Chapter 42: The Song of the Wind (1)
Jin Cheng’s high-profile return was a blatant, unrepentant display of arrogance, yet no one dared to move against him.
Under the three laws of the Eleventh Movement, any player outside of Zone F who dared to step into East Cross Street had only one destination: prison. As for orchestrating another tragedy like the BS101 massacre—that was virtually impossible. Jin Cheng was not the kind of man to fall into the exact same pit twice.
The rest of Yong Ye City could only grit their teeth in bitter frustration, praying he would hurry up and ascend to Zone E.
According to intelligence gathered from the Ruby Bar, the players released from prison so far were mere small fry, hardly worth a second thought. However, one specific detail continued to puzzle Jin Cheng. When he was setting up the bargain with the Ruby Bar, he had casually brought up the young girl Chi Yan had mentioned earlier.
Yet the intelligence reported that the girl had not been released to this day.
She was merely a new player in Zone F, a helpless teenage girl who hadn’t even had the chance to do anything before being killed and sent to prison. Normally, a minor offense like that would incur a sentence of just a few days. Why was her release taking so long?
Though Jin Cheng found it strange, it wasn’t enough to warrant personally investigating the prison, so he simply instructed the Ruby Bar to keep an eye on the situation.
After resting for a full day, Jin Cheng used spider silk as a temporary replacement for the missing harp strings, repairing the small lap harp. With their preparation complete, the two triggered the serial mission once more.
Ding!
“Congratulations to the players for unlocking the hidden mission: 《Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight》. This mission is a serial mission. Second Phase: Song of the Whispering Wind. Current participants: 2. Dual-Player Mode activated.”
“Please check your mission panel regularly and follow the instructions to complete the mission.”
“We wish you a pleasant survival!“
“Theodore? Theodore?“
The moment the system announcement faded, before Tang Cuo’s vision had even fully cleared, he heard someone calling the name Theodore right beside his ear. His head felt muddled and groggy. Opening his eyes, he was met with a smiling, unfamiliar face.
The man possessed a head of thick, fiery-red hair that looked like cotton wool. Waving a hand in front of Tang Cuo’s eyes, he teased, “How did you manage to fall asleep here? The festival is about to start! There are so many people here today, it’s so lively—can you hear the singing carried on the wind?“
Tang Cuo heard it.
Drifting through the gentle breeze was an ethereal, distant melody, carrying a distinct foreign charm. Woven into the singing were the delicate notes of a small lap harp and a flute, accompanied by the brisk rhythm of drums and an acoustic guitar, like the wind itself dancing through the air.
Transparent white silk streamers fluttered before his eyes, hanging down from the tops of towering buildings. Milk-white, cathedral-like architecture enclosed a charming market square into a cozy little world of its own. Tang Cuo sat by a flowerbed in the corner, gazing at the bustling scene, having accidentally dozed off on this clear, sunny afternoon.
He instinctively looked down at himself. He wore a wide-sleeved cotton shirt with a pristine white cravat tucked into the collar, a black waistcoat, tall deerskin boots, and a knight’s longsword hanging at his waist.
It was the Sword of Judgment.
Tang Cuo gripped the hilt, noting that the Nightingale ring was still fitted on his finger. But if this was a roleplay scenario, shouldn’t this be Lancelot’s ring? Why was it still in his possession?
Before he could ponder it further, the red-haired man pulled him to his feet. The two pushed past the fluttering silk ribbons, blending into the crowd heading toward the liveliest part of the street.
Passing through the marketplace, they emerged onto a wide avenue. The red-haired man pointed excitedly at the parade of floral floats approaching in the distance. “Look! The Grand Duke’s carriage will pass right through here shortly. If we stand here, we’ll definitely get a great view!“
Tang Cuo did not answer, quickly opening his mission panel to scan the text.
【Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight】
Second Phase: Song of the Whispering Wind
Main Mission: Protect the Grand Duke
An assassination?
The thought flashed through Tang Cuo’s mind instantly. Right then, his fingers brushed against a badge stowed in the inner pocket of his waistcoat.
A base of green vines, crossed by two longswords—the mark of the Greenvines Alliance.
Was Theodore a member of the Greenvines Alliance? If so, was he assigned here by the Alliance specifically to protect this so-called Grand Duke?
And where exactly is this place?
The red-haired man was standing on tiptoes, peering eagerly across the street as if searching for someone. After a moment, he spoke to Tang Cuo with a touch of regret. “I don’t know where Lancelot ran off to. We agreed I’d introduce you two today. Believe me, Theodore, once you hear Lancelot’s music, you’ll fall in love with it—it’s truly the most marvelous sound in the world. Perhaps only a place as mysterious and distant as the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight could nurture music like that. It’s completely different from our Principality of Flange.”
The Principality of Flange.
Tang Cuo keenly seized upon the key detail. Flange was the land closest to the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight. If this was Flange, it meant Lancelot had likely just left his homeland to begin his travels across the continent, long before he became the legendary bard renowned throughout the realm.
Since Tang Cuo had assumed the role of Theodore, Jin Cheng was almost certainly Lancelot. But where was he? Tang Cuo scanned the crowd a few times, but saw no sign of him. In roleplay scenarios, their mission lines could very well be entirely separate, and there was no telling when they would cross paths.
Still, given Jin Cheng’s capability, Tang Cuo wasn’t worried about him. Sweeping his gaze past the unfamiliar faces in the crowd, his right hand remained resting firmly on the hilt of his sword.
The floral floats slowly rolled past them.
The red-haired man climbed onto the flowerbed by the roadside, craning his neck to look into the distance. Finally, he gasped in delight, “The Grand Duke’s carriage is coming!“
A honor guard clad in silver chainmail cleared the path ahead. Following the floats, a black carriage approached at a steady pace. Seated inside was the Grand Duke of the Principality of Flange, waving to the citizens. With graying hair and a stern, solemn expression that held little mirth, he exuded absolute authority.
The crowd broke into cheers.
Many citizens spontaneously bowed their heads in reverence, placing their hands over their hearts, nearly prostrating themselves. The Grand Duke returned the gesture with a slight nod, driving the red-haired man into a state of sheer excitement.
“Look, Theodore! That is our Grand Duke. Ah, I will forever honor and love him. Praise Flange! Praise this land blessed by the sacred wind!“
Tang Cuo did not respond, allowing the surge of the crowd to push him along beside the carriage. But right at that moment, he caught sight of two middle-aged men across the street exchanging a covert glance. Hidden beneath their long robes, two spell staves slid into their hands.
Not good.
Acting on pure instinct, Tang Cuo grabbed the red-haired man and yanked him backward, shouting at the top of his lungs: “Enemy attack!“
The earth-shattering shout instantly put the entire honor guard on high alert. The crowd threw itself into chaos, the music grinding to a sudden halt. Seeing their cover blown, the two middle-aged men didn’t retreat; instead, they raised their staves high into the air.
“In the name of God—strike them down!“
Surging magical energy erupted from the staves in an instant. Yet they weren’t the only magical assassins present. Tang Cuo’s eyes darted through the crowd—two, three, four… there were at least six of them, all dressed in black robes with pulled-up hoods, staves raised high.
“What is happening?!” the red-haired man shrieked, his face pale with utter shock.
The honor guard reacted swiftly, raising a wall of shields to prevent anyone from approaching the carriage amidst the panic. Right on cue, the magical assault rained down—countless scattered shards of silver light slammed toward the ground like a barrage of deadly blades.
“Silver Blade Fall!” The commander of the honor guard, wearing the most ornate armor near the carriage, recognized the spell immediately. He barked an order: “Shield formation! Cover top!” The guards instantly adjusted, locking their shields above their heads.
The commander leaped onto the roof of the carriage, swinging his sword to shatter the descending silver light.
Naturally, the Grand Duke’s guard contained more than just knights; a mage sat right up front, acting as the driver. He drew his staff, muttering rapid incantations as a brilliant glow bloomed at its tip. With a sharp flick of his wrist, an orange magic shield expanded rapidly, intercepting all the remaining silver light.
Inside the carriage, the Grand Duke sat motionless, without a trace of panic.
Tang Cuo, however, was frowning.
Assassinations required precise, targeted strikes. A broad area-of-effect spell like Silver Blade Fall was inefficient for a targeted kill—unless the enemies had a follow-up strike hidden up their sleeves. Ignoring the panicked red-haired man, Tang Cuo ducked into the chaotic crowd.
The uproar dragged on. After firing off the spell, the hooded assassins retreated rapidly. Stripping off their conspicuous black robes, they melted into the sea of people like fish slipping back into the ocean.
The honor guard remained vigilant, but they didn’t dare leave the Grand Duke’s side to give chase.
“Move out!” Tight nerves from extended high alert were taking a toll; the commander waved his hand to keep the procession moving. But in that exact instant, disaster struck.
A cold gleam of steel thrust upward from beneath the carriage floorboards, straight toward the Grand Duke. Standing on the roof, the commander couldn’t see it in time. The driver mage hurriedly chanted a freezing spell, but it only managed to slow the blade down by a fraction of a second.
At the critical moment, Tang Cuo executed a sharp slide beneath the vehicle. The Sword of Judgment swept out with a harsh clang!, forcing the assassin back out into the open.
Tang Cuo rolled clear of the carriage frame. Furious, the assassin turned and slashed directly at him. Tang Cuo raised his sword to parry. His slender silver blade was far lighter than the opponent’s broad, heavy broadsword, yet the moment the steel collided, a faint, moonlight-like radiance flared across the Sword of Judgment, instantly driving the attacker back.
Is this the Sacred Radiance of Judgment mentioned in the weapon description?
Tang Cuo had no time to ponder it as he pressed his advantage.
The more he swung the sword, the smoother the flow of energy within his body became. The initial surge of strength he had felt when first picking up the blade seemed to have permanently enhanced his physical conditioning and speed.
It was a sword that felt alive. With every breath, the weapon and its master moved as one, responding seamlessly to his intent. It made Tang Cuo—who had never formally studied swordsmanship—look surprisingly adept.
Not far away, the red-haired man was searching frantically for Tang Cuo. When he saw the display, his eyes sparkled with admiration. In his mind, a true knight ought to be like Tang Cuo: decisive and clean with his sword, without any flashy, unnecessary flourishes.
It was utterly cool.
And the fact that he was protecting the Grand Duke made it cooler still.
Yet Tang Cuo was thinking about something else entirely.
Casting magic required a staff, but in such fast-paced close-quarters combat, suddenly pulling out a magic staff was far too clumsy. A single misstep meant dying mid-chant. As the saying went: villains die from talking too much, and mages die from chanting too long.
Since the Sword of Judgment is an enchanted weapon, can it act as a substitute for a staff?
Thoughts were thoughts, but Tang Cuo had no time to test the theory.
More close-combat assassins swarmed in—not just the one hidden beneath the carriage floor. Wave after wave executed a relentless, coordinated assault. The crowded street and panicked citizens provided them with endless cover. To make matters worse, the robed mages re-emerged in the background, raining down spells until the honor guard was stretched to its absolute limit.
Tang Cuo retreated a few paces, catching his breath. But just as his boots touched the edge of the curb, a crisp bell rang in his mind.
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
A brave and righteous knight shall never abandon his companions.
Fearing he might get struck by lightning and die a gruesome death if he ran, Tang Cuo had no choice but to throw himself back into the fray.
The Grand Duke’s carriage couldn’t remain stationary—standing still meant turning into a sitting target. Since Tang Cuo’s objective was to protect the Grand Duke, he had no choice but to sprint alongside the moving vehicle, fighting off attackers and dodging incoming spells. His tied-back hair fluttered wildly in the wind, his back soaked with sweat.
Only now did he notice that his hair was chestnut brown. Wait, wasn’t Theodore supposed to have silver hair?
Shoof!
In that single split second of distraction, an arrow whistled past his face, nearly disfiguring him. Tang Cuo turned a frigid gaze toward the source just as a second arrow came flying at his eyes.
He slashed outward, chopping the arrow cleanly in two—brutal, direct, and fierce.
Hit anywhere else, fine. Touch the face, and you die.
In a flash of movement, Tang Cuo summoned the Goblin Broadsword from his inventory, locked onto the sniper’s position, and hurled the heavy blade through the air. Whether it hit or not was secondary—catching the shimmer of spellfire out of the corner of his eye, Tang Cuo executed a clean backflip over the roof of the carriage, delivering a powerful kick (BANG!) that sent a burly assassin tumbling out of the cabin.
He turned toward the interior. “Your Grace, please step down! The carriage is no longer safe!“
The Grand Duke gave him a profound, lingering look, his eyes sweeping over the broadsword Tang Cuo had just summoned. After a mere two seconds of hesitation, he complied. Grateful for the old man’s cooperation, Tang Cuo guarded him closely as they backed toward the buildings lining the street.
Right then, Tang Cuo caught sight of a familiar face.
“Over here!” A man stood in a doorway, waving toward Tang Cuo. That slight smile at the corner of his mouth and that familiar tone—who else could it be but Jin Cheng? Of course, his current identity was Lancelot the bard. He cradled the small lap harp in his arms, dressed identically to the bronze statue back in the small square, save for the missing feather hat.
Tang Cuo escorted the Grand Duke into the building without delay. The moment they stepped inside, Jin Cheng pulled the door shut. Though his movements were swift, they carried an effortless composure—he even had the leisure to offer the Grand Duke a polite greeting.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace.”
Tang Cuo wanted to kick him.
He held back.
The three of them retreated into the cellar, where a secret passage led straight to the White Leaf District. Tang Cuo had no idea where the White Leaf District was, and Jin Cheng didn’t offer an immediate explanation, though the Grand Duke’s expression darkened noticeably.
To think someone had dug a secret tunnel right under his nose, inside his own city, without his knowledge.
Taking advantage of the chaos outside, Tang Cuo and Jin Cheng escorted the Grand Duke through the tunnel. Although the Grand Duke didn’t put on airs, he was advanced in years, and the longsword at his waist was clearly decorative.
Their pace was inevitably slowed down. Taking advantage of the lull, Tang Cuo opened his system panel once more.
Main Mission: Escort the Grand Duke and Lancelot to the White Leaf District.
Tang Cuo turned his head to look at Jin Cheng.
Jin Cheng tilted his head, flashing a bright, pleasant smile. “Hello there. My name is Lancelot, a traveling bard. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
