Chapter 377

“What exactly are we looking for?” Brother Kanser rode at the rear of the group, exhaustion so visible it seemed to pin him to his horse’s back.

Days of riding had caked their horses’ hooves and boots in dry mud mixed with grass stems; their cloaks were dusted thickly with ash like mountain mist. Their supplies had only decreased, yet he felt heavier with every step.

They had traversed scattered hamlets nestled between rock walls and forests of trees, all to pursue a goal no one could clearly define—even Beni, a traditional knight, was growing weary, let alone a monk untrained in such trials.

The physical burden was secondary; the spiritual torment was far worse.

It was like being forced to read an immense, dreadfully dull, incomprehensible treatise whose thickness remained unknown—each page turned brought only the crushing disappointment that this was not the final one.

“I’m not sure either,” Kup replied without turning, pulling his reins to slow and veer onto the muddy, stony path into the village.

This same exchange had been repeated many times, brought up nearly every time they reached a new settlement.

Brother Kanser had been about to complain, but seeing Yin Feng ride silently past him, he bit his tongue—how could an adult be less composed than a girl?

Then again, even Beni thought she was a promising candidate for military service: quiet, physically strong, patient, and resilient. Strip away gender, and she might become a knight any commander would refuse to let go.

Of course, Yin Feng knew nothing of others’ opinions; she was busy yanking back her unruly bridle, forcing the horse to turn mid-gallop.

In a way, this too was a kind of riding talent—if you could control your mount, strength and skill followed.

The black warhorse she had chosen herself submitted to her will, sharply veering into the village and sending chickens flying and dogs barking from the roadside.

Its excessive speed carried her and her rider forward for a long stretch, overtaking the startled Kup, before finally halting at the church’s entrance.

For a novice, this would have been dangerously close to disaster—but she clearly was no ordinary novice. She dismounted easily once stopped, studying the irregular stone bricks of the church before her.

They had arrived at an inopportune time. The sun slanted westward; the church doors stood open, the hour of evening prayer. Most believers chose to pray in the last light of day; the priest likely had no time for outsiders.

The four tied up their horses and stepped quietly through the doors. Rows of crude wooden benches stood empty; no preacher stood before the altar, but faint, hushed voices came from deeper within.

Out of courtesy, Brother Kanser stepped forward and lightly tapped the back of a bench to announce their arrival.

The murmurs ceased at once. Several villagers emerged with the priest, who nodded to the newcomers, formed a “wait” with his lips, then turned and said:

“Do not worry. Return home, close your doors, and pray as usual. The Lord will guard the faithful and keep them from the devil’s deception.”

With that, he touched the freshly painted wooden holy emblem to each of their foreheads, snapped off a short candle from before the altar, handed it to the mother holding her child, whispered two blessings, and saw them out.

The white-robed figure maintained his prayer posture until the congregants vanished among the gray-stone cottages, then slowly exhaled.

He raised a hand to forestall the questions they had held back, shut the door, and said, “No rush. Come inside.”

The church was small and compact. Beyond the main hall, past the uncleaned confession booth, lay the reading room and changing room.

A long table dominated most of the space; behind the cabinets rose a narrow staircase leading to the storage loft above.

As the four hung their cloaks and sat at the table, the priest had already served them homemade herbal tea—its scent alone was unbearably bitter.

“May the Lord’s peace be with you. Our hospitality is humble; please forgive us,” he said, sitting across from Brother Kanser and sipping the tea.

“Please understand—recently, fear has gripped the people, and I’ve been overwhelmed. I have not meant to be discourteous.

“This year has been a season of troubles. Not long ago, two fellow believers arrived. One suddenly fell ill, and within days, another accident struck the village. My silver holy emblem, left to me by my predecessor, was damaged as well.”

“Your steadfastness here is no small trial; the Lord knows, and He watches over you,” Brother Kanser offered comfort.

Small churches like this struggled to survive even under normal circumstances; an accident like this could easily shatter generations of accumulated reputation. The priest’s burden could not be light.

“Sigh… perhaps the Father is testing me?” He tugged at his dwindling hair, his future seeming bleak. “But tell me—what brings you here?”

“Oh, nothing urgent,” Kup replied, following their prepared cover story to obscure their true purpose. “We’ve just come from the monastery. The abbot wished to assess the parish’s current state. We didn’t expect the previous brothers to meet with misfortune, so the task fell to us.”

“We won’t disturb your duties—just need to review old records, ask about recent developments, and write a report to send back.”

“You mentioned the accident earlier—what exactly happened? Could you elaborate? If possible, the monastery would be glad to offer aid.”

The priest sighed, “Thank the abbot for me, but this matter… no outsider can help.”

“Oh, good—Knight Beni is here too. You’ve come to the right people. He’s probably already told you about the madness.”

“Last week, the eldest son of the basket weaver fell ill, then the blacksmith. Diseases that used to appear once every few years now came one after another. Now no one repairs tools—or my holy emblem.”

“Thankfully, we managed to restrain both, but now no family dares go out alone. I can’t say who’ll be next. If this continues, the harvest season will be anything but peaceful.”

Before the priest finished, Beni burst out, “You don’t understand—our abbot is deeply favored by the Saint! I’ve seen him perform miracles to cure madness—no medicine needed. For mild cases, just touch the skull; for severe ones, open the skull and remove the madness stone…”

“Knight Beni, calm down, calm down,” Kup interrupted quickly. “Miracles aren’t without cost, and they must be matched to the illness. Perhaps you could first take us to see the patients.”

The priest’s eyes brightened, then dimmed again. “Good news… if only it had come sooner.”

“What do you mean?”

“Both patients died soon after falling ill. I performed their final prayers. Their final symptoms resembled those of Brother Dominic—violent vomiting, delirium—and within days, they were called home by the Lord.” The priest rubbed the painted surface of his holy emblem, as if moved by the Supreme Will’s design.

“Perhaps that brother truly received grace—he held on so long before being saved.”

“So you’re saying—in this small village, over this short time—three cases have occurred, including Brother Dominic? And the last two were especially severe?” Kup’s face darkened; he realized something was wrong.

【Clustered outbreaks?】

“Think carefully—did these three have anything in common? Anything they all touched?”

The monk, the basket weaver’s son, the blacksmith—no shared identity, no overlapping daily activities.

“It makes no sense. They likely never met. Brother Dominic stayed only one day; Dave’s son twisted his ankle and stayed home—I was the one who treated him; the blacksmith barely left his forge… how…”

His muttering cut off abruptly. The priest noticed Kup and Yin Feng staring at him. He snapped, “Are you suspecting me?”

Nothing cut deeper than such suspicion—accusing a clergyman of betraying faith, of murdering fellow believers and colleagues.

Brother Kanser leapt to defuse it: “No, no, there must be some misunderstanding—Kup, you didn’t mean that, did you?”

“We’ve known him too long. The priest could never be involved,” Beni added.

“Of course we don’t suspect you,” Kup’s gaze drifted down the priest’s neck, settling on his chest. “But please recall—have you come into close contact with anything that might have touched all three?”

?? Some… stuck (′?∧?｀)