Silent Crown

Chapter 250 You Shall See Me

Chapter 250 You Shall See Me

"Since neither side can compromise, the situation now is very messy and difficult to distinguish. I have a suggestion if you all can hear me out." Mr. Hu’s words had caused everyone to hold their breaths but this *sshole was going to keep them in suspense!

He lifted his teacup and drank slowly. After pretending to cough for a long time, he stated, "Why don’t the two both publish the Voynich Manuscript at the same time and give up any copyrights or profits, putting it in the public domain. This way, both men can enjoy the name and glory and won’t have any disputes in the future. What do you all think?"

Finished speaking, he blinked at the scholars in the audience. Everyone sank into silence as if they had been thrown into the vacuum and were about to pass out from suffocation! It was a moment of silence for their wasted anticipation. For a moment, they had thought that Mr. Hu, this Eastern scholar, could give some effective suggestion but "Do you know what the f*ck you’re saying?" they wondered.

This was such a sh*tty suggestion! It was practically ruining the Union’s reputation.

Seeing everyone’s anger, Mr. Hu chuckled awkwardly. "Ha, that was a joke. I’m sorry, I practiced this joke so many times in private but I guess it still doesn’t work. I’m so sorry. But it seems that someone got the joke." He paused and gazed at the man who did not have the time to wipe the grin off his face. "Mr. Ingmar, can a scholar who had spent decades working on an accomplishment be so happy hearing that they could split it with someone else?"

Ingmar froze like a wooden duck. "I-I…" he stuttered, blanching at Mr. Hu. "I didn’t…didn’t we agree…"

Clunk! A cup of tea crashed onto the table before him. Hot water splashed onto his face but it chilled him to the bone like frost. At the podium, Mr. Hu had risen. The smile was gone and he no longer looked like an onlooker. His eyes had transformed into pure gold and blazed with terrifying fire.

The people finally remembered that this Eastern scholar was referred to as the Sun by the Cardinal and the name came from this tremendous power.

Now, he glared down at the man below the podium and asked seriously, "Agreed on? Are you speaking of what the uninvited lobbyist discussed with me at midnight? If I support you, I’ll receive five kilograms of gold, a robe, and a century-old Indus branch. Ah, it’s a good plan but sadly, I have been a scholar of the Imperial College for thirty years but I cannot accept such a large gift!"

He spoke in Eastern dialect but most scholars here were fluent in many languages and could understand a bit. Thus, they gasped in shock at the fact that Ingmar was now suspect of underground deals—this was another huge scandal!

"Someone only worthy to be compared to a dog, unscrupulous, vile, unrighteous, harsh and merciless, stealing other’s work to be your own, cheating others of their kindness and for your own interests, speaking nonsense to fool the masses…you have no right to be called a musician! Do you still not give up?! If this was in the East, I would have written a letter to the censorate long ago to remove all your accomplishments and toss you into the tianlao!"

His voice was not very high but it exploded in one’s ear like thunder. Its weight made one’s vision spin and mind go blank; the people were completely speechless. This was the "thunder voice" that Eastern musicians strived for.

Ingmar’s entire body trembled. A thin layer of blood-red appeared in his eyes and his mind was shaken. He had started to lose control of his aether.

"There is no doubt that Ingmar plagiarized the interpretation of the Voynich Manuscript!" Mr. Hu declared. "This involves many matters and parties. I hope that the Sacred City and Anglo Kingdom will fully investigate this event!"

Thud! He slammed the gavel down, creating a heart-shaking boom. The appraisal drew to an end in the dead silence. Ingmar’s plagiarism was confirmed and all achievements of the Voynich Manuscript were returned to Abraham. All costs of the appraisal would be paid by Ingmar…these were all small details.

The most important thing—Ingmar was ruined.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! The crowd’s commotion could not hide the ghastly popping sounds. Soon, everyone realized what was happening and all looked toward Ingmar. The endless pops came from Ingmar’s body. Every pop was like a steel hammer crashing onto his bones, causing his body to spasm.

Ingmar’s face paled with each pop. In the end, he could only produce unclear gurgles. There was no more life in his eyes.

"His sound of heart has shattered! It has completely shattered!"

Under everyone’s shocked scrutiny, Ingmar, who had collapsed onto the chair, pulled himself up with difficulty. He stumbled forward as blood flowed from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears like a stream. He practically crawled to the spot before the people. His body slipped, but his hands gripped the side of the podium, refusing to fall down.

"Abraham, Sergey, Barthelemy, Lola, and the Par—you liars! I won’t forgive you…" he yelled as he stared into everyone’s eyes with his bloody orbs. It was difficult to say whether his eyes were filled with more craze or more despair. Pointing at everyone’s faces, he roared, "You’re all liars! Liars!" Screaming out the last word, his pale face abruptly swelled. Boiling blood spewed out from every pore.

Boom! The aether around him went wild. In the storm, the wooden stage quickly rotted, cracked and turned to ash. Ingmar fell into the ash and closed his eyes.

Someone rushed up nervously and felt his neck. He cried, "Not dead, he’s not dead yet! Take him to the Church!"

-

Amidst the commotion, Abraham sat in his seat and looked around in confusion, not understanding the situation.

"Professor, what’s wrong?" Charles reached out in concern and waved. "Say something!"

Abraham flinched as if snapping out of a daze. He looked at his student and asked with uncertainty, "Charles, did we win?"

"Of course! We won!" Charles nodded earnestly. "You’re the true grandmaster! The Sacred City is going to ring the Philosopher’s Bell for you!"

Stunned, it took a while before a smile appeared on Abraham’s face. He murmured, "That’s great. Charles, I think I left the bag in the resting room. Can you and Yezi fetch it for me?"

Charles was unsure but nodded slowly and left with Ye Qingxuan. Abraham watched as his students walked away and smiled involuntarily.

But for some reason, his eyes also reddened. He looked down at his steel hand. His shoulders shook as he buried his face. He knew he should smile now but the tears flowed out for some reason. He just wanted to sob.

This was great.

"I can’t believe that I can do more than kill in my life."

-

After the appraisal ended, all the grandmasters left without caring for the scholars and reporters gathered outside. Before leaving, Lola threw a flirtatious glance at Ye Qingxuan, causing the youth to shudder.

It was afternoon by the time all the paperwork was done. Abraham was still registering in the Musician’s Union, Charles was somewhere, and Bai Xi was still having fun outside. Ye Qingxuan became bored after pacing around and decided to wait in the lobby. However, a priest clad in black walked over and handed him an invitation.

"Archbishop Mephistopheles?" Ye Qingxuan was stunned.

"Yes." The priest nodded. "He told me to wait here and invite you to the church after you’ve taken care of everything. Are you available now?"

After thinking, Ye Qingxuan nodded. "The others are still here. I’ll leave them a message and go afterward."

"Then I will wait for you at the entrance of the Westminster Church." The priest nodded in farewell and left.

The Westminster Church was not very far. Queen’s Avenue was vast and wide. The Musician’s Union was on the left side while the church was on the right. They were right across from each other and he just needed to cross the street. Not much time would be wasted.

But Ye Qingxuan was stopped right when he left the Musician’s Union’s door.

"Ye Qingxuan?" The man did not wear anything flashy but his accent was deep yet elegant. The retroflex consonant was playful yet clear. This was clearly an Avalonian accent with an aristocratic air. The foreign country bumpkins all felt proud if they could speak standard Avalonian. Of course, this did not include Ye Qingxuan.

The lofty and arrogant tone instantly dampened Ye Qingxuan’s mood. He glanced over and nodded. "Yes."

"Good." The stranger looked up and down before stepping to the side to show the way. "A sir would like to talk to you."

"Who?" Seeing the showiness, Ye Qingxuan furrowed his brows and looked in his gesture’s direction. In the distance behind him, a black carriage was stopped under a tree. There was a familiar family emblem on the carriage.

Looking away, his expression turned cold. "Sorry, I don’t have time."

The stranger furrowed his brows and stopped the youth from leaving again. His voice was impatient as he said, "His time is precious and he specially took time out to meet you. Please do not drag things out meaninglessly and waste this precious chance."

He did not say the phrase ‘uppity’ but it was clear that was what he thought. When they saw this emblem, even the most successful musicians or scholars in Anglo would be polite and humble, or pleasantly shocked, or pretend to be calm. No one had dared to say this.

Hearing the man’s words, Ye Qingxuan laughed and gazed mockingly. "Sorry, please tell that sir that I’m just a lowly orphan. I don’t dare interact with the Lancelot family. Please tell him to return."

"You…" The man’s expression changed and wanted to manhandle him, but Ye Qingxuan just gazed at him coolly.

He said, "You must be new, right? I advise you don’t do this. Otherwise, you’ll lose your job even if I go over there. This is for your own good."

The man froze mid-movement.

"Indeed, like master like dog." Ye Qingxuan sneered and left.

Seeing Ye Qingxuan walk away, expressions battled on the man’s face. Finally, he returned to the carriage and reported what happened. The person in the carriage nodded, telling him to leave.

After a long time, the steel knight in Galahad’s armor came over and stood beside the carriage. She took off her helmet, revealing her feminine features and gold hair. It was Christine.

"Father, did you see him?" she asked quietly.

In the carriage, Lord Lancelot was silent for a long time before he hung his head. "Christine, that boy really hates me."

-

The Westminster Church’s chapel was quiet. Dim afternoon sunlight shone through the long and narrow stained glass windows, falling onto the youth’s shoulders. Under the light, his white hair was not as obvious as before.

This was not an official meeting and Mephistopheles’s attire was casual as well. He did not wear his majestic robe or crown and only wore a simple robe.

"I heard what you said in the morning." He studied the youth before him and nodded slightly. "It seems that Bann has taught you well."

"I did nothing but accept the Father’s teachings," the youth replied modestly.

"How is he?"

"He was well when I left. He had aged but was still strong."

"You often reminisce on youthful days when you age. It’s as if you’re living inside memories. But in the blink of an eye, Bann is still like before and yet I am old." Mephistopheles sighed. "What a pity. We should’ve switched back then. He would be a musician and I’d be in the Knights Templar."

After a short pause, Ye Qingxuan said quietly, "Father often told me that God has his plans. Please do not feel regret. This must be God’s plans."

Mephistopheles was stunned and chuckled. "I often use God’s words to comfort others, but it’s rare that I can be comforted by him one day. Bann wrote to me saying you don’t wish to be in the clergy. It’s a pity. Perhaps you are more talented than I had expected. Are you sure you won’t reconsider?"

"Both you and Father take care of me well." Ye Qingxuan shook his head. "But unfortunately, my passion is not here."

After a pause, Mephistopheles nodded. "Since that is the case, then alright. God has his plans, does he not?"

These were Ye Qingxuan’s words and he did not expect the Father to use them and comfort him.

"Come closer. Let me see you." Mephistopheles waved toward the youth. Ye Qingxuan hesitated but stepped forward and finally saw Mephistopheles’s eyes.

Hidden in the shadows of his brow bone, the old man’s eyes were rheumy, blank, and lifeless—Ye Qingxuan finally realized that Mephistopheles was blind.

A wrinkled hand swept across the youth’s face. There seemed to be static on that palm. Crackles sounded as his hand moved in the air and invisible power flowed across the youth’s face.

And so Mephistopheles saw it. He studied it. As if meeting an old friend, he smiled in satisfaction after a long while.

"What a good child. That Bann is much luckier than me." He rose and patted the youth’s shoulders. "Go now. Come back when you have time. If you don’t wish to hear about the church, I won’t speak of it, but you might be interested in theories of the School of Choir."

"I would be so grateful." The youth nodded and bid farewell.

The old priest stood in the dark church, watching the youth leave with his lifeless eyes. He seemed to see the setting sun cast a gold halo around the youth.

"You will go forth to an unknown destination," Mephistopheles quietly recited as he caressed the bible beside him. "To the final destination of all beginnings, to the end of dreams, to the furthest point of the world. There, you shall see me."