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peering into them felt like looking through a window into a blazing fire.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not a candle, but the main beams of a building, engulfed in flames.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the owner of that mind and body seemed utterly unaware of his condition, attempting a second time to reach the water cup just within grasp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Field hurriedly leaned in, bringing the cup’s rim to his lips and pouring in two sips of warm water.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before the priest could finish his warning, Dominic erupted into violent coughing—proof enough of the danger of feeding a patient with impaired motor coordination.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sorry! Sorry!” Field apologized quickly, unsure whether he was apologizing to his companion, the priest, or some knightly grandmaster who had repeatedly drilled him in emergency protocols.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this bout of coughing seemed to trigger his body’s self-regulating instincts—his breathing and heart rate surged, his complexion rapidly flushed red, no longer the pale, dripping ghost of a man pulled from a storm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I think we should return to the monastery as soon as possible. It has the best medical facilities and top-tier physicians.” His companion’s improvement eased his mind, but Field immediately thought further.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a sudden emergency, this mountain chapel was no better than the open wilderness—neither had the capacity to treat him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They should transport him to a place capable of further care while his condition was stable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Forget the report. Borrow a donkey cart tonight—we leave at first light.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though there was no direct evidence, he sensed a troubling pattern growing clearer after they’d made one—or perhaps several—wrong choices.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the slowest mind could no longer pretend this was mere coincidence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Field’s wrist tightened—he looked down to find Dominic gripping his hand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We go to the next destination. I feel we’re close—so close.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Close to what?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Found two broken stone fragments, a few pieces of rusted iron and copper, one shard of a water jar, and half a basket of shrimp and crab—too bad they’re inedible.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kup rolled up his pant legs and stood in the cold, clear mountain stream.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hadn’t expected a stream to flow beneath the cliff—his skill at searching underwater came in handy, easily gathering plenty of sluggish crustaceans untouched by humans for years, perfect for stew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Too bad this place was suspected of being “affected.” He dipped the basket back into the water, and the little creatures, blessed by life’s miracle, scattered in all directions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only a few tiny, suspected artificial objects remained in the basket—waiting to be identified by craftsmen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yifeng’s progress was equally slim—on shore, they’d found only two large stone fragments bearing signs of human chiseling, perhaps rolled down the cliff face, stripped of their outer layer, pitted and battered beyond recognition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The wreckage proved a man-made structure had once stood here, but it was far from enough to reconstruct even a single tower.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps the building collapsed away from the cliff, so fewer fragments fell this way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet neither the mountaintop nor the monastery’s grounds showed any signs of cleared debris—only an empty foundation remained, inviting wild speculation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yifeng turned the stones over several times, found nothing unusual, then sat atop one to rest, asking the fellow monk for a new story.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Who could refuse such a request?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Besides, recounting sacred tales was a monk’s habit—they delighted in retelling the countless miracles and holy deeds they’d memorized by heart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most of these stories were outdated, heavy with moralizing, describing how saints were doubted, then healed the sick before all eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“A man brought a cripple to Saint Paul. Paul fixed his gaze on him, touched his afflicted limb, saw his faith, and declared: ‘Rise, stand upright on your feet.’ The man leapt up and walked without hindrance.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kup hid his face behind the basket, stifling a laugh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d seen too many cripples—most were the result of improper bone setting after fractures, leading to all manner of deformities. He could even feel the abnormal angles and swollen calluses beneath the skin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For Saint Paul to heal such a man with a single word, he’d have to break the misaligned bones again—and reset them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The image of the Father wielding an orthopedic hammer to smash a cripple’s leg made him nearly crack up—but there were too many monks present. A laugh too obvious would ruin collegial relations. He bowed his head, pretending to search the water.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Yifeng hadn’t grown desensitized to such tales—after hearing it, she even drew an analogy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My mentor can do that too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had seen Kraft himself restore full mobility to a child’s paralyzed arm with nothing but a touch to the elbow joint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The monks chuckled warmly—no one would take offense at a child’s admiration for the Father.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still, they corrected the misconception: “Yes, Mr. Kraft is a skilled healer; his reputation is known within the Church. But human power cannot compare to the Father’s.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The Lord’s power heals all diseases—restores sight to the blind, unlocks the tongues of the mute, banishes fever from the critically ill, resurrects the dead, and even halts plagues across the land.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That, they could not deny—and they had scripture to back it. Yifeng opened her mouth, but found no rebuttal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kup continued searching the water, regretting he hadn’t taken the time to visit the estate and fetch the two monks stationed there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The icy stream numbed and stung his calves—he’d likely get cramps. Even a northerner like him was struggling. He found a rock jutting above the water, sat on it, and lifted his legs out to drain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But he’d overestimated the stability of his makeshift seat. The unsteady stone tipped sideways, tumbling into the stream and nearly crushing his left leg—if it had shifted a few inches more, it might have sent him straight back to the monastery for a miracle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The mud beneath the stone washed away, revealing several pale-yellow fragments that floated up, drifting onto his face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What the hell?” Kup fished out one of the strange objects. It was unnaturally light—neither stone nor wood. Its surfaces varied: some smooth, others rough and spiky, as if broken off from something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Turning it over, he saw the roughness came from a porous, sponge-like structure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It looked like a fragment of bone—but far lighter than any bone he’d ever handled, even lighter than the ancient, worm-eaten, rodent-chewed remains from Dunling’s underground crypts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Kraft had once mentioned that bird bones were lighter than those of ordinary animals—but this shape and size? He couldn’t imagine any bird growing like this.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And perhaps it was the aftereffect of his recent anatomy studies—he couldn’t shake the feeling that it looked familiar.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stood, shivering, and walked to the muddy pool left by the rolling stone. More of these fragments lay scattered there, tiny shards blending with silt, drifting past his legs, brushing his skin with a fine, light, razor-sharp sensation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Come over here.” Kup waved to the shore. “Hurry—throw me a sieve.”\u003C\u002Fp>",1482,"2026-06-20T02:15:56.940Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","ce805116dad6552c41c965c73d34e6f7e89112e3cc1f70f22e4e42b1303bb262","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-348","notes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-chapter-346",406,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fnotes-on-kraft-anomalous-studies-cover.jpg"]