Chapter 358: The Old Path

"My lord, where are we going now?"

Field leaned low over the horse's back, the wind thick with moisture and the scent of mane flooding his mouth and nose, each word involuntarily carrying a rhotic lilt.

This family, long sequestered in the deep mountains, retained a sharp military bearing; after clarifying the situation in a few words, they set off light, carrying only a few days' rations and purified water, leading the way toward an unfamiliar direction.

With a speed that made the heart tremble, they cut diagonally across the valley and plunged straight into the forests still sunk in drowsy shadows, moving ever farther from the main road.

"A shortcut."

The reply drifted from ahead, as direct as his manner, with no further exchange.

Since setting out, the only thing Field had learned was the middle-aged man's full name, Benedict, and that he and the youth dressed as a knight's squire, named Lucian, were indeed father and son.

Lucian, for his part, was more talkative than his father and grandfather, retaining an uncontainable liveliness and eager to converse with outsiders.

"We can't catch him by chasing hard, but if we're fast enough, we might have a chance to cut through here and intercept him," he explained, his tone brimming with the confidence of someone familiar with the terrain.

"You know where he's going?" Though every fiber of his being was focused on controlling the horse, Field still caught the subtext, "Has this happened before in your domain?"

"Yes." Noticing the guest was not skilled in horsemanship, Benny slightly slowed his pace, closing the gap, "In the past, my father handled it; now it's my turn."

Regarding the assumption of responsibility, Field surprisingly heard no pride; he had thought such a family would care deeply about this kind of symbolic succession.

By habit, he offered a polite compliment, "Your family's benevolence and generosity bring glory to your name; could you elaborate, so I may spread these deeds?"

Venturing into the mountains to search for missing subjects was indeed something an ordinary lord could not do. Moreover, it had happened more than once, gradually forming a tradition, perfectly suitable as a model of chivalry.

"No, it is not as you think."

Benny actively denied this honor, slowing down again until they were almost side by side, as if to ensure he heard the following words clearly: "We do it merely for the survival of our domain."

"And I suggest you leave as soon as you find that companion—if we can find him at all—do not try to figure out the causes and consequences; those who become obsessed with such matters never end well."

For a man who spoke sparingly, producing such a complete sentence was truly difficult, his tone so serious and rigid it was almost a warning.

Curiosity made Field want to press further, but being explicitly told it was inappropriate left him momentarily choked, unsure how to respond.

Fortunately, Lucian smoothed things over for both of them: "Please do not take offense; this is merely a kind reminder based on past experience."

"Do not doubt our sincerity; after all, helping you is helping ourselves. Last year's harvest was poor; if we miss another season's grain, the village may not survive."

"Lucian!" Benny sharply cut off his son.

This explanation solved nothing; Field only felt more questions arising.

"My lord, I am not a coward. The coming journey concerns the lives of my brothers in the Church; however dangerous it may be, I hope to understand beforehand," Field pleaded.

"Even if there truly are some evil, ghostly things, I believe the Heavenly Father will protect me. Please do not insult a monk's devout resolve."

To die awake on the road seeking the cause was better than being forever trapped in the chaotic mist that had swallowed the minds of his companions.

The stone-hard guide did not answer immediately; the atmosphere was terrifyingly silent, and Lucian dared not speak again. Only the horseshoes occasionally struck the tangled tree roots in the earth, producing a sound like a wooden bell.

Unknowingly, the elevated light source reached the position between two mountains, revealing a patch of abnormal, barren slope from behind the black curtain.

On the surface of mixed earth and stone, only low grasses and a few newly sprouted trees lay before exposed rock faces, forcing the road and a small stream to twist sharply in a very awkward direction.

At the end of the slope, one could faintly see worked square stones, like discarded building blocks rubbed and swept away by a giant hand, squeezed and piled together.

In a single glance, before consciously realizing what it was, it triggered a reflexive panic.

"This was originally a village." Perhaps the shocking sight before his eyes had cracked a fissure in the stone, Benny spoke.

"It existed before our family came to the fiefdom. The locals believe in such a thing, dwelling at high places, associated with rare, irregular torrential rains."

"You mean..." Field was about to say he had read relevant folk records, but could not find a suitable term to refer to it.

"I know similar stories exist elsewhere, but their customs differ slightly; in any case, they would always retrieve the madmen who ran into the mountains to prevent them from summoning 'that thing'."

"Our ancestors initially thought it was the 'witch'-like fear of the ignorant, attributing valley floods caused by torrential rains to those who could never return."

"But two strange torrential rains within three years changed his mind. The first to disappear was a monk sent to preach; the second was a scribe who had followed him for many years. The out-of-season surge that followed made the domain endure extremely difficult times."

The road conditions were poor, so the three had to slow down again, which made Benny's narration even clearer.

"I do not intend to question your faith; it is merely that there may truly be places in this world where the light of the Heavenly Father cannot shine, and one should not step there."

"So this village failed to stop the madman who fled?" Field carefully controlled the reins to avoid obstacles.

The special terrain, combined with shallow, sparse vegetation roots, made the road here particularly terrible; a moment's carelessness would plunge one into the mud soaked with broken walls and ruins, the wet, sticky sludge dragging the horses like drowned souls.

"They were always very careful, doing better than us; mostly, they would restrain people as soon as they noticed signs of something wrong, rarely causing trouble."

"That was not their fault; it was an accident no one could have foreseen. About twenty years ago, an unprecedented torrential rain trapped them. Everyone hid in their houses, waiting and counting their stored grain, but the rain was too heavy, turning half the mountain into a pool of flowing mud."

"What I am about to say may be overly offensive, even bordering on heresy; please forgive me—before that torrential rain, there was..."

Field froze; a hideous, terrifying thought crawled toward him along the suddenly connected threads of thought in the mist.

His lips unconsciously murmured, completing the second half of Benny's unfinished sentence:

"... a procession of the Church passed through here..."

(End of this chapter)