Chapter 287 | Transmigrated with a Sanity Gauge

Lu Yuan did not respond.

Passing through a section of the road with a wide-open view, the city walls could be seen in the distance.

The setting sun hit the copper walls, making the runes glow with a dim, ethereal light in the warm radiance. Unlike the majestic, metallic dignity they held under the midday sun when he first arrived, the Bronze City at dusk carried a layer of ancient warmth.

Lu Yuan still remembered the evaluation he and Herman had given when they first arrived. At the time, they had called it "the safest city."

Lu Yuan now knew what lay beneath those walls.

Copper pillars. Seals. Pipe networks. Ghouls. And that thing connecting to even deeper depths.

But the people on the streets didn't know.

They were buying bread, unloading cargo, and lining up for oil.

Everything was back on track.

Lu Yuan withdrew his gaze and continued walking forward.

The tavern wasn't far.

From a distance, a crooked wooden sign could be seen, its lettering half-blurred by the soot of lamp smoke.

Two people stood at the entrance smoking pipes, while dim yellow light and the noisy sounds of laughter and conversation spilled out from within.

Hank quickened his pace.

“We're here.”

They pushed the door open and entered.

The tavern wasn't particularly large, with about a dozen long tables and chairs. Behind the bar, a broad-shouldered man was wiping glasses. Several oil lamps hung on the walls, their light flickering and jumping.

About twenty people were already seated. Most were locals, with a few out-of-towners in leather armor mixed in.

There was a small group of people in the corner.

Four of them were squeezed around the innermost table.

Their instruments were laid out on the table—a stringed lute, a small drum, and two pipe-like instruments that Lu Yuan couldn't name.

They looked travel-worn, their clothes old but patched. The instruments were better cared for than the people themselves.

The lacquer on the lute was meticulously maintained, giving off a soft luster in the lamplight.

The leader was a middle-aged man with his hair tied back. His face bore the marks of exposure to the elements, and though his fingers were rough, his knuckles were flexible. He was currently tuning the lute.

The surrounding patrons held their glasses, waiting for the bards to finish tuning their instruments.

Lu Yuan glanced at him.

At the edge of his vision, a line of greyish-white text quietly appeared.

【Target Detected: Bard (Knowledge transcendent)】

【A human who has stepped onto the transcendent path through strange knowledge; seems suited for entertainment...】

Lu Yuan's gaze lingered on that line for a moment. The greyish-white prompts were becoming increasingly strange.

Hank had already claimed a spot nearby and waved to Lu Yuan.

“Captain, over here.”

The group sat down. Bolen chose a corner against the wall, resting his cane against his leg. Kail sat beside him, still clutching the stone tablet Grimm had given him, his eyes occasionally darting toward the bards. He was clearly very interested in them.

Hank said something to the tavern owner, and before long, large mugs of beer were brought out.

At the same time, Hank specifically ordered a glass of fruit juice for Kail.

This made Bolen feel quite gratified.

Hank poured a glass for everyone.

Before their small talk could begin, the bards in the corner were ready.

The middle-aged leader rested the lute on his knee, pressing the strings with his left hand and plucking them twice to test the tone. His companion beside him placed the small drum between his legs and lightly tapped the drumhead twice with his palms.

Several locals in the tavern turned their heads to watch, waiting.

The middle-aged man didn't say much. He placed his fingers on the strings, and the first note fell.

The sound of the strings was deep, carrying a coarse texture that echoed back and forth among the wooden beams of the tavern.

The small drum followed, the tempo slow, leaving spaces between each beat.

Behind the bar, the broad-shouldered owner stopped wiping glasses.

An old local man sitting nearby suddenly patted his companion's arm.

“Hey, it's ‘The Boatman of Copper Horn Bay.’ ”

“I haven't heard anyone play this one in a long time.”

His companion didn't speak, simply leaning back against his chair with his glass in hand to listen.

The noise in the tavern subsided.

Lu Yuan held his glass, his finger resting on the rim.

The melody wasn't complex—it was actually quite simple—but the lute was held extremely steady in the middle-aged man's hands. The length and intensity of every note were perfectly timed to a comfortable degree.

Lu Yuan's attention was drawn in.

It wasn't the music itself, but the things contained beneath the music.

Faint transcendent fluctuations.

They were diffuse, drifting from the strings and slowly spreading through the air, causing the surrounding people to unconsciously relax.

Lu Yuan felt his shoulders drop slightly.

He didn't intentionally resist.

These fluctuations were very weak; the greyish-white text didn't even trigger a prompt, meaning they were far from the level of mental interference.

The effect was similar to a peace flower, but the method of action was completely different. It wasn't the same as Ancient Music Theory at all. Interesting.

However, the way the melody was arranged shared a certain common logic with the Ancient Music Theory he had learned.

He couldn't say exactly where, but his intuition told him it was there.

The song ended.

The tavern remained quiet for two or three seconds, and then someone slapped the table while another whistled.

The middle-aged man smiled, flipped the lute over, and tapped the back of the instrument twice with his palm.

The young man playing the drum was already flipping through the beats for the second song.

The atmosphere in the tavern began to heat up.

Hank waved toward the bar and shouted something.

A moment later, food was brought over.

A large platter of salt-baked meat, cut into thick slices. The meat was dark in color, encased in a layer of coarse salt, and served on a bed of black bread.

Beside it was a bowl of Bronze City bean soup, stewed until soft and mushy, with a layer of deep green oil floating on the surface and steam still rising.

Finally, there was a small dish of pickled wild olives, purple-black and soaking in a brine seasoned with unknown spices.

Hank pushed the salt-baked meat to the center.

“Try it. This stuff was out of stock for a while because the supply caravans were blocked outside the city. It only just resumed.”

Frank had already reached out to break off a piece of black bread, dipping it into the bean soup before stuffing it into his mouth.

Kail looked at the bowl of bean soup, seemingly unsure how to eat it.

Bolen handed him his own spoon.

“Hurry up and try it. Bronze City bean soup—this stuff is three times more expensive in the south, and you might not even get the authentic version.”

Kail took the spoon and took a sip, his expression becoming a bit subtle.

“The flavor is a bit... strong.”

“Of course it is; it's meant to go with alcohol.”

Hank laughed and took another large gulp of beer.

The glass of fruit juice Hank had ordered for Kail sat untouched in front of the boy.

Lu Yuan broke off a piece of bread and chewed slowly.

The bean soup really wasn't that great—it was too salty, and the beans were over-stewed, turning into a paste in his mouth.

But paired with the bread and meat, it wasn't hard to swallow.

He also drank a few more glasses.

This was uncommon for him.

Ever since Sanity became something he had to calculate every day, he rarely relaxed to this extent in public.

But there was truly nothing to do today.

The news from Kraus hadn't arrived yet, and the pipe network mission was suspended with no leads.

“The last day of leisure,” as the young Nightwatcher had phrased it.

So, he would take his leisure.

Conversation flowed naturally amidst the wine and food.

Frank mentioned that many caravans had flooded in recently, making the city gates two or three times busier than before.

“But a few groups don't look like they're here for honest business. They're carrying weapons, and their accents are all over the place. The guys guarding the wall said the number of suspicious individuals has clearly risen lately.”

Hank waved his hand dismissively.

“Isn't it always like that? As soon as the gates open, all sorts of people crawl in. The rule in the Bronze City is that it's easy to enter but hard to leave. Let them cause their trouble.”

The young Nightwatcher chewing on an olive added a comment.

“I did hear that the Church has been frequently sending people in and out of the inner city lately. I don't know what they're busy with.”

No one picked up that topic.

The bards at the other table were also chatting with the local patrons.

Lu Yuan sat partially turned, catching fragments of their conversation.

“The markets in the south resumed last month. The prices of iron ore and copper ingots are rising.”

“Is the Eastern Road open?”

“Halfway. The section near Bolai Town is still closed. They say the roadbed collapsed, but I don't think so.”

“What do you mean?”

“A collapsed roadbed wouldn't keep it closed for three months, would it? Everyone trying to pass through there is being blocked. Caravans have to take a detour that adds four days to the trip.”

The middle-aged man plucked a string and interjected.

“When we came from the north, we ran into several Church patrol teams on the road. I don't know what they were looking for.”

“Wasn't that normal in previous years?”

“There were patrols, but never this frequent.”

He stopped talking after that and continued tuning a different string.

This information was fragmented, a mix of good and bad.

The southern markets were recovering, and trade routes were being reconnected, yet roads were closed for months and the Church was conducting frequent patrols.

The overall environment was improving, but there were more unsettled areas than before.

Lu Yuan kept these notes in his mind without discussing them at the table.

After several rounds of drinks.

The bards had played three or four songs, and the atmosphere in the tavern hung in a pleasantly relaxed state.

Some people began to feel drowsy, while others were getting refills at the bar. The lively atmosphere allowed Lu Yuan to let go of his emotions for a moment.

Bolen leaned back in his chair in the corner with his eyes closed, whether resting or thinking.

Kail sat beside him, still holding the stone tablet, but his attention remained on the bards.

Lu Yuan noticed that the frequency with which Kail looked at the bards was increasing.

The boy had only just learned today that his path lay in Dark Inscription and Eerie Inscription—two paths that almost no one walked. He was clearly agonizing over how far he could go.

Now, he was seeing a group of people who walked the path of "useless transcendence" and were thoroughly enjoying themselves.

He was likely pondering something.

Lu Yuan held half a glass of beer and, using the excuse of getting a refill, moved over to the bards' table.

The middle-aged man had just finished a song and was wiping the lute's face with a cloth.

Lu Yuan didn't sit down directly, instead leaning against the edge of a nearby empty table.

“There's quite a bit of finesse in what you play.”

The middle-aged man looked up.

He didn't deny it.

“It's the craft I use to eat. Naturally, there are some tricks to it.”

He flipped the lute over and checked a few tuning pegs on the bottom.

“You can tell? Ordinary people don't notice.”

“Ordinary people also wouldn't notice the changes in the air when you play.”