by Feng Yue
Mary looked at her, and she looked back. Mary went forward, and so did she. Finally, they stared at each other, with only the mirror between them.
The girl in the mirror smiled. “Hi, my elder sister. Long time no see. You’ve come back to see me again?”
“Shut up!” Mary lowered her head, her shoulders shaking. She smashed the mirror, leaving the reflection in the mirror shattered. But the broken mirror, sucking the blood, reassembled. The reflection came back, and the girl in the mirror, with an elegant smile, looked at her pitifully, watching Mary smashing the mirror again and again. And the mirror came back intact again and again.
Finally, Mary lost all her strength and knelt on the ground, her hands cut by the broken glass, bleeding. The girl in the mirror stretched out through the mirror and gently caressed Mary’s face with her hand in a white laced glove. She opened her arms and held Mary against her bosom.
“Now that you’ve come back here, have a little chat with me. You locked me up in here. I am so lonely here. It is like dying.” She whispered into Mary’s ears, “Let me out from time to time, could you, sister? Let’s go and kill someone, okay? Wipe out all those dirty inferior people and make this world cleaner, and you will be happier, too.”
“Shut up…” Mary closed her eyes. “I will never let you get out of here, never.”
“You are stubborn as usual, sister.” She laughed and kissed Mary on her earlobe. “Oh, Mary, I love you so much.”
The answer was a hand clutching her throat and snuffing out her voice. Mary strangled the girl in the mirror ruthlessly, her fingers sinking into the fair skin on the neck. Mary used all her strength, and the neck cracked and finally ruptured.
The neck was snapped.
Looking at herself in the mirror and seeing the quirky smile on the girl’s face, Mary snarled and said, “But I hate you.”
The girl in the mirror chuckled. The broken neck slowly recovered, and the girl gave a weird laugh. Then, the girl raised her head and looked at Mary carefully.
“Why do you always hurt me? Sister, I’m you yourself!” She stretched out and held Mary tightly in her arms. Then she whispered into Mary’s ears, “I am the mysophobia and arrogance in your heart that you can never get rid of. I’m the disgust you feel of other people, the pain you suffered when you had your first period, and the shameful lust you had when you fell in love with a man…”
“Shut up!” Gnashing her teeth, Mary used all her strength to spit out the vicious curse, “You b*tch!”
“You are born this dirty, Mary. What you see here is what you really are. Why do you deceive yourself? Let me tell you. You hate all this, don’t you?” The girl in the mirror groped her breasts and caressed her body like a snake. And finally, lifting Mary’s chin with her hand and licking her lips gently, she muttered, “You hate those rituals where you have to behave by the rules. You hate it when you have to be kind to the people from the low class. You hate to shake those dirty hands. You hate the people when they stare at your breasts, hate those maidservants who gossip outside your room, you even hate our mother for giving you such an abominable life. You hate all these things. Mary, you hate yourself.”
She held Mary and suddenly turned around. Behind them was the huge mirror. In the mirror, there were young girls cuddling up together, rubbing their faces against each other. The two girls resembled each other, but one of them was in white, and the other in red.
“Look, Mary.” Looking at the reflection in the mirror, she smiled and said, “We resemble each other so much. We were born to be to together and should never be apart.”
Mary closed her eyes and refused to look at the mirror again.
After a long while, the sound of the gate opening was heard from afar. The blood river retreated and the way back was finally emerging. The reflection became more and more blurry, and surrounded by the bloody water, fell into silence.
“Are you leaving now?” Staring at Mary, with the kind smile on her face, she whispered into Mary’s ear at the last moment, “Look at your eyes, sister. You are so weak and pathetic with your funny hatred. Are you still dreaming of someone rescuing you from your destiny? There’s no one who can save you. You only have you and me, forever.”
Mary finally raised her eyes. Looking into her eyes, she became determined. “No. Someone will come one day. He will come and kill me and you.”
…
Ye Qingxuan woke up from a dream to find himself lying on the hospital bed. He could hear the noise from outside the door. He was all right actually, not wounded at all, but he had to go through the ordinary physical examination. Chorale musicians from the musician divisions had come to pray for him and clean him of the contamination of the abyss, though it was nothing but laughable in the view of the Religious Court of Inquisitors.
After the time-consuming examination and inquiry, Ye Qingxuan fell asleep. Yet he didn’t expect to wake up on the morning of the next day. Leaning on the bedhead, he didn’t summon the nurse or anyone else but recalled what he had seen the night before and was lost in thought.
At that moment, he only saw Lancelot draw his sword, and then the light, which was like a fantasy. After the light, everything seemed to come to an end. It was like all sounds had been muted; all the movements frozen, and all the disputes settled.
It seemed as if Lancelot stood there, not moving at all, except that he put his sword back into the sheath. Yet in the cold wind, there appeared a straight rift on the ground below his feet, then the rift extended from below his feet forward and through the whole battlefield. The body of the head of the musician division was cut into two even parts and dissolved into filth.
The scepter was broken into numerous parts.
The illusion of the hell that covered the whole Shadow of Avalon cracked and then the crack spread out. Then, the moaning and howling went silent. The whole illusion collapsed, and finally disappeared.
From beginning to the end, Ye Qingxuan had not been able to see clearly how Lancelot struck the final blow. The sword was only an ordinary blade made of iron, yet in Lancelot’s hands, it was powerful beyond imagination. Retired from the military for so many years, it was unbelievable that Lancelot could still have such terrible power in his power armor. Even Ye Qingxuan himself, if not well prepared, would have been killed by the one strike.
“How terrible,” he muttered.
“What is so terrible?” someone asked from outside the door. The man pushed the door open and entered. It was Lancelot.
Sitting in a wheelchair, Lancelot was very pale, smelling of irritating medicines. The plastic pipes connected to his internal organs were transporting medicines into his body to sustain his life. That strike had exhausted him, putting his life in grave danger.
Seeing that Ye Qingxuan was in astonishment, Lancelot smiled in a ‘it-doesn’t-matter’ way. “That was the power of the Lancelot armor, not me. When I die, the armor is yours.”
“Don’t say that.” Ye Qingxuan shook his head and said, “You will live for quite a long time. And you still have Christine.”
“I know everything about my own health.” Lancelot coughed so hard that there was blood on his lips. Wiping off the blood, he gave a self-mocking smile. “The Lancelot armor is the most powerful of all the round table armors. At the same time, it has the most stringent requirements on the owner in terms of morality and integrity. Only a saint would be accepted by it. Christine does not have the ability to handle the heavy responsibilities of the family, and she is not able to be accepted by the armor.”
“Then, I definitely won’t, either.” Ye Qingxuan didn’t want to discuss this topic anymore. So he asked, “Where is Princess Mary? Is she awake?”
“Yes. She is resting.”
The two both fell into silence.
After quite a long time, Ye Qingxuan heaved a sigh. “You have left all those matters behind to come to see me. There must be something you want to say to me?”
“Yes.” After a moment of thinking, Lancelot said, �
�Our king was assassinated by Maxwell. Anglo needs a new king. Princess Mary, as first in line to the throne, will be crowned in Westminster Abbey tomorrow to be the king of Anglo.”
“The first in line to the throne?” Ye Qingxuan was shocked. “What about the prince?” Though handicapped and thus not able to inherit the throne, the prince was still the next in line to the throne. The queen had been cultivating Mary as her successor to the throne, but the status of the prince had not been changed.
“He is dead.” Lancelot said indifferently, “On the same day when the king was assassinated, he was poisoned. Guess who did that?”
Ye Qingxuan understood what he meant. He fell into silence and felt a severe headache. He could think of only one suspect.
Maxwell. What the hell do you want to do, Maxwell?
Lancelot looked at him quietly. After a long while, Lancelot said, “Ye, leave Avalon.” Closing his eyes, Lancelot went on, “I’m afraid that King Arthur turned into a catastrophe. Leviathan was about to break through the second seal. This country is beyond help. You lead your people out of this country tonight. You can go anywhere you like. Just don’t come back.”
…
The shadow of Avalon.
At the top, darkness expanded. The gruesome ringing of a bell was heard. The palace began to shake with the bell ringing. The darkness, as dense as black ink, poured down from the sky onto the ground. Countless demons grew out of the darkness like wild grass in spring. The demons crawled from the darkness and the blood pool, screaming and howling, worshiping the dark sun.
The sun trembled and seemed as if it was about to fall to pieces.
The monsters in the darkness slowly opened their eyes and were about to wake up.
Under the palace, the broken body of the Dark Sovereign bathed in the rain of darkness, which contained the power of the abyss, and was revived again.
“He’s coming! Finally! The inheritor of the abyss, the holy son of darkness!” he cheered and laughed, wild with joy.
“He is the king of gods in the world!”
585 Protection
In the ward, only Ye Qingxuan and Lancelot were gazing at each other in the silence.
“Leave Avalon?” After a good while, Ye Qingxuan slowly shook his head. “Not a chance.”
As if he had already known that Ye Qingxuan would give him such an answer, Lancelot’s expression was unchanged. He simply asked, “Why?”
Ye Qingxuan pondered it for a moment and was amused by the answer that he thought of. “To save the city, of course.”
“You know very well that I don’t need to hear such cliches usually spoken on ceremonies of conferring of medals.” Lancelot shook his head. “I know, you’ve brought elites with you, along with all your chips. You want to put all the chips down on the table, bet the house, and if you can’t win, you die. But you’ve chosen the wrong place, Ye Qingxuan, this is not a casino. Your opponent is a catastrophe, or maybe even two. You will lose everything you have.”
Lancelot continued, “All the men who have followed you here will die.”
“It’s everything I could wish for.” Ye Qingxuan replied calmly. “It is their wish as well. They’ve come here to follow me to death. If they don’t get to die because of my cowardice, they’ll definitely be very disappointed. I know what you want to say next, but I won’t leave here, never.”
Lancelot was silent. After a good while, he sighed regretfully. “Little Yezi, even though so many years have passed, you still leave me no choice as always…”
The sounds of objects colliding rang out outside the door, someone roared in rage, but soon, the roaring disappeared. The noise of power armor sounded and stopped at the door.
Ye Qingxuan’s gaze turned cold. His guards had been attacked by Lancelot’s men. Their blows were measured, but definitely couldn’t be considered well-handled.
“What do you mean by such actions?” Ye Qingxuan demanded.
“Rest assured, they will protect you.” Lancelot kept his head low and whispered. “Protect you and escort you from here.”
…
Early in the morning, five hours ago.
In the pale white fog, Niven breathed out a cold cloud of mist. The mist lingering near his mouth and nose gradually rose, meandering along the stone gate pillar of Westminster Abbey, and finally dissipated at the fingertips of the relief sculpture.
On the stone pillar, the relief sculpture of the saint was expressionless, and simply looked down at the quiet street. At its fingertips, a sickly sweet drop of dew condensed of mist dripped down slowly. The dew fell on the back of Niven’s hand, causing the five fingers holding the sword hilt to tighten. The steel seemed to contain heat, and by clenching his sword tight, he could feel a hallucination-like warmth.
In the short span of half a month, after undergoing symbolic blessings, purification, and complicated alchemy rituals, he had implanted the alchemy array of the Witch Hammer into the back of his neck. Muscle strengthening liquid was injected into his epitenon. The central nervous system of aether, which was as thick as a pinky, as well as thousands of nerve endings as thin as spider silk, had been integrated with his spine into one. He was completely different from who he used to be.
Due to the special circumstances and Ye Qingxuan’s request, in just half a month, Niven skipped the long periods of study, training, and trials that an ordinary apprentice would have to undergo for a few dozens of years and became a new member of the Witch Hammer.
After several adjustments, the body that had gradually aged in the torment of the battles in the past years and was going downhill in terms of health, also returned to its peak once more… or even grew stronger perhaps.
As a controller of power armor, a knight was no different from steel, and his body was not exactly very different from steel. Removing a natural limb and replacing the original with steel in order to strengthen one’s performance in a certain aspect was not uncommon.
The direction in which Niven was cultivated was that of the ‘sword dancer’, one of the most common paths. No artificial internal organ was implanted into his body, only the spine was partially altered. The thousands of nerve endings of aether brought superhuman reflexes and dynamic vision acuity.
Niven’s forte in perception and sensing also allowed him to be implanted with another special array—thermal imaging. In the pair of irises that had turned a bone white, everything lost their color, and his vision was altered into a unique state. All matter exuded heat, thus no disguise could escape his detection regardless of how clever it was.
Because of this very reason, he was given the task of standing vigil at night.
In the shadow beneath the door, he stood quietly, the body under the gray robe motionless, like a stone statue. Only a little white mist was breathed out from his nose and mouth when he exhaled occasionally, proving his existence. But it wasn’t long after midnight when he heard the rustle of footsteps coming from afar.
“Who’s there?” He looked up immediately and saw the figure walking towards Westminster Abbey, step by step, from the end of the street.
Niven’s expression gradually tightened. He raised his arm as a signal to the lookout behind the door, then walked out of the shadows and declared in a low voice, “You are approaching an army base, no trespassing is allowed.”
The man seemed to smile softly, but the footsteps did not stop. He continued to advance forward, one step, two steps, and with his third step, he entered the region within ten meters from the door.
The lookout gave further instructions—Annihilate the trespasser.
At that very moment, the silent Niven stepped forward. The blade at his waist popped out and fell into his hand, tracing a concise half arc in the air. The flash of the sword crossed the distance of several meters in an instant, aiming at the neck of the newcomer.
Beneath the gray robe, Niven’s chest heaved. Although he was rushing at the trespasser, his body did not shake. His actions were smooth as if he was gliding, but his speed w
as incredibly fast. In just an instant, the trespasser was within arm’s reach for Niven, who swiped the blade of the sword at him. In the shrill whistling sound of the blade cutting through the air, the sound of steel scraping against each other rang out.
The newcomer lifted his arm, the rerebrace under his robes blocking the blade from his flesh. Both of his hands reached forward deftly, his ten fingers clenched into fists, which struck at the liver and spleen of Niven.
The dim light of the street lamp faintly illuminated the arms, which calluses all over them. The arms were sturdy and grotesque, resembling iron casting. Before they even came into contact with one’s body, one could feel the pressure of the wind they stirred up.
Niven’s pupils contracted.
The combat technique used was specially designed to attack armored knights. For elite knights who had been altered and modulated, the protection of body parts like the heart and the head was definitely given the most emphasis. The hardness of the bones located at such parts had most likely been strengthened by alchemy. Attacking such parts might not be effective even with a hammer, let alone with both hands. Therefore, when fighting against an enemy like that, methods to attack other relatively minor parts were actually the most important.
In the short span of an instant, crisp cracks sounded twice.
Niven’s right hand was holding the sword and had no time to return to a defensive position, but his left hand drew out a dagger from its sheath bound to the inside of his right arm, and curtly swiped it at the two hands.
The knuckles of the two hands produced several squeaks as the joints rubbed against each other. At the last moment, the trespasser forcibly flipped his wrists, one hand locking Niven’s wrist, while the other hand snatched his knife. The crisp crack sounded as Niven’s finger bones were dislocated.
The opponent’s strength was unexpectedly strong, almost like a knight who had undergone a second reinforcement of strength and bones.
