TBR CH196

“I will be utterly destroyed by my lover; I will be crushed to pieces because of him.”

The deep crimson curtains fell, and the soaring soprano’s voice trembled with intense emotion. “But precisely for that reason, I love him—oh heavens, how I love him!”

The play concluded. The woman, holding her lover’s head, gracefully lifted her skirt and bowed. Thunderous applause erupted from the audience.

This was the Kingdom Opera House’s most classic play, performed in the last ten days of each month by the acclaimed soprano “Nightingale.”

At this moment, Madame Nightingale smiled and drew a blood-red silk handkerchief from her sleeve, casually tossing it towards a certain direction in the crowd. The crowd erupted, countless hands scrambling for the handkerchief, so much so that no one could see where it landed.

Then, the contentious atmosphere oddly paused.

The conclusion of whose hands the handkerchief fell into was revealed. People looked at each other, trying to uncover the true identity of this lucky individual.

A soft “meow” came from beneath their feet.

Madame Nightingale couldn’t help but cover her mouth and smile at the sight.

However, a startled gasp echoed from the front box. A black cat skillfully avoided all the feet about to step on its tail, squeezing out of the crowd. It had a pair of sparkling amber eyes.

How fortunate,

The black cat held the scarlet handkerchief and a small black card in its mouth.

In the honeycomb-shaped central theater, several boxes hung, reserved for special clients. The view was excellent, and dark curtains obscured any prying eyes. The lady seated in the box held the most noble status in the entire kingdom.

Across from her, the purple-haired witch cast a warning glance behind her, signaling the other mages to be quiet.

“I told you already, if you don’t come soon, I’ll have a nervous breakdown!”

The lady’s face was etched with time, but her charm remained undiminished from her youth. Princess Debbie had completely inherited her golden-haired, blue-eyed mother. She was probably only seven or eight, like a rain-soaked fledgling, clinging anxiously to the Queen’s arm.

“Especially you, Miss Hilda, you don’t know how much your arrival means to me. These days I can never sleep soundly, poor Debbie, no one can take her from my side, oh heavens, Andrew doesn’t even understand me. But how can I allow her to be in this level of danger?”

“What can we do for you, madam?”

Hilda’s expression was stern, and she bowed gracefully. “The Kingdom and the Mage Association have always maintained a good relationship, and we will try our best to help. But if it concerns the Demon King Kriesmeier…”

No organization on the continent of Milal dared to claim victory against the Demon King Kriesmeier, even though the Archmage Tower’s defenses were relatively the best. Humanity’s most magnificent kingdom was merely an unlocked box before the Demon King.

“Kriesmeier,”

The exquisitely dressed Queen muttered to herself, “Of course, it’s about Kriesmeier. But, not just…”

This morning’s Spring Festival was forcibly halted due to Kriesmeier’s sudden attack. When the Demon King, symbolizing destruction, spread his wings twice over the Kingdom, an ominous shadow enveloped people’s hearts.

But the faint anxiety in the Queen’s eyes was not solely due to this reason. She turned her face, and the theater’s crystal chandelier painted sparkling golden grooves on her cheekbones.

She wanted to speak, but hesitated.

But someone interjected at this inopportune moment.

“Excuse me,”

Hilda quickly glanced at the interrupting mage but couldn’t stop them from continuing: “Have you seen our cat? A black cat with amber eyes; it ran off as soon as it entered the theater.”

“A cat?”

Before the Queen could speak, Princess Debbie timidly repeated. Her eyes suddenly lit up at the word “cat,” and she cautiously tugged at her mother’s skirt.

“Is it the kind of cat I saw at night? With furry horns, a long tail, and holding something in its mouth—”

“Debbie!” Her mother’s face immediately hardened, and she ruffled the princess’s golden hair. “Don’t talk nonsense. That was just your imagination; those books are disturbing your mind. There have never been cats in the royal palace.”

Outside the box, Madame Nightingale’s singing grew more and more fervent. In that dangerous song, as if about to break off at any second, intense emotions seemed to gush forth. But no one in the box was truly paying attention to the performance.

After scolding the princess, the Queen hugged her tightly.

She seemed to be in a high position, with the world revolving around her, but the emotions in her eyes seemed on the verge of shattering like glass at any moment.

“I’ll have the theater manager look for it. As for what’s happening to us, I truly cannot speak of it in this setting, and Andrew simply cannot understand; he’s just a fool. Debbie, my dearest darling, I cannot…”

“Uh,” Hilda said cautiously, “…Alright.”

Debbie was startled by her mother, tears welling in her eyes. The Queen finally released her, then adopted a solemn demeanor again. The purple-haired witch hesitated, sitting a little closer. She noticed the quiet little princess had been staring at the large python coiled around her neck.

“Do you like it? It’s very friendly, at least to children like you.”

Debbie, with tears in her eyes, cautiously touched the python’s head.

The python liked her very much and licked her hand.

Just then, a startled gasp echoed in the box. Hilda felt the Queen was about to faint. She turned her head in bewilderment, seeing the Queen’s face pale, as if she had seen something extremely terrifying. She prayed it wasn’t because she had led the little princess astray, and then she noticed a stir in the crowd.

…It seemed to be because the handkerchief Madame Nightingale had thrown was carried off by a cat.

If this cat weren’t her mentor, she would also find this adorable, Hilda thought. But it wouldn’t scare her as much as it did the Queen.

“That cat, although it’s different from what I saw before,”

Princess Debbie withdrew her hand. She spoke even louder than before. “It’s holding the card I showed you, Mom. I’m not lying, and I’m not dreaming. This is its gift to me.”

Everything that was happening truly seemed like a dream. The black cat leaped out of the crowd. It had the ideal cat image in most people’s eyes, round and fluffy, but it was surprisingly agile when it jumped. It was as if it was truly delivering a gift to Princess Debbie, skillfully finding footholds on the wall, then rushing towards the box at an incredible speed.

The Queen commanded, “Close the door.”

But the excited Archmage Tower apprentices were already at the door, welcoming their mentor. They saw the black cat’s soft paw pads occasionally step on nothing, yet it still sprang up as if gaining leverage. This must be some natural use of magic.

Seeing fear in the Queen’s eyes, Hilda spent some time reassuring them that it was a cat from the Archmage Tower. When the black cat finally elegantly walked in through the box door, she pulled Debbie behind her.

Roland, meanwhile, skillfully avoided every apprentice and did not approach the Queen and princess. Instead, he walked to Hilda’s feet, then put down the card.

How to describe the black cat’s expression at this moment?

Hilda thought it was probably the expression her mentor would show every time he handed her a stack of parchment and then said lightly, “Find some time to read through these.”

The purple-haired witch bent down and cautiously picked up the card.

It was a black card with gilded text, looking very expensive. The calligraphy was twisted into an artistic shape, but from the perspective of a seven or eight-year-old girl, most of the words were too obscure.

It read:

“Pearls crushed to powder, sand burned to glass. Noble souls as offerings, skinned and dismembered for destruction. Pure white lily, where do you go?”

Upon entering the opera house, Roland received a message from the Son of Fortune.

The black cat swished its fluffy tail and lightly leaped into the crowd. Being small, it quickly darted to the theater entrance, leaving his apprentices looking on in disbelief at their mentor’s sudden escape.

The fresh, cold air outdoors made it sneeze.

Roland hadn’t set foot on the Kingdom’s land in a long time. The streets here were mostly painted in vivid colors, but had grown old with time. The dim streetlights elongated the black cat’s shadow, its eyes appearing brighter in the darkness. It silently flitted past these streets, past people’s chatter and laughter.

When the black cat appeared at the cold graveyard gate, several strangely shaped figures were visible in the distance.

These people were clearly players; otherwise, they wouldn’t be wandering around the Kingdom at dusk in bizarrely colored outfits. Precisely because they were players, they seemed eager for whatever tasks were to come.

Like… digging a grave?

“What do you think we’ll dig out?” asked the player in rose armor. “If it’s really just a coffin, that would be so lame. The Adventurer’s Guild tasks shouldn’t be that simple.”

“Although posting tasks requires high clearance, you never know.”

“If we had the ability to resist Demon King Kriesmeier, why wouldn’t we take on the princess protection quest?”

The half-orc player said, ending the topic. She was furry all over, stood to the side holding an axe, looking more like an upright bear.

The players shivered in the cold wind in front of the dark graveyard gate, exchanging glances.

This was a suddenly refreshed special mission. They didn’t know exactly what to do, only that they needed to gather here and wait for the appointed time.

After the nine o’clock bell chimed for the first time, they began to look around alertly. At first, they saw nothing, then their eyes, in their scan, caught sight of something at their feet. A black cat suddenly emerged from the darkness, its eyes like two will-o’-the-wisps, silently staring at them.

“This must be the quest guide,” a player whispered in surprise.

So, the black cat was clearly a mysterious NPC.

Although for some reason, it didn’t quite look like one—

“Abyss Continent” had a basic balancing mechanism; most of the time, NPCs were judged as friendly to players, so players were not allowed to attack NPCs. But there were no such rules between players. The mage in the team thought for a moment, and the player secretly threw a fireball at the black cat in front.

The fireball melted like a snowball as it approached the black cat.

The black cat let out a sharp “meow” at them, condemning the humans who were secretly attacking it.

“Sorry,” the player’s voice involuntarily carried a hint of guilt, explaining to their companion, “I just wanted to test it. There have been incidents of players impersonating NPCs to trick people before. But it looks like this black cat is indeed the guide for this quest.”

“But it looks really smart,” another player quietly said.

The black cat led the way with ease, its paw pads stepping on the thick fallen leaves of the graveyard without a sound. But the players were less fortunate; the crisp tearing sound of leaves entered their ears.

They all looked at the graveyard through their screens, filled with awe.

Milal Continent was a world that could immerse people no matter what. Every scene was incredibly realistic. Watching their controlled characters slowly walk into the moonlit graveyard with oil lamps, they felt a bone-chilling cold at their feet.

Until they stopped in front of a grave.

The black cat paused briefly on the cold, hard ground, “meowed,” then jumped onto a nearby tree stump, adopting a “quest start” posture.

An owl swooped down from the tree, seemingly wanting to reclaim its spot, but changed its mind as it approached the black cat, hissing softly and jumping to another tree.

“What’s underneath?”

Shovels and hoes appeared in the players’ hands. They naturally had no prior experience digging graves, and at first, they were especially chaotic. But this was at least a beneficial step; soil and gravel rustled down. Bai Shi, who had waited desperately for two days in the grave, finally heard the sound that brought tears of joy.

“Maybe it’s treasure,”

Someone said, “What were the three great artifacts of Milal Continent again? The Demon King’s scythe ‘Demon’s Eye,’ the Archmage’s staff ‘Nova,’ and the Hero’s ‘Legendary Sword’?”

“It’s said the ‘Legendary Sword’ is already in the hands of some player.”

“Really?”

They had shoveled down to the thick iron plate, so they had to exert themselves trying to saw it open. The clanging sound of metal striking metal echoed in the darkness. “But I’ve never seen an announcement. That’s so unfair; I’d be so jealous. A player who can use the ‘Legendary Sword’ is basically a chosen hero, right? That level of game master…”

Their conversation, muffled through several feet of soil, blurred into Bai Shi’s ears.

Bai Shi sat in front of his computer, his greasy bangs covering his eyes. Hearing these compliments, his breathing involuntarily quickened a few beats. That’s right, the Hero’s “Legendary Sword” was indeed the divine artifact the system had directly given him through a loophole, but the system never allowed him to show it off in front of others.

Despite being one of the three divine artifacts, the only enemy he had ever faced was Kriesmeier, the wielder of the scythe “Demon’s Eye,” and he had been completely defenseless. Later, he was ambushed by the witch Hilda and didn’t even have time to draw his weapon.

He could have…

The screen in front of him was no longer completely dark; a faint light vaguely seeped in from the ground.

With one more shovel, a player finally cried out in surprise. In the overturned soil, an arm was directly exposed. This scene, against the eerie backdrop of the game’s atmosphere, was indeed somewhat chilling.

They immediately stopped talking, only quickly and efficiently digging out the large creature buried in the earth.

The Hero lay stiffly under the dark sky, his once golden hair covered in dirt, his body covered in clumps of mud. When the screen was just black, Bai Shi saw nothing, but now he felt agonizingly heartbroken.

This was a character he had painstakingly created, now so disheveled.

And because the sleeping spell had not yet been lifted, he still couldn’t move. The grave-digging team’s cleric touched his nose, cautiously judging that the person was still alive.

The black cat jumped down from the tree stump and slowly walked around Bai Shi.

Then, all the players present received a “Quest Completed” notification, along with a large sum of gold coins deposited into their accounts.

“Done,” Roland casually pressed two keys, and “Abyss”‘s built-in dialogue box popped up. He clicked on the Hero’s avatar, not forgetting to urge him, “Don’t forget the reward you promised me.”

Bai Mingchen: “I know, don’t rush me.”

Immediately after, he sent another message: “I’m telling you, if you follow me, there’s nothing you won’t get in the game. Big brother can carry you. I never go back on my word, believe it or not?”

He sounded a little anxious, probably inspired by the players’ discussion about the Hero just now.

Roland found it a little amusing.

“I know,” he decided not to waste any more time here: “But I’m going to do quests elsewhere. This group of players will take you to a safe place, and I’ll contact you later. Oh, and…”

Black Cat 538647: “Be careful not to be discovered by the witch again XD”

When a black cat appeared again at the theater entrance, tonight’s stage play was nearing its end.

No one was entering, and the entrance seemed unusually deserted, with a guard on each side shivering in the early spring chill. They couldn’t even catch the cat’s tail, only watching helplessly as Roland controlled the black cat to slip in like a wisp of smoke.

At this moment, the play was reaching its final climax.

The actress Madame Nightingale held her lover’s head—clearly a papier-mâché prop—on the verge of tears, her scarlet lips incessantly pouring out words of love. She was like an instrument, round and beautiful high notes effortlessly flowing from her trembling body.

Most of the audience stared intently at her, few shifting their gaze.

This provided Roland with an opportunity—but not just Roland. Interestingly, looking through the black cat’s round, amber pupils, he happened to see the stage’s side curtains trailing on the ground, with the dark theater backstage behind them.

A very similar furry tail furtively swept by.

This scene passed in a flash, but undoubtedly, what was imprinted in Roland’s eyes was the trace of another four-legged animal scurrying through the theater. Most likely a black cat of the same breed as him.

The Grand Master was the kind of human who was not content with stagnant progress.

Therefore, the cat the Grand Master became was also the same.

He didn’t hesitate for a second, changed direction, and then sneaked into the backstage area.

“…So,” Hilda concluded, “you fought with that cat?”

She stared in despair at the black cat in front of her, while the black cat licked its paws, its fur meticulously smooth and shiny, not looking at all like it had actually been attacked. Imagining Saint Roland hissing and spitting at a strange cat was already terrifying enough; if you added clawing and tail-swishing, it would be downright horrifying.

“A very dangerous cat,” Roland corrected.

Hilda felt there was no cat in this world more dangerous than the one in front of her.

However, when the black cat slipped into the darkness, cautiously picking up the curtain with its mouth as it entered backstage, everything around it was bathed in faint light, indeed making one’s nerves tense. This light was just enough to see the outlines of things but not fully discern them.

It passed several barrels of red paint used to dye roses and act as blood.

Then there were various racks and ladders, some already covered in dust. Plaster statues were placed on racks, and next to them were papier-mâché heads specially made for this performance, presumably spares, with several extras. Roland also saw large cages, for some reason, still stained with dark fur.

Many things were covered with cloth. The soprano in the front covered all sounds, so the black cat didn’t need to be especially careful not to make a sound.

But this also meant that the other party wouldn’t make any sound.

Roland controlled the black cat to cautiously explore this space. Through the screen, he could sense a strange atmosphere here; there was definitely more than just the black cat alive. In the darkness, perhaps a pair of glowing green eyes flickered—

It appeared.

A huge, pitch-black cat.

This cat opened its mouth, revealing a mouthful of stark white fangs, three layers in total.

Roland began to consider the possibility of a hellcat traveling from the Demon King’s City, over mountains and waters, to establish a new habitat in the Kingdom.

But that was impossible. Someone must be raising this terrifying monster. It was different from ordinary cats; it had a whip-like tail and furry horns. Its pupils gleamed with a terrifying light, and it hissed threateningly at the black cat.

“Kitty,” Roland focused intently on the screen, “Shh… be good.”

The hellcat pounced on it, with the clean and decisive posture of a feline predator.

Then it was frozen in mid-air, its tightly closed jaws leaving an ear-splitting tearing sound. It looked very confused, its coarse black fur flapping in mid-air, even its ears and horns standing erect. It breathed threateningly, letting out a rough “huff” at Roland.

The black cat also let out a soft “huff” at it.

It walked two steps forward with ease, its tail already wrapped around a staff at some point. The genuine “Moon Spirit Essence” shimmered in the dark backstage, and no one saw the two beasts secretly confronting each other at this moment.

The soprano at the front began to sing the final movement.

The black cat slowly approached the hellcat frozen in mid-air, then leaned in close to its wire-like coarse fur and sniffed. Roland saw the black cat on the screen sneeze, the status bar describing in small print:

“—You smell a strange scent on its body, one you seem to have encountered somewhere before.”

The hellcat flailed in the air, yet it couldn’t touch the black cat in the slightest.

Putting aside objective factors, the Grand Master indeed found it quite cute. And now it seemed to have a personality very suitable for living in the Archmage Tower. If he had discovered it earlier, he might have been able to fulfill his long-cherished wish of owning a cat.

But not now; he was already living with Kriesmeier.

One was enough.

Roland, while haphazardly thinking about “why there’s a hellcat backstage at the theater,” also pondered some other irrelevant questions. The black cat’s paw stepped on a hard black card; there was gilded text on the card.

…This looked like it fell off the hellcat.

Thinking this, the black cat with amber pupils picked up the card and carefully read the text on it.

The text appeared on the screen, the winding calligraphy like twisted plant tendrils, reflected in the Grand Master’s eyes outside the screen. Roland’s expression rarely darkened. He finished reading the words and then decided to pocket the card, which was clearly a threat, right in front of the hellcat.

At this moment, only the Archmage Tower’s people remained in the box.

The moment she received the card—from the moment she finished reading those words, Roland knew who this card was going to be sent to—the Queen looked like she was about to faint. She covered her face with her scarlet nails, simultaneously taking Princess Debbie’s hand.

“This is the fourth time,” the Queen said as if in a dream, “I can barely imagine it.”

She looked terrified, but still quickly led Debbie out of the box, and before doing so, tore the black piece of paper into shreds. Debbie seemed not to understand what was happening. She didn’t know what her true dreams meant, but she obediently left the box with her mother.

Only black fragments and a scarlet handkerchief remained on the ground.

The bewildered students gathered around, deciding to ask one by one.

What was that black invitation card, and what did those incomprehensible words on it mean? Since the black cat chose to bring it over, it must know the answer.

Their mentor seemed to let out a very soft sigh.

“I don’t particularly like to reminisce about the past,” the Grand Master said, looking at his hands on the table. “And, I thought this thing was extinct. When I was young, my father and mother also received an identical invitation card.”

“This means—”

“Then I was taken away. Blood, screams, sacrifices, masks, and so on, in short, those kinds of disreputable things. They are an organization with twisted beliefs, and they long to create a new world through terrible kidnappings.”

Hilda suddenly looked up.

“So,” her voice tightened, “they’re targeting the princess?”

“It appears so for now.”

Everyone present tried to digest this fact.

Then they realized that this was indeed an incident that required the Kingdom to send out a distress signal, and they had to wait until the Queen’s emotions were appeased before sharing more relevant information.

“Also,”

After a while, Hilda asked again, “Mentor, although I understand why you… fought with another cat. But why did you also snatch this handkerchief?”

The black cat turned to look at the scarlet handkerchief and wrinkled its nose.

Roland said concisely:

“Because of the scent.”