Haimeng

He didn't ask anything else and went back to wiping his lute.

Lu Yuan was in no hurry either.

After a moment, Lu Yuan spoke.

“I've done some research into Ancient Music Theory.”

The middle-aged man's hand paused for a fraction of a second.

He glanced at Lu Yuan.

It wasn't a look of surprise, but rather one of appraisal, as if he were trying to gauge exactly how much the man before him knew.

Then he picked up the glass on the table and took a sip.

When he set the glass back down, his tone was much more casual.

“Where did you hear about that?”

“Someone taught me a bit.”

“Then you're in luck.” The middle-aged man plucked a string, the open note humming. “Fewer and fewer people even know those three words exist these days. Almost no one from the younger generation studies it.”

He leaned the lute against the leg of his chair and leaned back.

“As for Ancient Music Theory, it actually has its own transcendent path. I'm not sure if your teacher ever mentioned that to you.”

“A little.”

“Then you should know why fewer and fewer people walk this path.”

The middle-aged man continued to run his hand over the instrument as he spoke.

“It doesn't make money. Instrument maintenance, score collection, traveling—it's all overhead. More importantly, it's useless. It can't kill anyone, and it can't block a blade. On the battlefield, you can't even kill an eerie with it. The Nightwatchers won't hire you, the army won't conscript you, and mercenary groups want nothing to do with you.”

He spoke flatly.

“Fewer and fewer people walk this path.”

He pointed to himself and his companions behind him.

“It's only folks like us who still think there's some interest in it.”

“Is it truly that useless?”

Lu Yuan asked.

The middle-aged man picked up his glass and swirled it.

“I wouldn't say it's completely useless.”

He thought for a moment.

“It's just that the occasions where it's actually helpful are too few. You won't encounter them in daily life.”

Lu Yuan waited for him to continue.

But the middle-aged man shook his head.

“If you want to go deeper, I can't really explain it clearly myself. My master told me some things, but he only heard them from his own master. This knowledge has been fractured for too long. After being passed down through several generations, a lot of things have lost their original meaning.”

He took another drink.

“However, the fact that you can hear what's inside the music shows you have a good foundation. Go back and keep practicing. Music theory is different from other things; you can't rush it.”

Lu Yuan didn't press further.

He had asked what needed to be asked; chasing any more wouldn't yield results.

He picked up his remaining half-glass of beer and finished it, then pulled a gold shield from his pocket and set it down in front of the bard.

“This round is on me.”

The middle-aged man glanced at the gold shield.

He smiled and tucked it into his breast pocket without ceremony. Men like him were likely used to being bought drinks.

“By the way, what's your name?” The middle-aged man began tuning his strings again.

“Lu Yuan.”

“I'm Haimeng.” He plucked a string. “Next time you hear someone playing ‘The Boatman of Copper Horn Bay’ somewhere, there's an eighty percent chance it's me.”

Lu Yuan nodded, took his empty glass, and returned to his table.

Hank was already flushed from drinking and was arguing with Frank about which shop had the better dried meat.

Bolen had opened his eyes at some point and was chatting quietly with Kail. Kail's finger was slowly tracing the surface of the stone tablet, as if he were sketching the outlines of the inscriptions on it.

Lu Yuan sat down and poured himself his last half-glass.

Time passed unnoticed.

The gas lamps in the tavern had all been lit.

The flames within the copper shades flickered, the light shifting from yellow to orange, casting long shadows across the walls.

Outside the window, the streetlights were also coming on one by one. Their orange-yellow glow filtered through the half-open door, falling onto the floor by the entrance.

There weren't many people left in the tavern.

The bard's companions had packed away the small drum, and the two pipe-like instruments were tucked back into their cloth bags.

Only Haimeng remained, leaning lazily back in his chair with his lute resting on his knees. His fingers occasionally plucked a string, seemingly playing fragmented melodies from some stray memory.

Hank had reached his limit and was letting himself drift into a drunken haze. Frank and another Nightwatcher helped prop him up by his arms to make him sit a bit straighter.

Bolen and Kail were still talking in low voices.

Lu Yuan leaned against the back of his chair, thinking that this evening was indeed quite pleasant.

Then, a flurry of footsteps echoed from outside.

A group of people was moving quickly.

【Environmental Perception: Weak pollution source detected.】

Lu Yuan set down his glass.

At almost the exact same moment, Haimeng, sitting diagonally across from him, also looked up.

His finger pressed down on the last note of the lute, cutting the sound off instantly.

Their gazes met in the air.

Lu Yuan gave him an extra look.

He had sensed it too.

Haimeng said nothing, only offering a small smile.

Lu Yuan didn't have time to overthink it. He turned his head toward Hank.

He didn't speak, but his eyes conveyed the message.

Hank, who had been slumped over drunkenly just a moment ago, froze the second he caught that look.

He set down his glass.

He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and swung it on. His movements were so crisp that one couldn't tell how much he had actually drunk.

“We've got work.”

Frank and the other two Nightwatchers stood up almost simultaneously.

Bolen tapped his cane against the floor. Kail looked up sharply, not yet realizing what was happening, but seeing everyone else getting up, he quickly shoved the stone tablet into his shirt and stood up with them.

Lu Yuan pulled a gold coin from his pocket and flipped it to the owner behind the bar.

“Keep the change.”

The owner caught it with a practiced hand, his expression unchanged. It seemed he was no stranger to such scenes.

“Take care, guests.”

The group pushed open the tavern door and stepped outside.

Haimeng also stood up, slung his lute over his shoulder, and followed unhurriedly.

His companions looked at each other but didn't stop him, grabbing their instrument bags and following him out.

The night wind rushed in.

It was significantly colder outside than in the tavern. The orange-yellow streetlights illuminated a stretch of the stone-paved road, but beyond that, it was dark.

The footsteps were drawing closer.

Lu Yuan squinted, his gaze following the light of the streetlamps.

At the edge of the lamplight, several figures were approaching.

The figures emerged from the darkness into the light, gradually becoming clear.

There were three of them in total.

The two in front were carrying something between them, one on each side, as if they were hauling cargo.

The third followed half a step behind, glancing back frequently.

They were running in a hurry, but their steps were disciplined. When they turned, all three adjusted their direction almost simultaneously with perfect coordination.

There were more people behind them.

Four.

They wore dark trench coats and moved with even more disciplined strides. They didn't shout as they pursued, but they radiated a palpable killing intent.

Lu Yuan's gaze first fell on the three in front.

As the lead runner turned his body, the side of his neck was exposed.

Something was writhing beneath his skin—deep green veins, like the roots of some plant, extending from his neck all the way to behind his ear.

The second person had them on the back of his hands as well.

And they were even more obvious there; the deep green patterns spread out from between his fingers, glistening with a damp sheen under the lights.

One of them was injured.

His right shoulder had been slashed open by something, but the wound wasn't bleeding.

Instead, a thick, dark green liquid seeped out, dripping down his arm and onto the stone pavement, where it let off a wisp of white smoke.

Before Lu Yuan could even expand his perception, the greyish-white text jumped out.

It wasn't for those three men.

It was for the thing they were carrying.

It was humanoid.

Suspended between the two men, its limbs hung naturally. Seen from the side, its surface was covered in a fine network of patterns, resembling bark or wood grain.

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

【Target Detected: Unknown Plant Creation (Unfinished)】

【A bionic shell constructed from ancient plant fibers... perhaps you have seen something similar before.】

Lu Yuan's pupils constricted.

He had indeed seen this before.

Viscount von Linde, Crown Cast Lane, in that study.

Those greyish-green branches that had erupted from the Viscount's chest, smashing through the ceiling tiles one by one, with roots piercing through his boots and into the stone floor.

It was the same thing as the deep green veins writhing under these people's skin.

The aura was identical.

And once again, the Bronze City had no reaction.

These people were running through the streets like this, having covered at least two blocks, yet the Bronze City's suppression arrays seemed completely blind to them.

Just like with von Linde.

Lu Yuan shifted his gaze from the three in front to the four behind.

Dark trench coats, uniform tailoring.

Pinned to their collars was a thumb-sized metal pin—a gear pattern, very small, but Lu Yuan recognized it.

During the incident on Blackstone Street, the metal skeletons of the Little Ascendants had been connected by dense arrays of gears.

The patterns on those gears were identical to the ones on these pins.

The Ascension Society.

But these four were different from the Little Ascendants.

Their movements were fluid, their judgment sharp, and they coordinated their roles during the chase. They clearly retained their full will and capacity for action.

The right arm of one of them was noticeably different from the other three.

It was a full size thicker than a normal arm, the sleeve stretched tight, with metal glinting at the joints.

The greyish-white text quietly emerged.

【Target Detected: Ascension Society member (mechanical augmenter)】

【A human who has abandoned their flesh to embrace machinery; these individuals retain their full will and judgment.】

Lu Yuan didn't have time to think further.

Because within seconds, the situation changed drastically.

As the two groups reached the section of road where Lu Yuan stood, the distance between them had closed significantly.

Close enough to see the expressions on the faces of the "tree" people—the injured one in front had a contorted face, as if he were enduring something surging up from within his body.

Close enough to see the movements of the Ascension Society group as well.

The two in front each held a short blade with a narrow back and a thick spine, the blades engraved with precise gear inscriptions.

The inscriptions rotated slightly under the streetlights, emitting a faint hum.

The one with the mechanical arm behind them moved differently from the others.

He didn't speed up to give chase.

The copper pipe interface on his right arm unscrewed, and metal plates unfolded layer by layer to reveal a thick, short tubular structure.

The rim of the tube was engraved with a dense circle of alchemical runes.

Lu Yuan recognized it instantly.

During the Blackstone Street incident, the Little Ascendants had hidden crossbow bolt launchers in their sleeves.

But the one before him was several sizes larger, and the caliber and shape of the opening were clearly not for firing bolts.

It was a device capable of spraying alchemical flames.

He simultaneously swept his gaze across both sides of the street.