Crown of Silence

Chapter 427 Afternoon Tea

Hundreds of years ago, after countless experiments and sacrifices, the nine surnames of Longmai successfully completed the miracle of 'music theory inheritance', and music theory was passed down to future generations along with the bloodline.

Therefore, talent was born, which itself is the condensation of music theory, heart sounds, even the chapter of destiny and even the prototype of the scepter!

A person's life is limited after all. Compared with the huge world, it is not worth mentioning, as small as dust.

In order to explore the essence of the Great Source, the ancestors of the nine surnames of Longmai created the blood of heaven and humans, and left music theory as a legacy in the bloodline from generation to generation.

Countless descendants have passed down the legacy.

As long as the bloodline is immortal, one day, one can evolve to the realm of the Great Source.

After dozens of generations of ancestors’ contributions, the ‘Ladder to Heaven’ passed down to Ye Qingxuan can be said to be perfect.

Its excellent adaptability across the seven systems is undoubted, not to mention its terrifying ability to ignore boundaries of ultra-long-distance resonance and transmit its power thousands of miles away.

All Ye Qingxuan needs to do is combine the ladder with his own music theory.

After careful thinking, Ye Qingxuan felt that what he had learned was complicated, so he simply gave up on the ways of transformation, summoning, and chanting, and focused on the school he currently mastered.

Revelations, illusions, visions, and at the core, prohibition.

That's why he had a headache.

How difficult it is to integrate so many things into one breath.

What's more, there is also the music theory of the Philosopher's Stone in it. If you abandon it in order to complete the heart sound, it will be like buying a coffin for a pearl. Not only will the research on the small source be wasted, but the huge foundation brought by the Philosopher's Stone will also be lost.

It breaks my heart just thinking about it...

Well, now comes the problem.

How to unify so many large and complex music theories with each other and turn them from a chaotic situation in which each has its own master into a coordinated whole?

Thinking of this, Ye Qingxuan's expression became sad and melancholy.

"What exactly...is wrong?"

He murmured softly, staring at the countless complicated notes, looking for omissions in them through interpretation.

But the music theory involved is too complicated and huge. Even with the assistance of a large tuning instrument, it is still a huge project. It is simply beyond the capabilities of oneself, and the results calculated in the mind are often completely different every time.

It's been nearly half a month and he still has no clue.

He closed his eyes and stopped thinking, tapping his fingers on the wall and humming the vague tune intermittently.

It's okay, don't worry.

There is still a long time.

——

On the same afternoon, across the corridor, two old prisoners were killing time boredly behind the iron bars.

The old man in a wheelchair swayed from the tea cup, took two sips, licked his lips, and shook his head in dissatisfaction.

"Did the pharmacist change it? The 'sauce' was a bit missing, and it has no taste."

He put down the tea cup and sighed softly:

"I can feel my feet."

In the cage opposite his room was a bald old man with his face buried in a porn magazine. He leaned into the afternoon sunshine, his eyes were already dim, but he was extremely focused on what he saw.

Hearing his voice, he curled his lips, raised his head and said:

"Your legs are gone a long time ago, and I chopped them off with my own hands. Have you forgotten?"

"It's you who is confused. I later got a new one, and it works better than the previous one."

The old man in the wheelchair lifted the blanket covering his knees and shook the soles of his feet at the other party proudly: "Here, look, look..."

Under the completely broken calf, there was nothing at all.

But the bald old man's cloudy old eyes stared at it for a long time, and then he patted his head in realization, "Yeah, how could I forget this?"

"Right."

The old man in the wheelchair covered the blanket again. Under his calves, the apparently empty space highlighted the shape of his body. It was like some kind of twitching limb, slowly moving.

"It's itchy..."

The old man in the wheelchair reached out and scratched his non-existent feet through the blanket. As he scratched, his expression became sad: "Hey! Do you understand?

Lao Tang is going to die tonight, and Lao Qiao is going to die soon, probably the day after tomorrow. "

The bald man was stunned and closed the **** magazine: "Didn't it look good yesterday?"

"His heart had been modified too much in his early years, and now he can hardly beat it." The old man in the wheelchair shook his head, "He can't hold on much longer."

"That's right..."

"You've reached this damn age after living this long." The old man in the wheelchair clicked his lips, "It's not easy for everyone after being neighbors for so many years."

"He was old enough eighty years ago."

The bald man opened the magazine again, immersed himself in it, and said lightly: "It's a pity that the 'old immortal' is dead. If you don't persuade him to recruit him as soon as possible, maybe the Holy City will take pity on him and find him a prostitute. , provide hospice care.”

"forget it."

The old man in the wheelchair shook his head: "The secret that could be exchanged for three cities eighty years ago is now exchanged for a prostitute? I'm afraid that he will bite me to death as soon as I open my mouth. If you want to devote yourself to the Holy City, you can do it yourself."

"I want to give my all, but the Holy City doesn't want it."

The bald old man smiled strangely: "Otherwise, after the Inquisition was disbanded, why did they send me in to read pornographic books? If I had any secrets in my hand that I could read in exchange for a few good books, I would have done it long ago. I really can't understand the Holy Spirit. Why is the city..."

"Because you are a pervert, Morian."

The old man in the wheelchair said expressionlessly: "You are a son of a bitch."

"Thanks for the compliment."

Silence came again.

After a long time, the old man in the wheelchair asked: "Why are you reading that damn thing again? Every time you read that magazine, there must be something bad in your mind."

Morian raised his head and showed an old and kind smile:

"I don't know why, but I want to kill someone."

The old man in the wheelchair felt something. He raised his head and stared in a certain direction: "Because of him?"

"That's right." Morian sighed: "Your feet are itchy, but my hands are itchy. It's very itchy. Thirty years earlier, I might have been unable to bear it anymore."

He couldn't help biting his nails as he listened to the vague humming in the distance.

Teeth rubbed and rattled.

"Today's young people..."

He murmured softly: "It's amazing."

"That's right. He blew up a musical instrument and killed six of your parallel import masters in the Holy City in an instant without even taking a breath."

"That's not what I'm talking about..."

Morian looked up at him, his eyes full of scarlet bloodshot eyes: "That's not it."

The old man in the wheelchair suddenly fell silent. He clicked his lips, listened to the faint sound in the wind, and tapped his fingers to the beat.

The sound was just a vague humming, indistinct and without any details. It was intermittent, like the illusory sound of wind blowing.

But for these two old antiques who have been immersed in music theory for decades, it is enough to hear some clues hidden in it.

Then, the finger that was tapping the beat on his knee became stiff.

Under the blanket, the wriggling right foot squirmed like a snake, and soon returned to stillness.

"I see."

He sighed softly: "I remember I was less than twenty years old? Could it be that some old ghost changed his body and used his corpse to resurrect his soul?"

Morian looked at him and his eyes became mocking: "If there is such an amazing talent without the help of gods, who do you think would be stupid enough to become a black musician?"

"..."

The old man in the wheelchair was speechless and just looked at him deeply: "After being a neighbor for so many years, I would like to advise you not to have any ideas about him.

You don’t want to be blindfolded and taken away as a guinea pig someday, right? "

"Don't worry, I'm just sorry."

Morian Jiejie laughed strangely: "Whether I do it or not, those old monsters from the Cardinal Church will not let him leave here alive.

It's a pity that such a good young man cannot die in my hands..."

"Let's stop talking about the unpleasant scenery here."

The old man in the wheelchair sighed, "If you keep talking, the tea will become unpalatable."

He picked up the tea cup, drank the cold tea in one gulp, and wiped his mouth. The remnants of the tea fell from the rim of the cup and sprinkled on the table, making a sizzling sound.

——

Sorry, I'm a bit stuck. Please give me monthly votes to encourage me~ (Although I don't think it will have a big effect, please give it a try first, maybe it will be useful~)