Chapter 811: Spinning Top Plan

Qilin’s voice echoed in the empty forest of stone pillars before quieting.

About ten seconds passed.

Hum

. A one-meter-long narrow crack appeared in the dim space before Qilin, making crackling noises like strayed currents. Then a bloodied frail hand reached out, trying but failing to find purchase. The hand pulled back inch by inch, and the crack got smaller and smaller like it was going to zip back up.

Qilin frowned and went up to grab the hand, yanking it out.

Hiss

. The arm was pulled out, followed by Sir Jiang’s head. The left side of his face was all charred and bloodied.

Qilin had anticipated the condition Yan Liang would be in and didn’t seem surprised. He continued to pull the old man out, and three seconds later, Sir Jiang popped out of the spatial crack.

Like a black rag drenched in blood, the old man’s weak, torn body landed on the ground lightly, on the verge of death. The right arm and left leg were missing, and critical injuries covered the body. His bones had almost all been broken.

Qilin crouched down immediately to inject Sir Jiang with the Medicine C he had on him. After a minute, Qilin gave him a shot of specialized adrenaline.

It took ten minutes for Sir Jiang to recover thirty to forty percent. The stumps of his severed limbs mended and stopped bleeding.

Sir Jiang still didn’t have the strength to move. He remained prone on the ground and struggled to speak in a hoarse, weak voice, “I was ambushed by Gao Yang and had to go into hiding. How’s...Azure Dragon...?”

Qilin looked down at Sir Jiang. The pride monster looked close to croaking. After a few silent seconds, he cast his cane away and sat down beside Sir Jiang, crossing his legs.

Qilin said in a tired, dejected voice, “Dead.”

That didn’t surprise Sir Jiang. He sighed and said, “Gao Yang acquired Absolute Defense. He used himself as bait to lure us here before catching us by surprise with bombs...”

Sir Jiang then told Qilin what he knew and the conjectures he had come to.

The only silver lining was that the mummified life monster had been moved by Yan Liang in advance rather than falling to Gao Yang’s hand, but Gao Yang didn’t seem to want it to begin with.

“Now it seems that not even Azure Dragon and Six Rime were his matches,” Yan Liang concluded.

“There were four of them,” Qilin disagreed. “If it had been one-on-one, Gao Yang wouldn’t have defeated Azure Dragon.”

“I thought so too, and that was why so many had died.” Yan Liang propped himself up with one hand with difficulty. While he was reflecting on his mistakes, his tone didn’t sound guilty. “The Divine Scion’s growing too quickly. You may not be his match if we run into him the next time. Don’t forget that he has the Guard Rune Circuit. He can get to level 8.”

Qilin’s eyes narrowed. He said calmly, “He isn’t the only one who’s growing stronger.”

Yan Liang looked at Qilin’s profile. He seemed to realize something after a few seconds, and he nodded. “As long as you’re confident.”

“Your hypothesis is right, though. The Heavenly Way’s power allocation is getting more and more centralized. I don’t think it’s because of awakeners dying too quickly, not entirely, at least.”

Qilin stood back up with his cane and offered Yan Liang a hand, pulling him up.

Without his right arm and left leg, Yan Liang stood shakily like a black crane getting weak in old age.

Yan Liang said in a calm, bleak voice, “I have no more than a few days to live after suffering this hit. You must acquire the Psyche Rune Circuit and ensure your victory, or I won’t be able to rest in peace.”

“The Twelve Zodiac Signs have the Psyche Rune Circuit,” said Qilin. “It’s difficult.”

“The Spinning Top Plan is the only way out.” Yan Liang’s hoarse voice sounded urgent. “We don’t have a lot of time, Mu Xing.”

Qilin looked ahead, his eyes darkening gradually.

...

Li City, the next noon.

Let Life be Beautiful like Summer Flowers, Southbound Road, Daxu District.

On the mezzanine level of the flower shop, Heavenly Dog slumped on the sofa in a loose black sweater, straight-leg jeans, and white sneakers, enjoying a leisurely time with his headphones on and eyes closed.

A ray of winter day sun shone through the window on his delicate face and fine strands of fringe. Faint golden dust danced on his long eyelashes. It seemed as if time had slowed to a crawl.

Footsteps came from the wooden stairs. The owner of the flower shop, Songstress, came up with two cups of coffee.

She had light makeup on and was dressed in an oversized light green cardigan and black dress, topped with a work apron of similar color. Her brown long hair was casually put up with curls falling on the sides of her face. Hers was a soft and refreshing beauty.

“Here, coffee.”

Heavenly Dog opened his eyes and pulled the headphones to his neck. “Oh.”

Songstress put the cups of coffee on the round wooden table before the sofa, grabbing a chair for herself. Her expectant eyes locked onto Heavenly Dog. “How is it?”

Today, Songstress recommended jazz music to Heavenly Dog for the first time.

“Hm.” Heavenly Dog thought for a moment before saying honestly, “Makes me sleepy.”

Songstress laughed. “The relaxing factor is one of its selling points, but I don’t recommend you listen to it with your headphones.”

“My headphones provide excellent sound quality,” Heavenly Dog protested.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Songstress held her cup of coffee with both hands and placed it on her lap, speaking at a leisurely pace, “Jazz is an art of improvisation. It’s free and shouldn’t be trapped in your ears. You should place no boundaries and allow the music to go wherever it wants to go. Simply put, the music should be allowed to blend in with the ambiance around you. Then it’ll feel different.”

“Oh.” Heavenly Dog nodded. “Sounds impressive.”

“I’m far from an expert though.” Songstress smiles bashfully. “Ghost Horse loved jazz. Whenever I talked to him about it, he spoke a lot more than usual.”

Heavenly Dog blinked, hesitant to say something.

Songstress noticed. “Just speak your mind.”

“How could you bring Ghost Horse up so easily?” Heavenly Dog asked earnestly. “Don’t you get sad?”

Songstress shook her head with a smile. “No, why should I?”

Heavenly Dog lowered his eyes and looked down at his coffee, unsure of what to say. He still couldn’t bring up his “mother” easily.

Songstress chuckled. “To me, Ghost Horse’s never left for real. He lives on in my memory, in my life. If I avoid talking about him, that’s stranger.”

Heavenly Dog pondered. He wasn’t sure he understood fully.

“You’re still young, Heavenly Dog,” Songstress explained kindly like an older sister. “The connection, or bond, between people aren’t dictated by rational thinking or will, but the heart.”

Heavenly Dog looked up at her. “The heart?”

“Yeah.” Songstress rested her left hand on her chest. “The heart determines when we think of someone and when we forget someone, so we should just follow the flow.”

Heavenly Dog paused before cracking a youthful smile, scratching his face with an index finger. “I still prefer popular music. That was what my mother used to put on when I was little. It was her fault that I don’t have a cultured taste.”

Songstress laughed. “Although I lost a fellow fan, I gained an honest companion. I’ll consider it my gain.”

“And I learned...” Heavenly Dog stopped, his gaze sharpening. He shot to his feet.