by Feng Yue
Bai Xi looked at him. “What’s the matter? The sky’s falling down?”
“Well…” Ye looked up at her and asked quietly. “Do you know how to use rune stones?”
-
As the dawn began to light up the room, the youth, with crossed hands before his chest, seemed to fallen asleep. He sat as if he were meditating like an ascetic Indian monk. His body faced upwards, and he created a seal with his intertwined fingers. In his entwined fingers was a crystal prism. A faint note shimmered within the prism.
The light from the aether tripled with his breaths, and transformed into waves. The youth chanted the syllables in a low voice again and again, resonating with the stone in his hands. In his mind, a vague note appeared, and gradually became more visible. Finally, it became solid.
The note suddenly changed on its own. It transformed into a dancing flame and began to burn. The burning rune flashed, radiating with a mysterious light as if it had become a star. With the will of the youth, the meditative notes in his mind rose slowly into the illusionary sky and shone together with the stars.
More than thirty stars glittered in the night sky. The notes that had turned into stars flowed like a river, some dim and some ever-changing. As the rune Fire intensified, the position of the stars suddenly changed, rising gradually to leave space for the new notes.
The starry sky changed slowly. The stars wandered aimlessly before finally stabilizing. There was a gravitational pull among them, formed from an uncertain force. The stars were moving under the momentum of that force.
Crack! With a snap, the rune stones in Ye Qingxuan’s palms shattered and turned to dust. The youth slowly opened his eyes and took a deep breath, lifting his fingertips. Flames had burned on his fingertips with just a short chant.
He smiled. All eleven stones of the rune Fire had been used up and internalized. He had reached the instantaneous level of yet another rune. It would be activated with just a thought!
With so many rune stones, his mastery of notes as a beginner had reached the level of most third level musicians. After all, not everyone had the opportunity to spend so much on precious runes to cultivate these notes.
Bending over, he swept the ashes to one side. Beside him, the runes’ ashes had formed a small hill! He had consumed sixty runes overnight. This would take most students one or two years.
“Seventeen more notes.” Ye Qingxuan gazed at the stack of stones before him. After mastering the remaining seventeen notes, he would have forty-eight in his mind. The forty-eight basic notes recorded in Equal Temperament would be fully mastered by him. At that time, the starry sky in his mind would revolve as if it were real. At that time, he would reach the Rhythm level.
Next was the rune Extraction. He clenched a rune stone again and closed his eyes. But quickly, he was forced out of the serenity, and his vision spun.
“Too much for today?” He rubbed his forehead and laughed bitterly. He had pushed twelve notes to the instantaneous level overnight. So many people longed to get even one rune stone to resonate in the same way starving people longed for roast turkey, but he had not expected that he had ‘eaten’ too much! This dizziness made him so happy that he could cry.
Ye Qingxuan sighed and put away his rune stones. He still had time to sleep for a few hours before his afternoon class. But when he got into bed, he could not help but think of the Professor’s warning before leaving: “Blood Path.”
Ye Qingxuan sighed. For many years, Avalon’s Shadow had been home to a bizarre legend. Some said it was Arthur’s kingdom on Earth; some said that it was the secret home of the Maiden of the Lake; some even said that it was a storage area full of treasures and precious music sheets. The Blood Path was the only way to enter it.
For all these years, people had been trying to find this path. How had Ye Qingxuan randomly run into the mysterious path? Truthfully, he was not even interested in the so-called “Avalon’s Shadow.” He only wanted to be a musician, to find out what happened to his father, and to get revenge for his mother so she could regain her dignity and rest in peace. He had no interest in anything else, but now it seemed that his father was somehow connected to Avalon’s Shadow.
Every time Ye Qingxuan thought of this, he would get confused. What exactly did his father do to make everyone hate him so much that he had to run for his life? Until now, the only things he knew about his father were from his own childhood memories and Wolf Flute’s notebook…
Ye Qingxuan’s eyes suddenly opened. The notebook! There might be something on it that he had not noticed before. What else did his father keep in the seal?
He jumped out of bed and began to rummage through his things. The notebook! Where could it be? It was not on the table, not in the cupboard, not under the bed…He searched the whole room but could not find it. In panic, he pushed the door open and ran to the living room to keep looking.
Beside the table, Charles, who had gotten up early, yawned while stirring oatmeal. Seeing Ye Qingxuan rush downstairs, he could not help but spit and cough wildly. “Wow, junior, you’re just like me from a couple of years ago!” Charles gave him thumbs up. “Running around in just a pair of shorts is such a youthful thing to do!”
“Senior, stop your nonsense, okay?” Ye began frantically rummaging through the living room. Still, he found nothing.
“What are you looking for?” Charles came over with a cup of milk to watch.
“Senior, have you seen my notebook?” Ye Qingxuan asked. “That one you stole the first time we met, but then you returned it to me. I remember putting it on the table, but now I can’t find it.”
“Oh, that one.” Charles thought for a moment, as if he knew something, and nodded. “Yes, I saw it.”
Ye Qingxuan was overjoyed. “Where is it?”
“Isn’t that it?” Charles pointed to the corner of the living room.
The youth suddenly froze. That direction…For some reason, he suddenly had a bad feeling.
-
In downtown at dawn, the noisy market had begun to sell vegetables. Women with baskets, butchers with lamb legs in their hands, and beggars all gathered amidst the hawking. The day had begun with the rising sun.
The recent fighting and bloodshed every night was like another world. In fact, gangs existed in another world for most people, and did not feel real. Only when they opened the door in the morning to find blood in the alley would they understand what had happened the night before. Then they would wash the stains away with a bucket of water, and go on with their day.
Beside the market, in the midst of all the bustling, the tavern was supposed to be closed during the daytime, but now its windows were open, allowing the morning light to enter into the dim room. All was silent in the room. The bustling outside was muffled.
In the quiet tavern, the bartender behind the counter had already been driven out of the house. He obediently squatted on the steps to smoke, and smiled awkwardly at the burly guards.
People sat around the only round table in the dim room. After downtown’s infamous Vengeful Spirit and the Professor worked together, causing chaos that night, Silo was present as well.
Silo sat in the chair, slowly smoking his hookah. Seeing his bloodshot eyes and knowing what had happened to him last night, the others laughed secretly at his misery.
To his left was the Sicilian leader, the head of the Luca family—Alberto. He was known as the ‘grandfather’ amongst the Sicilians. Lorenzo was his son.
The man on his right was a short man with a scruffy beard. He was the leader of the Asgardians—the Basset, Werner. The three most powerful leaders of downtown were gathered together. The Professor should have taken a seat as well, but he most likely would not come. So now, there was only one person left…
132 Declare War?
“Where’s the Shaman?” Werner slammed his fist on the table, frustrated with the endless waiting. “He said he wants to talk, but he’s not here. What’s he doing? Toying with us?”
Behind the round table
was an empty chair. Behind the empty chair was an older man. Hearing Werner’s voice, the man known as Ghosthand just glanced at him, uncaring. “You can leave if you don’t want to wait,” he said. “No one’s forcing you to be here, but know that the moment you walk out the door, you’ll be the Shaman’s enemy.”
“He still thinks he’s the Dark King?” Werner scoffed, his expression scornful. “Don’t think we don’t know that Shaman has already been back for so long, but he still doesn’t have anyone under him! If I were him, I’d really thank you. If you weren’t such a loyal dog, he’d be a one-man band!” Beside him, Alberto and Silo had similar mocking smiles on their faces.
The Shaman’s era was over. Not many in the city could still remember him. The Shaman seemed to know this too, and stayed hidden in his lair over the past few days. Not only had he not gained any power, but he had even lost some of Ghosthand’s territory!
Those in arrival had been a bit worried at first, but now it seemed like a joke. The Shaman was no longer the king from before, and yet he still wanted to pretend as if he were. It was laughable.
Hearing their laughter, Ghosthand’s eyes hardened.
In the silence, a knock suddenly sounded. A figure walked in, his back to the sun. He took off his hat and hung it on the coatrack, revealing his salt-and-pepper hair under the sun. His coat was old and looked as if it had not been washed in a long time. It was threadbare and worn.
He seemed powerful at a glance, but if one looked closely, he seemed a bit pathetic and awkward. “My apologies for being late.” The man walked over and nodded at the others. “Sorry for the wait.” Ghosthand pulled out the seat for him to sit in.
Silo snickered. “Mr. Shaman, you are very brave to come talk to us.”
Old Alberto looked over too. “Long time no see, Mr. Shaman. What did you call us over to talk about?”
“Not much, actually.” The Shaman shrugged. “As a senior, I thought it was necessary to check up on the rookies. After all, it’s always good to meet each other before the war.”
“War?” Werner burst into laughter. “Are you declaring war on us? Just you two?”
“Are we not enough?” The Shaman shrugged and gazed around. “Everyone, you should consider coming to the right side and joining me. I will go easy on the ones who surrender now.”
Werner stopped laughing. Silo stopped laughing as well. The sleepy Alberto looked up too. His rheumy eyes were serious as he studied the former king, trying to see if he was joking.
But the Shaman was not joking. He was serious, as if he were stating a fact. Even the wrinkles on his old face had a shade of wild graveness.
Alberto could not help but sigh. The former Dark King, the one left behind by time…had he gone crazy? He was still caught in his golden age, and it was logical for him to reprimand the people who were supposed to respect him. He looked awe-inspiring, waiting for them to obey him. It was laughable.
Alberto sighed. “Shaman, have you gone insane?”
“This isn’t the place to joke, Shaman,” Silo said. He put down his hookah and squinted like a snake. “Don’t speak nonsense.”
Instead of speaking, Werner chose to spit onto the ground.
These men did not lose their temper yet because of the Shaman’s past glory. They were willing to be patient and see what the crazy old man was planning. There was vague pity in their eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Sensing their gazes, the Shaman froze. “Have you not come up with a decision yet? Treasure this opportunity.”
Snick! A dagger sank into the table. It was Werner’s dagger. “That’s my reply,” Werner said coldly.
Alberto shook his head slowly. “Maybe you were the Dark King before, but don’t forget that your time has passed. Downtown isn’t yours anymore.”
“Get things straight, sir.” Silo continued to smoke his hookah, his eyes cold. “If you need money, I can give you some so you can go to the Arkham Asylum. I’m sure you can find people to talk to over there.”
The Shaman suddenly realized, “So you want to declare war?”
“Since when did you think that we would just listen to you obediently?” Alberto glanced at him with his watery eyes. “Mr. Shaman, why don’t you look out the window?”
The market outside was bustling and filled with life, but there seemed to be people stationed in the crowd, surrounding the place. These burly men had swords hidden. They only needed a signal to rush in and chop the former Dark King to bits.
Ghosthand furrowed his brow and stepped forward, but the Shaman raised his hand to stop him. “So it seems that you are keeping us here?” The smile on the Shaman’s face faded. “Do you know what you’re doing? I suggest thinking about the consequences of angering me.”
“Get it straight, Shaman. There’s no way out for you.” Alberto nodded. “Don’t worry, we’ve hired three musicians out of respect. It doesn’t matter that you’re the Shaman, Ghosthand, or another legend. You won’t be able to leave today. So can you finally wake up from your fantasy, former Dark King.
“Seeing as you took care of me before, I can let you go. But you must promise to never come back.” The old man’s eyes were cruel and fierce. “Of course, we’ll have someone give you a small curse so you can’t go back on your word.”
“You have to give up your resources too,” Silo added. “And the most important thing…I’m sure you understand what I’m talking about. The Trader has already told us that he gave you something…”
“Oh?” The Shaman shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
The Basset was the most impatient. Slamming a fist on the table, he spat, “What we mean is, give us the map of Avalon’s Shadow and then scram! Understand?”
The Shaman chuckled and shrugged. “Even if you had the map, you can’t go in if you can’t find the Blood Path. And anyway, the Trader gave it to me as a gift for my return. If I just gave it away, I’d be a bad friend.”
“Seems that we have to go harder on you,” Werner said coldly. He knocked on his dagger and pounding footsteps sounded above, along with the scraping sound of swords being pulled out of their sheaths. The thugs hidden in the market had already surrounded the tavern. This was the trap prepared for the Shaman.
“Mr. Shaman, look at the situation clearly. This isn’t your world anymore. Why don’t you hand over the map and exchange it for your safety?” Alberto advised quietly. “Even if you’re not going to think for yourself, at least think on behalf of Ghosthand.”
Ghosthand remained silent.
The Shaman sighed as if disappointed.
133 Declare War!
“Look at yourselves, gentlemen, what have you done?” The Shaman stared at the men in disappointment. “I invited you all to come here out of respect for you all, to prevent more bloodshed, but you’ve disappointed me.
“Ever since my return to Avalon, I’ve smelled the stink you’ve left behind. You turned this city into a mess where there are no rules or dignity. All you can see is money and power. In order to obtain these, you even betrayed the Professor, who has guided you for all this time. You let him be hunted down by others. In order to earn a tiny profit, you made every effort to flatter your new boss.
“I had hoped that my enemies would be stronger and purer. What a shame…” The Shaman shook his head. “I’m disappointed in both you and the master behind the scenes.”
For a moment, everyone was silent. Alberto, Silo, and Werner did not reply. The silence was not one of speechless embarrassment, but one of extreme of rage with no need for words!
“I’m sorry, sir.” Alberto sighed. “I’m really sorry.” He raised his cane and knocked on his wheelchair. The cane and the hollow wheelchair collided with a crisp sound. It was sharp yet distant, spreading in all directions.
In the next moment, dozens of crossbows aimed at the Shaman would shoot, burying two of Avalon’s legends in the tavern forever. But the expected moment did not come. Nothing had happened. All was still, but the stillness was unsettling.
>
Stunned, Alberto knocked again, but there was no response. It was as if the people he had brought with him had all vanished. The signal faded without an echo. Alberto’s expression changed.
“Gentlemen, you’ve gotten one thing wrong since the beginning.” In the dead silence, the Shaman lowered his head. He lit the cigar between his lips and exhaled the pungent smoke, laughing lightly. “My era has never passed.”
Surrounded by swords and crossbows, The Shaman raised his eyes, gazing around at those who wanted to kill him. The men fell down immediately.
One by one, they fell down on the ground for no reason. The heavy thuds kept repeating. The three men twitched with each thud. Then, there was silence.
“Today, I just wanted to emphasize one thing.” The Shaman’s voice was hoarse, like scraping iron, sharp enough to rattle one’s core. “Even if I’ve been gone for nine years, even if you have made this city into a mess…Do not forget that I am the master here. And do not forget that there have been rules here!”
In the silence, Werner took the dagger out of the table and flew toward the Shaman. The Shaman reached out, grabbed his head, and slammed it down.
Boom! Warner’s face was crushed on the table by the seemingly frail old man. Now one could see how he had done it so easily.
The Shaman held him down as if scolding a disobedient child. His eyes were hard and cold as he said, “The rule is that when I say I’m back, you should kneel down and greet your king!”
Silo and Alberto’s expression changed quickly in the silence. Both of them wanted to retreat now, but Ghosthand looked at them with a smile. They could not leave.
“Shaman, what do you want from us?” Alberto’s voice shook.
“Alberto, you told me to look out the window just now. Why don’t you go and look yourself?” The Shaman pointed to the window. “Go! Go and have a look, and tell me what you see.”
Alberto hesitated, then stiffly rotated his wheelchair, and rolled slowly to the window.
It was silent outside the window. The once raucous market had lost all its voice. All sound was gone.
