dognovel Chapter 678 The Apparition of St. John
Chapter 678 The Apparition of St. John
"No, is this normal?"
In the southwestern governor's territory, on the edge of a small town, a farmer clutched his newly sprouted barley seedlings in a field. The leaves were still a tender yellow, and the stalks were so thin that they swayed constantly in the wind.
He turned his head to look at the neighbor's field ridge. The barley in his neighbor's field was already waist-high, with heavy ears of barley drooping, and it looked like it was about to ripen.
His throat moved, his voice filled with undisguised shock.
"What kind of seeds did you use? They've grown so fast!"
The neighbor was bending over to pull weeds. As he straightened up, he patted his trouser leg and said in a very honest tone:
"It's the same as what you use; it was bought from the manor's butler."
"But we planted it together."
The farmer who asked the question took two steps forward, his eyes scanning back and forth between the two fields.
“In previous years, we planted in spring and harvested in autumn. It’s only the beginning of summer now, how come you’ve grown so tall?”
The neighbor scratched the back of his head, remained silent for a while, and then spoke:
"It might be St. John casting a spell. I prayed before his statue when I went to church last time."
"Don't talk nonsense."
The farmer who asked the question immediately shook his head, his tone full of disbelief.
“I know St. John, but he’s in a meeting with the King in Montmartre, how could he possibly sense your prayers?”
"It was because he came that I sensed it."
The neighbor raised his voice slightly, his tone carrying a hint of certainty.
“Saint John used to be in the Kingdom of Heldran, which was too far away. Now that he’s in Mondmasan, he’s closer and can hear him naturally.”
The farmer who asked the question stopped what he was doing and pondered the words repeatedly in his mind.
He recalled the harvests of previous years and looked at the scene before him, and felt that this statement seemed to make sense.
After a while, he finally spoke:
"Are there any rules for praying to St. John?"
"There are no rules."
The neighbor waved his hand.
"Just look at his sculpture and make the sign of the cross on your chest."
The farmer who asked the question nodded and said nothing more. He just squatted down and stared blankly at his own wheat seedlings.
He was thinking to himself that he would go to the church after work tonight.
After all, who wouldn't want their crops to grow faster and yield more grain?
The fields next door were like a magnet, drawing his gaze and filling him with both envy and a strange unease.
This unease came from nowhere; it was just a vague feeling that something was wrong with the crops growing so fast, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what was wrong.
The two returned to their respective fields to work, the sun scorching the soil, and cicadas chirping incessantly in the distant woods.
The farmer who asked the question kept looking up at his neighbor's barley, and the more he looked, the more amazing it seemed, and the stronger his desire to pray became.
He slowed down his hoe, his mind already wandering towards the church, even pondering what to say during his prayers.
Meanwhile, in the church's backyard, Roseline, Jill, and a group of children were surrounding a small luminous figure.
The little guy had emerald green leaves wrapped around his waist and a circle of colorful flowers around his head. He wiggled his body and danced a hip-wiggling dance, his movements both comical and cute.
Beside them were two small, luminous figures, floating in mid-air, holding carbon rods in their hands, writing rapidly in their notebooks, trying their best to complete the copying assignments given to the children by their teacher.
The children's laughter rose and fell, some clapping their hands and swaying along with the little light figures, while others crowded around the little light figures, watching them write with curiosity.
Jill was engrossed in watching when Roselian nudged her shoulder. The two exchanged a smile, their eyes filled with joy.
This novel sight was something they had never seen before; the appearance of the little light people brought much joy to the church's backyard.
"Jill!"
A shout came from outside the church; the voice was hoarse and a little impatient.
Jill's smile vanished instantly, her brows furrowed, and she reluctantly began to walk towards the church entrance.
In the open space by the door, a man leaned against the wall, reeking of alcohol, leaning on a cane, looking at Jill with a dazed expression.
He was Jill's father, and at that moment he was so drunk that he could barely stand, his body swaying unsteadily.
"You little brats, all you do is run around everywhere all day."
He burped, and the smell of alcohol in his mouth became even stronger.
"Instead of using this time, why don't you do some chores at home... instead of coming over and helping me up?"
Jill's heart sank. She knew without a doubt that her father had taken the family's money again to go drinking with his cronies.
The family didn't have much savings to begin with, and the mother was in poor health and needed to buy medicine all year round, but the father always squandered money like this and didn't think about the family at all.
Jill bit her lip, her heart filled with disappointment and anger, and her steps slowed down.
Seeing that Jill didn't come over immediately, Jill's father got angry, glared at her, and swung his cane at Jill.
Just then, a small pebble flew out of nowhere and hit Old Man Gil's wrist.
He winced in pain, nearly dropping his cane, swaying as he almost fell.
"Who! Who did this!"
Old Man Jill roared and glared around as he surveyed his surroundings.
Several villagers who were passing by stood around him, looking at him as if he were an idiot, their faces filled with undisguised contempt.
Old Man Gil's face flushed, and he sobered up considerably. He coughed awkwardly twice, stopped yelling, grabbed Gil's arm, and pulled her home.
Jill stumbled as he pulled her, her arm aching, but she dared not struggle.
She could feel the gazes of the surrounding villagers; those gazes felt like needles pricking her, making her extremely uncomfortable.
She lowered her head, feeling both wronged and ashamed, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.
Back home, old man Jill threw his cane in the corner, collapsed onto the bed, and within a minute, was snoring loudly.
Seeing his uninhibited behavior, Jill felt even more disappointed. She silently turned and went to the kitchen to prepare medicine for her mother.
Old Man Jill was fast asleep, his dreams filled with scenes of drinking, and the laughter of his cronies echoed in his ears.
He didn't know how much time had passed when a strong drowsiness came over him, his consciousness gradually blurred, and the scene before his eyes began to distort.
"Ok?"
The moment he closed his eyes, the surrounding darkness suddenly changed, transforming into a long corridor.
"This is where?"
He looked around; the walls of the corridor were snow-white, without a single stain.
Two long, narrow objects hung from the ceiling, emitting a soft light that illuminated the entire corridor.
He had never seen such a place before, and a nameless fear rose in his heart.
Just then, the door across the corridor creaked open, and a "person" walked out.
It was described as a person, but it was actually a humanoid luminous object with bulging muscles all over its body, emitting a faint white light. It wore a white vest on its upper body and only white underwear on its lower body.
The muscular, radiant figure approached step by step, exuding an overwhelming sense of oppression.
When Old Man Gil looked up, his head only reached the other man's waist, and the other man's shadow almost completely enveloped him.