svetikya Chapter 171 Northern Snowstorm, Storyteller and Soul Master Travel the Continent
Chapter 171 Northern Snowstorm, Storyteller and Soul Master Travel the Continent
Chapter 171 Northern Snowstorm, Storyteller and Soul Master Travel the Continent
On the high platform.
An old blue robe fluttered in the wind.
As the noise from the audience subsided, people looked at the storyteller with a mixture of doubt and unease.
The gavel was raised.
Snapped--
The room fell silent.
The hoarse voice slowly spread out:
"The red robe is too bright, it cannot match the blood of youth; the golden palace is too narrow, it cannot contain the true bones."
Every word is desolate.
The sound sent a chill down people's spines.
"Speaking of that day..."
"Martial Soul Holy City, before the Pope's Palace!"
"In the individual battle of the Soul Master Tournament, Sword Wine Master defeated Shrek Academy's twin martial souls..."
"In the team battle, Lord Jianjiu single-handedly faces off against three members of the Spirit Hall's Golden Generation..."
"His Holiness the Pope, seated high on his throne, sternly proclaimed: 'Li Zhexian, half a year ago, you slaughtered seventeen deacons of my Spirit Hall!'"
"Four of the usually elusive Title Douluos have appeared, all here to protect Lord Bao Jianjiu!"
"Who would have thought that Lord Sword Wine also possesses twin martial souls!"
"The fourth soul skill is unleashed, pinning the Pope to the sacred mountain with a single sword strike!"
"To defeat a Title Douluo with the Soul Sect cultivation, Lord Sword Wine is truly an unparalleled genius throughout the history of the continent!"
"How could such an astonishing soul technique be priceless?"
"Kendsake-sama..."
"Fallen..."
From noon until the sun begins to set.
The dramatic and suspenseful story drew gasps from the audience.
In a daze, I seemed to see that white-clad youth, his sword flashing coldly, defeating all the heroes.
however.
The story gradually fades, and a sense of sorrow pervades.
The storyteller on stage was in tears.
The audience was completely silent.
With a single sword strike, the Pope was pinned to the Spirit Hall's sacred mountain... Lord Sword Wine is dead...
A sense of utter horror, accompanied by a profound emptiness, weighed heavily on the hearts of the people of Tiandou City.
The young man in white who always entertained his friends at Shanxiangfang and chatted with ordinary people seemed to have vanished along with this thrilling story.
The storyteller ignored the growing commotion behind him.
He walked down the platform with a hunched back and shaki steps, strolling to his usual pastry shop on the street.
"Give me a pack of cloud cake."
"Old sir, things ended early today. Sword Master must have won the championship for our Heavenly Dou City, right?"
The storyteller's lips twitched, revealing a slight smile.
"nature."
Holding the warm paper package, he returned home.
A small but clean and tidy courtyard, with green tiles on the roof and green brick walls.
He stood outside the courtyard, looking up at the brand-new eaves, his rough hands gently stroking the brick wall.
He silently went inside.
He handed the pastries to his babbling grandson.
Then, he pulled out his worn-out old bundle and gathered his new coarse cloth clothes.
The son and daughter-in-law were both taken aback when they saw this.
"Father, where are you going?"
The storyteller didn't even turn his head.
"Wandering through the heavens and among the stars, I'll go and tell stories."
"What?!"
A sudden gasp arose.
"Father! How old are you? How can your body take this?"
"You've told enough of Lord Kenju's story..."
The son hurried forward.
The storyteller paused, but still didn't look up.
"I know that the Spirit Hall has been kind to all the spirit masters in the world."
"But that favor won't fall on an old man like me who only knows how to talk."
"I'm just a storyteller..."
"It was Lord Jianjiu's reward money that allowed me to set up this new home."
"It was Lord Jianjiu who didn't mind the noise and allowed me to tell his story in public."
"It was also thanks to Lord Jianjiu's personal attendance that I was able to wear a red robe and have a moment of glory before I left."
The voice gradually rose in volume.
Trembling.
How will the Spirit Hall publicize what happened in front of the Pope's Palace?
"I don't know how they distorted the truth or turned black into white..."
"But I've been a writer for most of my life, and I know a lot about this world. When many people talk about something, even the darkest truth can be distorted into something golden, and falsehoods, if told for a long time, can become the truth."
"Fighting and healing are no good for me."
"All I can do is carry this mouth and travel all over Tiandou and Xingluo to tell the truth exactly as it is."
"Let people remember that our Tiandou once produced such a brilliant young man."
"Father! Have you gone mad?!"
The son was both angry and anxious.
"You're just a lonely old man, traveling the continent? What if you encounter a spirit beast? What if you run into bandits or brigands?!"
"What if... what if the Spirit Hall's soul masters heard this... are you out of your mind?!"
The storyteller slowly turned around.
His deeply lined face was calm.
"Your mother is gone, and you've started your own family and have children."
"I'm getting old. In this world, there are always some things that are more important than life and death."
The son opened his mouth.
I saw an unprecedented light in my father's eyes.
The rest of his words were stuck in his throat.
The air inside the room was stagnant.
It was so heavy it was suffocating.
Knock knock—
Knock knock—
At this time.
A knock was made on the courtyard gate.
A voice pierced through the twilight:
"Open the door, sir!"
The son opened the door, puzzled.
Standing outside the door was none other than the Soul Master who had delivered the blood-stained paper earlier.
He changed his clothes, but couldn't hide the weariness on his face; only his eyes shone with an astonishing brightness.
The Soul Master did not enter; he stood at the door, his gaze passing over his son who had opened the door and landing directly on the storyteller inside who was carrying a bag.
"Sir, I heard everything you just said."
"Although I am not as good as you, I have received the kindness of Lord Jianjiu."
"But on that day, outside the Papal Palace, I witnessed everything with my own eyes."
"A prodigy like Lord Jianjiu deserves a prominent place in history."
He took a deep breath, his chest heaving.
"I'll go with you!"
"I'll accompany you across the heavens and the stars, and tell you all the stories of Lord Jianjiu!"
"With my Soul Master robes on my side, ordinary villains dare not approach!"
"Just tell me! I'll protect you!"
"Perhaps in the future..."
"When the legend of Lord Jianjiu was recorded in historical books..."
"It can also be adorned with our two insignificant names..."
The setting sun melts gold.
The Soul Master's shadow was stretched very long.
It also reflected the excitement and satisfaction surging in the storyteller's cloudy old eyes.
He gripped the old bundle tightly in his hand, his lips trembling for a long time before finally uttering a single word:
"good!"
Dusk fell.
In the courtyard with blue tiles.
Two figures blended into the deepening night, bathed in a faint yet persistent light.
A journey to measure the earth with our own feet and to etch legends with our own voices has begun.
One month later.
Northern Territory of the Heavenly Dou Empire.
Snow-covered slopes lie beside the pine forest.
A lonely little tavern was half-hidden in the wind and snow.
The wind, carrying snowflakes, tried to sneak through the window cracks, but a hand reaching out from inside suddenly pulled down the window panel, shutting it out.
"Young man, you look unfamiliar; you don't seem to be from Crow's Keep!"
The proprietress brushed the dust off her hands, her plump figure swaying with her steps.
A mixture of cheap cosmetics and an indescribable smell then spread.
She swayed her waist.
He walked toward the young figure in the corner, wearing a straw hat and wrapped in a heavy black fur coat.
"The North is such a horrible place, it's freezing cold. Even mercenaries who cultivate soul power can't do without burning coal for warmth."
"But the coal is toxic, and we have to keep the windows open for ventilation."
"The snow has blown in, I'm sorry to have neglected my guests~~"
Chapter Three, ten minutes later...
(End of this chapter)