The pale old man laughed, moved closer to the crowd, and stopped the music he was playing.
“As a bard, you often travel around the world.
Perhaps, we have really met each other somewhere.
It’s a pity that I’m old and useless now. I can’t remember every person I meet like I did when I was young.
But somehow I felt like we had met somewhere before.
I often tell people stories. Would you like to listen to a story? It might remind you of something."
At first, the strangely dressed woman didn't care whether the two of them had met somewhere before, but the old man's next words touched her heart.
"If you are willing to listen to my story, give me a few coins, and have a hot meal, I will tell you a special piece of information about this hero, so as to prevent the tragedy that just happened from happening again."
In this world, bards are professionals who sing blessings and bless people. They will tell stories of heroes, or make up stories about what they see and hear along the way and pass them on from mouth to mouth.
Because they use their skills with great beauty, coupled with touching blessings and soothing music, people are often reluctant to leave, and they are often invited to perform by large families or nobles.
That is also their main source of livelihood.
But the world of troubadours is quite cruel. It is a profession that relies on youth, and those who are favored are always pretty boys or beautiful women who are loved by everyone.
Just imagine, on a festive day, if it were not handsome men and beautiful women who came to dance to liven up the atmosphere, but rather a slovenly old man and old lady who came, shouting at the top of their lungs, seemingly reading in a melodious manner but actually singing passionate blessings, it would really ruin the atmosphere.
Of course, it is another matter if the old man or old woman can perform all kinds of tricks, pretending to be a pig and eating a tiger, and become the focus of everyone amid the ridicule.
The strangely dressed woman recalled another troubadour she had met a year ago.
The bard had a graceful figure and was dressed in gorgeous clothes, and most people's impression of bards probably remained on her image.
If the troubadour poet had not saved enough money when he was young, he would probably have lived a poor life like the old man in front of him, wandering around remote mountain villages on various borders just to beg for food.
The woman in strange clothes was not interested in the story, but simply wanted to help the old man.
"Since you put it that way, I'll listen. I hope it won't take up too much of my time."
The old man smiled and said, "It's an honor. The story is not very long. Before I begin, may I ask the lady's name?"
"My name is Pingru. Kejie. Wulaisi, and I am the vice-captain of the S-level adventure group [Breaking Sky Stone]."
"What a great name! Remember it." The old man plucked the strings of the zither gently. "Then I will tell you a story of a hero who walked silently in the darkness."
A beautiful piece of music played, and the old man began to tell a story about a man abandoned by a goddess, and also the story of the daughter of disaster a thousand years ago.
Pingru. Kejie. Wulais felt more and more familiar the more she listened, and finally she discovered that the wandering poet she met last time had also told a similar story.
About half an hour later, the old man's story came to an end.
What was frustrating was that the ending of the story told by the old man was exactly the same as the one Pingru heard last time.
—The hero who walked in the darkness accepted the darkness and overthrew a tyrant who arbitrarily decided the fate of others. However, the hero was finally swallowed by the darkness.
The story ends here.
The old man stopped plucking the strings and said, "I'm glad you listened to my story."
Pingru took out two large gold coins and handed them to the old man. "It's a good story, but the ending is a little lonely."
The old man smiled and said, "I often think so. This story should have a better ending."
"Finally, there's a guy who saves the hero, how about that?"
The old man refused: "That's a very charming suggestion, and it would make the story more pleasing, but that would...
It's a little different from what this story is about.
If I were to write this story, at the beginning, heroes would not exist, or everyone would be a hero.
If the people oppressed by the tyrant all respond to the call, it will be easy to overthrow the tyrant's rule, and the hero in the story will not die alone. "
Pingru said, "But only if you dare to die like that, you will be called a hero, right?"
"That's true, but it's a pity that you still don't understand the core of this story. But whatever." The old man sighed and raised his dry hand, pointing to the southeast direction of the village, "Just as I said before, I will now tell you the special information I promised you.
To the southeast of the village, another group of orcs crossed the border between the two countries."
Pingru frowned slightly, "Another orc troop has arrived?"
Just when Pingru wanted to ask the old man how he knew this information, the old man turned around early, hummed a strange song, and slowly left the village.
Pingru did not chase after him. If the old man wanted to say something, he should have said it long ago, instead of turning around and walking away like this.
After hesitating for a moment, Pingru pushed her feet against the ground and flew high into the sky. She wanted to confirm for herself whether any orcs had entered the territory of the Rose Empire.
Leaving the village, the old man plucked the strings of his zither, sat beside a big tree, and slowly closed his eyes.
His consciousness was connected with countless other consciousnesses, and what had just happened was transmitted to other "selves" through consciousness.
The patterns on the harp shone, and the things recorded on it fell onto a new harp in the direction of the old man's consciousness.
Not far from the village, a woman with a graceful figure and gorgeous clothes slowly opened her eyes. What came into her eyes was a set of silver-white armor with beautiful jasmine patterns on it. On the shoulders of the armor was a broad sword, which was extremely dazzling under the sun.
A very attractive female voice came from the armor, "How is it?"
The woman who was also a bard smiled beautifully, "Ms. Jasmine, it went very smoothly. Once we take action, there is nothing we can't do.
That guy's characteristic magic power was also fully recorded."
"Characteristic magic, characteristic magic, ha-ha-characteristic magic! Give it to me, give it to me quickly, give it to me quickly."
Behind the chaste Jasmine, there was a person with his upper body naked, half squatting on the ground, panting heavily. His hair was disheveled and his face was haggard, and it was impossible to tell whether he was a man or a woman. Parts of his mud-yellow body were like yellow semi-solid, and could sway like slime.
"Don't worry, I'll give it to you now."
When the strings were plucked, countless moving notes began to weave together an illusory figure, which was the appearance of Pingru Kejie Wulais.
The mud-yellow man was like a puppy, and couldn't wait to stretch out his hands to touch the illusory figure. After a while, he overlapped with the illusory figure.
Pingru, Ke Jie, and Wu Laisi's imitations made their debut.
(End of this chapter)