by Feng Yue
Even Ye Qingxuan did not notice that his opponent was at the brink of death! However, he frowned quickly. Things were not so simple.
The examiner’s consciousness was empty. It had been wiped clean! Nothing was left behind; the man did not even remember his name. All that remained was a vague figure. It was a woman in a wedding dress. He could make out a sweet smile. This was why the man kept crying.
“I see,” Ye Qingxuan murmured. The examiner was not the assassin at all. He was just a poor ‘springboard!’ He had been brainwashed long before arriving at the prison and turned into an empty shell. When he arrived, he was already being controlled by the assassin. Ye Qingxuan did not understand the technique but it must be a top-secret inheritance from a certain school.
The assassin himself did not enter the Judgement Tower. He had been using this shell to fight with Ye Qingxuan. His suicidal fighting style made more sense now. He was not the one who would die! He had been forcing down the examiner’s consciousness and brain, manipulating his strength to fight against Ye Qingxuan. This was why he was so fearless. If he failed, he could just come again. There were many cheap springboards!
Under the wounded consciousness, Ye Qingxuan could still see his opponent’s last taunt and strange laugh.
“Want to leave after acting cool?” Ye Qingxuan sneered. “Not that easy!”
-
At the same time, two kilometers away from the tower, a musician awoke from his dream with a cry. He was inside a hidden warehouse of a certain agency. Sweat poured from his body, and blood seeped out of his nose and mouth. He retched violently.
He was lying inside an alchemy array. The countless precious chant consumables had been used up completely. This secret ritual required an immense amount of resources. It only had one use—to separate the user’s mind like the phantom beast of a Summoning musician. By dividing his consciousness, he could form shards of his personality and implant them into someone else to control the other virtually.
The middle-aged man climbed up. He yanked out the threads and nails in his limbs and behind his neck. He breathed heavily. The people on either side of him helped him up. They wiped away his vomit and splashed warm water onto him. He seemed to be only thirty-years-old but he had white hair. Music notes were tattooed on his hairline like a music score permanently on his head. His mind quickly cleared.
The messenger representing the client came over and asked, “Did you succeed?”
“No.” The musician’s empty eyes darkened. “Your information was all wrong! That guy’s Mind theory is comparable to mine.” He paused, feeling a bit awkward. It was not just comparable. From the aspect of foundation, Ye Qingxuan was so much better. Shocked, terror emerged in his eyes. “And…he can cast music scores without sensing aether!”
The messenger froze as if not understanding until the musician repeated it again. His brow furrowed and his expression darkened. “You are joking!”
“If I wanted to make excuses for my failure, why wouldn’t I choose a better one?”
The messenger’s expression was still dark and he calculated in his mind. However, he did not notice that the musician’s lowered face had changed.
The hint remained in the musician’s mind. The childish knot on the small box suddenly broke. It had become horribly damaged as the two fought. With the rope breaking, the box opened. The hidden gift finally appeared.
A hint! It was another hint… It was a double hint. What kind of messed up school would hide a hint inside another one?! This kind of ability only existed in theories!
The musician’s expression flipped and he quickly tried to change his mind and erase that memory. It was too late. He could wipe away the hint but the command was already being enacted. It embedded into his consciousness and adjusted the heart of sound movement inside him. It was just a small change—coherence.
Coherence?
He froze. Who was he undergoing coherence with?
The next moment, a strand of water vapor solidified into a thread and stretched out of thin air. It was the Heaven Ladder! Two kilometers away, relying on the hint’s guidance, a water vapor perception thread flew from the cell, followed the Heaven Ladder, and pressed onto his forehead. The coherence began!
“Hey, we meet again.” In his mind, a white haired youth appeared and smiled at him. “I have a gift for you.” With that, he raised his empty hands. Moonlight glowed in his palm. It was like a dream.
“What is this?” The musician froze, swallowed by the moonlight. To other people, he was convulsing right now, on the ground and muttering garbled words. Then the seizure-like spasms stopped. He opened his eyes again.
“Hello, nice to meet you.” The musician gazed at the shocked assistants and messenger beside him and smiled. “I’m Ye Qingxuan. Please take care of me.” He reached out to the foreheads of the two assistants. Before they could react, an invisible river surged and swallowed their minds. The messenger stumbled back but the musician climbed up like a mad dog and pounced.
The messenger slipped a sword out. He stood up and stabbed forward. He had never stepped onto the battlefield, but he still moved with bloody violence. His swordsmanship had been taught by the Sacred City’s swordsmen. It was extremely aggressive and fast. When attacked, most people would retreat involuntarily. However, these unplanned moments required even more decisiveness and courage.
With the sword out, he was prepared to die with the enemy. He would fight fire with fire. He could only live if the enemy was dead. However, even faced with the aggressive sword, the musician did not retreat. Instead, he sped up toward the blade. It pierced through his shoulder and his hand pressed onto the messenger’s forehead.
F*ck. That was his last thought before blacking out.
-
Late at night, someone knocked on the door of a porcelain shop at the edge of the Sacred City.
“Who is it? So late…” The awakened worker yawned and looked through the peephole. He saw a shirtless man with a badly wounded shoulder. His face was blank as if he was half-asleep.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” the worker said. “Come back tomorrow.”
“The old guy told me to bring the products,” the man said blankly outside. “Auntie…asked me to bring him…an…urgent letter.”
The door opened a crack and a hand reached out to drag him in. When the door closed, the man collapsed onto the ground. The worker was stunned. The men hiding behind the door searched the man’s body and found a letter in his pocket. It seemed to have been ripped out of a notebook. Rather than placed in an envelope, it was folded messily and then crumpled.
It quickly dawned on the confused workers. They gave the mysterious man some emergency aid. Ten minutes later, the urgent letter was brought to the ‘old guy’ in the Anglo embassy.
In the bedroom of the embassy, Maxwell turned on the bedside lamp. He put on his glasses and smoothed the wrinkled letter. The words seemed to have been drawn by a kid.
Maxwell, someone wants to kill me. Please check his identity.
Also, thank you.
Rather than a name, the inscription was a messy picture. He could make out a hat. Maxwell sank into shock and shook his head after a while.
“It’s so hard to make you say ‘thank you’.” Despite his words, he could not help but laugh.
-
The next afternoon, Maxwell moved close to the thick glass and stared for a while. “No offense but you look like you’re about to die,” he said.
“Yeah, I almost did.” Ye Qingxuan shrugged. “Literally, metaphorically, all that.” The young man in the chair behind the wall was pale with dark circles under his eyes. He looked completely sapped as if he would collapse from a slight breeze.
“Principal, if you have any drugs, please don’t keep them hidden. Save me.” Then Ye Qingxuan uttered a long string of medicines. Maxwell’s lips quivered. Did this guy not know what money was? Just the first few could buy a square meter in the most expensive place in the Sacred City! And this guy wan
ted bottles of them!
There was no other way though. Last night’s ordeal had added more to Ye Qingxuan’s still recovering injuries. He had survived but things were not positive. He had dueled directly with a Mind musician and then underwent countless violent battles. He had first used Bolero and the space in the enchantment to cross two kilometers. He had strengthened the hint and forcefully connected the two. Then, using Heaven Ladder’s long-distance perception, he finally forcefully resonated. The final battle seemed easy but Ye Qingxuan had used all his strength in the cell. His broken music theory had been damaged again. Two kilometers apart and unable to sense aether, the music score control was harder than he had expected.
He added the final blow with Moonlight. At that time, he was on his last breath. He used vague commands to make the assassin clean up the site and bring the letter. Then he passed out. If the enemy had not been shaken by the attack, the result would have seemed so simple.
The victory was a miracle. If this event could be publicized, it would definitely be included in textbooks as a genius fight. Sadly, he could only keep this secret and make himself happy.
Ye Qingxuan shook his head, no longer wishing to think about it. He asked, “How’s the investigation?”
Maxwell sighed. “It’s a Sacred City assassin. Cantarella. Have you heard of this name before?”
Ye Qingxuan nodded. “Yes, somewhat.”
“It used to be the technique that the sixth pope used to kill others,” Maxwell said. “If he found you to be in the way, he would invite you to eat dinner. During the meal, he would bring you a cup of wine. You would drink it politely, thank His Majesty, and enjoy the meal. When you sleep at night, it’s time to die.”
Hearing this, Ye Qingxuan nodded. “At least it sounds like the Sacred City at that time still cared about manners.”
“Apparently he died from the poison and after that, it became taboo. However, the assassins started using this term. They are raised by the big figures of the Sacred City until it’s time for them to shine.” Maxwell paused, a look of pity showing. “Unfortunately, you met one of them.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died,” Maxwell said. “According to the Choir musician who did the autopsy, there’s a fatal fungus strain group in his stomach. It would start growing if he did not take the antidote within twenty-four hours, and he would turn into a petri dish for the fungus. To be honest, the image ruins my appetite.”
Hearing this, Ye Qingxuan sighed. “Seems like I’ve made a mess.”
“To say the least.” Maxwell’s expression was troubled. “You beheaded a ‘hero’ at the Sacred City gates before the entire world.”
“Even though the hero is a fake.”
“No matter if he was real or fake, it all damaged the Sacred City’s prestige. No action of this level had been done in decades. Especially now, with the tense and sensitive relations between the nations, any spark could cause a disaster… You angered many of the old guys in the Sacred City. In their opinion, you must pay for this.”
“So that’s how it is?” Ye Qingxuan sighed. “I didn’t realize how much trouble it was.”
“Can you feel how hard it is for me to clean things up for you?” Maxwell sighed and shook his head. “At least thank me a few more times so I feel comforted.”
“Maxwell.” Ye Qingxuan raised his head. Studying Maxwell’s forced calmness, his expression was serious. “If you cannot salvage this, then don’t bother. If you want to help me, then help me take care of my professor, Bai Xi, and get that stupid Charles out of here. I won’t have any more regrets.”
“Idiot, what are you saying?” Maxwell laughed as if he had heard a childish joke. “Ye Qingxuan, you are my heir, the future sword bearer, and principal of the Royal Academy of Music. I will not watch you die on the scaffold. You will walk out of here safely, I promise. So just rest up and leave everything to me.” He rose, put on his hat, and smiled reassuringly. “Perhaps you can come out before the Pope finishes his blessings for the Winter Festival.”
Ye Qingxuan bid farewell and watched Maxwell leave. After a long while, he murmured, “Hopefully.”
417 Bad News
As the door slammed shut behind Maxwell, he turned and gave the Judgement Tower one last glance. The calm and confidence disappeared from his face, revealing anxiety. “To the Amnesty Institute,” he told the driver. But after opening the carriage door, he froze. Sunlight shone past the window curtains and illuminated the old man sitting within. The robed man looked up; emerald eyes stared at Maxwell. He patted the seat beside him, telling Maxwell to sit down He hesitated for a second. Climbing into the carriage, he chose to sit across from the elder instead.
“Archbishop Ludovic?” He studied the elder and his lips curled up. “I have been hoping to meet you but never thought you would come to me in such a unique way.”
“Mr. Maxwell, nice to meet you.” Ludovic nodded slowly. “I am no longer an archbishop. I am only an average ascetic monk.”
Maxwell smiled but did not reply. An ascetic monk from the Ecclesiastical Order? Was he being modest or humorous? The safest reply was a smile.
“Mr. Maxwell is a guest. I should accompany you and introduce the city to you. However, I grew up here and spent my life in the churches amongst bells. I, unfortunately, cannot make a good tour guide.” Ludovic looked outside the window and the city. “Mr. Maxwell, what do you think of this city?”
Maxwell said, “Naturally, it is sacred.”
“Yes, it is the Sacred City.” Ludovic sighed. “Someone once said that this is where the dignity and beliefs of humanity exist. It is the place that supports the heavens. That is why I revere this city.
“At the end of the Dark Age centuries ago, seventeen monks received signs from the heavens. They came here and hammered down the first metal pillar, announcing the coming of man’s age.
“Now, so much time has passed. This is now the heart of the world, the city of God. However, of the descendants of those seventeen monks, only a few still exist—Sforza, Borja, Feliks, Medici…
“This city has been destroyed twice. Both times, it was rebuilt from the ruins. Some died with it; others were reborn. Despite all of this, the things in our blood have never changed. Our mission has never changed either.
“Too many people have bled for this city. Their souls converge here under the sacred calling to rest. I believe this may be evidence for the existence of a world and heaven after death.” Ludovic made the cross over his chest. “This is also the reason why we exist.”
“I am not very knowledgeable of theology and the Bible but my understanding has deepened after hearing your words.” Maxwell nodded. “You must want to speak to me about ‘reverence,’ yes?”
“Perhaps,” Ludovic replied lightly. “No matter what, it is your comprehension. As an ascetic monk, I only wish more can understand the truth of faith.”
“Father, have you been to Avalon?” Maxwell suddenly asked.
“No.”
“Avalon is my home. It is a very beautiful place,” Maxwell stated. “It is built on the sea. When it is sunny, it looks like a gemstone floating in the sea, dazzling. It is not as majestic as the Sacred City but it is beautiful as well.
“In the summer, the entire city is embraced by the sea wind. Sea salt condenses on the beach. From a distance, it looks like white flowers. Children play on seesaws and fuss around on the pier and ships. If they fall into the water, they’ll laugh and climb back up. The adults sit on the shore and drink while playing cards.
“Life seems carefree as if summer will never end. I think this was how the city was when it was first built. I will do whatever I can to let it remain like that forever because I love it.”
After a long silence, Ludovic nodded gradually. “It is a beautiful place that deserves one’s love. Why do you not return? Mr. Maxwell, as far as I know, doesn’t your home need you the most now?”
“That is why I cannot return alone.” Maxwell sat with a somber expr
ession. “I am old but the youth and the city still has an endless future. Mr. Ludovic, he has a place he must return to. There is no need for him to pay his life for the holiness here.”
“It is understandable for an outsider to speak like so.” Ludovic chuckled indifferently as if he had heard a meaningless joke. Glancing at Maxwell, he said, “If Anglo continues to be reckless and continue down the wrong path, it will have to pay. That is all I wish to say to you today.
“Mr. Maxwell, you must consider your actions here. As far as I know, not many people in Anglo support you.”
“If it is the right thing to do, the amount of support and recognition does not matter.” Maxwell’s eyes hardened. “That is what the child and I both think.”
“No, you are not the same as him.” Ludovic glanced at him and smiled somewhat mockingly. “Your eyes are too weak, Maxwell. You are not as determined as you think. It is destined that you will be compromised for this. If that boy is still stubborn, then you are only pretending to dream with him.”
Maxwell fell silent, his face livid.
Ludovic reached out and patted his shoulder. “This is a good thing. That is why I gave you the chance to meet. Maxwell, do not continue like this, whether it is for you or your beloved country. The wild blood that Arthur left behind will lead you toward the demonic path.”
Maxwell glared at him but Ludovic did not seem to mind. He rose and opened the carriage door to leave. Outside, he nodded in farewell. “Let us separate now. I hope you will cherish this last chance. I do not wish to be on either sides of the burning stake the next time I see you.”
The door closed. The carriage moved forward in the dimness.
In the carriage, Maxwell closed his eyes and forced down the angry sword. “F*ck…”
-
When he returned to the embassy, a second piece of bad news came.
“Sir…” The face of the embassy’s manager was green. “Half an hour ago, the Silent Authority came for the body. The security from last night was taken away too, to ‘help with the investigation’.” He paused and said hesitatingly, “And…”
