Chapter 52: The Song of the Wind (11)
Above ground, a massive battle was on the verge of erupting.
Over ten minutes ago, Jin Cheng said he wanted to coordinate with Tang Cuo’s actions, so he had Kelt find some red paint. It was just like the paint used in Lisa’s room—cheap and reeking of a pungent odor.
He didn’t use the paint for anything else but to have people draw. They hand-painted a massive magic circle on the exterior wall of the cathedral, so large that it almost covered the entire surface.
This magic circle was identical to the ones the Greenvines Alliance had discovered. Although Jin Cheng specifically instructed non-magic users to draw it—meaning it had no actual magical effects and might even contain errors—the mural was so glaringly red and eye-catching that the very first stroke firmly drew everyone’s attention.
Commotion brewed in various hidden corners. Countless pairs of eyes stared at the cathedral, gazing at the Greenvines Alliance’s near-blasphemous act, each harboring their own dark motives.
Kelt was constantly breaking into a cold sweat. Although he held some authority within the Greenvines Alliance, he couldn’t handle Jin Cheng’s extreme flair for stirring up trouble. Fortunately, the Greenvines Alliance was an organization of bounty hunters, not devout followers of gods.
Even so, Kelt felt a bit dizzy, unable to even remember how he had been bewitched by Jin Cheng into agreeing to this outrageous plan.
“Lancelot, I’m going to be punished by headquarters,” he couldn’t help but complain.
“To eradicate evil, Kelt, aren’t you willing to make a small sacrifice?” The magic circle was finished. Jin Cheng picked up the remaining bucket of paint and leisurely strolled toward the cathedral’s attic.
“They might think the two of us are the evil ones.”
“Wow, now that would be interesting.”
Jin Cheng didn’t stop walking. After a few steps, he turned back to look at Kelt, leaning against the stair railing with a smile. “Relax, Kelt. I will compose a hymn for you, and bards across the entire continent will sing your epic.”
Kelt: “…Thank you.”
A moment later, Jin Cheng stood before the attic window, pushed it open, and looked down at his masterpiece on the wall. From this angle, the entirely crimson wall was a spectacular sight.
But Jin Cheng still felt it wasn’t red enough.
So he hoisted the paint bucket and, with a splash, poured the remaining paint straight down the wall.
“What are you doing?!” Kelt was utterly shocked. He hurriedly rushed to the window and looked down, only to see the red paint washing over the magic circle like a waterfall, resembling the blood of sin—a startling and grisly sight.
The people watching from below were equally stunned. The hidden commotion instantly exploded into open sparks, linking together across the area.
Don’t be so surprised.
Jin Cheng thought this as he tapped his knuckles against his own head; the system was pinging him with warning notifications again. A kind-hearted bard probably shouldn’t be doing things suited for a dangerous extremist, so Jin Cheng decided to salvage his character persona.
For instance, after splashing red paint on the Rose Sect, he could play them a heartwarming tune.
That’s right, Jin Cheng was basically just splashing red paint on them. He couldn’t find the front door to the Rose Sect’s headquarters, so he could only draw a magic circle as a substitute and dump a bucket of paint over it.
For a cult with fanatical beliefs, this kind of behavior was probably more agonizing than being killed.
“This way your headquarters won’t think you are evil. Anyone who opposes evil represents the light,” Jin Cheng explained to Kelt with perfect self-justification.
“I feel like something isn’t quite right.” Kelt swallowed hard.
“Relax, Kelt,” Jin Cheng patted Kelt’s shoulder and said earnestly, “This cathedral belongs to Pastor Peter. Peter surrendered to evil, so the cathedral must have already been corrupted by evil. We are doing this to catch them faster so that no more people fall victim to them.”
Since things had already come to this, Kelt could only force himself to think that way.
In the next second, Jin Cheng took out his small lap harp, propped himself up on one arm to sit against the windowsill, and strummed a starting chord. He thought for a moment and ultimately played a Requiem.
It wasn’t infused with any sonic attacks—just a pure Requiem to grant peace to the souls of the departed.
The sound of the Requiem quickly spread from the cathedral’s attic. Whether it was the ordinary citizens of the White Leaf District or the Rose Sect members hiding in the shadows, they couldn’t help but look up toward the source of the music.
Confusion, terror, and anger.
Some people uncontrollably lowered their heads, while others tightly gripped the hilts of their swords. Meanwhile, another person had arrived in the attic. With a head of fluffy red hair, from a distance, he looked exactly like Batz.
Kelt looked him up and down before asking Jin Cheng, “Are you sure this will work?”
Jin Cheng replied, “He doesn’t look that similar close up, but he only needs to flash past this window a few times. Once the seed of doubt is planted, it will take root and sprout. The only thing we need to worry about is—if the enemies who show up are too powerful, how are we going to survive?”
This played right into Kelt’s strengths. He patted his chest and said, “Don’t worry. I’ve already set up magic circles and traps everywhere. Unless someone on the level of the rebel Aesop or a Red-Robed High Priest comes, they definitely won’t leave alive.”
Hearing this, Jin Cheng suddenly remembered something. “Did you say Lord Roger Reeds is currently tracking Aesop?”
“Yes. Aesop’s danger level is probably greater than two Red-Robed High Priests combined, but he is notoriously elusive. Having finally caught his tail this time, Lord Roger Reeds absolutely won’t give up.”
Because Jin Cheng had directly interacted with Aesop, Kelt didn’t hide this information. He was also observing Jin Cheng’s reaction to hearing the name to judge his true stance.
Jin Cheng felt much more relieved upon hearing this. With Aesop tied down by Roger Reeds, at least he wouldn’t suddenly strike. But what about the other Red-Robed High Priest?
He could only hope they wouldn’t appear in the tunnel.
Just as Jin Cheng’s worries surfaced, the Red-Robed High Priest he was concerned about was currently in a certain vineyard estate outside the city. Under the scorching sun, he was curled up on the ground, clutching his throat and coughing incessantly. His red priest robes were covered in dirt and blood.
His face had long lost its original shape; his cheeks were swollen, and several of his teeth had been knocked out.
“Hehehe!” The ugly, comical magic puppet giggled, bouncing forcefully on his agonizingly painful body and continuously jabbing him with its little black umbrella.
The puppet’s master sat under a parasol in the courtyard, resting his chin on one hand and swirling a wine glass with the other. His tassel earrings blew in the wind, catching a golden gleam in the sunlight.
After a long while, when the Red-Robed High Priest was taking in less air than he was breathing out, the man finally set down his wine glass. He stood up slowly, leaned on his umbrella, walked over, and bent down to look at him. “Do you know the consequences of offending me now?” he asked with a smile.
“You, Aesop… don’t be too arrogant… The Lord Bishop won’t let you off… cough, cough…” The Red-Robed High Priest opened his eyes with great difficulty, speaking in broken sentences, “What you are doing… is outright rebellion!”
Aesop smiled. “I am the rebel Aesop to begin with, aren’t I?”
“You… you will be punished…”
“So what? Didn’t I warn you not to interfere with my operations? Because of you, all my plans have been thrown into chaos. Assassinate the Grand Duke? Did you really think that by killing him and propping up that prince with a brain the size of a pinhead, you could control Falan in the palm of your hand? How terrifying stupidity is—it actually drove you to make a move right under Roger Reeds’ nose and turn yourselves into a laughingstock.”
The Red-Robed High Priest gasped heavily for air, unable to speak.
Aesop continued, “I know what you were plotting. You knew my experiment succeeded, so you wanted to strike early and steal the credit for yourselves, right? I know your faction has always viewed me as a heretic and even wanted to eliminate me. The Lord Bishop told me long ago not to stoop to your level.”
“But why wouldn’t you listen?” Aesop asked in feigned confusion, his smile turning increasingly perverse. The tip of his umbrella pressed against the Red-Robed High Priest’s heart; with just a slight push, it would pierce right through.
Life and death rested entirely on his whim.
“If you… kill, kill me… The Lord Bishop won’t spare you either!” The Red-Robed High Priest was going mad. His bloodshot eyes glared fixedly at Aesop, filled with hatred and fear. “Aesop, sooner or later, you will be nailed to the cross!”
“I hate it most when people threaten me.” Aesop pushed the umbrella tip forward a fraction. The Red-Robed High Priest curled up in agony and let out a tragic scream. But just then, Aesop abruptly turned around.
“Roger Reeds.” He muttered the name.
So annoying.
Like a lingering ghost that refused to dissipate.
Meanwhile, Tang Cuo was holding Batz hostage as they ventured deeper into the passage. They took several turns, gradually walking into increasingly remote areas as the surrounding temperature slowly dropped.
But Tang Cuo continuously memorized the route they took. There was an auto-generated map forming in his mind, and if his mental map was accurate, they were still going in circles within the White Leaf District.
Ten minutes later, the four of them arrived near the cathedral.
Tang Cuo remained impassive, pretending he hadn’t noticed anything. He frowned and asked, “Where exactly are you taking us?”
“You’ll know when we get there. Be a little more patient; we still have a ways to go.” The mage walked at the front. The further they went, the faster his pace became. Although this acceleration was very subtle, it couldn’t escape Tang Cuo’s eyes.
It was a dead end; before them stood a solid wall. When the mage approached, a passage unsurprising opened up on the right wall.
This was exactly the same as before; the passages always appeared out of thin air like this. But their current location put Tang Cuo on high alert. They were almost directly beneath the cathedral now. Were they really still a distance away from their destination?
Or was their destination just ahead, and the mage was lying?
Thinking of this, Tang Cuo quietly opened his skill panel to take a glance. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at the Nightingale Ring on his hand and formulated a plan.
He stopped, turned his head to look at the swordsman trailing behind, and said coldly, “You walk in front.”
The swordsman frowned. “Don’t try to pull any more tricks. We’ve shown enough sincerity by bringing you here.”
Tang Cuo ignored him and simply tightened his grip on his sword. Batz hissed in pain, his face turning increasingly pale.
The swordsman’s face darkened, but remembering the orders from his superiors, he had no choice but to walk to the front as Tang Cuo demanded. He exchanged a glance with the mage, a flash of viciousness passing through his eyes.
By this time, Batz was almost numb with fear. He stared wide-eyed at everything unfolding before him. The cut on his neck was still bleeding, and the pain was his only anchor to consciousness.
Right, he still trusted Theodore.
He told himself over and over that Theodore wouldn’t harm him, so he summoned his courage and kept walking.
Just then, Tang Cuo’s deliberately lowered voice sounded by his ear. “When I let go in a moment, run backward.”
Hearing this, Batz wanted to reply, but Tang Cuo’s warning voice instantly stopped him. “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”
Batz clamped his mouth shut, afraid to move.
Tang Cuo looked forward again, his gaze piercingly cold.
The mage had already stepped into the passage, and the swordsman was standing right at the entrance. From Tang Cuo’s angle, it was impossible to see the situation inside.
“What’s wrong? We’re almost there,” the mage reminded him.
“How do I know there isn’t an ambush waiting ahead?” Tang Cuo replied.
“If we were going to make a move, we would have done it already. Furthermore—” the mage looked at Batz, “he is still in your hands, isn’t he? You really are the most unique knight I’ve ever seen, daring to threaten enemies with a companion’s life. Don’t worry, my companions would never be like you.”
Tang Cuo remained silent for a moment before finally stepping forward with Batz.
Seeing him catch up, the mage and the swordsman continued walking. Soon, Tang Cuo reached the entrance of the passage. It was at this exact moment that he suddenly let go and shoved Batz backward.
Keeping Tang Cuo’s words firmly in mind, Batz didn’t dare look forward at all. He turned and sprinted away. But just in that split second of turning, he caught a glimpse of densely packed figures inside the passage, illuminated by the brilliant light of overlapping magic circles.
His heart gave a violent jolt. He desperately suppressed the urge, managing not to look back at Tang Cuo.
Tang Cuo merely raised his hand.
Boom— The Nightingale Ring erupted with blinding light. A torrent of magic flooded into the passage, sweeping over the mage and the others as they stared in shock. In an instant, the brilliance of the moonlight swallowed the glow of all the magic circles.
Whether it was the crimson of fire or the deep blue of water, everything was reduced to nothingness beneath that ethereal moonlight. Those densely packed figures were turned to dust before they could even utter a scream of terror.
Moonlight Tide.
Tang Cuo had never intended to feign surrender and play the undercover spy. Jin Cheng was the one with the theatrical personality, not him. He had always been a fierce warrior who preferred to raise his blade and hack people down.
Moonlight Tide had a twenty-four-hour cooldown. Twenty-four hours ago, Tang Cuo used it for the first time while escorting the Grand Duke through the tunnel. Twenty-four hours later, the cooldown ended, and he just so happened to be in the tunnel again.
Perfect.
“Theodore?” Hearing the commotion die down, Batz called out to him cautiously from far away.
“Wait there a little longer.” Tang Cuo wasn’t sure if there were more enemies inside, so he led the way with his sword drawn to scout ahead. The reality proved that all the enemies inside had likely gathered at the entrance to ambush him; he walked for several minutes without encountering a single one.
At the end of the passage was a spacious circular secret room. Paved with black stone bricks, magic lamps illuminated the area brightly. The entire floor of the room was one massive magic circle.
In the center of the magic circle stood an elevated altar, upon which lay a person.
Tang Cuo walked closer to inspect. Based on her attire and appearance, he had reason to suspect this was Lisa, whom Jin Cheng had encountered during the side mission. She had left a letter for Pastor Peter before her death.
Looking around, numerous iron cages were stacked against the walls. Inside each cage was a corpse. Some were stiff and rotting, while others—alive for some unknown reason—were pale-faced and emitting low growls like zombies.
Was this the “eternal life bestowed by the Undying King” that the mage had spoken of?
This Undying King is probably just a necromancer, Tang Cuo thought.
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Author’s Note:
Aesop: Repeatedly jumping back and forth on the edge of rebellion.
