Kelt came over to inform Roger Reeds that the Grand Duke requested his presence to discuss handling the aftermath of the secret tunnel. He used the words “requested” and “discuss”—even though this was the capital of the Principality of Flange, Overseer Roger Reeds held a status on the Xixilite Continent that was hardly inferior to that of a Grand Duke.
Once Roger Reeds departed, Kelt whispered to Tang Cuo, “Now that this secret tunnel business has come to light, we’re going to be busy again. I just hope the Rose Sect doesn’t stir up any more trouble. The season of the Song of the Whistling Wind is harvest time, and my Aunt Peggy from far away invited me over to her farm to drink freshly brewed wheat beer.”
Tang Cuo gave a cold, aloof nod.
Kelt seemed accustomed to Theodore’s serious and dull nature, continuing, “By the way, Theodore, didn’t you say your home was in the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers? The Kingdom of Hundred Flowers is much larger than Flange, so why did you come all the way here?”
Flange was a principality under the rule of the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers. Although its territory wasn’t small, it was ultimately just a principality. Tang Cuo knew what he meant, but to keep his persona from breaking, he maintained his distant front and replied, “For conviction.”
Kelt fell silent for a long moment.
He didn’t know why, but despite Theodore’s young age, the youth possessed the steadfastness of an ancient noble. At times he seemed far too old-fashioned and upright, cold and hard to approach, yet when he uttered those two words—”For conviction”—Kelt couldn’t help but feel a small surge of emotion.
Even if he really had no idea how to respond to Theodore’s remark.
The belated arrival of Lancelot saved him.
The bard looked as though he had just returned from wandering through the eye of a storm. His trousers and clothes had several tears slashed into them, his shirt collar hung open in an untamed fashion, and his hair was windblown and messy. Clutching his harp with a smile tugging at his lips, he possessed a certain handsome charm.
At first glance, Kelt immediately knew this had to be the person who had led the Grand Duke through the secret tunnel, and he took the initiative to step forward. “Brother, what happened to you?”
Jin Cheng shrugged. “Accidentally stepped on a magic circle.”
Kelt instantly grew alert. “A magic circle?”
“Yes.” Jin Cheng’s expression turned solemn as he reported Lisa’s address, adding, “I suspect there’s more than one such magic circle in the White Leaf Zone, and it’s very likely related to that rose pentagram insignia in the secret tunnel.”
Hearing this, Kelt couldn’t stay still for another moment and immediately rushed off to investigate.
Jin Cheng and Tang Cuo finally had time alone together, and Jin Cheng got straight to the point. “I triggered a side mission and obtained a Fragment of the Movement.”
Tang Cuo was slightly startled before asking, “Is it Lancelot’s movement, or one of the Twelve Movements?”
His question matched Jin Cheng’s exact thoughts. Jin Cheng curled his lips into a smile and said, “It’s not clear for now; perhaps we’ll have to collect more before we can see its true form.”
Jin Cheng then briefly explained the details of the side mission to Tang Cuo.
When the anomaly appeared on the wall, Jin Cheng had been sucked straight into the mural. The world within the mural was filled with thorny roses that launched an overwhelming assault against him, which was why his clothes were slashed so severely.
However, inside that mural world, Jin Cheng’s mechanical bow had been unsealed. He had fought his way out against the clock, picking up the brush at the very last moment to complete the painting.
“The magic circle should be connected to a pastor named Peter. An ordinary woman wouldn’t be able to draw a functional magic circle just by painting. If your people go search her place, they’ll find the letter she wrote to Peter.” Jin Cheng hadn’t revealed too much earlier out of concern that oversharing might draw suspicion onto Lancelot and raise the dungeon’s difficulty.
“Peter is the pastor the Grand Duke mentioned,” Tang Cuo said. It wasn’t surprising for a traitorous pastor to cause trouble. Still, since it was a side mission that didn’t affect the main line, even if Jin Cheng hadn’t triggered it, the dungeon’s NPCs would likely have pushed the plot forward anyway.
However, since a Movement was involved, they would have to pay close attention going forward. Otherwise, after painstakingly gathering the pieces, discovering they missed a fragment at the very end would ruin all their efforts.
Jin Cheng leaned against a pillar with his arms crossed, remarking with great interest, “There’s one point I find very intriguing. Lisa’s letter to Peter said she didn’t know if a flower called a rose actually existed in this world, and that she had never seen one. Not knowing, never having seen one—doesn’t that sound interesting? Theodore comes from the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers; has he ever seen a rose?”
Tang Cuo countered, “Then why did you know about that secret passage?”
Jin Cheng shrugged.
That settled it. Tang Cuo didn’t know if Theodore had seen a real rose, and Jin Cheng didn’t know why Lancelot knew about the secret tunnel. The two were blind in this roleplaying instance, a pair of fellow sufferers.
At that moment, Roger Reeds approached, and the two quickly cut their conversation short.
Roger Reeds swept a glance over Lancelot, who offered a smiling, respectful salute. “Good afternoon, Lord Overseer.”
“You know me?”
“Every bard on the continent has surely sung poems about you; meeting you here is my honor.”
Excellent—another smooth piece of flattery.
Tang Cuo genuinely admired Jin Cheng’s acting skills, but Roger Reeds was a stern man who didn’t fall for it. Turning back to Tang Cuo, he instructed, “In a moment, join the guards to escort the Grand Duke back to the palace. As for you, the Greenvines Alliance appreciates your assistance, but as this matter is of great importance, we hope you will remain behind to cooperate with our operations.”
Was this a disguised form of custody?
Jin Cheng’s mind whirred, though he maintained his smile. “Happy to be of service.”
Roger Reeds seemed to have more urgent matters to attend to; having given his orders, he departed. Jin Cheng and Tang Cuo exchanged a glance and opened their mission panels simultaneously—the Main Mission had indeed updated.
This time, their tasks finally merged into a single objective: Escort the Grand Duke back to the palace.
The escort team set off half an hour later.
After investigating Lisa’s room, Kelt rushed back, only to feel immense regret upon learning that Roger Reeds had already left. “If only I had returned earlier! That magic circle is definitely connected to the Rose Sect, and I fear this matter is far from over. A prominent figure like Lord Roger Reeds always moves unpredictably; who knows when he’ll show up next.”
With that, Kelt hurried off once again.
Tang Cuo suddenly recalled someone—the red-haired man he had seen upon opening his eyes after entering the dungeon. He had said he would introduce Lancelot to Theodore, meaning he definitely knew Lancelot.
Perhaps he would know something about Lancelot and the secret tunnel.
Since Kelt was in a rush and had no time to manage Lancelot for now, Jin Cheng was arranged to join the guard detail alongside Tang Cuo. The one leading the reception for the Grand Duke was the Captain of the Royal Guards—or more accurately, the Commander of Knights.
The Knight Commander held a favorable view of Tang Cuo, but remained wary of Lancelot. While his attitude wasn’t outright cold, he offered little conversation. Lancelot was like an oddity in the ranks—cradling his harp with a beaming smile right beside a group of stern, solemn knights, while wearing an utterly unique pair of stylish ripped trousers.
The procession set off.
Tang Cuo had initially assumed that since the Main Mission was an escort, something unexpected might happen along the way. To his surprise, the journey passed without a hitch.
As the royal palace came into view, the Knight Commander let out a sigh of relief.
Neither Tang Cuo nor Jin Cheng had spoken to the Grand Duke again along the way. The Grand Duke sat inside the solitary carriage, every bit the dignified, solemn ruler.
However, just as the two prepared to leave, an inner official jogged over and bowed respectfully. “The Grand Duke asked me to convey his thanks for your assistance today. Regardless of the time, both of you are honored guests of the royal palace. Rewards will be delivered to the Greenvines Alliance office shortly.”
Jin Cheng returned the courtesy. “My thanks to the Grand Duke.”
Tang Cuo nodded with reserved dignity. Once the official departed, both of their Main Missions simultaneously changed to: “Head to the Market.” In an instant, they went from a pair of fellow sufferers to dungeon tourists.
Jin Cheng teased, “Perhaps Yong Ye City finally couldn’t stand it anymore and sanctioned Mr. Crow.”
Tang Cuo offered no comment. In his heart, he felt that given Jin Cheng’s track record, if Mr. Crow were ever sanctioned, it would only be because Yong Ye City wanted to deal with Jin Cheng directly. So it was better to keep Mr. Crow alive.
Although the Grand Duke had been attacked, the situation had stabilized, allowing the celebration to continue. A lingering faint panic remained among the crowd, but on such a festive day, people were willing to set aside their troubles and enjoy themselves.
The noisy marketplace was packed with small stalls. On this day, the principality charged no vendor fees. Everything from earthenware and copperware to delicate or crude trinkets, stones from the Elven Forest, and flower seeds from the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers lined the roadside.
Their first stop was naturally the entrance to the secret tunnel, which was also where Jin Cheng had entered the dungeon. It fell within the market area as well.
It was a private residence, now cordoned off at every entry point by the guards to keep anyone from approaching. The two didn’t rashly head over, instead observing from a distance. Tang Cuo asked, “Was anyone nearby when you entered the dungeon?”
Jin Cheng replied, “No. Looking at the setup inside, it seems to be a rental property with two floors, housing several families. Today is the festival, so everyone must have gone out, and the doors were locked. But I’m certain Lancelot doesn’t live there—he was there looking for someone.”
“Why?”
“He had no keys on him, and he’s poor. A location like this couldn’t be cheap.”
The reason was so irrefutable it left no room for argument.
“Red-hair?”
“Likely.”
Deductions weren’t enough to establish the truth, but before figuring out why Lancelot knew about the secret passage, it wasn’t wise to have too much contact with the guard or the Greenvines Alliance. While Jin Cheng could fool them with his quick wits, making things up on the fly wasn’t a sustainable plan—if they blew their cover, a single spell from Roger Reeds could send them straight to the afterlife.
Yet the red-haired man—their only lead—was nowhere to be seen.
The two made their way toward the densest crowds, hoping to see if anyone they knew would approach them or if they could trigger a new side mission.
Passing by a flower stall, Jin Cheng stopped and asked the gardener, “Do you have roses?”
The gardener gave him a strange look, as if staring at a lunatic in ruined clothes asking absurd questions. “Young man, are you doing this on purpose? Forget it, today is a fine day, so I won’t argue with you. If you don’t want to buy flowers, move along. I think you ought to change your clothes before coming back.”
Jin Cheng rubbed his nose and turned to spread his hands at Tang Cuo.
Tang Cuo also felt that Jin Cheng’s ripped outfit was an eyesore, but when Jin Cheng searched all his pockets, he found a grand total of five copper coins. He opened his palm pitifully, showing the five coppers to Tang Cuo.
Tang Cuo remained expressionless, reaching into his own pocket to pull out two gold coins.
As the saying goes, fortunes change over time; never look down on a young man just because he’s poor.
Jin Cheng spent Tang Cuo’s money without the slightest hesitation, feeling entirely justified. The two visited a clothing shop, where Jin Cheng spent a full half-hour just trying on outfits.
Tang Cuo leaned against the bronze mirror with his arms crossed, forced to offer opinions—and they had to be genuine, thoughtful, and aesthetically sound opinions.
The blonde shopgirl giggled continuously while covering her mouth.
Ultimately, Jin Cheng chose an outfit similar to his original one, just made of a more comfortable fabric, while Tang Cuo changed into a new set as well. Tang Cuo had been injured previously, and while drinking potions had healed his wounds, his clothes hadn’t magically restored themselves.
As the two stepped out of the shop in their new clothes, joyous singing and the sound of an accordion drifted over from up ahead, floating in the air as if suspended in the sky.
Song of the Whistling Wind.
Tang Cuo recalled the name of this dungeon.
If “The Death of The Poet” was the conclusion to all stories and “Song of the Whistling Wind” was the beginning, then this serial dungeon starting with a festival and ending with a festival carried a ritualistic sense of coincidence.
The two asked several more passersby about roses, only to confirm that no such flower existed on this continent. More precisely, roses existed only in books and the songs of bards.
Ordinary citizens wouldn’t dig into the reasons behind it; to them, a rose was likely just a flower that used to exist but went extinct.
There seemed to be nothing difficult to understand about that.
Yet Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng knew things were far from simple. Records involving deep secrets were unlikely to be found in public libraries accessible to everyone; they were most likely housed in the Greenvines Alliance office or the royal palace.
For now, however, finding the red-haired man remained their priority.
As they walked, Jin Cheng suddenly had an idea. “Didn’t you say that red-haired guy liked Lancelot’s music? He was going to introduce Lancelot to Theodore today, which means Lancelot was supposed to show up here. What would a bard do on a festival day like this?”
Tang Cuo: “Perform.”
Performing on the street was precisely something Jin Cheng would do.
The small harp was right on hand. All he needed was to find a cheap hat from a roadside stall, pick a nice spot with flowers and a gentle breeze, set the hat on the ground, and let the music flow.
Tang Cuo sat on a nearby flowerbed, looking out at the transparent white gauze streamers hanging down from the tops of the tall buildings.
Jin Cheng could sing too, crooning soothing, exotic melodies from his memory. But since he didn’t remember the lyrics, he made them up as he went along. Whatever rhymed was what he sang, improvising freely and showing off with casual charm.
More and more people stopped before him—children clutching sweets, young men and women, middle-aged women carrying wooden basins, and elderly folk. Some came and went, while others tossed a copper coin or two into the hat.
Perhaps in the distant future, these people would look back on this bright, beautiful afternoon, remembering that they had once paused to listen to the performance of the most beloved bard on the Xixilite Continent.
