Silent Crown

Chapter 732 Mercy and Cruelty

At the moment the projection of Eden appeared, Paganini took out the broken stone plate from his lap and held it high.

The Wheel of Balance!

At the moment, a torrent of aether gushed out from it. Carrying the elements, streams of aether interwove into a phantom of the huge wheel. As the phantom wheel rotated, the membrane between the realm of aether and the physical world was broken with a rumble. The high-level dimensions and the dimensions within human perception overlapped again.

In an instant, an endless power spewed out from the depths of the realm of aether, crushing all the defenses of Asgard. Even the enchantment of the Golden Palace dissipated with a rumble under the force which crushed it as easily as crushing dry weeds and smashing rotten wood before it could react.

The domain of Eden descended from heaven onto the mortal realm.

Among the mighty hymn, Charles endured the intense pain in his body and roared into the air. The bones on his back suddenly grew, and a lonely wing spread from behind him, covering the heavens and the earth.

Covered by the brilliant wing of light, all the aether waves were crushed, and all the Asgardian musicians who were preparing to play their instruments trembled violently. They vomited blood, and their faces became pale.

Under the wing of the catastrophe, all aether waves were forcibly smoothed.

It was a restraint that only affected one party. Strengthened by Eden, a power far stronger than that in the past erupted from all the musicians of the Caucasus. In a flash, they tore the outer defense of the Golden Palace apart, and their music theory eroded inward.

"Hurry up! Pay no attention to anything else!" Paganini supplied the huge amount of aether the Wheel of Balance consumed and repeatedly urged, "Don't give the Sacred City any time to react, otherwise..." Just as he finished his words, by his side, a Caucasian musician suddenly turned around and pushed the movement of the school of modifications that he was done preparing towards Paganini. The fire blazed and the wind swept. The terrifying force of destruction erupted in an instant. No one had expected their companion to rebel suddenly and attempt a fatal attack on Paganini.

No one except for Paganini.

The blazing fire and the hurricane dissipated in an instant, and Paganini had already grasped the defecting musician. It was unknown whether the latter was alive or dead.

"You used this trick against me 310 years too early [1]," Paganini snickered, reminiscing about the experience and lessons he learned when he betrayed the Sacred City 310 years ago, and looked down. "Right? Lord Chopin..."

No one responded.

Before anyone realized it, a full moon hung high above the dark sky. Under the illumination of the moonlight, everyone's expression grew shocked.

Chopin...

"Guard your minds well, don't give him any opportunities," Paganini coldly ordered. "Abandon the Golden Palace, find Chopin first, otherwise our operation can't be carried out at all!"

Saint Chopin. He was the youngest of all the saints that had existed, and also a member of the most deviant Doomsday faction within the Sacred City. He always went on and on about Doomsday coming soon all day long, claiming that God's judgment and salvation were coming, and that the mortal realm would be buried in blazing fire. He didn't look serious in the slightest bit and was despised by everyone, even though no one had ever shown it in front of him.

In this regard, Chopin knew it well, and he was even clear about what those fellas were thinking.

It was precisely because of the power represented by the bright moon hanging above the sky at the moment.

The legacy of Saint Chopin.

Moonlight Sonata!

While the fiery sun was used as a metaphor for the dramatic changes of matter, in all the factions and schools, the lunar phase represented the source of consciousness and soul.

While the sun was a metaphor for life, the moon represented the incorporeal soul.

With the Moonlight Sonata as the legacy he inherited, what Chopin mastered was the dark side of the centuries-old church—the school of heart that controlled the mind and spirit.

Among all the saints, in terms of frontal attack capabilities, almost everyone could easily defeat him even by only using one hand instead of two. Of course, it also had plenty to do with the laziness of the Chopin of the current generation to devote some time and energy to learn about the music theory of other schools. But if the goal was not to defeat the enemy directly, no one could win Chopin.

The crucial reason behind the recent end of the Hundred Years' War between Burgundy and Anglo was that Chopin arrived at the border where the two were at war. Under the Moonlight Sonata, both sides lost any intention to fight. If not for the musicians on both sides doing everything they could to keep the situation in check, everyone would probably be thoroughly brainwashed by the Holy Bible and become a member of the Doomsday faction of the Church.

In fact, almost all the members of the Doomsday faction of the current generation were results of the said incident. If not for his attainments in the school of heart, he would not be sent to the Ultimate as a "fuse" for the Church to ensure that the outcome of Schubert "sacrificing herself" would take place.

It was a pity that, in the end, Schubert still chose sacrifice and salvation out of her own free will. She did not fight against her mission, and he was of no use.

At the moment, his appearance here was undoubtedly a precautionary measure that the Church had made in advance. He was not required to defeat the enemy, and it would suffice for him to delay the time.

In the short span of just a few seconds, several musicians had already become unable to control themselves. Their minds were controlled, permeated by the Moonlight Sonata. Fortunately, Paganini also knew it very well. With one of them out in the open and the other in the dark, during the confrontation at the moment, they actually used the consciousness of all the musicians present as their chessboard and battled indirectly.

Everyone felt their mood oscillating between sorrow and joy, and it was difficult for them to control themselves.

Soon, Paganini turned his gaze to the chaotic city below. "He is just hiding down there, find him!" He looked at the brightly lit city below with almost millions of people in it. To find Chopin was, simply put, even harder than to ascend to heaven.

Paganini snickered softly, seemingly having found a countermeasure.

As if he had guessed Paganini's thoughts, Chopin's resigned voice sounded. "With me here, your surprise attack is meaningless. Why don't you leave while the Church has yet to react? That way, you'll be fine, and over here I can also relax. It's good for everyone."

"Are you joking?" Paganini asked back. "If you really have mercy in your heart, you might as well remove the moonlight, and it'll also be a good thing for the uninvolved people."

"Why must you be so cruel?" Chopin sighed bitterly. "Don't you... have the slightest bit of mercy in you?"

"You are the one who forced me to do so." Paganini was completely unmoved. "Since you regard them as your shields, why do you still hope that they will not have to fulfill their mission?" As he said so, he looked at Charles.

Charles looked at the chaotic crowds below, the millions of people in the whole city, and his hairs suddenly stood on end. To find Chopin from the crowd was simply like finding the proverbial needle in the haystack. Albeit feeling resigned, he could only reach out and press down into the emptiness.

Soon, with Charles' action, a soft melody sounded. Everywhere the singing that was as gentle as water passed, the crowds on the streets gradually fell into a deep slumber. But soon, the gentle singing was interrupted by tragic, sorrowful whines.

Flames rose from the ground and engulfed one of the town areas, as well as the civilians who were asleep.

Charles raised his head in shock and looked at the musicians beside him. The musicians were playing movements that they could master from the school of modifications and casting them at the city below, indifferent expressions on their faces.

Soon, bangs sounded one after another, and the fire engulfed the streets one by one. Tragic cries and screams rose from the ground, trembling together in the fire with the dust, and finally returned to ashes in the fire.

Paganini stared coldly at the fire of destruction that was constantly rising below, unmoved in the slightest bit.

"What are you all doing!" Charles stared at him angrily. "Are you guys crazy? They are all civilians!"

Paganini stopped him, a cold and solemn expression on his face. "Hypnosis is too slow, and Chopin can easily fish in troubled waters. Charles, don't waste time.

"The outcome of the war depends heavily on our mission. If we fail, hundreds of thousands, or even millions of people will die in the war, like what you have seen..."

Charles stared at him dumbfounded, gritted his teeth, and clenched his fists. His pupils seemed to have been ignited by the flames and the destruction, and they were burned red.

The long-lost sorrowful whines that seemed like an illusion sounded once again, but this time around, they were not illusions, but an actual reality happening right in front of him.

Countless people were dying.

Once again, he saw that the souls whining sorrowfully emerge from the ashes. Riding on the wind and the smoke, they rose into the sky from the ground and disappeared in the brilliance of Eden.

It was as if they had ascended to heaven.

He pressed his forehead forcefully, enduring the immense pain the illusion brought, and roared, "Come out, Chopin!"

Charles shouted furiously at the city below. "Get your *ss out here!"

"I'm sorry, Son of God, but I don't want to die yet." Chopin sighed and responded, "Although Doomsday draws near, I still feel that... it is better to die later."

Although they were both musicians of the school of heart, compared to Ye Lanzhou, whose charisma and talent were unrivaled back then, Chopin and he were almost at two extremes. Yet Chopin never hid his lowliness and his hunched back.

"It is my mission, just like how you have your own mission." Chopin said calmly, "Neither of us has a choice."

At the moment, in a ruined neighborhood, Chopin's figure emerged.

In a flash, he was targeted.

Charles clenched his fist, expressionless. Eden's elements operated, and punishment was meted out.

Against the brilliance that sufficed to burn himself to ashes, Chopin felt relief instead. Wiping the black ashes on his face, he sat down on the ground.

Boom! A rumble sounded, and it was the sound of the sea of aether gushing fiercely against the currents.

On top of Paganini's head, the operation of the projection of the Wheel of Balance came to an abrupt stop, and the part where the realm of aether and the physical world overlapped began to shrink rapidly, causing the projection of Eden to sway, and it could hardly be sustained...

In a flash, all forms of communication between the physical world and the realm of aether were completely blocked.

Only Charles wasn't affected.

In other words, once one left Charles' side and was several meters away from him, one would fall to the level of a formal musician.

Against the sudden blockade, the wing of light that covered the entire sky was still unfolded, withstanding the pressure without shaking at all.

He looked in the direction of the Golden Palace. A blazing ray of light rose into the sky from the Golden Palace, shrouding them, and a phantom shadow of the Wheel of Balance was outlined. However, it was rotating in a completely different direction from theirs.

The three-minute interval was already enough for Asgard to activate the Wheel of Balance of the Church, completely separating the realm of aether and the physical world.

After the invaders lost the power from the high-level dimensions, they were no longer of any threat to the Golden Palace.

Along with the blockade by the Wheel of Balance, fiery aether waves emerged from nothingness one after another. Scepters emerged, outlining the phantoms of saints.

As the giant wind tunnel of the Golden Palace opened, the projection of the saints descended one after another.

Liszt, Mendelssohn, Brahms, Schumann, Tchaikovsky, plus Chopin, who had revealed his actual body, six saints had descended in total. A power that had exceeded usual standards and sufficed to flatten any country took aim at where Charles and the rest were located.

Paganini's expression was gloomy, and he forcefully opened a crack in the blockade once more with the Wheel of Balance.

"Let's go, Charles," he said. "Mission failed."

The Sacred City has actually found them. They actually found so many musicians who can inherit the power of the saints in such a short period of time.

One can only say that the Sacred City has indeed lived up to its reputation? However, in such a glamorous lineup, I wonder how many are puppets, and how many are consumables?

He could not suppress the fury in his heart at the thought of himself being stopped by a group of consumables. Gritting his teeth, he issued the order to retreat.

"No." Charles did not move, just looked at his enemies coldly. He took a deep breath, enduring the pain of his body boiling within. He did not leave along the crack, but pulled out a weird specimen from Eden, which was behind the crack. It was like a frozen flower. The wilting sunflower was solidified in amber, and its glory and vigor in the past were maintained as if it still had life in it after a few centuries.

Against everyone's shocked expressions, he lifted the specimen of amber to his eyes.

"I am still alive." He murmured softly, "So, we have yet to fail!"

At the moment, in the Golden Palace, the expression of the lighthouse musician observing the battlefield changed drastically.

"Stop him, hurry!" The musician of the school of revelation gazed at the specimen reflected in the observation of the lighthouse and glimpsed its essence. "It is... Cereus!"

The next moment, everyone's expression changed drastically. They disregarded their dignity and honor, and even the bearing capability of their bodies, surrounding and attacking Charles.

It was not difficult to find information and intelligence regarding Charles. It could even be said that the information regarding the first half of his life was almost like common knowledge, and it was very easy to investigate. One could even find out about where he liked to dine and dash back in the academy, where he was caught and beaten up, and where he got drunk and ran around naked in the moon-illuminated night afterward.

Of course, they would not miss out the most important part of the information.

The fella possessed the capability of directly consuming the real body of a catastrophe through its appearance!

One such instance was the tragic death of Kehlsteinhaus, the natural disaster that once attacked the Caucasus...

At the moment, the amber fell apart between Charles' fingers.

As if the essence had flowed away, all the power was drawn and consumed, turning into resources that entered Charles' blood. As a result, the sunflower that had been in full bloom for thousands of years wilted and dissipated in Charles' hands.

At the moment, Charles snarled and roared painfully.

In the earth-shattering waves, light engulfed him, and countless movements of destruction buried him within, but they could not drown out the thunder-like rhythm within the core.

It was the sound of heartbeats.

The invisible heart beat in pain, absorbing the elements and power that had appeared suddenly. It smelted music theory, consumed aether, and turned it into a wing!

Thus, in the crisp sound of bones growing, Charles roared in pain.

Everyone saw it amid the dissipating light and smoke.

On his back, beside the wing of the catastrophe that represented the Eagle Wing Mother, the skeleton of a wing broke out. Flesh and blood proliferated on it, as if vines were growing. Finally, it was covered in feathers that were fleeting and distant like shadows. The wing seemed so far away, as if it did not exist in the present.

As the wing fluttered, the petals that once belonged to the Cereus dropped from it and dissipated in the wind.

The power that was enough to destroy a city was applied on Charles, but not even a hair on him was damaged, because he was far away from the world, and it was incredibly hard for anything in the world to touch him.

"Now," Charles stared at his enemies and murmured softly, "it's my turn."

[1] Sarcasm.

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