Under Yanan Town, undercurrents swirled in secret.
Yet on the surface, everything was unusually calm.
Another two years passed, and an incident neither great nor small occurred: Old John, the gravekeeper, died!
As a gravekeeper, he had neither wife nor children, so there was no one to take over his position.
In the end, after some consideration, a freeman obtained the post.
He had originally possessed a rather unpleasant name, but everyone had now grown accustomed to calling him Little John.
As time went on, he simply changed his name to Little John.
Night.
Little John carried a lantern as he patrolled the cemetery grounds.
Especially the Lancaster family cemetery—there were many grave robbers coveting this place.
As night fell, emerald-green eyes flickered now and then amid the beech woods.
They were owls watching him, occasionally letting out chilling cries.
"Damn it, damn it..."
Little John held up his lantern, trudging through the cemetery, one foot shallow and the other deep.
He had originally thought himself quite brave.
But only after becoming a gravekeeper did he realize that he did not possess as much courage as he had imagined!
"If it weren't for this small subsidy, the free house, and that plot of land... I'd never do such an unlucky job..."
"Old John couldn't find himself a wife his entire life. I don't want to end up like him."
Suddenly, Little John's vision blurred.
Before Kalin's grave, he seemed to see a figure.
"Who's there?"
He let out a shrill scream.
Basically, that shout alone was enough to scare off grave robbers.
Anyone with real strength and courage had long since gone off to become bandits—a highly promising profession.
Only those who couldn't make a living as bandits would choose to rob graves!
Besides, this era had no custom of