Chapter 49: The Song of the Wind (8)
Tang Cuo was forced to stop working. Amidst the system’s incessant ding, ding sounds, he returned to Batz’s rental room.
In the original plot, Theodore might have actually suffered considerable injuries and needed rest. On the other hand, Lancelot and Batz were good friends. Batz had helped him so enthusiastically; if there was a problem with Batz, Lancelot would definitely find it hard to deal with. Having Theodore wait for Batz also avoided this awkward situation.
But waiting alone in a rental room was truly boring, so Tang Cuo simply lay down. As the saying goes, if you can sit, don’t stand; if you can lie down, don’t sit.
Energy-saving mode: ON.
Although Jin Cheng was happy to let Tang Cuo rest, leaving him alone still made him a little uneasy. Thus, he quickened his pace, first rushing back to the Greenvines Alliance to find Kelt and inform him about the missing corpse, then immediately returning to the White Leaf District.
On his way back, he suddenly thought of something and changed his route midway, heading to the Wanderer’s Tavern.
The bustling tavern’s business was even better than during the day.
The bartender was so busy his feet barely touched the ground, and Batz was spinning in the back like a little top, constantly working. Sometimes he helped wash dishes, sometimes he helped move goods, and other times he was responsible for loading drunk patrons onto handcarts.
This was no easy task.
A fat, cursing patron with a belly twice as thick as Batz’s waist suddenly leaned his entire weight onto the boy, almost causing him to fall over.
Fortunately, little Batz was battle-tested, and his strength was much greater than it appeared. Stumbling, he managed to get the man onto the cart. Wiping his sweat, he could still smile and chat with the cart driver.
“Sorry to trouble you, Uncle Jones.”
“Don’t be so polite, little Batz, this is my job. You, on the other hand, should take a good rest.”
“I know, I’m not tired.”
“Whether you’re tired isn’t up to your mouth to decide. Alright, little Batz, I have to get going. These patrons stink of alcohol; I need to send them away quickly.”
“Okay, stay safe!”
Batz waved and watched the cart leave before running back to work at the bartender’s urging.
Jin Cheng also watched him. He couldn’t get close because the system wouldn’t allow it. But for now, the fact that Batz was still working and showed no abnormalities meant that Tang Cuo wasn’t in any immediate danger.
Returning to the White Leaf District, however, Jin Cheng had no idea where to search for Peter.
The White Leaf District was a mixed bag of people; finding someone here was already difficult, let alone someone who wasn’t a living person, but a corpse. Was he stolen by someone, or did he resurrect and run away on his own?
After walking around without finding anyone or triggering any plot, Jin Cheng circled back to the East Street.
Thump. A pebble hit the window of Batz’s rental room, disturbing Tang Cuo, who was resting.
Tang Cuo really didn’t want to get up, but this familiar scenario reminded him of the broken window in his room on East Cross Street. Remembering that he was in someone else’s house, he forcefully suppressed his irritability, got up, and walked to the window.
Jin Cheng was sitting with his legs crossed in the dark and damp narrow alley, a discarded wooden crate beneath him. Batz’s rental room was at the end of the corridor, and the window happened to face this hidden alley.
“Hi, good evening,” Jin Cheng raised a hand to greet him.
Tang Cuo thought there might be something wrong with his brain.
The night was too dark for Jin Cheng to clearly see Tang Cuo’s expression, but he knew this little bastard wouldn’t be thinking anything nice. Crossing his arms, he said, “Lancelot must really want to prove his friend’s innocence. Instead of sleeping in the middle of the night, he insists on wandering the streets. It’s already 2 AM; I’m afraid I won’t be able to rest all night.”
Tang Cuo: “And so?”
The system had trapped Tang Cuo inside the rental room while barring Jin Cheng outside. One was forced to rest, and the other was forced to stay up. Just now, when Jin Cheng tried walking into the building, he was crazily bombarded with ding, ding, dings until he practically heard a busy tone in his ears.
He began finding joy in sorrow. “Don’t you think we look like the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl right now?”
Tang Cuo felt his brain really might have been broken by the dings. Expressionless, he closed the window and was about to go to sleep. Jin Cheng immediately threw another pebble at the window. “Come back.”
“What is it???”
“Aren’t you a detective? Point me in a direction for the investigation.”
“Oh.”
“What does ‘oh’ mean.”
Tang Cuo thought for a moment and said sincerely, “Since you’re so free, why don’t you go dig up all the graves in the White Leaf District and tally up the number of resurrected corpses.”
Jin Cheng: “Do you really think I can’t bear to hit you?”
“Bring it on then.”
“…”
One couldn’t come out, and the other couldn’t go in. How could they fight?
Jin Cheng was infuriated, but Tang Cuo’s words also revealed his hypothesis. Jin Cheng cupped his chin in thought for a while and asked, “Do you really think they came back to life?”
Tang Cuo: “Yes.”
Jin Cheng: “What about Batz? Did he also come back from the dead?”
Tang Cuo didn’t answer this question immediately.
Just now, while lying in Batz’s rental room, he had smoothed out the entire incident from beginning to end and suddenly realized this was a serial mission. “Serial” meant that all of its stories were interconnected, so he thought of the Well of Time.
It was still a long time away from the Flower Festival of 1228. In September of that year, the blackboard at the Greenvines Alliance office in the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight stated: The Rose Sect’s activities in the Principality of Falan have intensified.
And at the very beginning of this whole story, the Rose Sect was also active in the Principality of Falan.
What was special about Falan?
Tang Cuo didn’t think it was particularly special, because the story concluded in the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight, not the Principality of Falan. This meant the Rose Sect’s ultimate target was highly likely the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight.
Then what was the most special thing about the Principality of Falan? It was that it was the closest place to the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight.
What did the Kingdom Hidden in Moonlight have? The Well of Time.
The Well of Time contained abundant time magic. Tang Cuo didn’t know how powerful the time magic in this instance could be, but time was the very thing that could most affect life and death.
A Batz who had already written a suicide note yet was still alive; a corpse that vanished into thin air. What did this point to? Tang Cuo believed they were all dead, yet they were still alive.
“I went to see Batz again just now. He looks no different from a normal person,” Jin Cheng said.
“Isn’t that great? The Grand Duke said Pastor Peter was an upright and kind gentleman, whose persistence was always admirable. Why would such a person, rooted in the poorest White Leaf District, defect if there wasn’t something compelling enough to move him?” Tang Cuo said, turning to lean against the windowsill. “Perhaps Batz is the exact point that moved him.”
Jin Cheng rubbed his chin, finding this direction more and more interesting the more he thought about it. “Following your reasoning, it seems the Rose Sect’s ideology isn’t so bad after all?”
Tang Cuo reserved his judgment; evaluating things was an extremely boring endeavor. How to view a matter or a person—whether idealistically or materialistically—had no unified standard.
Because standards were all set by people.
And humans were the creatures in this world that least needed standards.
“Alright, heart-to-heart time is over. I feel I really should follow your advice and dig up a few more graves.” Jin Cheng’s interest in grave-digging sparked instantly, and he actually went and did it.
He found a cemetery. Based on the time of Batz’s suicide note, he narrowed his search scope to within the past half year, focusing on young men and women. He figured that even if the Rose Sect wanted to deliver all sentient beings from suffering, they probably wouldn’t focus their attention on old men and women for the time being.
There were two hours left until dawn.
On the other side, Tang Cuo finally waited until the late-returning Batz arrived.
Batz was already very tired, his originally fluffy hair drooping down. But the moment he saw Tang Cuo, joy still blossomed in his eyes. “Theodore, why are you here!”
Tang Cuo: “I got a little hurt, so Lancelot told me to rest here.”
“I see, is your injury serious?” Batz hurriedly made Tang Cuo sit down. After receiving the reply “I’m fine now,” he breathed a sigh of relief and asked, “What about Lancelot?”
Tang Cuo: “The Greenvines Alliance had something they needed his help with, so he went out.”
Batz didn’t suspect anything, but still showed slight worry: “But it’s so late. Lancelot has just recovered from his illness; he shouldn’t overexert himself again.”
Tang Cuo closely observed his expression and didn’t say anything.
Out of exhaustion, Batz really wanted to just go straight to sleep, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Tang Cuo sitting perfectly straight. Hesitating, he took out a wooden washbasin. He scratched his head and smiled, “I’ve been busy all day today, and I smell a bit, so please don’t mind, Theodore. There’s a washroom downstairs; I’m going there to wash up.”
Having said that, he dragged his weary steps out the door.
Ten seconds later, Tang Cuo silently opened the door and followed him from a distance, watching him enter the washroom. Before long, the splashing sound of water came from inside. Tang Cuo leaned against the second-floor railing, thinking quietly.
A moment later, he returned to the room and stood in front of the window, wanting to see if Jin Cheng had returned.
He didn’t see Jin Cheng; instead, he saw a blurred yet somewhat familiar face—Peter!
Pastor Peter was standing on the side of the road diagonally opposite the alley entrance. Tang Cuo could see him perfectly from this angle, which meant Peter could see him too.
Their eyes met.
Peter’s eyes flickered, and he immediately stepped back, hiding into the darkness. Tang Cuo’s speed was even faster; without a word, he pushed the window open and chased out. However, the instant he landed and was preparing to chase out of the dark alley—
Ding! The damn system notification tone rang out again.
Tang Cuo ignored it and went straight ahead in pursuit.
Ding! The notification tone grew more urgent, striking Tang Cuo’s mind like a violent storm.
Tang Cuo bit the tip of his tongue, using the pain to keep himself clear-headed. Seeing that he couldn’t catch up, he immediately shouted, “Why did you want to assassinate the Grand Duke? Peter, how does killing him help your convictions?”
Peter was about to leave, but upon hearing this, he abruptly turned his head.
The two gazed at each other from across the long, moonlit street.
Peter was still wearing his moon-white pastor’s robes, bearing a compassionate and generous face, yet his gaze was very sharp. He asked, “Who are you?”
Tang Cuo: “A knight seeking the truth.”
Peter: “Then you should go ask him.”
Tang Cuo: “But he said he trusted you.”
The ding, ding, ding notification tones were blaring crazily, but Tang Cuo showed nothing on his face, pushing his act to the absolute limit.
Peter looked at him deeply, seeming to distinguish the truth or falsehood of his words. However, for every second he delayed, Tang Cuo’s state became more dangerous. After three seconds, he finally said, “He is the Grand Duke, the one who sets the rules on this land. If I don’t kill him, how can we speak of change?”
Tang Cuo lowered his voice: “Then do you believe the Rose Sect can truly bring about change?”
“Perhaps. One must do it to find out,” Peter said, his figure once again vanishing into the darkness.
Tang Cuo didn’t chase anymore. Waiting until his figure completely disappeared, he turned around and retreated. The notification tones had connected into a continuous hum in his mind, and he fled at his maximum speed.
It was a race against time for life and death.
Tang Cuo’s figure moved so fast it left an afterimage, but Batz’s room was on the second floor. Whether taking the stairs or climbing the window, it required a certain amount of time.
Crack! The lightning had already struck down.
Tang Cuo executed an extreme dodge, his foot kicking off the wooden crate Jin Cheng had just sat on. He quickly jumped onto the first-floor windowsill, his back pressed tightly against the window, watching the bolt of lightning strike past his eyes.
As soon as this bolt of lightning passed, the second bolt was already brewing. Tang Cuo hurriedly climbed to the second floor, dangerously opening the window and jumping inside just as the second bolt struck down.
Thud! He almost stomped straight through the floorboards.
At the same time, Jin Cheng, who was still digging graves in the cemetery, raised his head and frowned as he looked at the lightning illuminating the distant horizon. He then looked up at the starry sky above his head; the weather was fine.
Did some bastard suffer divine retribution and get struck by lightning?
It couldn’t be Tang Cuo, right.
Jin Cheng carefully identified the direction of the lightning and realized it was actually possible. This disciple of his was truly a fierce warrior. Jin Cheng felt that if he were a woman, he might just fall in love with him.
The kind that would roll around throwing a tantrum and screaming “so handsome!” for him.
His thoughts had gone off track. Jin Cheng managed to pull them back and continued filling the earth. The grave-digging work was basically finished. He had opened three coffins: one was empty, and the bodies in the other two were still there.
Because the sample size wasn’t large, Jin Cheng couldn’t tell if this ratio was considered high or low. But regardless of the number, where were the bodies?
Or rather, where were the resurrected people?
Where did they go?
On this end, Jin Cheng finished filling the dirt and was preparing to leave. On the other end, Tang Cuo waited for Batz to finish washing up and decided to be straightforward with him. Batz was still confused; he had clearly heard thunder while bathing just now, but when he came out, he found the weather was perfectly fine. How strange.
Theodore was also very strange. He actually asked him if he could make a cut on his arm.
“Theodore, what’s wrong with you? Do you have a fever?” Batz showed a worried look.
“I’m fine.” Tang Cuo looked straight into his eyes. “I need to conduct an experiment. Can you help me, Batz?”
“This… alright, fine.”
“Thank you.”
Batz hesitantly reached out his hand, ultimately gritted his teeth, and turned his head away.
Tang Cuo’s sword was very fast. In just an instant, it sliced a small cut on Batz’s arm. It wasn’t deep and wouldn’t hurt much, but it was enough to draw blood. The fresh blood quickly flowed down Batz’s arm. Batz found that it really didn’t hurt much and was quite happy.
Tang Cuo, however, frowned. The smell of this blood wasn’t right. The metallic scent of blood was virtually nonexistent; instead, there was a scent that Tang Cuo found incredibly familiar.
“Batz, did you fall ill last winter?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Batz scratched his head. “How did you know, Theodore? But Dr. Albert cured me.”
“Don’t you smell something else in your blood?”
“Oh, this? Dr. Albert said it’s because I drank medicine. He really is a good person. If not for him, I definitely would have died, and I wouldn’t have met you and Lancelot.”
No, Batz, you should already be dead.
Tang Cuo dabbed a little fresh blood on his fingertip and perceived it carefully. Unsurprisingly, he sensed dense time magic. This was identical to the magic radiating from Theodore’s rose, and the smell of the blood was exactly the same as what Tang Cuo had smelled from the well.
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Author’s Note:
This Western fantasy instance has a relatively complete world view and character map; it could even be pulled out to form a novel of its own. Originally, I actually wanted to write a Western fantasy piece, and later I wanted to write a detective story, but I didn’t end up writing either, so I simply wrote an infinite flow story where anything goes.
Adding such a plot-heavy instance into a fast-paced infinite flow story is actually a bit tricky, especially the first two phases, so I’ve been writing rather slowly recently. But with these two phases laying the groundwork and explaining the plot, the later phases will have different forms of expression—some fast-paced, some relatively relaxed. I love writing ensemble casts, and I love suspense. If everyone has trouble remembering names or details, you can read it one instance at a time; the reading experience might be slightly better.
