Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
Although they were quite far away, the Revelation Musicians in the Sacred City were still able to observe the whole process.
Right now the aether was in chaos, and some movements’ structures were so weak that there was no way to directly use them, cutting off the possibility of directly observing the scene through the use of music theory. However, there were plenty of movements for enhancing one’s eyes and ears.
Twenty or thirty nautical miles away really wasn’t that far.
“Did he win?” Seeing that Ye Qingxuan had chosen to act against Paganini first, everyone could not help but suspect that they were seeing an illusion.
There was clearly a huge disparity between them, but for some reason the bishop’s heart was still troubled.
Maybe he had won?
Part of his unease came from the fact that Ye Qingxuan seemed so full of confidence, and part of it from the Sacred City’s analysis of him.
The Grand Inquisitor often exceeded people’s expectations, acting based on his own preferences. In general his schemes were quite well planned, and he was one of the most difficult people to deal with.
Although he tended to overestimate himself to the point where he would futilely try to hold back an overwhelming force, often gambling with his very life, his good luck defied the natural order, and he was able to win every time.
If they thought about it carefully, they would find that he already had countermeasures planned in advance, and that he had prepared a trump card or had thought of something outside the box.
Although he had some shortcomings overall, when you looked at him in a detailed fashion it could be said that he was so powerful that every one step of his counted as ten steps of someone else.
For people like him, the outcome of a battle was often determined before it even started.
He was best at using small things to defeat the powerful, and forcing his opponents to face him in the areas he was most skilled in, using his own plentiful experience to defeat them.
He had performed this type of miracle again and again. And now, as he faced Paganini, everyone had a faint bit of confidence in him.
“If he won, there’s something fishy going on!” Chopin rolled his eyes. He picked up the cup of cold tea beside him and after pursing his lips in displeasure, upturned it on a porcelain plate The soaked tea leaves rippled through the faintly reddish liquid.
He looked down at the trails made by the tea leaves. He was silent for a while, and then a flash of white light came from his eyes. At that moment, everyone on the bridge felt instantly sluggish.
Chopin seemed to have become a hole into the realm of aether. The projection of a Scepter had descended upon them.
This was a game that Revelation Musicians who focused on the Way of Prophecy often played. They used leftover tea leaves as a medium to implore the Originator to tell their fortune.
However, few people dared to use this method in actual practice. On the one hand, this type of thing was child’s play: it didn’t matter what kind of movement you used, how much you could see depended entirely on the musicians experience and accomplishment in the School of Revelation. On the other hand, if the matter was related to someone important, the prediction could easily be distorted by your opponent’s music theory, giving you results that were hundreds of miles away from the truth.
Chopin dared to do this was because on the one hand boldness of execution stems from superb skill, and on the other hand…maybe he wasn’t really taking this matter seriously. Who would win and who would lose had already been decided.
Everyone held their breath as they looked at Chopin.
But after he did not speak for a long time, the bishop hesitantly asked, “How well can you calculate the result of this battle?”
“Why could I care about something so boring?” Chopin glanced back at him. “Try thinking in the long-term, there are more important things worth considering.”
The bishop clearly did not understand. “You’re saying…”
“That’s right, the future of the world!” Chopin looked seriously at the porcelain plate, and the traces left on it. He gave the clueless bishop a bitter look and said sadly, “Tragic! Tragic, it really is tragic…sure enough, in the coming days there will be no saving this world, no matter how many times I look into the future. Everyone is finished, bishop. This world is finished! Life is so tragic, if you could leave it early…Ye Qingxuan understands this. It would be easier to die early. At least you would not have to endure the coming torment.”
When he spoke of Ye Qingxuan his tone was full of envy, shocking everyone.
The bishop’s face went green as he finally remembered his colleagues’ pitying expressions…
It was true that Master Chopin was a musician from the Sacred City, but his School was completely different than other schools. The most absurd thing was…the members of his school were supporters of Eschatology, and even held a copy of something called The Book of Revelation, some d*mn thing that was written hundreds of years ago by a sick priest.
Having such a teammate would be a test of the spirit for both yourself and your enemies.
Fortunately, after saying so many morale-reducing things, Chopin finally said something useful, “You’d better not expect too much from the Grand Inquisitor.”
Chopin threw the plate aside, and said in a profound tone, “Paganini has hidden depths.”
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Ever since Ye Qingxuan’s fame had spread, the Church had assigned someone specially to collect and sort out information about him.
After he became the Hand of God and then the Prince of Avalon, this had become a whole team of people. As the water rises, the boat floats higher, and so soon this team reported directly to the College of Cardinals.
Such a team was not uncommon. All of the kings and important figures of nations had a small group assigned to them, so that the College of Cardinals could gather information and formulate countermeasures at any time.
The other nations also had similar institutions. The original Anglo Privy Council had cultivated a large group of people to do the same thing, but they relied on their own intelligence network, and were not as quick or efficient as the Church’s.
The Church had always had many speculations about Ye Qingxuan. The only two bright spots in these speculations were that as Hand of God there was a high possibility that he could become an agent of the Sacred City, and that he never cared about the so-called ‘big picture’.
In a novel or a play, he would definitely play the role of a selfish, corrupt villain. Now, he was experiencing the negative effects of not understanding the big picture.
For orthodox musicians, the big picture was essential. It referred not only to the circumstances of the outside world, but to the big picture of the struggle between musicians. Otherwise, it would be like two chess players of wildly different skill levels playing each other. One would be caught up in the other’s rhythm and not realize they were being skinned alive.
Ye Qingxuan believed that when it came to the details, he was the best of all his peers. He could count the number of musicians who could compete with him on his fingers. But when it came to considering the big picture, there were at least ten Naberiuses between him and Paganini.
He had forged the Staff of Fate with Ye Qingxuan, and became the tool that stirred up the sea of aether.
For Paganini, the many magical effects of Changing Music Theory did not matter. The important thing was to use the details of chains of movements to tilt the situation in his favor until in the end he was in control of the entire course of the battle and make his opponent serve his own whims.
Now, he had finally turned Ye Qingxuan into a teammate who had to go all out. Even though compared to Ye Qingxuan he was like a lion pouncing on a hare, he still did not let up in the least.
Instead of quickly completely destroying his opponent once and for all, he chose to destroy them by an absolutely reliable and extremely painful method, like placing a frog in warm water before you boil it.
Ye Qingxuan finally truly realized what a frighteningly powerful musician Paganini was.
The whole situation was enough to make him shudder.
He was like a chest master, who starts casually for the first three or four turns, but by turn ten has turned into his opponent’s worst nightmare.
He seemed pompous and overbearing, but when you really fell into his snare, you would feel it pull at your entire body, and his evil influence would penetrate to your very marrow.
Paganini, who had mastered the music theory of both the Holy Cauldron and the Abyss, had unified them into one, and through Changing Music Theory had become his own thing.
What did it feel like to be hanged?
It felt like Ye Qingxuan felt now!
