Silent Crown

Chapter 411: Sound of Heart Movement

Truthfully, the sudden surprising reunion made Ye Qingxuan feel unreal. His world views did not stop shattering until he returned to his cell. He could only ascribe all this to the senior's righteousness. Ye Qingxuan did not feel touched, but they were classmates, sharing the loot, and now Charles was even imprisoned here to be with him…

He just wanted to know what a big mess his senior had done to be imprisoned here! After a short visit, Bai Xi and Professor had left. They lived in the Embassy of Anglo. There was a shuttle bus for them so there was no need for him to worry about them.

As for Ye Qingxuan… There was still something good from committing such a serious case. At least the treatment was not bad. He was even allocated to a single cell.

There were two prisons in the Sacred City. The one outside the city was where ordinary criminals were imprisoned. Those common criminals were all thrown there. The other one was located in the northeast of the Sacred City. It was a lonely tall tower. Martial law was enacted in the zone of a radius of several kilometers around the steel tower. It contained various military institutions and sensitive departments. There was a heavily guarded roadblock every ten steps. Not even a bird could fly in.

Serious criminals like Ye Qingxuan were imprisoned in the tower.

In addition to those politicians and nobles from the occasional downfall, the major 'clients' here were the arrested dark musicians… There were thousands of dark musicians imprisoned here.

More than half of them were pulled from here to be purified, one-third died here, and the rest were often taken away in a dark night for some unknown reason and never returned. They just totally disappeared.

Since the prison was founded, no one had ever been able to escape.

But compared to the horror stories spread outside, the inside of the prison was quite harmonious. The guards smiled, and the prisoners were calm and polite. They greeted and talked to each other with the elegant retroflex of aristocratic accents. There was nothing hostile in the prison. Everything looked bright. It was like a sanitarium with iron fences. But the harmony here was enough to explain how scary this place was!

Having been here for so many days, Ye Qingxuan did not encounter the 'king' of prisoners from rumors or any provocations. He was not even made fun on. He lived a quite 'happy' life. He could eat meat every meal and have books to read every day. It was just that he had to wear one-kilogram shackles on his feet which prevented him from touching anything related to aether and movements. If he ignored the dozens of layers of enchantments and Abstinence discipline rules, it was like a holiday to him.

However, for any qualified musician, there was no difference between a life without aether and being dead. Fortunately, Ye Qingxuan was not very qualified. In fact, the rings on his ankles that blocked any aether sensing actually helped him.

Ye Qingxuan closed his eyes, sensing things in his body silently. A long time later, he opened his eye and sighed softly. "I was really…heavily injured…"

Double Snake Timer Meter. This one, engraved with the Faust movement, was the top three instruments Ye Qingxuan had known. When it was detonated, the force that broke out from it was far beyond Ye Qingxuan's expectation.

Even if there was Jiu Xiao Huan Pei's fine control, that power was still too strong. When it converted into lightning, it completely simulated the spirituality of the falling spirits and completely obliterated six grandmasters in seconds. It even broke down the territory of Holy. The aftermath of the frenzy reached the depths of the aether sea.

The price was the complete mess Ye Qingxuan's body was in. The music theory system that had just been constructed with the Philosopher's Stone as the core completely collapsed again.

As he broke the Barrier of Knowledge, the music theory which formed the Philosopher's stone had once again evolved and detached from the body. It fused into his source in the aether world and became a lever for him to pry the aether sea.

The sub-originator that was formed in this way had gone beyond the imagination of all musicians from School of Stone Heart. Ye Qingxuan's vigorous foundation had reached an unprecedented degree.

However, without the repression of the Philosopher's Stone, the injury of his body completely broke out. It seemed to be fine on the surface, but this could only show that the Philosopher's Stone had strengthened his physical fitness to an extent that he could even survive from the music theory's collapse.

But in fact, if any music theory disturbed him now, the chaos in his body would kill him. Had it not been for the suppression of the Philosopher's Stone at the time, his fate would have been like Gavin's dead father, who had sat in his wheelchair with a shattered heart of sound. A bigger possibility was that he would be dead without a complete body.

Therefore, Ye Qingxuan enjoyed the peace in prison somehow. Who would refuse this kind of free recuperation opportunity?

-

The afternoon sun shone from the window with warm gold so that the steel prison became gentler. The air was even fragrant with tea. Thanks to the Sacred City, he could enjoy a good afternoon tea even in prison.

A tray with refreshments passed through the gap of the fence and was placed on the table. In the cell, Ye Qingxuan just stared at the wall rather than responding. The walls had been plastered with pieces of paper written with fine notes. The notes connected across the papers and included traces of revisions and deletions. They somehow formed a large and complex music movement.

This was only a framework without details but vaguely revealed some unspeakable complex and arrogant. It seemed to want to carve out thousands of water systems on a wasteland into rivers and seas to create a lofty tide, to construct mansions and high buildings from ruins and make it better than the past…

However, the complex music theory lacked finesse and details, which made it difficult to be consistent. Four different schools of music theory were independent here. Although there was a vague theme in them, it was difficult to merge them.

Ye Qingxuan silently stared at the messy music theories on the wall. The complex and incomplete movements changed in his eyes like crisscrossing gears fitting into each other. The huge machine ran under the same force and burst with grand power.

However, when it advanced to a certain place, the entire sophisticated system always collapsed quickly. It was like twisted steels under internal stress. When it overheated, the engine would explode.

This was only a paper deduction; there was no danger. But if these theories were constructed in his body, it would cause disastrous consequences.

The combination of music theory and human body was very dangerous. Even the School of Stone Heart, which was good at implanting aether into the body, was very cautious about this. Planning one's foundation again and build a heart of sound movement—the fundamental strength of a Resonance musician—in a prison was even riskier.

After entering the Resonance level, musicians would rearrange the internal music theory to form a movement and create the sound of heart. Then the spirituality of the movement could have their own personalities. By resonating the sound of heart with the source, the musician could get out of the shackles of his predecessors and create his own path. The sound of heart also strengthened the musician's power.

For example, the effect of a certain type of movement could be enhanced. One typical example was Sam. The music theory from the School of Destruction strengthened all types of destructive movements so that he achieved unimaginable attainments in Modifications.

The sound of heart could give musicians certain ability, such as rapid regeneration, tempered bones, or the starry eyes. It also complemented the musician's weaknesses by endowing them with an indescribable sixth sense and mysterious perception of certain aspects, etc…

Every musician could find the best way for him in the sound of heart. Throughout history, there had been all kinds of attempts and breakthroughs in the sound of heart. Some of them had succeeded but more had died during this vital section. Therefore, all musicians of the Resonance level were very cautious when constructing music theories and the sound of heart.

During this stage, each school secretly passed on the secret chants, music theories, and rituals of the first generation of musicians to help musicians complete this stage more easily. It could cause a qualitative transformation, which was why there were so many advanced occupations for musicians.

No one was as bold and silly as Ye Qingxuan who just directly began to do this in a barren prison without caring about his life.

But fortunately, Ye Qingxuan did have something. There was a treasure in him that all musicians coveted—Deva's blood.

Hundreds of years ago, the nine Dragon bloodline families went through countless experiments and sacrifices to finally succeed with the miracle of 'music theory inheritance.' They were then able to pass down their music theory to their descendants. This was how the talents were born. It was essentially a convergence of music theory and the prototype of a heart of sound, symphony of predestination, and even a scepter!

A man's life had a limit. Compared to the world, it was as insignificant as dust.

To explore the true nature of the Originator, the ancestors of the nine families created Deva's blood. They turned music theory into an inheritance that could be passed down the generations. Countless descendants carried the same theory. As long as the bloodline was not cut off, they would be able to develop into the Originator one day.

After revisions from dozens of generations, Ye Qingxuan's Heaven Ladder was practically flawless. Its ability to cross all seven schools went without saying. In addition, it even ignored the boundaries to resonate over extremely large distances. It had the terrifying ability to send its strength over thousands of miles.

All Ye Qingxuan had to do was combine the Heaven Ladder with his own music theory. After much thinking, Ye Qingxuan felt that he had learned too much. He decided to give up on Modifications, Summoning, and Choir and just focus on what he already grasped: Revelations, Illusion, Mind, and the core—Abstinence.

This was why he had a headache.

Trying to combine everything at once was very difficult. Furthermore, he also had the music theory of the Philosopher's Stone. If he abandoned it to complete his heart of sound, it would be like selling a gem to buy a stone. Not only would his research on the sub-originator go to waste, he would also lose the vast foundation brought by the Stone. Thinking this made his heart break…

So then there was another problem.

How could he combine such vast and complicated music theories and turn the chaos into a complete unit?

Ye Qingxuan's expression grew troubled. "What…is wrong?" he murmured. He studied the countless music notes, trying to use the interpretation method to find any holes. But the music theory involved was too much. Even with the large tuning instrument for help, it was still a huge task. He could not do this by himself at all. It had already been close to half a month and he was still clueless.

Closing his eyes, he stopped thinking about it. He tapped against the wall and hummed a broken tune. It was okay. There was no need to hurry.

He still had a lot of time.

-

That same afternoon, two old prisoners across the hallway started talking behind the bars to pass time. The old man on a wheelchair drank his tea slowly. He smacked his lips and shook his head in dissatisfaction.

"Did they change the druggist? They didn't put in enough 'seasoning.' There's no taste." Putting down the teacup, he sighed. "I can practically smell my feet."

In the cell across from him was a bald old man with his face buried in a porn magazine. He used the afternoon sunlight to peruse it with his bad vision. Hearing the other man's voice, he pursed his lips and looked up saying, "Your foot's long gone. I cut it off myself, remember?"

"No, your memory's bad. I got a new one later. It's better than the old one." The wheelchair guy lifted the blanket on his knee and shook his foot proudly at the other. "See, look. Look…" There was nothing under the calf. However, the bald guy stared with his rheumy eyes and hit his forehead in realization. "Oh, right. How did I forget?"

"Right." The wheelchair guy put the blanket back. There was nothing under his calf but there was a bulge under the blanket. There seemed to be a writhing limb, squirming slowly.

"So itchy…" The wheelchair guy reached out and scratched the nonexistent foot over the blanket. As he scratched, his expression grew bitter. "Hey, you know Old Tom is going to die tonight. Old George is going soon too. Probably the day after tomorrow."

Stunned, Bald Guy closed his magazine. "Wasn't he still fine yesterday?"

"He changed his heart too much back in the day. It's going to fail soon." Wheelchair Guy shook his head. "He won't be able to keep going for long."

"I see…"

"He's so old now. He's at the age to die." Wheelchair Guy smacked his lips. "We've been neighbors for all these years. No one's had it easy."

"He was at the age to die eighty years ago." Bald Guy opened the magazine again. Burying his face in it, he said indifferently, "The undying old guy is going to die, what a pity. You should convince him to just confess. Maybe the Sacred City will feel merciful and get him a prostitute to send him off."

"Nah." Wheelchair Guy shook his head. "That secret could be exchanged for three cities eighty years ago. Now you want him to exchange it for a prostitute? If I tell him, he'd probably bite me to death. If you want to bow to the Sacred City, then you do it."

"I want to but they won't let me." Bald Guy snickered. "Otherwise, they wouldn't send me here to look at porn after the Inquisition disbanded. If I still had some secrets to exchange for more of these books, I'd do it. I really don't know why the Sacred City-"

"Because you're a pervert, Mollien," Wheelchair Guy said emotionlessly. "You're a son of a b*tch."

"Thanks."

Silence returned.

After a long while, Wheelchair Guy asked, "Why are you reading that again? You never have good ideas when you read that magazine."

Mollien looked up. He gave an old and kind smile. "For some reason, I want to kill again."

Understanding him, Wheelchair Guy looked up into a certain direction. "Because of him?"

"Yeah." Mollien sighed. "Your foot itches but my hand itches really, really badly. If it was thirty years ago, I wouldn't be able to resist it."

Listening to the vague humming in the distance, he could not help but chew on his nails. His ground his teeth with cracking sounds.

"Youngsters these days…" he murmured. "So impressive."

"Yeah, you cruddy grandmasters from the Sacred City detonated an instrument because of him and instantly killed six people."

"I'm not talking about that…" Mollien looked up with bloodshot eyes. "Not that."

Wheelchair Guy suddenly fell silent. He smacked his lips and listened to the vague voice in the wind. He tapped his knee to the rhythm. The singing was very unclear. He could not hear any details and it was broken like a hallucination floating in the wind. However, these two old guys who had been submerged in music theory for decades could still hear the details hidden into the song.

The tapping finger stiffened. The foot writhing under the blanket stopped quickly as well.

"…I see," he sighed. "He shouldn't be twenty yet. Did some dead guy take over his body?"

Mollien looked at him mockingly. "If someone is talented enough to be like this without using a god's help, who would be stupid enough to be a dark musician?"

Wheelchair Guy could not reply. He gave a long and hard stare, saying, "As your neighbor for so long, I'll give you a piece of advice. Don't get any ideas. You don't want to get a bag thrown over your head and taken to be experimented on, right?"

"Don't worry. I just think it's a pity." Mollien cackled. "Even if I don't do anything, those old beasts at the Cardinals aren't going to let him leave this place alive. What a pity that such a good kid can't die in my hands…"

"Let's end the distasteful conversation here." Wheelchair Guy sighed. "If you keep going, the tea will be even more disgusting." He lifted the teacup and drank all the cold tea. He wiped his mouth. Some remaining drops fell onto the table and sizzled.

The only sounds in the dark hallway were thumping heartbeats.

"The elder is waiting for you." The secretary standing outside the door glanced at the examiner who had been waiting for a long time. He said indifferently, "As etiquette requires, do not speak unless there are questions after reporting. Do not raise your head and look into his eye. Don't have a smart mouth, understood?"

"Understood." The examiner nodded respectfully. His face was a bit pale and he could not breathe as if his collar was too tight.

"This is for your own good." The secretary patted his shoulder and pushed open the door without waiting for his reply. The examiner lowered his head and walked into the silent room.

Dark red curtains hung in the room. The carved holy emblem shone with black metallic light under the dim candle. In the darkness, there was only an old man in a rough robe. He sat on a metal chair. His features were plain and his eyes were closed. He held rosary beads and seemed to be praying. The tiny marks on the rosary beads' emblems showed the elder's status.

It was only a mere glance but the examiner involuntarily held his breath and knelt down, reverently lowering his head.

It was the Ecclesiastical Order. This order composed of the old creatures of the Sacred City families did not exist in any records. However, they held a mysterious yet powerful influence over the Sacred City for a century. They were born from the elite families of the Sacred City families and had all undergone the intense competition within their families to become 'beasts' who did not fall for decades in the political world. They were once active in Amnesty Institute, the Bishop Department, the Gospel Ministry, and other important institutions. Even the Cardinals could not be isolated from their influence.

Now, they had aged and were willing to be ascetic monks without any status but they were still powerful figures who could change the entire Church with an order. They once had power, money, lust, and all the glory in the world.

What they once had was no longer important now. Instead, they began leading ascetic and crude lives. They spent their days in the dark underground palace to study the scriptures and rarely ventured out. If they came out from the underground, would they smell like a rotting corpse?

They were like ghosts that hid in the shadows and paced through the human world. They gazed at people with their murky eyes with a chilling aura.

Kneeling before the elder, the examiner respectfully reported his name and institution.

After a long silence, the praying elder opened his eyes. He raised the simple ring on his finger to the examiner's lips.

"Child, I bless thee. You are the hands of God." The voice was deep yet hoarse as if it came from far away.

In a daze, the examiner kissed the ring. Fear flashed past his reverent expression. The amber ring was carved with the elder's family emblem. It was the Sforza family—an important figure in the Sacred City.

Over the centuries, more than sixteen cardinals had come from that family. There were not many who were qualified to wear this ring. To the examiner's knowledge, there were only a few in this generation, including the elder brother of the current family leader. He was the one who matched the old man's body and voice the most—Ludovic.

But the terrifying thing was…Ludovic had died forty years ago.

So what was sitting before him now? A living corpse? An angry spirit? The examiner did not dare to think any further. He emptied his thoughts and started to report.

Three short minutes later, he lowered his head and did not speak anymore.

Ludovic replied promptly. "Tell me your thoughts," he said. "You have interacted with him for fifteen days. What do you feel?"

"It-it is difficult to say." The examiner was sweating. "He is a pure idealistic man and shows signs of self-destruction. Torture is useless because his heart will not die. No matter what we say or threaten, he refuses to say anything useful. This type of person is difficult. We might not receive anything other than lies.

"In addition, he may have already expected this day and made all the preparations. All evidence and traces end with him. It is impossible to continue digging. We cannot find any other clues.

"Now, many people worship him, thinking he is a saint in the darkness but I think he is crazy. In fact…" He paused and lowered his head. "He may already realize that my identity is not so simple."

"Oh?"

The secretary hung his head. "He always takes me as a regular clerk but when he speaks, he looks at my collar." He pulled his collar open. The skin on the neck was clearly different. It was the obvious tan line from wearing high-collared uniforms under the sun for many years.

After a pause, Ludovic nodded. "Anything else?"

"I on-once…" The examiner gulped. "There was once a moment when I wanted to kill him but…I did not dare." His pinky finger twitched as he thought back to that murderous moment.

At that time, the youth behind the long table had raised his head lazily. A metallic glint had appeared in his squinted eyes. Even under the shackles, there had been a bone-numbing coldness. It was like a sword hanging over his head. The coldness did not disappear until fear had flashed past the examiner's eyes. It was then replaced by a mocking smirk.

Hearing this, Ludovic did not comment. He nodded and said, "I see. You may leave now."

As if freed, the examiner retreated respectfully and quietly closed the door. The secretary entered soon. After closing the door, he stood wordlessly beside Ludovic. He waited until the old man had finished thinking before placing a letter on the table.

"Anglo's ambassador wishes to see you."

"I won't see him." Ludovic scoffed. "There is no one worthy of seeing us in that fallen nation without God's protection. Arthur's descendants will never learn to be humble. Just let them die in arrogance."

The secretary nodded. He tossed the letter into the burner. It quickly turned to dust in the fire.

"Anglo will do all they can to adjust matters these days. Mr. Borja said that many of the Amnesty Institute have been swayed."

"Tell Borja that this matter is highly important and should not be treated lightly. It involves the Sacred City's dignity. If he is not punished, will the Sacred City's laws continue to be effective? I can understand his hardships. I will help him solve this problem. However, I hope that the result will not be disappointing. After all, this is all for the Sacred City."

He reached out and wrote some words on paper. Pressing his ring in the inkpad, he left behind a clear stamp and put the paper inside an envelope. "Give this to 'Cantarella'."

The secretary held the envelope. Hearing that name, his hand trembled as if holding a burning piece of iron.

'Cantarella' was originally the name of a poison. It was odorless white powder that priests gave to their political enemies. Some said that it was the combination of cadine and arsenic. The victim would by asphyxiated by a bone-piercing coldness.

But at some time, it became the euphemism for the assassins kept by the important families. The assassins who were sent were usually priests, civilians, or even nobles. Like poison, they were single-use consumables. They were difficult to develop but had shocking effects. They rarely ever failed.

The secretary quickly took the letter and left without a sound.

In the silence, Ludovic sat alone. The dim candlelight illuminated his rosary beads. He shut his eyes and prayed quietly.

Ye Qingxuan fell asleep without realizing. When he woke up, he discovered from the tiny window that the sun was setting. It was already dusk. He had an hour of fresh air at this time every day.

Under the setting sun, groups of prisoners sat in the yard within the high walls. They played cards, talked, drank tea, or wrote poetry about fallen leaves. It was a weird feeling to see them discuss poetry and tea. It felt like some aristocratic club.

Ye Qingxuan felt more and more unsettled. It was like a few burly and hairy bandits sitting in a pink room and giving their dolls a tea party. Their smiles were gentle and happiness seeped from their knife scars.

Above the high tower, an organ sounded. This was not a score to chase away aether. It was just pure music. The elegant hymn echoed through the prison. The ethereal and holy melody filled one's ears, making one feel the beauty and value of life.

"What the hell is this?" he murmured, frowning.

"You don't know?" An old guy sleeping on a wheelchair nearby opened his eyes and could not help but mock, "This is the score the Sacred City prepared to cleanse our sinful souls. They play it occasionally, hoping that we'll realize the beauty of life and power of justice…something like that. You'll get used to it."

Stunned, Ye Qingxuan asked, "You can't communicate with aether here. Is the music score actually useful?"

The old man's smile grew mysterious. "You're still too young. Even if you're talented, you still haven't been interacting with music theory for long. You still have not experienced some things." He said lightly, "If you live a few more decades, you'll understand that even without aether, music is still powerful… It deserves for one's soul to drown in it. Merely listening can stir your soul."

Ye Qingxuan's heart trembled. A memory flashed past his eyes. "Music notes…are language?"

Hearing this, the old man's eyes were faintly shocked. He nodded. "You can say that."

-

So-called music notes were just a transcription of the world's sounds. By observing the world, they transcribed the mysterious sounds into music notes and created miracles. All civilization began with the birth of language. The ancestor of the Asgardian people sacrificed himself to the Tree of Life, receiving the first runes of Asgard.

The Sumerians said a wise man stole language from the god of fire. He brought light to humans but the consequence was that he fell to Hell after death…

Music notes were a language. This was what Abraham had said in the first class. He thought that music notes were the language of aether. This was the foundation of the interpretation method. At that time, Ye Qingxuan could not comprehend the words but now, he had some understanding.

"Seems like you kind of understand?" The strange old man's eyes were mysterious. "Even without aether, some melodies are enough to influence someone's emotions and personality. If you add some special seasoning and bait, it's not hard to purify one's soul at all. In this environment, even the most horrible sinner will change…even if the original self is completely wiped clean."

He paused and gave an evil smile, "Welcome to the soul transformation site of the Sacred City, kid. You'll get used to it quickly. Without much time, you'll be able to join them and talk about art and the beauty of life."

There was no change or fear in Ye Qingxuan's expression. He just looked at the old man and asked, "Then how long have you been here? Thirty years? Or forty?"

The man's smile faltered slightly. Ye Qingxuan had grasped the core of the problem. "Fifty-six years. It'll be fifty-seven next month," he replied honestly. "You want to know why it doesn't work on me? I can tell you but you might not be able to do it."

Ye Qingxuan shrugged. "Tell me. Maybe it'll work."

"It's simple. If you enjoy food, you can be won over by the taste. But if you know that what you're enjoying is made out of rotten meat with mad cow disease and sewer water, you won't like it anymore." The old man coughed and cackled at the same time. He continued, "If you look past the sacred jacket and see what's underneath, you might not like that person's flashy jacket anymore."

Ye Qingxuan frowned; his expression was blank.

The man pointed at the source of the music. "What do you think of the musician?"

After pondering, Ye Qingxuan answered, "His foundation and fingering are pretty good. He should be from the Trinity College and inherit classicism. His grasp is good and his technique is just right."

"That's it? You're too shallow." The elder seemed to be smiling. "Music has a spirit but where does it come from?"

Ye Qingxuan said without thinking, "The composer and performer."

"Yes." The old guy laughed. "A man can hide the spirit but the music theory can't. It knows what you're thinking and doing. It can also reveal things that even you don't know… I became a dark musician after realizing this."

As if reminiscing on his thirst for power when he was young, his eyes brightened a little. "Kid, you cannot lie to your own heart or force your music to lie. That is why people will go crazy and die when the symphony of predestination fails. It contains the spirit of your music…it is the crystallization of your soul, the truest part of you. So…" The elder pointed at his ears. "If you listen, you will be able to see its true nature. Do you want to know what that guy is thinking of now?"

Ye Qingxuan nodded. Sneering, the elder rolled his wheelchair.

"Follow me."

-

The elder took him to the corner of the yard. Under the tree's shade, a few ancient men who looked old enough to be in coffins already sat around a stone table. They either played cards or just talked. Ye Qingxuan was worried that they would get a stroke if they became the slightest bit excited.

"This is Tom and that's George. You can call them Old Tom or Old George. The bald guy reading the porn magazine is a pervert. Ignore him… Basically, everyone here can't even pay for their sins with death so you don't have to pity them. These are the only stupid ones who can last this long without repenting. Do you want me to introduce them in detail?"

"No." Ye Qingxuan shook his head and found a place to sit. "Deer-head Tom Kline, bone collector George Valina, and that guy who shaved his head…is he the legendary psychotic killer of the Sacred City, Mr. Mollien?

"I learned about all of your stories from the Church's reward list. I didn't know that all of you are still imprisoned here and am quite surprised. But I apologize for not recognizing you. You seem to have problems with your legs."

"It's alright. I am just an unknown man of no importance. Just call me Old Cripple." He clearly did not want to talk about the past and just chuckled. "I didn't think that someone would still remember the wanted list from decades ago. How shocking."

With that, he looked at the others. "I was discussing the special concert the Sacred City holds for us with this young man with a bright future. Does anyone have thoughts?"

"Thoughts?" Old George glanced at him with a strange expression. "What are you planning now?"

"Just thoughts." Old Cripple looked excited. "No problem with talking about it."

Old George shook his head. "I didn't listen closely but I know that the musician has changed… It should be a man, pretty young, probably around twenty years old."

Ye Qingxuan was stunned. "What else?" he asked.

"Let me listen…" Deer-head Old Tom was interested as well. After listening for a bit, he smirked. "Huh, he has concerns, haha. He's not paying attention. I don't know what he's thinking of but it seems like he's just killing time."

"That goes without saying." Old George snorted. "The Sacred City doesn't pay much. Coming to this place for that money, you can't even buy a house in ten years. I wouldn't like it either. If you have a bright future, you should go make more money."

Mollien, who had been quiet the entire time, raised his head and said lightly, "I think it's because of his lower body."

"Bet?" Old Tom rubbed his hands. "Loser has to say 'daddy' ten times."

"Sure." Mollien smiled confidently.

Not even after two measures, Tom's expression grew ugly. "F*ck, how come youngsters nowadays only think about sex?" He spat on the ground. "That guy's probably thinking about some wh*re."

"I'm betting ten more calls of 'daddy'." Mollien's smile was creepy as he raised a finger. "He's gay."

With that, everyone fell silent. No one wanted to bet with him again.

"You can hear that?" Ye Qingxuan was curious.

"It's simple." Old Cripple's voice was complex. "Perverts understand perverts, bad guys understand bad guys, gays understand gays too. This *sshole is all three. When he was the licensed killer of the Sacred City, he could smell an *sshole from three streets away. Finding a gay now is nothing."

Mollien's expression was arrogant. Rather than feeling embarrassed, he asked, "Anyone want to bet who his boyfriend is? You can raise the stakes now."

"The manager of the tower's lower level, right?" That came from Ye Qingxuan. This time, Mollien was shocked. He quickly smiled, "You can tell?"

"I guessed." Ye Qingxuan shrugged. "There aren't many non-straights here. There are even less who can be paired with that musician. It's just the exclusion method."

Everyone's expressions turned strange.

"Thank you for all your advice. I suddenly understood many things." Ye Qingxuan rose to leave. "I won't disturb your card game now. See you next time."

Seeing Ye Qingxuan leave, Old Tom shook his head. "What a troublesome kid."

Mollien glanced at Old Cripple. "What are you doing this for?"

"Huh?" The man seemed to not understand.

"You're a dark musician but you're going to help a kid who's infamous for hating dark musicians? Are you repenting?"

"I'm just curious." Old Cripple dealt the cards slowly. "He doesn't have many more days anyway. I just want to know what level he can reach without this obstacle. After all, it's hard to find anything interesting here, other than playing cards."

"Then you'll be disappointed." Mollien shook his head and said meaningful, "The man's coming for his life."

-

Those guys were bad news. That was Ye Qingxuan's conclusion. Neither Deer-head nor the Bone Collector were good people. That seemingly caring but extremely mysterious old cripple seemed to have something planned. The most important was that bald Mollien.

Under his peaceful eyes was raw murderous intent. He wanted to kill Ye Qingxuan but did not dare so he could only force down his urge. If they ran into each other outside of prison, it would be a fight to death. Therefore, even though they had given him answers, Ye Qingxuan felt more cautious than grateful. Now, the most important thing was to find Charles. He had to ask his stupid senior what was going on outside and how he got in here. But he could not find Charles after searching for a long time.

He asked many people but no one had even seen Charles before. With his features and gold hair, he should be memorable. So where exactly was he imprisoned?

While deep in thought, he heard a bang. Rows of bars away, a new prisoner was taken out of the heavily guarded car. He seemed to have been tortured horribly and could barely stand. His eyes were blank, hair unruly, and his face was sheet-white.

Ye Qingxuan froze. Even with the distance, he could see the face clearly. It was the examiner who used to interrogate him every day! Seeming to sense his gaze, the examiner looked over. His eyes were gloomy and troubled. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. Finally, it became a pathetic smile.

Ye Qingxuan quickly found out his crime: attempted assassination of the Cardinal.

Stunned, Ye Qingxuan left.

The break was over.

-

Under the dim light, Ye Qingxuan studied the incomplete music score on the wall. In his brain, countless details rolled through, continuously breaking apart and going back together. A new structure formed in the mess of thoughts.

Music notes were a language. Therefore, it must have logic, which was the music theory.

The spirit of the music score came from the composer's heart. That was his truest self.

Therefore, there must be a path to follow.

Find himself in the music theory?

It was Ye Qingxuan's first time experiencing this. After looking at the problem from another perspective, he was enlightened. He tried to understand it from the angle of a scholar of ancient studies. Like organizing an incomplete document, he carefully edited, revised, and deleted. Using his own understanding and needs, he reorganized the content and created a new image. He quickly found a new direction, but he had new troubles too. Now, Ye Qingxuan really regretted not memorizing related books while he was in the library.

Thankfully, Abraham had come to the Sacred City. Ye Qingxuan could ask him some questions during visits.

He stood before the wall. Grabbing his pen, he quickly got rid of the unnecessary parts. Within two short hours, he had refined one-fifth of the score. One-fifth of the bloated music score was replaced by precise music theory. More importantly, he had found a way to combine the four originally complicated cores. There were finally signs of the 'Dreamweaver' in his Deva's blood.

Before lights out, Ye Qingxuan looked at the totally different music score and nodded in satisfaction. Without feeling like a lost blind man, he would come to the solution sooner or later. He slept better than any other night in prison. However, in his sleep, he heard muffled choking sounds in the near distance.

The examiner that had just been thrown into jail was curled up in his cell. Tears streamed down his face as if he was regretting something.

Ye Qingxuan's mood worsened. He did not know what happened but he had a feeling the man's arrest had something to do with him. He felt a bit guilty.

But quickly, he was distracted by a strange itch. His hands, arms, shoulders, between his toes, his knees, back, neck, face…the itch was spreading across his entire body.

His itching finger felt something and he was overcome with fear. Flipping over, Ye Qingxuan sat up. The dim light in the hallway illuminated his ghastly pale face. He looked up at the mirror behind the toilet.

In the reflection, the frail young man looked completely different. Tiny blisters spread across his body rapidly. The thumb-sized blisters grew out of his mutating flesh, covering his body. They broke at the slightest touch and dried. After squeezing out the pus, they left behind tiny holes. As if he had somehow contracted a contagious disease during the night, his entire body was changing, mutating, rotting, and becoming some twisted thing.

Ye Qingxuan yelled for the guards but no one came. The choking sounds traveled to his ear.

"It's a music score."

It dawned on him and his expression darkened. Because of his shackles, he could not sense any aether. He had no way of knowing where it came from or how to defend himself.

There was only one solution.

Bearing the pain and itch, he rolled off the bed and crawled to the sink. He knocked the toothbrush to the ground. Clenching his jaw, Ye Qingxuan applied force and cracked the toothbrush in half. He grabbed it with a deformed hand and stabbed the sharp point into his chest. Blood spurted out.

Screaming, he yanked it out and stabbed himself again. The blinding pain pierced his heart and spread. Then he dug his fingers in and tore at the wound. Finally, he saw his poisoned heart through the dark green bones.

He smiled, feeling the weight lifted. "It's an illusion."

Thankfully, it was an illusion rather than a Choir curse. After the Philosopher's Stone became the sub-originator's sublimated source, even he did not know what was beating in his chest.

There would be no problems so why would he give in to his curiosity and dissect himself? However, the Philosopher's Stone would never ever be replaced by an infected bodily organ.

"You want to get rid of me so quickly?" Ye Qingxuan sneered. "Not so fast."

Thankfully, it was an illusion.

It was great that it was not a virus from the School of Choir, a curse from the School of Revelations, or a mutation from the School of Modifications… Ye Qingxuan could understand this. After all, this was the heavily guarded judgement tower and his position was sensitive. Because of the possible consequences, the enemy would use an illusion because it would not leave behind any evidence. Fortunately, it was an illusion.

He did not have to worry that he would die immediately. If his mind was strong enough, he could survive before his senses were completely taken over. Ye Qingxuan was an expert in this field. He knew what to do in this situation. After confirming that it was an illusion, he needed to know what type it was.

What kind of illusion was it? A sensory illusion? A sealed illusion-scape constructed over the entire cell rather than just on him? A misconception that worked on his consciousness? The terrifying reality after making the illusion become reality? Or was it multiple types?

He could at least cross out the possibility of the illusion becoming reality. This was an extremely rare and difficult skill. Ye Qingxuan knew from Lola's experience. If her luck was the tiniest bit worse, she would probably have suffered from the music theory backlash and become an illusion herself long ago. Even so, she was only a beginner after completing her symphony of predestination.

Of the musicians who studied this topic, ninety-nine of one hundred would die. The remaining one may not succeed either. There were less than ten musicians who had the ability to dabble in this field. More than half were from the Northern Islands, Voodoo Crypt, Unstable Soil, and other hidden schools. Hiring them would require a fortune and they might not even be willing.

Ye Qingxuan thought that he might not be that unlucky.

Plus, there were countless of ways to kill him if the killer truly was that skilled. He could just shoot an illusory stimulant into Ye Qingxuan's blood, causing him to die from psychosis. The other possibilities were easy.

Ye Qingxuan smiled and closed his eyes. It was time for the interpretation method. The proposition was the changes of music theory in the aether sea. In his mind, an aether sea slowly emerged. It was serene and seemed to stretch to the end of the world. He set the aether density to the standard of a red zone. After setting up the source, sixteen organs rose in his mind, creating a large ring. Next…

Ye Qingxuan grinned.

The sixteen huge organs sounded at once. Powerful music burst from them, overlapping and creating waves in the aether sea. Countless ripples collided; the imaginary music theory collapsed and regenerated. It felt as if Ye Qingxuan's brain was tossed into a boiler. It was about to break down under the huge performance. In the imaginary aether sea, the waves tossed and crashed wildly. As the tides came and went, countless music theories were created, broken down, scattered…

This was Abraham's rule. No matter what, he could not try inhuman performances. Otherwise, his brain would fail under the operation of the interpretation method.

Ye Qingxuan's consciousness started fading from the extreme pain of the poison. But in that moment, he saw everything distort and fade…As his brain turned wildly, his consciousness changed dramatically. Even his perception turned abnormal. He saw the cell warp and distort…

It was as if he was experiencing some weird abstract mathematical logic. The structure of the cell became very strange. Even Ye Qingxuan's body became thin and flexible like a doll stretched and stuffed into a box.

"I see…" He stopped the interpretation and watched as the world changed. It dawned on him. "So it's in my mind?"

Then where was he? Probably still sleeping on his bed and dreaming, right?

Ye Qingxuan wanted to laugh. He entered a prepared dream of the Dreamweaver…

Friend, he thought, are you truly not joking around?

-

Ten minutes ago, soft crying sounded in the hall outside Ye Qingxuan's cell. The examiner curled up in his own cell but his eyes glowed with strange red light. His lips slowly curled. Before the midnight bell rang, he quietly opened his mouth and lifted a piece of thread from under his tooth. He pulled out the object hanging in his throat.

It was a ring.

It looked like an average thing carved with basic music notes. However, under his activation, the simple interval fused into the midnight bell. It subtle ripple became one with the enchantment of the tower. Going past the enchantment's blocking, it could act directly on the aether.

It was a key.

When the tower was first built, before the Abstinence disciplines and enchantments were erected, there was a tiny space within the music theory operation. It was not enough to control the aether sea but it was still something.

The examiner opened his mouth, closed his hands, and pressed onto the air. A cold and tragic melody joined the soft sobbing. It crossed past the empty space. Using the prepared fulcrum, it flowed into Ye Qingxuan's dream.

The Forgotten Offerings—an Illusion score created from a Bible legend. When the holy one died and the end of the world came, some sinners fell into Hell to be tormented for eternity.

In the Bible, the descending angel said, "Time is up. There will no more time in the future." After this, the sinner would experience pain for eternity as he begged for the last salvation.

Thus, Illusion musicians created this score. It consisted of 'Judgement,"Sin,' and 'Sacrament.' The fulcrum was introduced during Judgement. Then, Sin tormented the victim in the illusion until his consciousness was wiped out by the endless pain. Finally, Sacrament provided the final salvation, allowing the victim to rest in peace. In five short minutes, he could experience thousands of years of torture.

Of course, the requirements for the score were very strict. The musician must drag the victim into the depths of the illusion-scape without him realizing and there must not be any resistance.

A musician with the slightest bit of aether sensing would wake up when noticing the aether waves, which would then destroy the illusion. Therefore, the prison was the most suitable for this score. Here, everyone's senses were blocked by the shackles. They could not use music scores and were practically just like regular humans. Affected by the drugs and hymns, their minds were even weaker than the average man.

Ye Qingxuan was quickly dragged into the nightmare. It was effortless. The examiner controlled the music score inside Ye Qingxuan's mind, dragging him deeper and deeper in. He also prepared a Mind music score.

The client's request was that it must be wrapped up cleanly and Ye Qingxuan could not die in prison. He must be put on trial and confess to his sin. He must die from the noose. Therefore, after Ye Qingxuan's mind was tormented completely, it was time for the Mind score. He must plant the hint, mold Ye Qingxuan's mind, change his thoughts…

It was detailed work, especially because he could not let anyone realize something was wrong. Who knew what valuable things this guy had in his brain?

The musician pondered. It would be best if he could find something useful and make some extra money. Maybe the Chapter of Golden Victory? Putting all twelve together could create the scepter of Heaven Comes, which was apparently the most powerful, second to saints.

Or maybe there were other valuable secrets to sell? After all, he would not be able to use this identity after the deal. He should squeeze out all of this job's worth.

"Let me see…" He lowered into Ye Qingxuan's consciousness, passing through the fog and crumbling defenses. He went into the illusion and went deeper. Finally, he found a door that represented secrets in a maze of memories.

"What a troublesome lock…" The musician sneered. "What kind of secret needs to be hidden like this?" He took out a key he had imagined out of the consciousness—tears, sadness, and fatigue. It was the easiest way into secrets.

Crack. The key broke.

The musician froze. This method was tried and true but it didn't work now? Then it dawned on him that Ye Qingxuan was apparently well-learned in Mind theory as well. Regular methods obviously would not work here.

He took out another key—despair. However, the moment it appeared in this dreamscape, it dissipated. The musician was stunned. He quickly took out various keys he had created beforehand but the door would not budge. The small tricks would not work here.

His mood worsened. He did not want to do this but now, he had no other choice. His body quickly swelled. Horns grew from his head and flames burst from under his feet. Bat wings sprouted from the flames behind his back. Controlling his image, he transformed into an incubus. He reached out, slamming toward the door's lock.

Crack. Before he even applied pressure, the door opened…

He was stunned but quickly started laughing in self-mockery. This guy's will had probably caved in long ago under the Illusion's torment. With such weak defense, he probably could have just nudged the door open.

He pushed it open. There was heavy fog behind the door. As if a splendid city had been obliterated, tombs rose up between the ruined walls. Ghostly white fog shrouded the place, seeming to hide countless secrets.

Seeing this, the musician's blood chilled.

This was a psycho!

Everyone would construct a refuge in the depths of their consciousness. It was a place to put all the secrets. It was a corner for their souls to hide and heal. The musician had seen wooden cabins on fresh green prairies and castles on islands in a storm. He had seen bustling cities, dazzling palaces, and even bloody dismembering workshops and terrifying basements decorated with human skin… But the lowest level of this guy's consciousness was a devastated cemetery?!

The musician looked at the tombstone closest to him. Walking closer, he finally saw the name clearly. Shaken, he looked to another tombstone. The name was the same. Staring at the rows of tombs, his skin crawled. The hundreds upon thousands of tombstones all had the same name—Ye Qingxuan!

"This psycho…" A chill ran through the musician's mind. Now, he finally realized that this was not a sanctuary at all. This was Ye Qingxuan's burial place! How many times had this guy killed himself?!

"That was the me who wanted to become an artist," someone beside him said quietly. "I used to be talented in drawing. My mother wanted me to become an artist."

The musician spun around and saw the figure that had suddenly appeared. The young man touched another tombstone and sighed.

"This is the one who wanted to become a poet. I had many wishes as a child and many paths I wanted to go down. Unfortunately, none of them came true. There are many of me here…many weak ones. They've all died." Looking up, he said calmly, "When you kill your younger self, you grow up. When you kill your weaker self, you become braver. I think that maturing is a process of continuously killing yourself, right?"

The musician stared in shock. The chill spread and he did not know what to say. Why are you here? he wanted to ask but it went unsaid.

If Ye Qingxuan could appear here, it meant that he had escaped from the illusion. The musician racked his brain trying to think of why. His shadow grew more menacing with undisguisable animosity.

"You're looking for this, right?" Ye Qingxuan held a small box. Rather than a lock, the lid was only tied with a piece of thread. It looked childish and laughable. "Sorry, this can't be yours." The box fell from his hands back into some unknown place, locked in the depths of the dream.

Ye Qingxuan stared at the invader and said softly, "You can't take anything from here."

The musician's expression darkened. His shadow grew strangely, swelling as if it was boiling, and spread in all directions.

"You can't use it anyway, so why can't I take it?" he asked coldly. "Sorry, I wanted to avoid this situation. After all, mind transformations are more painful…But sadly, you don't give me any other choice."

"I'm actually quite experienced in competing over will." Ye Qingxuan laughed. "So you shouldn't talk like a hot shot."

"We'll see!" The musician disappeared and was replaced by a pure black sky vault. A wild consciousness burst forth with a rumbling music score. It collapsed Ye Qingxuan's dreamscape in an instant, digging deep into his mind. Like a thunderstorm, countless locusts descended from the sky. It was like the destructive plague from legends. They devoured everything in sight. The dreamscape also fought back.

This was inside the prison and it was impossible to use the aether sea's strength. The enemy's strength was restricted to the Musician level. Ye Qingxuan never thought that he could lose to a Musician level man in a fight of will and mind!

Their minds changed thousands of times within an instant. They collided and clashed, using themselves as weapons to stab the other! This was the least technical battle in the School of Mind but it also relied most heavily on one's strength. Everything was built on their will and tenacity, their changes of technique, and experience. Everything was decided on the foundation. The more they fought, the more scared the musician felt. He could not find any trace of Ye Qingxuan's encroachment and hint.

It was seamless and his colorless river was all-consuming. Every gap in the turning thoughts was a chance. He could sense the tiniest weakness and take advantage of it.

Within an instant, the musician had removed dozens of hints from his mind. They had all been planted without him realizing when he slightly let down his guard. Plus, this guy could not even fight actively and could only defend passively.

If he could sense the aether, the scales would be tipped! Where did this crazy man come from? Was he a musician secretly trained by the Dark Forest, Mindfulness, or some other Mind School?

His profile only said that he did not have a School of Mind mentor and had only dabbled in it…what bullsh*t! His skills and foundation were even more stable than the musicians! With his encroachment and hint planting skills, he was darker than dark musicians!

Who did he learn from?!

On the other hand, Ye Qingxuan was also struggling. Unexpectedly, he was not losing because of technique but because of…his tenacity?!

The assassin who had invaded his mind always attacked like it was a suicide mission. The man tried to destroy Ye Qingxuan's mind even if it meant dying himself! Every attack on his consciousness shook his heart and soul. Every attack used up all his potential. His mind was spinning in overload.

If Ye Qingxuan could leave his dreamscape, he would see that his body was convulsing as blood flowed out of his eyes, nose, and mouth.

How was the assassin a musician? He was clearly a suicide terrorist! There was no sign of the early greed and hesitation. It seemed to be a totally different person.

Ye Qingxuan would practically be defeated with every attack. Most of his efforts were spent on the aftershocks. The invisible river managed to take the brunt of things. The enemy was not scared of dying but Ye Qingxuan was!

If the assassin's thoughts did not suddenly go stiff and show a bunch of flaws, Ye Qingxuan would not even be able to disturb the man. He couldn't help it. The dumb were afraid of the shocked. The shocked were afraid of those who did not care about their lives. Ye Qingxuan had been shocked for so many years. It was his first time seeing someone flirt with death like this.

What was going on?!

The assassin was thinking the same thing at the moment. He had messed up and continued making mistakes. He was tied with a musician who could not even sense the aether and was now at a disadvantage! While he hesitated, he realized that his mind was turning slower and slower…

A hint! A hint had been planted in him!

His thoughts were shaken. He had almost been successful but no matter what, he could not find where the hint came from!

In the end, it suddenly dawned on him.

That box!

It was that box! The one Ye Qingxuan had showed when he first appeared! He knew that the assassin would focus on the box because he was greedy, so Ye Qingxuan turned it into a hint. He was so stupid to be so hung up on it. Whenever he recalled the box, the greed would feed the hint! He had bred the demon himself! It suddenly dawned on him and he became decisive. In the next moment, he no longer hesitated or dodged. Ignoring Ye Qingxuan's invasions, he activated every bit of potential he had. His will swelled and crashed into Ye Qingxuan's mind.

Boom! Ye Qingxuan's body shook. This practically suicidal attack almost destroyed him. Even in his dream, he could taste the blood in his nose and throat.

"Haha, goodbye friend." The assassin disappeared with a laugh. "I'll be back later!" But the moment he left, he saw…

The consciousness world was falling apart but the tombstones were buried and the fog was blown away, revealing the core of the scene. It was a tall tower. A tower that reached into the sky! Like a pillar, it supported the world of Ye Qingxuan's consciousness. It reached into the end and disappeared into the void…This miracle made from music theory was shocking.

It led straight into the heavens! It was the Heaven Ladder!

"I got you!" In the slowly recovering consciousness world, coldness flashed past Ye Qingxuan's eyes. The man was trying to retreat with Ye Qingxuan's hint in him…

Was he courageous or a fool?

He could not help but laugh.

-

The next instant, the examiner in the close yet far cell opened his eyes. Before he could smile, his expression stiffened. He had cut off the Mind connection but it had somehow reconnected! The feeling of fury charged from the other end!

Ye Qingxuan was using a Mind music score. How could he use music scores here when the aether was locked?! Did he have a key too? No, impossible! This was the Judgement Tower… His own key was a precious one-time alchemy item. How was this possible?

"How did you think I undid your illusion?" A hallucinatory laugh sounded in his ears eerily. The voice murmured something that practically overturned the rules of musicians, "Who said that I can't cast music scores without being able to sense aether?"

No one knew that when Ye Qingxuan first approached music theory that he had never relied on aether sensing! This was his most powerful hidden trick. Every musician knew that trying to cast music scores without sensing aether was nonsense. Even if one succeeded after trying thousands of times, it was pure luck like a blind man walking on a tightrope. It was okay if he could not find the tightrope. It would be worse if he found it. A single misstep and his bones would shatter!

However, this bit of common sense did not apply to Ye Qingxuan. He did not go the regular path since he started. Even without sensing aether, he could use the interpretation method and the millions of music note records from Hermes to cast various low-difficulty music scores.

"Thank you for opening the door for me." Ye Qingxuan's voice appeared like a ghost, causing the examiner to pale. This time, the defense became the offense. His last bit of defense broke down. Ye Qingxuan completely ruled over his mind. However, his brain was already close to failing after the endless usage. It could break down at any moment.

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 wanted 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."

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 expression. "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…"

"Quinn, I'm already this old. I've heard worse news." Maxwell took off his hat and sighed. "Tell me. Don't worry about my heart. It won't fail now."

The man handed over a picture wordlessly. It was a porcelain shop. All the porcelain there had been dyed blood-red. The workers were nailed to the wall. Before death, they had been tortured. Their eyes were full of despair.

"All dead," Quinn said.

Maxwell took the picture. Without saying anything, he stuffed it in his pocket and walked to his office. He regretted saying too much. Clenching the picture, his heart thudded painfully.

When the office door closed, he looked up. Looking at the man sitting behind his desk, he sighed. Maxwell placed the picture in a drawer and poured some liquor from the table in the corner. He tugged his collar loose and collapsed on the sofa, downing the liquor. After a long, long time, he rasped out, "Lancelot, I hope that you didn't come thousands of miles from Anglo to give me the third piece of bad news of today."

The pale man behind the table coughed and nodded slightly. "Sorry but I am."

Maxwell cursed like an old gangster from the streets. "Spit it out." He laughed hoarsely. "I can't wait."

"Since last night, already four countries and more than ten groups notified us about various problems," Lancelot said. "They might not be able to continue following through with our agreement of grain imports. The Privy Council has been able to keep things down but I think people will soon start raising the prices.

"I'm afraid it won't be long before we need to take over the market and economy to forcefully set the prices. If the situation continues to worsen, we will need to start using rations. The Minister of Finance wants me to tell you that he is considering quitting."

Maxwell froze. After a long while, he asked coldly, "How long can our war reserves last?"

"More than ten years," Lancelot replied. "But are you sure you want the nation to enter the state of war so early? It's too rushed, Maxwell. We will need to complete most preparations. It is too early…"

Maxwell fell silent. Anglo was an island country. More than half of the territory was on the sea. The other half was in the coastal area, easy to destroy. Anglo had always been a commerce country, relying on trade and technological research. In addition, its heavy industry was well-developed and was close to being the best in the world. However, none of that could make up for the country's fatal weakness: its lack of fertile soil. It could not support much agriculture and therefore relied on imports for food.

This was why Anglo had established the East Indian Company when India was in chaos and created a colony. India had large swaths of fertile soil and could grow millet, rice, tea, meat…

To achieve this, Anglo had paid a lot. It threw more than half of the military into the quagmire but also accumulated much wealth. However, as India became more and more chaotic and Leviathan's threat loomed, the colony shrunk. More and more people wished the country would pull the troops back.

Faced with one of the four living beasts, there were never enough supplies.

"Guess who's pressuring them?"

Maxwell did not even need to think to know the answer. Of course it was the Ecclesiastical Order! Those old guys only needed to use some of their connections and the families could use their political power to achieve this. They did not even have to destroy the agreements. They only needed to spread some rumors and the citizens would be thrown into chaos.

If the imports were delayed three months, Anglo would be forced into a regulatory state.

"So f*cked…" Maxwell lifted the bottle of liquor. Not in the mood to search for a glass, he drank half the bottle in one breath. After a long while, he said, "I saw Ludovic."

"I know." Lancelot nodded.

Maxwell laughed at himself. "For a moment, I wanted to kill him. Without caring about anything, just kill him." He looked down at the liquor. "But then I hesitated. Now I regret it…" He murmured, "I really hesitated. I should have killed him."

"Killing him would do nothing." Lancelot stood up and patted his shoulder. "Her Majesty gave you the authority for this matter. Everything is up to you. She wanted me to tell you that Anglo is a country that inherited dragon blood. We suffer from it but we also find pride in it."

Rather than replying, Maxwell smiled bitterly.

"Ludovic was right…I'm a liar who pretends to dream with the kid. I have no way of withstanding the possible consequences." He sighed. "I really regret it, Lancelot. Why did I agree to take this back then? It would have been so much better if I just stayed in the Jianlan Underground Palace."

"You want to give up now?" Lancelot's voice was low. "I gave you all my trust. If you give up, my family will be after you."

"Who said I'm giving up?" Maxwell looked up. "I still have an idea but it depends on whether you are willing to give up your position."

"The third amendment?" It dawned on Lancelot. The third amendment stated that the Sacred City ruled over man's soul while the nations ruled over the man's body. God's domain belonged to God; man's domain belonged to the men.

It was stated in the amendment that the Sacred City had no right to interfere in a country's matters. Its extension stated the nobles were to be prosecuted by the country rather than the Sacred City. The 'noble' mentioned here was not the type titled by the country but the true nobles who could trace their sources. According to pedigree, the title of the Anglo emperor was only an archduke. 'Emperor' was a self-proclaimed title and was regulated by the Sacred City.

It was impossible to pull a title out of thin air for Ye Qingxuan.

However, if Lancelot was willing to step down, the title of the family leader would be given to Ye Qingxuan as according to Anglo's law of inheritance. Then he would be the current Lancelot and inherit the title of Earl. Then Ye Qingxuan's trial would not be under the Sacred City's jurisdiction.

"As expected of Maxwell." Lancelot smiled wryly. "This was the only solution that the national lawyers could think of after countless conferences and yet you thought of it by yourself."

"So what of it?" Maxwell glanced at him. "You're not willing to give up your status and power? Your position in the Privy Council is for life, don't worry."

"No, I support this idea more than anyone else." Lancelot shook his head. "But Maxwell, you don't understand him. You do not understand this child well enough… You do not know what the Lancelot family did back then…"

Hanging his head, he murmured, "Back then, when he needed help the most, the family betrayed him. Ye Lanzhou died because of it. His mother was exiled and died in a border village… After that, I saw that he had returned by himself. He did not look like a child anymore.

"Maxwell, you don't know how happy I was when I realized that he was still alive. His eyes are so similar to his mother's. He can just gaze at you and you will feel fear. He is my sister's child. I wish I can give him my everything to make up for the tiniest bit of damage. But sadly…" He bent over, coughing violently. Dark blood streamed from his mouth and nose. After a long time, he recovered though his expression was still dark.

"Maxwell, give up on this idea. He'll never forgive us." Lancelot shook his head slowly. "He would rather die than have anything to do with this family."

Maxwell glared at him. "Yes, your father's sins are still causing trouble today. It is all because of him!"

Lancelot fell silent.

The suffocating silence continued until the sun set. It was broken by knocks on the door. The knocking was neither slow nor fast. They could sense that whoever it was, he was not the embassy! The two exchanged glances.

Lancelot reached for the ornamental sword on the wall. Coldness flashed past his eyes. Maxwell rose and opened the door.

"Excuse me, is it Mr. Maxwell?" There seemed to be a man outside the door. He was covered entirely in a hooded cloak with his face covered by a special veil. Only his graying hair was revealed. "My apologies for coming without an invitation. I just felt it was necessary to meet with you." He removed the veil, revealing his face. At that moment, Maxwell and Lancelot almost forgot to breathe.

"It's you…"

-

In a certain cell of the Judgement Tower, a guy who had been sleeping and eating for two days straight was now sleeping. He had gained three kilograms. His originally handsome face was now bloated. When he woke up, he opened his eyes and glanced outside at the sunset. He yawned, rolled over, and continued sleeping. In his dream, he seemed to be feasting on something. This type of life was not bad but…it felt so sad to be forgotten!

It was December 24th in the Sacred City. In the heart of the city, three sets of large doors opened in the solemn square surrounded by statues of saints. One led to the Papal Chamber, the core of the Sacred City, the core of the core. It was where everything saintly and theological resided. One led to the Holy Instrument Hall. The instruments of saints from various countries and other holy instruments, natural catastrophe scores, saintly inheritances, and other relics were kept there. It was a shrine for everything related to musicians. One led to the Sacred Court. It was where the Church and Sacred City executed and carried out all law and order.

Everything related to God, wisdom, and order in the world existed here.

Early in the morning, it was already bustling. A mass of people stirred outside the square. Armed guards tried to maintain order but the reporters who tried to get to the front could not be stopped. It had been so long since there was such big drama. It was the hottest news from the Sacred City in decades.

The first was Colt's identity as a hero being overturned. Then it was him being killed right before the Sacred City gates. Finally, it was the murderer accepting the arrest. And now, it was finally the day of the court session opened! This news had been brewing for the past few days. Even though it was censored, the civilians were still curious and attracted even more bystanders.

Of course, Maxwell had something to do with this. After all, the more people who followed the news, the less chance of dirty tricks. Pressured by public onion, the Amnesty Institute, in charge of the Sacred Court, put out the strongest team. The deputy minister Borja was the judge. For the past few days, countless events had happened. They were all stressed over this matter.

Outside the square, a cry suddenly sounded above the din. "They're here! They're here! I see the procession!"

Soon, a solemn procession moved through the cleared street. Between the armed guards was a sealed steel car. The crowd started yelling but it was too chaotic to tell if they were cheering or jeering.

"Well, it sounds pretty intense. It's big news, right?"

In the carriage, Ye Qingxuan sat layered in shackles. He sighed and glanced at the muscular black-clothed guards on either side. The guards and musicians acted as if he did not exist. It was boring.

Ye Qingxuan did not seem stressed at being the accused for the first time. He knew how serious his actions had been. He had already been prepared to die before he prepared the mission.

For someone who did not even fear death, not many other things were scary. However, if possible, Ye Qingxuan still wished to live. It would be great if he could live.

While he thought nonsense, the door suddenly opened. Amidst the din, Ye Qingxuan was forced off the car. He passed through the square between the many guards and climbed the white stone steps. When he reached the middle, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the crowd. The people sensed his gaze and the cheering or jeering instantly raised an octave. However, Ye Qingxuan's eyes moved past them to the quiet square.

There stood a black iron monument. The gloomy monument rose in the center of the square, between the Papal Chamber, the Holy Instrument Hall, and the Sacred Court. Ye Qingxuan studied it silently. No matter how the guards shoved him, his eyes were focused.

He sighed, "Is this…fate?"

This was the Tablet of Fate. According to legends, this was the top holy instrument. 'Fate' was something that could not be touched. It was also the hardest proposition. Nothing could escape fate's plan; everything was fated.

Even struggling seemed to be part of fate.

God held this invisible web, controlling how the world operated. But here, other than the abstract meaning, the word represented something else.

It was the Kind of Red's scepter score—Fate! It was the legend of legends, the mightiest of all mightiness—it was the strongest music score in the world!

This tablet was famous and even played a role in many legends because the entirety of Fate was carved on it. The Sacred City even put it out in public for people to look at. If a musician wished to study it, he could find a duplicate in any shop or stall. They were sold for five dollars per book or even a package with more resources for fifteen.

Of course, this was all useless. The structure of the music score seemed to be simple but no matter how it was played, it would have no effect. Practically every musician who came to the Sacred City would try to decode the tablet's secret but no one has been able to play it successfully. Other than the mighty King of Red.

'Fate' would only unleash its power in the hands of the Pope. There were no tricks or secrets. The melody just created unbelievable effects in his hands. It was a miracle.

In myths, people even said that anyone who could perform Fate would be the next King of Red. It was as if the Pope's crown was passed down through this mysterious yet odd requirement.

For years, countless researchers had tried to undo this secret. Three hundred years ago, decoding master Enrique had spent four days before it until he vomited blood and died. It added another mysterious veil to the tablet. After that, more and more musicians tried figuring out the secret. No one succeeded.

No matter how hard people tried, nothing changed. The music theory structure could not established. It could not have any effects and could barely even be called a music score. It was at most just a majestic symphony.

That was it.

Decades ago, the last grandmaster who had vowed to decode it finally gave up. He had used up forty years. From then on, the white-haired grandmaster decided to never speak of music theory. He gave up his status as a musician and chose to join the clergy as a regular priest until death. He had already witnessed the insignificance of the mortal man.

It was evidence of God's existence!

This was also why the Sacred City displayed it so brazenly. Only God could turn a failure into a legend. This was God's blessing; all glory and holiness naturally resided there. Therefore, only the Pope—God's apostle—could control the power of Fate. This was the King of Red's crown.

Created by God, it was unshakable.

This was proof of Fate's existence and of God's existence. This tablet established all justice, order, and the foundation of holiness. It separated God from men like a ruler.

This was why it could be ranked before all holy instruments even without any power or additions. As a pure piece of metal, it was able to be number one.

There was nothing more undeniable than that fact.

"A pity. I would be great if I could take a look." Ye Qingxuan sighed. He looked away and allowed the guards to push him through the door.

Behind him, the door slammed shut. After going through many gates and searches, all that remained on Ye Qingxuan were the symbolic shackles on his feet.

The final door opened before him. Under the solemn atmosphere, he stepped in and looked up at the holy emblem in the ceiling. It seemed to descend from the sky.

The time of judgement had arrived.

Under the solemn atmosphere, Ye Qingxuan walked into the pen half as tall as him and sat on the chair. With a click, the handcuffs were chained onto the armrests.

The chair was very high quality. It was comfortable and matched the curves in one's figure. Though it was for criminals, the work was still very fine. This was the Sacred Court, after all. It was the most important judiciary in the world. People who were tried here all had high status. Therefore, the Sacred City would not be stingy here. Even criminals received humane treatment.

However, it reminded Ye Qingxuan of the final meal before an execution in the East. Everyone would treat those about to die nicely, right? The nicer, the less they would want to die—the more painful it would be.

He lowered his head and waited quietly for the session to open. In the silent courtroom, the complex gazes fell on the quiet youth. Other than the packed seats, there were also twelve jurors for fairness. They sat on either side and quietly studied Ye Qingxuan. This matter involved the Sacred City and the nations so the agents from embassies had arrived. Of course, on the surface, they were all high-status nobles from the Sacred City. There were also priests from the various departments of the Church. It seemed to be their first time seeing Ye Qingxuan and they were all a bit shocked.

"Heard he's a white-haired Easterner but I never thought he'd be as pretty as a girl," the judge from the Corsica Federation murmured. "I thought he would look manlier."

"Manly? How?" The old man beside him scoffed. "Having a face of hair like a bear?"

"As long as he doesn't look like an old monkey." Before the old man could lose his temper, the Corsica judge turned to the other side. "What do you think?"

"I can't tell." The young man smiled wryly. "I think Easterners all look the same… Why don't you ask Mr. Hu?"

The white-haired middle aged man at the end of the smiled but did not reply. He just gazed at Ye Qingxuan with troubled and heavy eyes. Beside him, the Asgardian ambassador appeared in the juror section without disguises. He was a typical crude Asgardian. Glancing at the quiet Mr. Hu, he asked, "What do you think of the Sacred City's decision?"

"I don't know. It is difficult to guess the Sacred City's thoughts." Mr. Hu chuckled bitterly. "After all, didn't the Pope say that they'll judge with justice?"

"That is what's hard to understand." The Asgardian ambassador played with his beard and looked up at the empty seat of the judge. There was no problem of dealing with justice but who was responsible? The pope had been appearing less and less. More and more power was given to the other departments. Other than Knights Templar, there were no other directly controlled troops.

Many said that if the previous popes who worked hard in ruling knew about this, they would be turning in their graves. After years of political wars, all the power was finally in the hands of one man but the current King of Red tossed it back out without hesitation.

It was as if he truly was a devout monk who did not care about the outside world. This had caused the Ecclesiastical Order to strengthen. This originally small ascetic group now influenced the majority of departments in the background. Its influence was still growing. Sometimes, they even affected the Cardinals.

These old guys should have been waiting for death. But now, they received some mysterious power and even their relatives benefited. They paced through the city like wraiths.

They had not done anything major yet, but the farsighted ones had realized that the Ecclesiastical Order were preparing to edit the Third Amendment…they wished to recover the Sacred City's supreme glory from centuries ago.

No country wished to see the Sacred City ruling above them, no matter how holy it was. This was why the relationships between the City and countries had become more complicated. Ye Qingxuan's trial became critical.

Without a doubt, Anglo would not let it go if it was not dealt with well or if it could not placate the public. In everyone's eyes, it was as if an invisible hand was rubbing the fuse now. No one wanted to see that.

Thus, everyone on either side gazed in silence. Today was the first trial for Ye Qingxuan's case. How would it end?

-

At this moment, heavy footsteps sounded. Everyone's expressions became serious. According to customs, the judge would arrive five to ten minutes late to express his high status and power. Borja did not break this custom today. He was perfectly five minutes late, not a second more or less.

When the second hand pointed to twelve, he sat into his seat and pounded the gavel, announcing the start of the trial.

Borja was a middle-aged man who took care of his health. About thirty-years-old, he was at the height of his life. To all the other departments, his first impression was being strict. He was inflexible like a machine and did not understand the rules outside the world of law. Four years ago, he exiled his own brother here.

He used to be the most popular choice for the Borja family's inheritor. The Borjas' reputation in the Sacred City was comparable to the Sforzas. Three popes in history had this surname. However, after he exiled his brother, the family passed the title of family leader to his uncle.

To most people, he was a crazy man who cared more for law than his family. He was like the bastard child that the Sacred City laws accidentally left behind.

With him as the judge, no one would suspect he would be biased. As everyone gazed solemnly, he pounded the gavel.

"The court shall begin now."

-

As everyone expected, the Sacred City was the Sacred City. They would not start with uncontrolled yelling and violent fighting.

After a bureaucratic process and tests, the Sacred City's prosecutor finally read Ye Qingxuan's indictment and accused him of the crimes. There were more than thirty crimes! At least sixteen were enough to give him the death sentence.

Under the prosecutor's strong and furious voice, everyone involuntarily straightened their backs and looked at the lawyer of the accused.

The show was coming!

"Many musicians were killed in the Romulusian disaster of October. During this event, not only did Ye Qingxuan show signs of fear and encouraged others to escape with him, he even created an imaginary refuge and lied that he had found important evidence of the King of Yellow.

"Afterward, because of his own desires, he ignored the military commands and the Sacred City's laws. He forced his way into the mutated region. Because of his brash actions, the situation became unsalvageable.

"He then resisted being arrested by the sanctors. After killing one and wounding seventeen, he was still unsatisfied and moved his hatred toward the Sacred City.

"Not only did he crazily pursue a member of the Church, he finally killed mercilessly before the Sacred City gates on November 19th. During this attack, Ye Qingxuan killed Colt, the much respected hero of the Romulusian War, before the public's eyes. He manipulated the public, attacked the Sacred City, and created a horribly negative influence. His sin is unforgivable!

"His evil intentions and cruel actions have never been seen in the past hundred years. Here, I earnestly request the Sacred Court to make a ruling. Otherwise, the fairness of law and the prestige of the Sacred City will be destroyed!"

Ye Qingxuan's defense attorney was a lawyer from Avalon named Aldrich, an old man who seemed to be losing all his hair. The old man spoke in a very low pace. Ten minutes was still not enough for one hundred words. It was quite annoying.

Most of the time, the old man seemed to be in a daze. When it was his turn to speak, he would ask the speaker repeat because of his deaf ears. Sometimes, he even forgot some legal provisions so that he had to open the ever-so-thick legal encyclopedia to check. The book seemed to be as old as he was, plastered with notes, and the notes were so dense that people needed a magnifying glass to read it.

There were two young men beside him responsible for serving the tea and other logistic works. Sometimes, they would pat on his back to help him breathe…

People would definitely question about whether the old man's lawyer license was still valid since he was so old. But in fact, the old man's professionalism was beyond doubt. When he showed up, one could tell how tough he was from the face of the prosecutor. In addition to having acquired six of the lawyer's licenses which could be used in various countries, Aldrich also served as the vice principal of Avalon National Second College. He was definitely the leading authority in the field of law. Almost all the high judges of Anglo could be counted as his students!

Sixty years ago, when the old man was thirty, he had taken part in the refurbishment and assessment of the law of the Sacred City. The older, the trickier. Now, the old guy was thick-skinned and as annoying as gum under one's shoe. He kept spacing out with closed eyes during the whole process. He would say a few words from time to time but every word he said just happened to meet the other's omissions. Taking advantage of his seniority, the old man recalled his years. He spoke so slowly and incoherently that listeners had to control their impulse of turning him upside down to dump out his words.

It had been three hours since the trial began but the two sides were still quarrelling about what Ye Qingxuan had done at Auschwitz one month ago. The range of their topic got larger and larger. Almost all the musicians and schools involved in the trial of Auschwitz were dragged in.

If the judge met the old man's wish, merely the investigation of evidence would need three more months of preparation. Then the trial would be expected to take up to one year! He was trying to buy time!

"Don't drag things on with him." Next to the prosecutor, the one who dressed as a clerk glanced at the old man who was still closing his eyes and whispered, "What Aldrich, that older turtle, is best at is buying time. The longest property case he participated in was a decade-long… Anglo is not sure about this case, so they dragged him out. You should not be carried away by his words. Just pass through those details. There are thirty charges. Confirm any of those charges and we will win."

The prosecutor was silent for a moment and then put down his manuscript. He pulled out another thick stack of documents from the suitcase next to him. He was going to change his strategy.

Aldrich opened his eyes a crack, glanced at them, and closed again as if he was contemplating. But the mouth under the thick and white beard opened slightly. He spoke hoarsely, "Get my glasses and medicine."

"Professor…" The student next to Aldrich hesitated but seemed to see something surging in that pair of old eyes.

"No more delay. If the other party does not follow my rhythm, I can't importune anymore. Otherwise, it would give the judge an excuse to expel me." Aldrich opened his mouth, swallowed two green capsules, and drank half cup of hot water. He vaguely muttered, "This time, I'll pull no punches. Let's speed up. We can't step back now. If we take a step back, the client will be pushed down the cliff. We have to stand before him."

It was obvious that his old, dispirited look vanished. He looked up with his cloudy eyes open wide like a furious boa spitting out a decadent breath that had been stored in his lungs.

"Don't worry about me. When I was young, I killed so many people with my moves. This can't beat me down." He put down the glass and said, "Your Honor, we question the so-called 'hero' the prosecutor mentioned before! As far as I know, the Sacred City has never once admitted that there is any so-called war hero. The halo around Colt was nothing more than a folktale.

"The Romulusian incident has not yet been formally finished. Regardless of the connection between the latest 'Winged Folk' in the Dark World, I would just like to correct a point based on the evidence we have now that Colt is by no means a bright and upright hero like what the prosecutor said. On the contrary, much evidence proves his dark nature.

"Isn't it too rash for the prosecutor to ignore the reality and characterize the incident as such? Moreover, the contribution made by my client in Romulus is obvious to all musicians and cannot be denied by anyone!

"If the title of hero does exist, it should not belong to someone who chases fame and seeks glory like Colt!"

The prosecutor froze. He did not expect Aldrich would take the initiative to stop the meaningless entanglement, but at the same time…he felt annoyed. The old man was getting serious.

It was really troublesome.

"The investigation of the Silent Authority shall prevail," the prosecutor retorted. "No one is qualified to question Colt until the results of the investigation come out."

"Really?" Aldrich threw out a document and sneered. "Even if Colt has confessed his sins to so many people at the gate of the Sacred City?"

"What is said in the situation where one's personal freedom couldn't be guaranteed cannot be used as evidence!" The prosecutor glared at Aldrich. "Moreover, as far as I know, Ye Qingxuan is an outstanding musician of the School of Mind. How can you conclude that he did not use his ability to force Colt to utter some words that he didn't mean to say?"

Aldrich reached out and the student handed him another document. "According to the autopsy results, there is neither aether residue in Colt's brain nor did signs show that he was forcibly controlled by Mind movements."

"No matter how you try to argue, you cannot change the fact that this was a deliberate murder! Even many clergymen died because of this." The prosecutor asked in return, "If Colt truly is guilty, then why did Ye Qingxuan not tell the Sacred City to let him be investigated and tried but chose to disregard the law and use public lynching? Is it acceptable to kill people as long as there is a righteous excuse?"

Aldrich laughed when he heard that. For some reason, the prosecutor became instinctively uneasy.

"I want to correct one point." Aldrich raised a finger and said, "It has nothing to do with the law. It is a duel between musicians."

The prosecutor was stunned.

"If I remember correctly, because of the complexity and specificity of the musicians themselves, there is a rule in the Sacred City, which is that a duel can be waged with the consent of both musicians. To die or live depends on their destiny. In such a confrontation, there is no need to take legal responsibility."

Aldrich slowly opened the law encyclopedia and read aloud the relevant provisions word by word. He looked up to the judge. "Your Honor, is there any fallacy from what I said?"

"Nonsense!" The prosecutor was furious. "The duel has its inherent etiquette. How can it be confused with this despicable murder?"

Judge Borja's face was still indifferent. He just nodded. "Defender, pay attention to your words. Do not confuse the definitions."

"Did I?" Aldrich nodded. "Then look at the evidence. I think it's enough to justify the duel. This is a recording that a Revelations musician read from the aether. As for the restoration of the scene, I think the prosecutor also has a copy at hand. It is enough to prove the authenticity of the evidence."

The small aether ball was given to the court musicians. After being activated, the image was projected into the air. A vague and panicked voice was heard.

"I…you…no…Ye-Ye Qingxuan…it can still be salvaged! Yes, it can still be salvaged! Don't be brash. I can—"

A melted sword was stabbed to the ground.

"Come, Colt. Haven't you always been waiting for this moment?" It was Ye Qingxuan's voice. "I'll give you the chance for a fair fight. If you're a man, pick up the sword. You can do anything. Just stop talking."

After a long silence, the figure that represented Colt pulled the sword out.

"You will regret, Ye Qingxuan. You'll definitely regret…"

The scene stopped here abruptly. It was a long silence.

The prosecutor turned livid.

In the past, this was just a common dialogue, but from the perspective of the Duel Law, this fully complied with the rules. The only missing part was a notary. Moreover, since Anglo had proposed this bill, they would certainly not omit this premise. Maybe they had dug a trap, waiting him jump in. In this case, he had to use another strategy…

Thinking of this, he hesitated. He looked at Aldrich's calm face but began to hesitate. Was this a trap that the old fox had set for him?

Ye Qingxuan had offended so many seemingly guaranteed and irrefutable charges, but for lawyers like Aldrich, who had played with the disciplines for most of his life, there must be many loopholes for him to take advantage of.

Getting rid of the negative strategy before, the old man became so radical. Was there something he was very sure about?

The prosecutor's neck was drenched with sweat. Soon, a note was pushed over by the recorder next to him without a trace. When the prosecutor glanced at the note, his eyes brightened. He raised his voice. "I request to question the suspect Ye Qingxuan!"

Aldrich frowned. "I object!"

"The objection is invalid." The judge pounded the gavel and nodded to show his permission.

Aldrich's expression didn't change but a hint of gloominess flashed in his eyes. If they could not find a breakthrough from him then they would just turn to the suspect… At the beginning of the game, no one knew what cards were in the other's hands or what kind of traps the prosecutors were setting.

If Ye Qingxuan said one wrong sentence… no, a wrong word, it would cause big trouble!

Seeing the prosecutor coming forward, Aldrich deliberately raised his voice. He almost offended the court, saying to Ye Qingxuan. "Mr. Ye, you do not have to speak nor answer any of his questions. They cannot force the suspect to testify. You have the right to remain silent. If his question is offensive, I will interrupt him at any time."

The judge pounded the gavel to warn him once. "Mr. Aldrich, I hope you will not interfere with the normal order of the court." Borja said coldly, "The prosecutor can start questioning now."

The prosecutor smiled and looked at Ye Qingxuan. The young man was looking at him too. At that moment, the prosecutor was dazed as if his mind was blurred. Only that pair of eyes remained in his vision, almost making him lose his mind. The next moment, he woke up and broke free from the illusion. But that pair of eyes was still looking at him. Somehow, he was flustered.

"Your eyes are nice." Before the prosecutor asked, Ye Qingxuan uttered, "I've seen that in many people's eyes…" He paused, frowning. "You want to kill me?"

The prosecutor froze. His face subconsciously twitched a bit. He curbed the impulse to look back. But Ye Qingxuan seemed to have an insight into what he wanted to do. He turned his eyes to the prosecutor's original seat and to the recorder next to his seat. His expression grew puzzled.

"You want to look at him?" Ye Qingxuan asked. "Why?"

The prosecutor was stunned with pale look. "Ye Qingxuan, now I am questioning you…"

"He saw through you." There was a sigh behind him. The recorder got up, took off the awkward round frame glasses on his face, revealing a thin and ordinary face with grey hair, and shook his head. "Let me do this."

The prosecutor froze. His complexion turned quickly. Aldrich's face also turned pale.

"Bastian…" Aldrich said with a sneer, "I didn't expect that the famous judge of the Sacred City would even be willing to be a recorder. Don't you feel ashamed to let such a young man take the lead?"

"The young need experience, Aldrich. The old need to give the young chances."

Before Aldrich could reply, Bastian submitted his identity card and qualifications in accordance with the procedure.

Soon, Judge Borja nodded. "Qualified."

So Bastian came forward. He gazed at Ye Qingxuan's eyes politely. He looked solemn but not offensive. He just took a stack of papers from the original prosecutor and said lightly. "Mr. Ye Qingxuan, I'll show you a few things. I hope you will tell me your true feelings truthfully after reading."

A moment later, Ye Qingxuan nodded.

But as Bastian pulled out a picture, Lancelot, sitting quietly in the corner, suddenly looked up. Coldness flashed past his eyes.

"This is bad…"

Maxwell, who represented Anglo, also frowned in the jury seat.