Chapter 41: The Death of The Poet (VI)
In the center of the hall, a lone well was bathed in the cold moonlight.
The moonlight spilled down through the hollow, carved window of the vault above.
Pure white Chinese roses poked their heads out from inside the well, climbing upward and upward until they reached outside the window, yet still leaving a gap for that moonlight to pass through. The carved window faced the mouth of the well directly, making the moonlight look like a spotlight on a stage, illuminating the well alone as if waiting for someone to explore it.
Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng walked to the side of the well, both leaning over to look inside, finally seeing water for the first time in this Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight.
The Chinese roses grew out from the water, their roots deep beyond sight.
The entwined vines were covered in sharp thorns, yet the blooming flowers were pure white, hanging heavily from the branches. The branches were not thick; it was hard to imagine that this single Chinese rose bush had bloomed across the entire city.
Tang Cuo was absolutely certain that there was only this single Chinese rose bush in the entire Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight.
He could sense it.
“It didn’t trigger anything. Looks like we need to do something else.” Jin Cheng very tactfully did not reach out to touch the Chinese rose. He looked toward Tang Cuo, “For example—breaking the magic.”
Tang Cuo understood his meaning and brought out the golden scissors.
The Chinese rose was the boss; once it went berserk, it could snap even Jin Cheng’s arrows. The system’s intent in giving them these scissors was obvious. However, if Lancelot’s wish was to bring the flower back to the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight, Tang Cuo naturally couldn’t destroy it completely.
Weighing his options, Tang Cuo selected a single Chinese rose closest to him and carefully, cautiously snip-clipped it off.
Click.
A white Chinese rose fell into Tang Cuo’s palm. No blood flowed from the cut, nor did the vines break into a frenzy. Just as the two were suspecting that nothing had happened, the Well of Time suddenly rippled.
Both turned their eyes back to the well, only to see the water surface where the vines grew burst into a sudden, dazzling radiance. Tang Cuo quickly raised his hand to block his eyes. After a few seconds of blindness, lighthearted laughter and the faint bustle of a marketplace suddenly reached his ears.
He subconsciously looked toward the sound, and flickering light and shadows finally came into focus before his eyes.
“Hey, Little Jack, didn’t you bring out your harp? Today is the Flower Festival! Isn’t this the perfect time to perform!”
“Beautiful Cecilia, you truly are a kindhearted girl. Thank you for the bread. Old John overslept again today, so we rushed out in a hurry to avoid missing the best time to fetch water—we ended up forgetting to eat breakfast!”
“Tork! Tork! Are the fireworks ready, Tork?!”
“I heard Mr. Gilbert finally made it back in time for the Flower Festival. I bet the hairpin I asked him to bring has arrived too. If my younger sister receives this gift, she’ll definitely be the happiest girl at the Flower Festival!”
Different voices and cheerful, lively tones filled Tang Cuo’s surroundings. He stood frozen in place without moving an inch, watching the blurry shadows transform into unfamiliar yet familiar people, drifting past like a magic lantern.
Cecilia was a pretty girl with blonde hair and a long dress.
Little Jack looked just like he did in the photograph, but far more vibrant.
Tork had probably been drinking; he was dead drunk. No wonder he forgot where he put the key to his toy chest.
Blind Billy was still sitting at his doorway, forever gazing at the glass lanterns on the street.
The Flower Festival of September 1st, Year 1228 of the Xixilite Continent Calendar was presented vividly right before Tang Cuo’s eyes.
He didn’t attempt to reach out and touch them, nor did he call out anyone’s name. Those figures ran past him from a distance, or passed through his body like fog, letting him know that all of this was merely an illusion.
Jin Cheng was nowhere to be seen either.
After a long time, cracks suddenly appeared before Tang Cuo’s eyes like a glass mirror. With a crisp shatter, the cracks grew wider and wider, crisscrossing each other.
Then, they broke into shards and peeled away.
The reality of all things appeared before his eyes.
It was still that empty palace hall with only the Well of Time, still filled with blooming pure white Chinese roses. However, next to that ancient well, a coffin had appeared.
The coffin rested right against the well’s mouth. Someone was sitting slouched against the side of the coffin with his eyes closed, wearing a set of battered knight’s armor. He had long silver hair, and a few drops of bright, vivid blood stained his handsome face, making him look as if he were still alive.
A pure white Chinese rose bloomed right over his heart.
Not from inside the well.
The entire palace hall was a massive magic array. Golden array lines slowly emerged as Tang Cuo approached, and the heart of this magic array was that very well.
Jin Cheng seemed to have arrived a step earlier than Tang Cuo. Standing beside the coffin, he asked, “Who do you think he is?”
“Theodore.”
The ring named Nightingale belonging to Lancelot was on Tang Cuo’s hand. Seeing that handsome yet unfamiliar face, an indescribable surge of sorrow wrapped tightly around his heart.
He looked toward the coffin again. Inside, Lancelot lay quietly, his broken-stringed lap harp placed beside him.
The Death of the Poet.
Now, there was another: The Death of the Knight.
“It’s the Chinese rose. On his chest armor, there’s a family crest of a Chinese rose.” Jin Cheng put on a rare look of solemnity. He squatted down to inspect the family crest carefully, confirming once again that it wasn’t a regular rose, but a Chinese rose.
Theodore was the Chinese rose, which was why it bloomed over his heart.
For a Duke of the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers, having a flower as a family crest was not strange at all.
Tang Cuo remained silent. His emotions were heavily influenced; that indescribable sorrow made it difficult for him to think calmly. Lancelot’s wish was to bring the world’s most beautiful flower back to the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight. Now that the flower had bloomed, his wish was fulfilled.
So was it Theodore who brought his body back here to fulfill his lifelong wish?
But who was it that killed them?
Did Lancelot return here after his death, or did he return to stop the ambitions of the Rose Sect?
His thoughts were far too tangled. Tang Cuo forcibly suppressed the sorrow in his heart and slowly shifted his gaze to the sword beside Theodore’s hand. It was an ancient, quaint knight’s broadsword with a black hilt and a silver blade.
As if possessed, Tang Cuo bent down and picked up the sword. The instant he grasped it, a wave of power poured in from his palm, surging through his limbs and bones so intensely that he almost lost his balance.
Jin Cheng, quick with his reactions, caught his arm to support him, asking in a deep voice, “What’s wrong?”
Tang Cuo shook his head. The mixture of grief and the surging power forced him to lean against Jin Cheng to stand, but his eyes remained glued to Theodore.
Who was the true protagonist of this instance?
At first, Tang Cuo thought it was Lancelot, but now he felt it was actually Theodore.
In the next second, the magic array flickered with faint light. The flesh and blood of Theodore and Lancelot began to turn into motes of light and dissipate—like dust in the wind, like fireflies under the moonlit night—until gradually, only two sets of scarred, battle-worn skeletons remained.
The sealed time had returned.
The palace became covered in dust, the carved windows above bore the heavy marks of weather and rain, and even the Well of Time itself became overgrown with moss. The only thing unchanged was the pure white Chinese rose. It coiled around the skeletons, cradled the ancient coffin, and climbed upward and upward, squeezing out of the carved window until it bloomed across the entire city.
“Let’s go outside and look.” Tang Cuo caught his breath, his gaze resolute.
Jin Cheng originally wanted him to sit down and rest, but seeing his eyes, he didn’t say anything and walked out of the palace alongside him. The dilapidated double doors opened once more, shaking down dust and revealing thick cobwebs.
Yet neither of them reached out to brush them away, because the sight before them was so overwhelming that their footsteps froze in place, unable to take another step.
Skeletons covered the ground.
The Flower Festival of September 1st, Year 1228 of the Xixilite Continent Calendar was supposed to be a day of nationwide celebration. Someone had prepared fireworks, someone had put on a pretty dress, someone was waiting for a letter from afar, and someone was eagerly thinking about giving his sister a hairpin.
The festival streamers were still hanging on the trees. The trees had withered, the people had died, the street food stalls stood abandoned with no more customers, and the musical instruments in the corners were covered in thick layers of dust.
It took a long time before Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng moved their feet again, slowly walking past those skeletons—some piled together, others scattered across the ground. Sometimes they would stop to look, picking up an item beside a skeleton.
Perhaps it was Blind Billy’s walking stick.
Or perhaps it was Cecilia’s lace hairpin.
If it weren’t for those ninety-nine side missions, Tang Cuo thought, his footsteps wouldn’t have hesitated like this.
From the palace in the city center to the tower in the west of the city, Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng walked for a full hour and a half. The tower had collapsed, and the bronze bell that once hung at its top lay amidst the rubble, covered in green rust.
The Chinese rose crawled over the ruins, embracing the bronze bell in a scene that was both desolate and beautiful.
Arriving in front of Mr. Gilbert’s carriage, a skeleton lay half-slouched over the open carriage frame, a sword thrust straight through the gaps in its ribs. Jin Cheng pulled the sword out and rubbed the inverted pentagram inlaid with a rose on its hilt, his eyes cold.
The closer they got to the city walls, the more yellow sand filled the city. The Chinese rose protected this city, but it couldn’t keep it airtight forever. Who knew how much time had passed since 1228; perhaps a century later, the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight would be completely buried under the sand, and even the Chinese rose would cease to exist.
The moment they stepped onto the city wall and looked back at this desert city, the system broadcast finally sounded once again.
“O traveler from afar.”
“When you reach the end of this time, when you pick up the broadsword that symbolizes courage and justice, please keep your blood boiling hot, keep the convictions in your heart firm, and do not forget where you came from.”
“Now, let us return to where everything began.”
“Ding!”
“Congratulations to player for successfully completing Phase One of the serial mission 《Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight》: The Death of the Poet. Difficulty: Normal. Side Mission Completion Rate: 100%. Rating: A. Stats Points Earned: 2.”
“Please check your system panel for personal rewards.”
“Welcome back to Yong Ye City!”
After the familiar darkness passed, Tang Cuo was back in his room at East Cross Street.
This time he didn’t rush to check his rewards. He sat silently in the room for a long time until the sorrow in his heart gradually faded before opening his system panel.
Quite a few slots popped up this time, but most were rewards from side missions marked as quest items that couldn’t be used under normal conditions.
Setting those aside, there were items without usage restrictions:
[A Single White Chinese Rose]
- Category: Material
- Quality: Rare
- Description: Theodore’s Chinese rose, containing extremely high time magic.
[Sword of Judgment]
- Category: Weapon
- Quality: Legendary
- State: Bound
- Description: The sidearm of Duke Theodore of the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers, blessed by the 13th Elven King, Amyia. Enchanted weapon (Damaged). Legend has it that when the holy light of judgment shines upon the earth, all darkness will have nowhere to hide.
Both items were of high quality, though one was a material that couldn’t be used just yet, and the other was damaged. Tang Cuo wasn’t sure how much power the damaged Sword of Judgment could unleash, but compared to a Goblin Broadsword, a legendary weapon was still something to behold.
Whether it could be repaired was a matter for later; as long as it worked, it was enough to intimidate others.
Aside from these, there were spell skills like “Fireball,” which earned Tang Cuo the title of “Apprentice Mage”. These skills had proficiency meters listed behind them, which were likely key to leveling them up.
Returning to his character panel, adding this round’s rewards gave Tang Cuo a total of 16 points.
Since he had already decided his future combat style, he stopped hoarding points. He allocated 10 points to Martial Power, 4 points to Intelligence, and put Charm aside for now. The remaining 2 points were saved for purchasing potions just in case.
By the time he finished, Jin Cheng walked over, cradling a small lap harp with a broken string in his arms. If Tang Cuo remembered correctly, this harp was supposed to be inside Lancelot’s coffin.
Tang Cuo: “You took that?”
Jin Cheng: “Just what kind of image do you have of me in your heart?”
Tang Cuo: “The image of Jin Cheng.”
Jin Cheng: “An image?”
What kind of image did Jin Cheng have?
A thief never leaves empty-handed; Jin never keeps his hands clean.
Tang Cuo didn’t want to debate word choices with him to avoid starting a fight, so he took out a bundle of spider silk and placed it on the table. “Try this. A reward from Showdown in the Devil City.”
Jin Cheng raised an eyebrow, knowing full well Tang Cuo was deflecting, but the spider silk did catch his attention. High-grade spider silk might just be able to repair the harp string.
“The lap harp was a mission reward,” Jin Cheng said generously as he took the spider silk. “The situation right now is pretty interesting. You took Theodore’s sword, and I took Lancelot’s harp. Want to guess what the second phase will be?”
Tang Cuo: “Roleplay. Two-player mode, returning to where it all began—which means their first meeting.”
Jin Cheng smiled, leaning by the window to glance down. “Looking at it now, Phase One was just an introduction. As long as you were meticulous enough, there was basically no difficulty. The next phase will definitely unlock a new map. Roleplay isn’t easy; once you stray from the plot, you’ll be penalized—ranging from injuries to outright death.”
Tang Cuo: “What kind of penalty?”
Jin Cheng: “Getting struck by lightning, probably.”
Tang Cuo: “…”
In truth, Jin Cheng felt a bit of regret over why Tang Cuo wasn’t Lancelot. He had actually wanted to hear him sing—he heard it was utterly terrible. Voice from hell, claiming lives online.
“I’ll tell you a secret.”
“What?”
“I once happened to enter a roleplay dungeon together with Leng Miu. I was a heroic swordsman, and he was the top courtesan.”
“…”
No wonder Miumiu wants to kill you.
Tang Cuo became even more determined never to let Jin Cheng see his survival evaluation report. After a moment, he recalled another matter. “We’ve been in the instance for so many days, have the people in prison come out?”
Jin Cheng spread his hands. “Most likely someone’s about to be released, so we’d better honestly stay in East Cross Street and do our serial mission. I don’t have a second Movement, after all.”
As his voice fell, Jin Cheng fired a flare out the window.
Tang Cuo’s eyelids twitched. “What are you doing?”
Jin Cheng smiled. “I made a deal with the owner of the Ruby Bar. Whenever someone gets released from prison, he notes it down and compiles a list. Shouldn’t I let him know I’m back now so he can send it over?”
Tang Cuo had nothing to say.
This former instructor of his had just claimed he’d honestly stay in East Cross Street to save his life, and in the next breath, he announced his return to his enemies with grand fanfare, as if terrified people wouldn’t know.
Thrilling.
