Silent Crown

Chapter 299 Unable to Help Himself

Chapter 299 Unable to Help Himself

"Sorry, Mr. Holmes, let’s not fight face-to-face," Naberius muttered. "I haven’t transformed this new body yet and don’t have much power. But I’m a dark musician. You won’t find it odd if I make a despicable sneak attack, right?" Looking down, he studied the metallic heart in his hands. Coldness flashed past his eyes. "Since you’re not at the Resonance stage yet, let’s undergo the ‘sound of heart duel’ fairly!"

He abruptly clenched the beating heart. There was a sharp sound and it resonated with Ye Qingxuan’s heart. This was a direct attack to the sound of heart that acted as life itself. This was the basic competition between two musicians!

Ye Qingxuan’s melody instantly weakened. His face darkened but then became red as if his blood was boiling. The aether in his hands practically dissipated. Naberius cackled. He played his odd instrument and continuously controlled Ye Qingxuan’s new heart. It beat wildly as if it would not stop until it exploded.

The surviving four dark musicians used this chance and screamed the dark music score from the Calixtinus Codex. They showed their true appearances, called forth the power of demons and the abyss, and surged toward the gaping youth. But in the next moment, Ye Qingxuan looked up and grinned toothily. "Tricked you!"

Boom! The sluggish melody burst forth once again. This time, it was accompanied by the fire of Night on Bald Mountain and the thunder of Indrah’s Eye. A frantic flood swept past instantly and swallowed the four.

Naberius’ instrument exploded too. A giant hole appeared in his face, creating a bloody mess. He looked at the shards embedded into his palm and shock flashed past his eyes. He had used this skill to break countless musicians’ sound of hearts through the years. However, this time, Ye Qingxuan destroyed the instrument he had created?!

Before he could react, rows of stakes flew toward him with rolling flames. His figure separated and six shadows dodged the pursuit of Night on Bald Mountain. However, the youth’s figure suddenly appeared amidst the rolling flames and he pressed down—the Sigh.

Boom! Naberius flew back and slammed into the wall; he was pierced by a silver nail. The fire within did not spew out but clamped down on him so he could not escape.

"Capturing the sound of heart…was useless?" he asked hoarsely, staring at the youth before him. "Why?"

"If you want to know why," Ye Qingxuan looked down at him chest. A crystal-like heart beat between the crack. It swallowed blood and aether with a dreamy moonlight glow. "Maybe it’s because I have a stony heart."

Naberius froze. He coughed out black blood and forced on a self-deprecating smile. "I lost. I lost completely. But sadly, there’s no winner in this game."

"What does Gavin want?" Ye Qingxuan asked coldly. "That thing, the physical incarnate of the god…why is it here?"

"Didn’t you already guess it? Mr. Holmes, why are you asking me?" Naberius looked up with difficulty. He looked at the black shadow that filled the sky. "Look, the god has descended…our existence is less significant than dust to those creatures. You’ve already failed, Mr. Holmes. The winners win all in this game, but ordinary people like us can’t get anything." He suddenly spat out blood and pieces of his organs. Blood flowed from all openings and his body split apart.

Ye Qingxuan froze. Naberius was destroying his last chance at surviving!

"No need to be shocked. This choice…doesn’t deserve your furrowed brows." Naberius looked down and said with his last strength, "Humans were born with shackles. Even someone as clever as me could not escape them, even with sixty years of struggling. Thankfully, I still have…the freedom to choose death. Mr. Holmes, if Hell exists, I’ll wait there for you. Hopefully there, we’ll be able to become…become…friends." Naberius’ head hung and he stopped breathing.

He was dead.

Ye Qingxuan gaped at him. His outreached hand froze in the air. Behind him, an ear splitting thunderous boom sounded deep in Avalon’s Shadow. Harsh cracks emerged on the ground and snaked out.

The quaking could even be felt deep inside the ocean, resulting in tsunamis. The Dark Lord could no longer resist the resistance of Avalon’s Shadow while advancing. Even if he suppressed himself to such an insignificant level, he still could not avoid the arrival of the limit.

This was the country of King Arthur’s scepter. The clashing of their respective music theories were at the extremes. If a spring was suppressed to its limits, it would rebound. The music theories overlapped and the aftershocks from their collapse warped the material world. However, he did not stop. He continued forward to the heart of this shadowy world.

One step, two steps…

Ye Qingxuan’s expression changed. He could barely breathe under the pressure of the air. The damaged enchantment could no longer resist the aftershocks and was close to collapsing. Now, the enchantment was like the other half of his body. If it broke apart again, he would be forced back to his original state. He might even be fatally wounded.

"Shaman, I hope you’re not waiting for me to go back and help you." Ye Qingxuan clenched his jaw. His body shook and his sanity was almost robbed by the terrifying shadow behind him. However, he still could not help but worry.

If the dark musicians were so unscrupulous, the parliament would definitely be causing a commotion too. They had controlled many places secretly all these years. With more than a century of accumulation, they had the connections and power to cause a mess in Avalon if they did not have to worry about the royal family anymore. The Shaman probably was in a dangerous situation now!

-

Avalon was in darkness now. The enchantment was Avalon’s most important defense. The guards were sent into action the moment it collapsed. The nine city gates slammed shut, isolating the city. The city—downtown, midtown, and uptown—were divided into sixteen sections that were completely isolated from each other and the outside world.

The bright city filled with lights suddenly fell into darkness. Scattered firelight shone and illuminated the metal armor in the streets of downtown.

The armed soldiers charged down the streets, obediently following commands. The Parliament’s connections in the military were finally put into action. They uprooted the Shaman’s strongholds one by one.

This was no longer a street fight. It was complete war. All resistance was laughable before a proper army.

The darkness of downtown was spotted with firelight. Amidst the fire, a horn was blown and the armored soldiers hoisted their spears to break down the defenses and buildings. They left a trail of rubble and dust. All resisters were pierced by the spears and tossed to the side. Snaking trails of blood formed red police lines that blinded anyone who saw.

The violent gangs of downtown could not unite to form any sizeable resistance at the short notice. They were squashed easily and turned into carcasses littered on the ground.

Thunderous booms sounded continuously. Those were the terrifying sounds of cannons flattening buildings. One could faintly hear pained cries before they were cut off. All that remained were the dull clanks of armor. The sound of metal echoed in the chaotic darkness. As well as the sound of dripping blood.

Another armor plate was torn apart in a ravaged alley. A hole appeared in the chest and blood spurted out. A heart was crushed by an invisible hand.

Ghosthand panted and roared.

Boom! The armored soldier flew out and crashed into the crowd. He upended the incoming soldiers.

Ghosthand sucked in the foul air. The rotting scent of the sea and the decayed odor of the sewer entered his lungs like fire burning at the remains. Merely breathing hurt like fire.

His mottled white hair was dyed red by blood. His torn shirt revealed ghastly wounds. Creamy blood flowed across his invisible hand, sketching the contour of his broken limb. The hand was not fixed; it kept changing. Sometimes it was a human hand, other times it was a claw with scales on the five sharp nails—terrifying.

"Fourth time." He breathed heavily as his legs trembled. He truly was old now. This was only the fourth time.

Within a short few minutes, the garrison had charged four times. No matter how many fully armed soldiers charged, they were pulverized when they reached this old man. Without exception, they were like waves crashing onto a reef.

The mill was on the right and the steel mill’s warehouse was on the right. These two large buildings sandwiched the small alley and the narrow terrain was his biggest advantage. No matter how many charged forward, he would only have to face a few. He could deal with them easily without fearing the large masses.

However…he could not retreat.

He could not let anyone pass…

Roaring, he stepped forward. Brushing past the blades, he forced himself into the soldiers’ arms. The invisible ghost hand sank into a neck. With a crisp crack, it was shattered and the soldier’s neck was broken.

Then the soldier shook. Holes appeared on his back and a crossbow arrow pierced through his chest. Stuck in the armor, it was only a hair’s breadth away from his eyes.

Ghosthand bent down and dodged an incoming sword. His hands closed around the blade. He turned and the blade shattered. Following his hands, it pierced through the helmet, through the skull, and wedged in the brain. Another soldier fell.

A broadsword hacked at his shoulder, jamming into bone. Ghosthand roared. His invisible hand twisted and yanked the soldier’s head off as if there were no joints.

The wind howled. A strong arrow was close to his face before the invisible hand grasped it. Sparks flew; it brushed past his face and dug into the chest of the soldier behind him.

Blood splattered like rain. A flurry of blades streaked through the air under chaotic clashing. Howling sounded endlessly. Finally, only the bloody old man remained standing in the alley.

He painfully yanked a dagger out from his leg. He pushed himself up from the two piles of corpses and stood up. His glare at Ingmar was chilling.

"Ingmar, you’ve wasted too much time." The man in a gray cloak behind Ingmar raised his head.

Ingmar shuddered. He stuttered out, "Mi-mister Sparrow, I just…Mr. Robin told me to…"

"Enough. Robin isn’t here. I’m in charge of the parliament."

The Sparrow moved past him and glared at Ghosthand, who was surrounded. He looked past the man, saw through the wall, and looked into the dark room. His brows furrowed. "That dying old man is the Shaman?" He scoffed. "I always thought he was just hidden but I didn’t know…he really is dying. Ugh, how disappointing." The Sparrow raised his hand. "No need to fear anymore. Fire the arrows!"

Thus, chilling whistles sounded in the darkness.