Crown of Silence

Chapter 431 I hope so

It's that box!

When Ye Qingxuan appeared, the box was shown to him!

He was sure that he would notice the box, and because of his greed, he turned it into a hint, and he foolishly kept thinking about it!

Every memory, every greed will cultivate that hint stronger and stronger! He raised his own demons!

Thinking of this, he finally suddenly realized, and a decisive color flashed in his will.

The next moment, he no longer hesitated or dodge, regardless of Ye Qingxuan's erosion and penetration, he activated every potential of his brain, expanded his self-will without limit, and finally squeezed into Ye Qingxuan's heart.

boom!

Ye Qingxuan's body was shaken violently, and he was almost completely defeated in this suicidal attack. Even in his sleep, Ye Qingxuan could feel a sweet smell in his mouth, nose and throat.

"Haha, goodbye, friend."

The intruder laughed and left: "I will come to see you again!"

But the moment he left, he saw...

At the bottom of the shattered world of consciousness, those graves were buried under the Nine Earths, and the layers of fog were blown away, finally revealing the scene at the core.

That's a tall tower.

A huge tower that reaches the sky and the earth!

It was like a pillar of heaven, supporting Ye Qingxuan's world of consciousness, extending to the end of the world of consciousness and submerging into the void... Just looking at the miracle composed of the huge music theory made people tremble all over.

This path leads to the sky!

——The ladder to heaven!

"caught you!"

In the slowly recovering world of consciousness, a cold light flashed in Ye Qingxuan's eyes.

How dare you retreat with your own hint...

Should I say bold?

Or arrogant?

He couldn't help but laugh.

-

The next moment, in a cell not far away, the examiner opened his eyes from his dream. Before he could smile, his expression became stiff.

He felt that the connection between his hearts that he had severed was connected again!

Just on the other side, an angry consciousness counterattacked brazenly!

He actually used the movement of the mind!

In this place where all etheric induction is blocked, he can still use music? !

Does he have a key?

wrong! Impossible, this is the Tower of Judgment... Even my own key is a precious alchemical item that can only be used once. But what on earth is going on? !

"How do you think I solved your illusion?"

The hallucinatory chuckle sounded from his ears, so eerie. He whispered softly and said words that almost subverted the musician's common sense:

"Who said that without etheric induction, I wouldn't be able to release the music?"

No one has ever known that when Ye Qingxuan first came into contact with music theory, he never relied on etheric induction to play music!

This is one of his most important trump cards.

Any musician knows that trying to release a piece of music without etheric induction is tantamount to fantasy. Even if you get lucky once in a hundred thousand times, you will still be a blind man walking on a single-plank bridge.

It would have been better not to have found the single-plank bridge, but it would have been worse to have found it.

Just one wrong step and your body will be shattered!

But this common sense doesn't hold true for a freak like Ye Qingxuan.

He has never taken a normal path since he started.

Even without etheric induction, he could successfully release some low-difficulty basic movements by relying on the interpretation method and the 106,000 classical school note records given to him by Hermes.

"Thank you for opening the door for me."

Ye Qingxuan's voice sounded like a ghost, making the examiner's face turn pale.

This time, the offense and defense were reversed.

In just an instant, the last resistance collapsed completely.

Ye Qingxuan's power completely dominated his consciousness.

But his brain has been severely traumatized by unlimited oppression, and is almost on the verge of brain death. As long as it loses maintenance, it will completely collapse in the next moment.

Even Ye Qingxuan didn't realize that the other party was so fragile that he almost collapsed at the first touch!

But soon, Ye Qingxuan frowned and realized that things were not simple.

The censor's consciousness is empty, and he has been completely whitewashed!

Nothing remained, not even his own name. There was only a vague shadow left, that of a woman in a wedding dress, and her sweet smile could be vaguely distinguished.

That's why he keeps crying.

"I see."

Ye Qingxuan murmured softly.

This censor is not a killer at all.

He is just a poor 'springboard' for borrowing power!

As early as outside the prison, his brain was cleaned and turned into an empty shell. When he first entered here, he was already controlled by the killer through some kind of technology.

Although Ye Qingxuan doesn't know exactly how it works, it should be a secret music theory inheritance of a certain school.

The killer himself has not entered the Tower of Judgment at all. He has only been fighting with himself using this empty shell. This can explain why the other party is so fearless in the battle of wills.

Because it’s not you who died!

He has been forcibly squeezing the censor's consciousness and brain, manipulating his power to fight against himself. Because of this, he is so confident and not afraid of failure at all.

The worst thing is to do it again, anyway, there are as many cheap springboards as there are!

In the depths of his traumatized consciousness, Ye Qingxuan could still see the last mockery left by the other party, as well as the strange laughter.

"You want to leave after pretending to be awesome?"

Ye Qingxuan couldn't help but want to sneer:

"——It's not that simple!"

——

At this moment, outside the Tower of Judgment, it was exactly two kilometers away.

In a secret warehouse in a certain agency station, the musician woke up from his dream with a scream, sweating profusely, scarlet blood oozing from his mouth and nose, and vomiting violently.

He was lying in a huge alchemy matrix, and countless precious chanting supplies around him had been completely consumed.

This secret ritual consumes a huge amount of resources every time it is used, and it has only one function. That is to split the user's consciousness, just like summoning the musician to raise a fantasy beast in his brain, splitting part of his consciousness, forming personality fragments, implanting them into other people's bodies, and using this to maintain contact and remote control.

The middle-aged man climbed out of the matrix, pulled out the wires and nails that were pierced into his limbs and the back of his head and neck one by one, and gasped.

The people on both sides helped him up, wiped his vomit, and splashed warm water to wash his body.

He looked only in his thirties, but the man had gray hair, and there were fine musical notes under the hairline on his forehead, like some kind of music solidified in his head.

Soon, he regained consciousness.

The messenger who was waiting here on behalf of the employer came forward and asked, "Did it succeed?"

"I failed."

The musician's empty eyes became gloomy: "All your information is wrong! That guy's mind theory is not inferior to mine."

He paused for a moment and felt a little embarrassed: not only not inferior, if it comes to the basic level, it is simply much stronger than himself.

Soon, a trace of fear appeared in his eyes: "And... he can release music without relying on ether induction!"

The messenger was stunned, as if he didn't understand.

The musician repeated it, and the messenger finally understood. He frowned and looked gloomy: "Are you kidding?"

"If I want to cover up my failure, why don't I choose a better one?"

The messenger's face was uncertain, and he quickly calculated in his heart, but he didn't notice that the musician's face suddenly changed.

In the musician's consciousness, the remaining hint - the childish rope on the small box quietly broke. In the fight between the two people, it had become tattered at some point, and as the rope broke, the box quietly opened.

The gift hidden in it finally emerged.

Hint!

Or hint...

This is a double hint!

What kind of damn school inheritance can actually hide a hint in another hint? ! This ability that only exists in theory is unheard of!

His face suddenly changed, and his mind changed rapidly. He wanted to erase this memory and the hint together, but it was too late.

The suggestion had been erased, but the hidden instructions had quietly unfolded, embedded in his consciousness, and mobilized the chapter of the heart sound in his body.

There was only a slight change - synchronization.

Synchronization?

He was stunned.

Synchronize with whom?

The next moment, a thread condensed from a tiny vapor extended from the void.

Ladder!

Two kilometers away, guided by the suggestion, a line of water vapor flew out of the cage, followed the guidance of the ladder, and gently rested on his forehead.

Synchronize, start!

"Hey, see you again."

In his consciousness, the figure of the white-haired young man quietly emerged and smiled at him: "I have a gift for you."

As he said, he raised his empty hands.

And on those palms, there was moonlight.

The moonlight was like a dream.

"What is this?"

He was stunned and swallowed by the moonlight.

To the others, his body twitched violently at that moment, and he fell to the ground, murmuring something vague in his throat.

Soon, the spasms and convulsions that seemed like an acute illness stopped.

He opened his eyes again.

"Hello, first meeting."

The musician stared at the assistant beside him and the stunned messenger, showing a strange smile: "My name is Ye Qingxuan, please give me more advice."

The next moment, the musician suddenly stretched out his hands and pressed his hands on the foreheads of the two assistants. In a hurry, the assistants had no time to react. The next moment, the invisible river suddenly swept out and swallowed their minds.

The messenger staggered back, but the musician took advantage of the momentum to get up from the ground and pounced on him like a mad dog.

The sharp blade slipped out of the messenger's sleeve, he stood still, and slashed forward suddenly.

Even though he had never been on the battlefield, when he slashed this sword, it still carried the tragic breath of blood and rain.

This sword was taught by the sword masters of the Holy City, and it was extremely cruel and swift.

When faced with a surprise attack, most people would subconsciously want to retreat. But the more unexpected the situation is, the more determination and courage are needed.

When the sword is slashed, it is with the intention of dying together with the enemy.

Attack for attack, injury for injury.

Only when the opponent dies first can you have a chance to survive.

But even facing such a cruel and decisive sword, the musician still did not retreat, but instead accelerated and faced the blade. In an instant, the blade pierced his shoulder, and the musician's palm was also on his forehead.

Damn.

This was his last thought.

Then, his eyes went dark.

——

In the middle of the night, in a remote area of ​​the Holy City, the door of a porcelain shop was knocked.

"Who is it? You're here so late..."

The woken-up clerk yawned and came over. Through the peephole, he saw a half-naked man. The man's shoulder was severely injured and bleeding. But his face was dull, as if he had not woken up.

"Sorry, we're closed." He said, "Come back tomorrow."

"Old Antique asked me to deliver the goods."

Outside the door, the distraught naked man said dully, "Auntie... asked me to bring him... an urgent letter."

The door opened a gap, and a hand reached out and pulled him in.

But after entering the door, the man collapsed on the ground, and it was unknown whether he was alive or dead.

The clerk was stunned. Several people hiding behind the door searched him all over, but found a letter in his trouser pocket.

The letter looked like it was torn from a random book. It was not even put into an envelope. It was just folded together in a mess and crumpled into a ball.

Soon, the confused guys came to their senses and quickly began to give first aid to the man who came to their door for no reason. And the urgent letter was delivered to the "old antique" in the Anglo Embassy more than ten minutes later.

Anglo Embassy, ​​bedroom.

Maxwell turned on the bedside lamp, put on his glasses and unfolded the wrinkled letter paper.

On the wrinkled paper, there was a message like a child's graffiti.

[Maxwell, this person wants to kill me, help me investigate his identity. ]

[Also, thank you. ]

The signature was not a name, but a simple graffiti drawn casually, vaguely visible in the shape of a top hat.

Maxwell was stunned, and shook his head helplessly after a long time.

"It's really not easy to hear you say thank you."

Although he said so, he couldn't help laughing.

——

The next day, afternoon.

Maxwell leaned in and looked for a long time through a thick transparent glass wall.

"Excuse me for being blunt."

He said, "You look like you're about to die."

"Yeah, I almost died."

Ye Qingxuan shrugged, "In every sense."

On the chair behind the wall was a pale-faced young man with dark circles under his eyes. He looked as if he had been drained of energy. It seemed as if he would fall to the ground if a gust of wind blew.

"Principal, if you have any potions, don't save them for the New Year. I'll send some to save your life."

Ye Qingxuan opened his mouth and reported a series of potion names. After hearing this, Maxwell's mouth twitched: How much does this bastard treat money as money?

Just the first few things, one gram is enough to buy a square meter in the holy city where every inch of land is worth a lot of money! This bastard wants it by the bottle!

There's nothing I can do.

Last night, Ye Qingxuan could be said to have added to his heartache before his old wounds healed.

Although the final results were remarkable, the situation is still not optimistic.

He first fought head-on with a mind musician, and then experienced a series of fierce battles.

First, he played Bolero, and with the help of the gap in the barrier opened by the opponent, a line of thought spanned two kilometers, strengthened the suggestion, and forcibly continued the connection between the two.

Then, with the ultra-long-distance induction of the ladder, he finally forced a resonance.

The last battle seemed to be understated, but Ye Qingxuan was in a cage and had already used all his strength. The broken music theory in his body was also hit again.

Two kilometers away, without ether induction, remote control of the music was much more difficult than he imagined, and he almost exhausted all his heart and energy.

Finally, he finally made a final move with "Moonlight".

At that time, he was already at the end of his strength. He relied on vague instructions to control the enemy to clean up the scene. After delivering the goods to the door, he vomited blood and fainted.

If the opponent had not been confused by his counterattack, the ending might not be as easy as it looks today.

This battle was almost won like a miracle.

If it could be seen, it would definitely be a genius story that could be recorded in textbooks. Unfortunately, this kind of thing can only make me happy in my heart.

Ye Qingxuan shook his head and stopped thinking about it. He asked:

"How is it? How is the investigation going?"

Maxwell sighed.

"The one who came to kill you is a killer from the Holy City."

"Cantrera," he said, "Have you heard of this name?"

Ye Qingxuan nodded, "I have heard of it a little."

"In the beginning, this was a method used by the six generations of popes to eliminate dissidents."

Maxwell said, "If you make His Majesty feel in the way, he will invite you to dinner with him and serve you a glass of fine wine during dinner.

You must drink it politely, praise His Majesty, and enjoy the delicious food.

You can die in your sleep that night."

Ye Qingxuan listened and nodded, "At least it sounds like the Holy City was very polite at that time."

"It is said that the six generations of popes themselves died under this poisonous wine. From then on, it became a taboo and was no longer used. The killers took on this name. They were raised by the big men of the Holy City, waiting to appear when necessary."

Maxwell paused and showed a look of pity: "Unfortunately, you met one of them."

"How is he?"

"Dead."

Maxwell said: "The autopsy of the hymnist told me that there was a deadly bacterial strain in his stomach. If there is no antidote to suppress it for 24 hours, it will explode, and the whole person will become a culture medium for mushrooms from the inside out.

To be honest, that scene has made me unable to eat until now."

"..."

After listening, Ye Qingxuan was silent for a while and sighed: "It seems that I have committed a really big crime."

"More than that."

Maxwell's expression was complicated: "You cut off the head of a 'hero' in front of everyone in the world, in front of the gate of the Holy City."

"Even if the so-called hero is fake."

"Whether it is true or false, it will damage the majesty of the Holy City.

For decades, there has never been such an arrogant act.

Especially at the moment, the relationship between the Holy City and the countries is becoming more and more sensitive. It is simply a little spark that can become a disaster... You have angered many people. Old antiques in the Holy City, in their view, this loss must be repaid by your death. "

"Is that so?"

Ye Qingxuan sighed softly: "I didn't expect that it would cause such a big mess."

"You can understand how hard it is for a poor old man to clean up your mess, right?" Maxwell shook his head and sighed: "At least say thank you a few more times to comfort me."

"Maxwell."

Ye Qingxuan raised his head and stared at his pretending to be calm, with a serious expression:

"If the real thing is irreversible, don't do futile things anymore.

If you want to help me do something, please help me take good care of my teacher and Bai Xi, and remember to help me get that idiot Xiaer out.

This way I will have no regrets.

"Idiot, what nonsense are you talking about."

Maxwell laughed, as if he heard a child's joke.

"Ye Qingxuan, you are my successor, the future sword bearer, and the president of the Royal Academy of Music. I will not watch you being hanged on the gallows.

You will walk out of here safely, I swear."

"So, have a good rest, and leave the rest to me."

He stood up, put on his hat, and smiled reassuringly: "Maybe when you come out, you can still catch up to listen to the Pope's New Year's Gospel at Winter Twilight."

Ye Qingxuan said goodbye to him and watched him turn and leave.

After a long time, he whispered softly.

"I hope so."