A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

The truth was that Eric had used Exchange Points to get a much higher-quality map, one that could accurately display all animals, besides humans, within a limited area.

It was by relying on this map and the density of the animal populations that Eric had determined his own location and found Peterborough Monastery.

Of course, he couldn’t tell Gwen that.

Torod’s pace was remarkably steady. As they ascended the rugged mountain path, he never once paused, maintaining the same speed from start to finish, neither quickening nor slowing.

For a middle-aged man approaching fifty, this was quite astonishing.

Eric observed the muscles in his back and legs and had also noticed the unusually thick calluses between his thumb and forefinger.

The man might have been a soldier once. Unlike the old vice-dean of King’s Bridge Monastery, this Dean Torod perhaps still maintained some degree of physical training.

In contrast, his own vice-dean, despite once being a Holy Warrior, was now just an old drunkard whose body had deteriorated.

As they continued up the mountain path, the Cultivators who had been sent out to find the dean’s beloved horse gradually fell in behind Torod.

The higher they climbed, the more strenuous it became. Eric held Gwen’s hand the whole time, and he could feel the sweat in her palm increasing.

When they reached the end of the path, Eric let go of her hand at the right moment. His own palm had become sticky.

He then caught a full view of the Monastery.

From its appearance, it was an outstanding Monastery, at least on par with the one in Southampton.

Passing through the main gate, a wide avenue flanked by pleasant green shade led to the Monastery’s chapel.

To the left of the road was a large vegetable garden. Past this garden were two buildings—including a bathhouse, an infirmary, and even an herbarium—built along the Monastery’s curving outer wall.

It was rare for a Monastery to have an herbarium, especially in England. The presence of such a building indicated that someone at this Monastery was engaged in the study of pharmacology or botany. These fields typically served agriculture and medicine, which spoke to the Monastery’s scholarly level.

Farther back, to the left of the chapel, stood the majestic Cathedral, separated from the chapel by a cemetery.

The chapel’s north door faced the Cathedral’s southern tower, but the first thing to catch a visitor’s eye was the western tower. Looking further left, the Cathedral’s walls dropped abruptly into an abyss, making the northern tower seem to jut out at a slight angle.

The terrain at the mountain’s peak was relatively flat. This regular, level ground had allowed the ancient builders of this Holy Land to follow a perfect orientation.

Dawn had now broken, and sunlight pierced through the clouds to strike the church’s spire. The chapel’s main door faced west, so the choir and altar faced east. In a short while, the sun would shine through the windows and fall directly upon the choir stalls.

Torod led Eric toward his office.

Along the way, they passed a room with exquisite patterns carved into its double doors. In the center of the patterns on each door was a portrait of a Saint.

On the right was the ’Miracle Saint’ Caspar, and on the left, the ’Scholar Saint’ Alkun.

Eric guessed that this was likely the Monastery’s library.

They stopped at a room at the end of the corridor. Torod turned and looked at Gwen.

”Brother William, perhaps this...”

”She is a witness. After all, this is a matter of two Frenchmen handling the affairs of an Englishman.”

”I respect your insistence.”

Although Torod was reluctant, he didn’t refuse, owing to his favorable impression of Eric.

They entered the room. It was quite spartan: a desk for office work, a black chair, a life-sized Holy Image, and a Bible resting quietly on the floor. On top of the Bible lay a blood-stained whip.

”Please allow me to once again express my delight. I am very pleased that the Bishop of Langxiang has sent a man with the wisdom of God, such as yourself, to act as Referee and handle this sad affair.”

”I, too, feel fortunate that this Monastery has such a simple and devout dean as yourself. Allow me to offer my respects. You are undoubtedly a devout Servant of God and an example for every Peterborough Monk. I trust that on this journey, I will be able to learn from you the qualities a Servant of God ought to possess.”

”Thank you for the high praise. I only wish the poor Seric Monk had been as wise and sharp as you. Perhaps then, this tragedy would not have befallen him.

I believe the Demon often appears in the world, especially in these sorrowful times—” Torod glanced around involuntarily, as if an enemy were lurking in the room. ”—but I also believe he acts through man’s baser nature. I know he can drive his victims to do evil, causing good men to be blamed. When a good man is wrongfully accused and suffers, the Demon triumphs.

They are driven by the wicked disciples of Heresy. They lie hidden within heretical wisdom, ready at any moment to corrupt young, weak-willed, rash, and self-righteous believers of the Lord of Heaven. Young Cultivators always have a foolish curiosity about everything, little knowing that it is this very curiosity that invites the Demon to kill them.”

”Everyone goes through a naive phase,” Eric added.

”Yes. All young Cultivators need proper guidance. They should learn to submit to God’s will. Excessive thinking interferes with one’s Devotion and obedience to God.

Once one’s thoughts stray from the Bible, the Demon of Heresy will find an opportunity.

Seric may only be the first, not the last,” Torod emphasized.

”I think matters concerning the Demon are best left for God to judge. As believers, we can only do our best to find the human factors involved,” Eric said.

”Those who deal with the Demon and forsake God,” Torod stressed.

”Perhaps,” Eric said softly.

A Cultivator had recently died at Peterborough Monastery.

This is what happened:

The Seric Monk, a very young man, was already renowned for his skill in illuminating books.

One morning, a Shepherd discovered his body at the bottom of the cliff below the Cathedral.

Other monks had seen him during vespers the previous evening, but he was absent for matins. It was likely he had fallen from the cliff during the darkest hour of the night.

There had been a blizzard that night. Driven by a fierce south wind, the swirling snowflakes were as sharp as blades, like hail.

The body was buried in the snow and ice at the foot of the cliff, horribly mangled by the rocks it had struck on the way down.

Oh, the poor, fragile mortal body. May heaven have mercy.

Because the body was so battered from the fall, it wasn’t easy to determine the point from which he fell, but it was clearly from a window in the three-story tower that faced the abyss.

And the Cultivator William, whom Eric was impersonating, was the Referee sent by the Bishop of Langxiang to this very Monastery.

”Where did you bury the poor man?” Eric asked.

”In the cemetery, of course,” Torod replied. ”Perhaps you noticed it, just north of the chapel, between the Cathedral and the vegetable garden.”

”I see,” said Eric. ”I believe your dilemma is this: if the unfortunate young man had committed suicide, you would have found a window open the next day. However, you found all the windows tightly shut, and there was no sign of water beneath them.”

Upon hearing this, Torod was flabbergasted, losing the composure expected of a man of his stature. ”Who told you that?”

He certainly hadn’t mentioned any of that in his letter to the Bishop of Langxiang.

”You did. If the window had been open, you would have immediately assumed he jumped of his own accord.

From the outside, I could see that those windows are large and opaque. In a building of that size, such windows are usually not placed within a person’s easy reach.

The unfortunate man couldn’t have just lost his balance while leaning against the window and fallen.

Therefore, suicide is the only conceivable explanation. But if that were the case, you would not have allowed him to be buried on holy ground.

So the window must have been closed. No one committing suicide would choose to erase the traces of their own act. Therefore, this must be either murder by another person or the work of the Demon.”

Eric added the last part to appease Torod.

”But how did you know there was no water beneath the window?” Torod asked Eric again.

”Because you told me the wind was from the south that night. It’s impossible for the snow to have hit a window that faces east,” Eric said with a wave of his hand, glancing back at Gwen.

Gwen rolled her eyes, made a ”Tch” sound, and turned her head away.

”So that’s how it is. Your acuity is admirable. This Monastery has one hundred and fifty servants attending to sixty monks. The incident occurred in the Cathedral. The first through third floors of the Cathedral are all scriptoriums and libraries.

After dinner, the Cathedral is locked, and we have a strict rule forbidding anyone from entering. That includes the monks.

Sigh. Sometimes, when giving orders to simple-minded people, one must add a threat, warning the disobedient of unforeseen consequences, and emphasizing it with supernatural forces. But for a monk...” Torod sighed.

”A monk ventured into the Cathedral and committed murder. I want the authority to freely question the Cultivators, as well as the right to move freely throughout the Monastery.”

”I grant you both. Tonight, I will publicly assign you this task before the Cultivators.”

Torod nodded, but he quickly remembered something.

”However, you may not enter the library on the top floor of the Cathedral.”

”What? But the crime scene is on the top floor of the Cathedral, which includes the library. If I can’t set foot there, how am I supposed to investigate the truth?”

Eric found this unreasonable.

”My dear brother in faith, you had never seen my beloved horse, Brunelus, before, yet you accurately described his appearance and characteristics. Likewise, though you previously knew nothing of the Seric Monk, I am confident you will be able to uncover the true cause of the Seric Monk’s death.

Even without ever setting foot on the crime scene,” Torod said calmly.

Eric: ”???”

Gwen, standing to the side, almost couldn’t stop herself from laughing out loud.

’Keep showing off, smarty-pants Eric.’