by Feng Yue
“Presumptuous!” The students with dark expressions were angered by Ye Qingxuan’s attitude and began yelling. Exchanging glances with each other, they could not push down the anger.
Onstage, Sydney’s expression grew even stranger. He had reached the end of the letter and stammered out each word with difficulty. “In addition, I hope that such things will not happen in the future. To help with some people’s memories and remember this, I’ve decided to leave a small memento in a very obvious spot. I hope they’ll like it.”
Here, he froze and looked at the very end. “Your faithful friend, Ye Qingxuan.”
Without a doubt, Ye Qingxuan’s impolite tone had angered most of the students. The auditorium instantly fell into chaos.
That *sshole, was he using this chance to scold the entire academy? Who does he think he is? And what was that ‘small memento?’ This obvious warning made one want to laugh. Did he want to upend the entire academy or something?
But soon, they heard shocked cries from the back, as well as a sluggish silence. Onstage, Sydney seemed to have seen a ghost; his stiff expression shattered bit by bit and turned into one of shock. And so everyone looked back in confusion.
And saw that the sky outside the auditorium was pitch black, but in the black sky was blazing red firelight. Something was on fire? Where?
-
Under the same sky, a white-haired youth sat on a bench, bathed in firelight. The light illuminated his white hair, turning it red like fire. Before him, the main building of the School of Revelations bathed in firelight as well; it was dazzling. It was as those people had said—it had transformed into a torch that broken the darkness, illuminating the bright and mighty future of mankind.
The ancient texts, precious collections, and opulent furniture in Ingmar’s office were submerged in the flames, turning into ash and cinder. They were carried by the hot wind and floated in the sky like beautiful and dazzling stars.
Soon, the professor on guard descended from his wind spirit. Seeing the burning building, he quickly raised the alarm. Then he saw the loitering youth and his brows furrowed. “What happened?”
“Simple. It caught on fire.” Ye Qingxuan shrugged and quoted what the academy had said to him a few days ago, “The weather has been dry recently and the objects spontaneously combusted. It’s normal.”
He calmly looked at the suspicious eyes with an innocent and dazed expression. No matter what, the investigation results would be just that—the weather was dry and the objects spontaneously combusted.
This was just an accident, just like the last accident. Since people could accept the fact that the history department had an accident, it was reasonable for the same to happen to Revelations, right?
He sat on the bench quietly and looked up at the fire as if enjoying the most beautiful view in the world. He sighed, “So pretty.”
A bell rang faintly in the air.
-
“Great tea. I didn’t know the West would have such good tea.” In the clock shop, Mr. Hu set down his teacup and sighed. “I haven’t had tea ever since I left the East all those years ago.”
“Get to the point.” Across from him, Hermes clutched a box of cookies and munched. He looked at Mr. Hu with a strange gaze. “I’m kind of interested in seeing what that figurehead queen sent you to Avalon alone for. Is it to contact the revolutionary army and kill those treacherous ministers from both the inside and outside? If that’s the case, then you’ve come to the wrong place. The entire world knows that the revolutionary army is hiding in the Dark World. You can’t find anything in Avalon.”
“Oh no, our queen has nothing to do with those rebels,” Mr. Hu stated, waving his hand. “I am just here to investigate some things and find someone.”
“Ye Lanzhou? Psh!” Hermes snickered. “You didn’t regret anything when that guy Bai Heng committed a coup and killed all of the Ye family. There’s no point now.”
“As this is my duty, I beg you to tell me.” Mr. Hu rose and cut to the chase. “Where exactly is Ye Lanzhou?”
Hermes rolled his eyes. “How would I know? Ye Lanzhou has legs and can go wherever he wants.”
Mr. Hu sighed and pulled an old silver coin from his sleeve. Pushing it toward Hermes, he said, “I hope you can provide aid, seeing my payment.”
Hermes furrowed his brow. “According to the rules, I have to answer your question if you give me something, but are you sure you want to ask this?”
“Yes.” Mr. Hu nodded.
Hermes replied emotionlessly, “He’s dead.”
“Impossible.” Mr. Hu shook his head resolutely. “I was ordered to find him, dead or alive.”
“Tsk, why are you guys so stubborn?” Frustrated, Hermes tossed the cookie box to the side and took a large jar from a cabinet, slamming it onto the table. “Here! Here’s the ‘dead’ you’re looking for!”
Mr. Hu froze. After a long time, he reached out and lifted the dust cloth covering the jar. Dust floated down. Under the dust and cloth, a head was submerged in the amber colored liquid.
The stark white yet handsome head had closed eyes as if it was sleeping in the liquid. Long black hair floated in the liquid like seaweed. There was no handsomeness of yesterday, but he was calm as moonlight—serene and beautiful. He seemed to only be sleeping, rather than having died long ago.
“This is the head Bach personally chopped off. Take it if you want!”
Mr. Hu winced. He shook his head and set down the dust cloth, drowning the face in darkness once again.
“Why must it be like this?” He sat down heavily in the chair. After a long while, he sighed and no longer spoke.
A heavy bell rang in the distance. It resounded in the night sky, spreading in all directions. The bell had a mysterious power as if it contained the cheers and singing of countless people. The aether in its path swelled as if it too was dancing.
In the darkness under the dust cloth, the head seemed to awaken temporarily from his slumber. His lips seemed to curl into a fleeting smile.
Like a hallucination.
Like moonlight.
-
Thousands of miles away, the high tower of the Sacred City was illuminated with lights. It was the critical moment of defense changes at the ice field barrier close to Asgard, but the bishops dressed in red were arguing until they were red in the face.
“It has been six years since an abomination level natural catastrophe appeared. If we continue the alert status as if we’re close to war, it will undoubtedly be a burden to both Asgard and the Church. There is a minimum expense of one-million pounds of gold per year!”
“It has only been six years! If something happens during the defense change and a natural catastrophe enters human territory once again, we might not be able to recover from the consequences in even six-hundred years! The nations flattened by the Silver Tide still yet to show any signs of life. Are these previous examples not enough for us to be cautious?”
“Sure you can talk but do you know the expenses of merely maintaining the stronghold? Furthermore, our research of natural catastrophes has not moved in decades. Not only are there no results in explorations into the Dark World, that b*stard Gaius and his revolutionary army are still roaming free!
“And of course the nations are all declining now. They have high internal expenses and cannot care about the scary things in the Dark World. Outside their barriers Psychological decay is more terrifying than material emptiness. If we continue, it’ll be a knock-off product even if the stronghold remains!”
“The Church does not involve itself with national politics. Do not find excuses for these sinister actions!”
“Idiot! Does procedural justice have any effect on the result?”
The arguments had lasted for three days without any outcome. But today, the figure seated at the end of the long table seemed to be deep in thought and did not listen to their opinions. He looked up into the starry sky where the sound of a bell resounded.
“Your Holiness! Yo
ur Holiness, may you please decide quickly?” The bishops looked at the silent pope with confused yet solemn expressions. Beside the throne, the servant called quietly, “Your Holiness, the bishops are waiting for your decision.”
The King of Red raised his hand, blocking the noisy arguments so he could only hear the bell.
All was silent.
Save for the bell from the skies.
-
The bell rang in the long night. The massive bronze bell vibrated, shaking dust off and revealing a blazing bronze glare. It shivered like a flame as the bell resonated. The ringing spread in the air toward extreme distances. Riding the wild wind, it traveled tens of thousands of miles and echoed within the Dark World.
It shook the ice and snow of the northernmost barrier loose, it shook the signal flames of the eastern Great Wall, it lifted the sand of the southern clay walls, and it melted into the ripples of the northern sea. The bell traveled far and wide, ringing in every human’s ears.
“Mr. Gaius, this is a report just received from Avalon.”
In a secret room, an old man with white hair put on his glasses and perused the message under the light. After a long while, he smiled in satisfaction.
“Congratulations, Abraham,” he murmured, looking in the direction of Avalon. “You’ve finally found your purpose in life as you had wished.”
There was no reply.
Save for the faint rings of the bell.
One could hear the low and distant bell everywhere, whether beside a bonfire in the barren wilderness or in the city under a snowstorm.
“The Philosopher’s Bell?” In the Dark World, Bach, who had been silent, looked up. The old crowned man traveling above the stars looked down at the Sacred City. Within the Holy Temple, the flames of seventy-six un-extinguishing lanterns trembled under the bell. The spirits of saints sleeping within them opened their eyes and exchanged glances.
“Forty-two years.”
“The Philosopher’s Bell has been rung.”
“The Bell of the Original Sin.”
“Humanity is nearing the truth of the Dark Ages.”
“The shaking of the Originator shall arrive soon.”
“The decisive battle is nearing once again.”
The spirits in the lanterns murmured amongst themselves and finally closed their eyes, returning to their long slumber. In the darkness, only the lights remained.
The bell continued to ring.
-
Amidst the ringing, a drunken young man was shocked awake from his dream and moaned painfully. He picked up the bottle beside him and drank the last few drops. As the strength of alcohol coursed through him again, he pushed himself up from the table and panted heavily.
“Another nightmare, Charles?” Abraham pushed open his door with concern.
“No, Professor. Just drunk.” Charles managed a smile and climbed up from the floor. “Ah, I accidentally got drunk. I’m really getting out of hand. If Yezi and others saw me, they’d probably scold me for half a day.” He pushed open the window to diffuse the scent of alcohol in the air. Moonlight spilled on his face. Charles sat in the corner and felt around his pocket for half a cigarette. Lighting it, he inhaled deeply and managed to smile at the door.
But the door was closed and no professor was there. Abraham was not there either. Seeming to understand something, Charles looked away darkly.
“Still dreaming?”
Plumes of smoke rose out of his hand, dissipating in the moonlight of the dreamscape, and disappeared. Under the moon, the walls slowly broke down. Blood seeped out of the cracks of the ground like a spring. Countless hands embraced him from the blood, warm and soft like a mother.
A voice from his memory murmured in his ear, “Please tell him that I am happy.”
The faint voice resounded in his heart emptily and went somewhere. He smiled and closed his eyes, still embraced by the dream.
“Mom, are you truly happy?”
-
Under the same sky, there was a silent white-haired youth before the firelight, a young man sleeping before a window, a young girl between rows of clocks. At the same time, a figure wrapped in a gray robe stepped foot into Avalon.
A crow landed on his shoulder as he listened to the bell. He looked up into the starry sky but there were no stars in his eyes—only an abyss-like darkness.
“The human world,” he murmured hoarsely. “Humanity’s…vileness!”
The bell resounded in the sky.
Who was it ringing for?
252 The Sacrifice
The tide reflected the fine moonlight. The cold moonlight crashed onto the reef, with the waves like splashing frost. In the long night, the tide mingled with the cries from the depth of darkness that wandered around the white city like a call from a dead country in the deep sea.
The scattered vapor rose from the sea, heavy and cold like the angry souls of the dead. The white mist was so heavy nothing could be seen. It submerged the whole city and swallowed everything.
There seemed to be a young boy singing softly in the mist. The song wandered across the streets and alleys. It could be faintly heard as long as one listened carefully, it.
“The king and his helpers kidnapped the queen, imprisoning her in dreams. We have power and the sea so which direction should we wander…Oh ho, millions of pairs of hands raise the sails high. Pull, the thieves and beggars, we’ll have eternal life…”
Under the chilling song, the patrol man with a lantern in his hand breathed coldly. With a chill, he sped up his patrol but the song followed behind him like a shadow, making his face pale.
Avalon late at night was by no means a good place. This glorious city, which shone brightly in the daytime, hid countless unknown truths within. No matter which of the tens of thousands of truths was accidentally seen, it was enough for the witness to evaporate and disappear totally. Every dark street was like a doorway to hell, calling out to the lone patrolman.
In the dark, the youthful singing sounded clearer and clearer. It wound around the patrolman’s ears, making him shiver. It was as if something in the song lured him to march toward the sound.
His mind emptied gradually, gradually.
On the silent streets, only the sound of footsteps echoed.
The vacant-eyed patrolman lurched forward. The homeless, also lured by the song at some point, joined in as well. They walked toward the direction of the song. Water puddles reflected the icy pale moonlight and illuminated their dull and wooden faces. In the darkness, the little boy’s voice twisted at some point, turning into the cackles of countless ghosts in their ears.
“Its key has been inserted into the box. The devil will realize our dream. The bell has already rung in the cemetery. Did you hear the eerie song? Respond to our calls, the blood debt will be paid…Oh ho, raise the sails, we’ll return home. Pull, the thieves and beggars, we will be immortal in death!”
Boom! The lantern fell from the patrolman’s hand and hit the stone steps, breaking suddenly. The oil and flames fell on him, igniting his body. The pain finally woke him.
He screamed in pain and found himself kneeling on the cold altar without realizing. The shadow of the sacrifice covered his face under the twisted firelight. The dark figure was clad in red. There seemed to be a hundred pairs of eyes under the hood of the shadow. They were full of compassion but also indifference.
The patrolman was overcome by the eyes. He could not help but pray on the ground, kissing his blade, and singing softly. “We will be immortal in death.”
Blood splattered. The warm liquid flowed silently, spilling over the ground.
-
Two hours later, it was a deeper night. Lestrade walked out of the crime scene with a pale face. He gritted his teeth for a long time and pulled out a silver coin from his pocket. There was a vague face on the silver coin, as well as a name of darkness and secrets—Sherlock Holmes.
The silver coin fell from his hands and into the flames, shaking endlessly. After a long while,
it suddenly collapsed into a ball of mist. A crisp sound came.
Ding. The buzzing sound swept past his ear and penetrated into the darkness. Cold wind blew in the night like the chuckle of the vengeful spirit. Somehow, the sound that was once so daunting was now so reassuring.
Lestrade lit his pipe and gazed into the distant darkness. He held down his fear and waited patiently.
After some time, a hoarse voice sounded behind him. “I’ve said before not to disturb me if it’s not important. I hope you won’t disappoint me.” That husky voice clung to his heart like a sharp and cold razor. He shivered.
“According to your co-command… I should contact you if something strange happens,” he stammered. Pausing, he took a deep breath and summoned up courage. “They’re in there.”
“They?” the shadow asked.
Lestrade swallowed hard and said, “I don’t know how to describe those things…those things, I can’t say.”
The angry spirit standing in the mist pondered for a moment and nodded. “Lead the way.”
-
“Recently, the capital is being secured secretly. The policemen patrol with alarm bells, and the police department check the situation through the big enchantment of Avalon at any time. An hour ago, we found out that a patrol officer was killed and when the forces were called out, it was too late.”
Lestrade walked in front and wrapped his overcoat tightly as if he was afraid of the wind. Occasionally, he looked around, revealing a pale face.
Ye Qingxuan could not help but shake his head. “You never seem to be on time.”
“You always need some time from receiving the signals to organizing teams and acting. Avalon is so big. A few minutes aren’t even enough to pull the horse out of the barn.”
“And you also need some time to react for those who work at night, right?”
Ye Qingxuan’s rhetorical question made Lestrade speechless. His expression grew bitter. What cleverness was he pretending in front of this one? He was only clearer than Lestrade about those private activities.
“Anyway, when we arrived, it was too late.” He shrugged and looked at the young man guarding the door, who was leaning against the wall, stooping to vomit violently. He had vomited all the bile and was now dry heaving.