Silent Crown

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

The skinny, hunched-over figure was draped in ragged grayish-white hemp clothes. It was as if he was wearing an old shroud.

He crawled on the broken stones. The fragments still had finely carved patterns on them, and one could vaguely make out the outline of what was once a huge stone sarcophagus. But at the moment, the solemn mausoleum had become the backdrop for a feast. The finely crafted stone sarcophagi had been smashed into pieces, and the valuable grave goods worth tens of thousands in gold were thrown aside, with no attention paid to them. Meanwhile, the owners of the mausoleum—the corpses that were once noble—had been dragged out by the monster mad with hunger. It dove into the feast eagerly.

Crack! Crack! Crack! In the sound of bones being chewed into pieces, a crown covered in tooth marks rolled out of the debris.

The crown of the moon that the Sage of Iron Moon was once proud of had become so. The monster held a withered, broken skull as if he was holding his lunch box. He sucked at the residue on his fingers, slurping everything inside dry, and finally munched away at the crunchy skull as if he was eating cookies.

The perfect afternoon tea.

The withered and hunched figure seemed to grow slightly plumper, and on the shriveled face, it was as if flames were burning in the two eyes. He looked up and stared at Naberius.

"Wait a moment, wait a moment, I'll serve the next course immediately." Paganini stepped forward, lifted the hammer in his hand, looked around at the coffins surrounding them, finally selected one, and smashed it. In the sound of stone shattering, a rotten smell rose from the cracks in the sarcophagus.

"Hah, your luck is pretty good."

Naberius squatted in front of the crack, peering at the bones slumbering in the darkness, his gaze joyful. "I wonder how the Master of the Golden Palace will taste?"

Crack! Crack! Crack! Soon, the sound that made one's hair stand on end rang out again. The feast of horror featuring the various kings of the first generation as dishes had reached its climax…

…

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Ye Qingxuan also grabbed some tough flatbread and chewed as hungrily as a rabid dog. After undergoing a turmoil of music theory, Ye Qingxuan, whose entire body was completely destroyed, was reborn once more under the power of the sage stone, but the amount of heat lost in the process could not be made up purely with aether. Fortunately, at the moment, he had completed the process of half-aetherization, and half of his body was made up of aether. Otherwise, it might not be so easy to even be reborn.

In the short span of five minutes, Ye Qingxuan completed his Symphony of Predestination, met the various kings of the first generation, directly rebuked the group of old men that simply refused to die for good, then completed a qualitative change of aether successfully, and possessed a strange characteristic that even he himself could not put into words.

The fiercely changing aether was like thunder and lightning, constantly changing, eroding the surrounding matter, yet indifferently maintaining its own balance. Countless strands of music theory were born and destroyed in the brief instant one was able to glimpse at it.

The mere acts of observation and analysis made the masters who had just recovered have the urge to vomit blood again.

But it was not the most important issue at hand.

The most important issue was in front of Ye Qingxuan.

Ye Qingxuan swallowed the last piece of flatbread and gulped down more than half of the canteen of water, finally ridding himself of his deep hunger. He wiped his mouth, lifted his eyes, and looked at the old nun in front of him. "You can use Schubert's power? Why didn't you tell me…"

"I didn't know either." The old nun had recovered from the supernatural state just now and looked a bit tired. Facing Ye Qingxuan's sharp gaze, she forced out a smile. "God probably responded to my prayers?" She reached out, wanting to wipe the sweat off Ye Qingxuan's face for him out of habit, but Ye Qingxuan held her wrist firmly, his fingers like iron pliers.

Turning his fingers, Ye Qingxuan rolled up her sleeves. He saw the burnt skin and the overloaded alchemy array. To an insignificant mortal, the saint's power was like fiery lava. If one tried to touch it, one must play with fire, and it would be impossible for one not to pay the price.

Ye Qingxuan could sense that her internal organs were so weak that they were almost at their limit, and the muscles under the skin were convulsing involuntarily. She was supposedly suffering from deep pain in her bones, but the old nun's gaze remained soft and serene. She looked at Ye Qingxuan with no sadness at all and simply smiled.

In his heart, Ye Qingxuan felt more and more agitated, and his voice turned cold. "Sister, be clear about this, I am not one of your group of children. Please put away your excessive love, I don't need your charity."

The old nun was still looking at him, her gaze soft. "No matter who you are, God loves the world."

"But God doesn't love you," Ye Qingxuan retorted coldly, without the slightest bit of mercy or sympathy. "Be clear about this, Sister, it was me who saved you back then! Your God only wants you to die!"

The old nun was stunned, and her smile became a bit flustered. She lowered her head awkwardly. "But God will love you, Your Excellency. I think you are someone who should be loved by God."

"I hope so." Ye Qingxuan withdrew his gaze and didn't feel like saying anything more. He simply motioned for Mabel to tend to her injuries, then got up and left.

After a moment, Mabel returned to his side. Seeing him sitting on the steps looking indifferent, she couldn't help but smile. She took out half a corn cob from her pocket, cut it deftly, and hollowed it out. After inserting two tubes, two exquisite corn pipes were made.

"Would you like some? The tobacco leaves are top-notch. I exchanged it from an oddity eight years ago." She fished out a black pouch, and the thick fragrance of butter and tobacco leaves floated out.

Ye Qingxuan looked at the little girl in front of him stuffing the pipe skillfully, and he couldn't help but give her a complicated look.

"Hey, what?" Mabel cast him a look and cackled. "Grand Inquisitor, I am an old lady who is already 80 years old. Although it is said that you are not at all picky, surely your taste is not so extreme?"

Ye Qingxuan rolled his eyes and said nothing, simply taking the pipe from her.

The mellow tobacco leaves burned and smoke curled upwards.

Mable tilted her head to one side and looked at him. "As Prince of Avalon, one of the most powerful people in the world, you feel upset receiving charity from a commoner, no?"

Ye Qingxuan cast her a look. "Had a dog not had my back in the past, I would have died a long time ago. Please, my self-esteem is not so fragile, okay?"

"Then why are you agitated?" Mabel asked.

"…" Ye Qingxuan was silent for a long time, then said with a boxy voice, "I just feel that it's not worth it for her. Her God is not worthy of her giving everything she has. Nor is the Church worthy of it."

"She has said nothing about it all this while, but you seem to know something?" Mabel asked.

"One could guess it using just their toes [1]. The tricks up the Church's sleeve are more or less all the same." Ye Qingxuan snickered. "As long as they hold the banner of righteousness, they'll have a steady stream of fools willing to sacrifice themselves. It's really good, really, really good.

"She isn't the first, nor will she be the last. Father Bann is one of them, my goddamn father is another, and so are Shi Dong and the group of old men, even in their deathbeds, they never forget the crusade.

"But what's the outcome? The Church only considers them as outdated tools. They want to shine and provide heat, and they won't hesitate to ignite themselves if that's what it takes, but the Church doesn't need their spark at all. They shouldn't sacrifice themselves for such things, it's not worth it."

He took a deep breath from the pipe, squinted his eyes, and spurted out blue smoke from his nose and mouth. "Mable, I don't like the world the way it is.

"I don't like it at all."

Mable didn't say anything and just smoked the pipe. In the end, she threw away the corn cob that had finished burning, reached out, and patted him on the shoulder. "Your Royal Highness, do you still remember what she said?"

She looked at Ye Qingxuan. "You are someone who should be loved by God. Her Majesty and Mr. Maxwell firmly believe so, and so do I.

"If you give an order, I will obey it.

"Because I believe that you will make the world a better place."

"I hope so." Ye Qingxuan threw away the pipe that he had finished smoking, got up, dusted himself off, lifted his head and smiled. "Let's go, help the old men tend to their injuries first. Don't let them accuse the Court of being black-hearted." But soon, he looked at the old men in front of him and could no longer smile.

He felt cold all over.

"What is going on?" he asked.

[1] This is a Chinese expression for something that is so obvious one could understand it using their toes, as opposed to using their brain.