After Qingyang High School held its New Year’s ceremony, the students eagerly looked forward to winter break.
Zong Yan, on the other hand, entered a state of self-imposed isolation.
The moment he got home, he sealed up his flute inside a box forever, fastened it with a steel lock, and shut himself in his room. He hardly saw anyone for days.
Zong Yan couldn’t really be blamed for being so withdrawn. It was just that what happened at the New Year’s ceremony was so devastating.
Everyone below the stage who heard the music was in a trance, with their brains completely vacant. Meanwhile Zong Yan continued playing the flute on stage, completely oblivious.
Most terrible of all, the live broadcast continued. His music was transmitted to thousands of households through the television.
The conversion into electronic signals failed to diminish the effect of the terrifying sound. People unthinkingly stopped what they were doing and drifted towards the TV like wandering souls, staring at the live broadcast with disoriented eyes.
It was fortunate that Qingyang High School’s New Year’s ceremony didn’t make it to the city’s main TV station. Even so, its potency was astonishing.
As he played, Zong Yan gradually lost his nerves and quietly peeked out at the audience. All he saw were his fellow students staring back at him with gleaming eyes.
As a result, Zong Yan’s confidence exploded. He executed several flute tricks in a row, adding a variation to the Carmen Fantasy and improvising the melody a bit.
It was all thanks to the Great Old One Hastur. Otherwise he couldn’t have adapted the song so perfectly.
After the song ended, Zong Yan drew the sword he was wearing on his back, twirled it twice in his hand, and slowly exited the stage to the sound of the background music.
""
Li Bai would be followed by Su Shi.
Backstage, Zong Yan returned the sword to the prop table and then wiped the sweat on his face with a few pieces of tissue paper.
He hadn’t noticed it while performing, but after leaving the stage he realized that his palms were sticky from anxiety and tension. He almost couldn’t hold the sword straight.
After he managed to calm down a bit he felt that something was wrong.
He should have heard the sound of Su Shi’s poetry being recited on stage, but there was nothing. The only sound in the auditorium was the recorded accompaniment music.
What was going on?
Zong Yan originally intended to go change his clothes. He paused for a moment, walked up the steps to the side of the stage, and poked his head out from the curtain.
Then he saw Nyarlathotep’s avatars occupying the first row of seats. All of them had delighted smiles on their faces, and the one in a white coat was lying on the arm of his chair, laughing. Beside him was a gray-haired evil god wearing a white robe, lazily supporting his head with his hand. His golden eyes fell precisely on Zong Yan, who was peeking over at him.
But that wasn’t the most important thing. The most important thing was that the floor of the auditorium was covered with a multitude of circular black ripples. It was like someone had spilled paint everywhere. In the dim stage lighting, they were an unsettling, evil color.
And… it seemed like something was about to cross through those circular ripples.
The lights were turned towards the stage because of the performance. Everything else was in darkness.
The entire audience was staring at the stage. No one looked down to see that their feet had been swallowed by black ripples.
“Tick.” “Tick.” “Tick.”
Even the ceiling was covered by sticky, roiling black waves. A drop at a time, unholy black liquid fell to the floor like a scattering of rain.
At some point the pause button had been pressed on the performance. No one spoke, and the members of the Calligraphy Club who’d stood behind Zong Yan at the beginning were frozen in place, staring blankly ahead.
Zong Yan’s scalp was tingling. He couldn’t care less about changing out of his costume. He hurried out from the stage over to the first row of seats.
Strange to say, the black ripples scattered for Zong Yan when he approached, as if they were yielding before him.
“What did you do?”
The moment Zong Yan spoke, certain unidentifiable things poked their heads out of the black ripples.
They were like toads or ancient reptiles or octopi. They were composed of a strange flowing substance, like they had no proper bodies at all. Their ugly tentacles waved in the air, writhing and twisting, extremely repulsive.
What was even more frightening was that all of these creatures were holding flutes, and they bowed submissively to Zong Yan as they played.
Zong Yan: …
What the hell were these things!! And why was the sound of their flutes so awful!
It was so terrible to hear that Zong Yan’s face crinkled up. “Stop playing!”
The unidentified creatures’ liquid bodies suddenly produced pairs of eyes. They trembled and looked at him warily, and their large mouths immediately swallowed the flutes they were holding. Then they lapsed onto the floor in bewilderment.
Why were these repulsive things listening to him?!
The black-haired teen looked at Yog-Sothoth with a bewildered expression. He was beginning to suspect something that was both absurd and disagreeable.
“They’re servants of the Outer Gods, musicians who often surround the palace of His Majesty Azathoth and perform for him.” Yog thought the expression on Zong Yan’s face right now was quite interesting, so he didn’t mind adding another spark to the fire. “For the sake of the fragile humans around you, you’d better not play the flute. After all, that’s the Father God’s favorite instrument, and his servants are inspired by the music.”
So—by implication, he’d caused this entire situation?!
The words were deafening in his ears. Zong Yan looked around at the lax faces and empty eyes, saw Nyarlathotep’s thrilled expression as he observed everything, took in the little smile in the eyes of the all-knowing and all-powerful Lord, and with a “pop—” the thread in his heart snapped and broke.
After a flash of light, the young man with black hair and white clothes transformed into a god with blond hair and bare feet that didn’t touch the ground.
His eyes were as pure and clear as the sky, like a calm turquoise sky just after a storm had cleared, capable of perceiving anything at a glance. Like a statue carved from marble, with profound edges and planes, his face was incomparably beautiful.
The god held a lyre of pure gold in his arms, and he was wearing a short but elegant white and gold Greek robe. He was noble yet warm, gentle yet unapproachable and distant.
This was Apollo, the world’s most famous Sun God, and a strand of his blond hair was entwined with a small spray of white flowers woven by a water nymph. Golden light and fire surrounded him as if he were the convergence of all the light in the world.
Where the God of the Sun descends, all that is dark must give way.
Apollo gave a faint smile, and his long fingers danced across the strings of the lyre.
In Greek mythology, Apollo wasn’t only the god of the sun, but also the god of music and prophecy. In addition, he was a god of healing.
As he gently plucked the strings, the lyre produced a truly melodious sound, far different from the flute that was played previously.
The golden light around the sun god seemed to turn into long, straight arrows. They shot to every corner of the auditorium, forcing all the darkness to retreat.
The servants of the Outer Gods had arrived in great haste at His Majesty’s call, but under the repulsive force of the Earth, they were little more than shadows.
When the light hit them, these shadows dispersed one after another like torn pieces of paper. Silence gradually returned.
Under the golden light, the black haze was dispelled from the entire auditorium. Everything became normal again, but the people still didn’t wake up.
Zong Yan’s hands continued to play, the lyre continued to make music, and light flowed outward like meltwater, gently soothing the wounded minds of those who heard it, and incidentally blurring their memory.
Twenty minutes later, when the members of the Dragon Group rushed over, they found nothing.
“Qingyang High School? If I’m not mistaken, isn’t this the school of the newly-crowned tenth Monarch?” The investigator glanced in wonder at the stage where people were still singing and dancing. The New Year’s ceremony was in progress. He was a little confused.
“Didn’t they say there were A-rank or higher otherworldly fluctuations here? Strange, I’m not finding any abnormality. Is it a mistake?”
“It’s all right. Maybe the Monarch took care of it.” The other investigator put away his pen. “Lately all the monsters in Jiangzhou are approaching Monarch level. The tenth Monarch’s completed mission list is full of high-level creatures, too. Man, you can tell he was a Monarch at first awakening. People really shouldn’t try to compare themselves to others ah.”
All the Monarchs were extremely talented. They could use elemental powers without needing the guidance of magic patterns. If an ordinary investigator wanted to get stronger, they had to study.
Of course, through round-the-clock practice and precise calculation, the combat effectiveness of the senior investigators who fought with magic patterns wasn’t that much worse than Monarchs. This greatly increased the fighting strength of the human race.
“Yeah. All right, all right, let’s call it a day!”
They didn’t try to look any further. After making sure there was no mistake, they left the school.
Occasionally the Dragon Group’s detectors could make mistakes, so no one bothered to examine it deeper. After all, compared to Jiangzhou, New York was now a hell on earth.
But the incident still inflicted long-lasting damage on Zong Yan.
He was so self-absorbed that he ate nothing but takeout for two days. He even asked the harbinger bird to help him go to the door and bring the food to the second floor. He never set foot outside his bedroom.
When Yog appeared in his room, the lights weren’t on. He could vaguely see a person-sized bulge on the bed.
Yog-Sothoth: …
He stared at the bulge for a while then suddenly disappeared.
Zong Yan huddled under the blanket and slept. He was still immersed in the most unbearable blow of his life. For a while he didn’t even want to do his winter break homework. He hugged himself and curled up in a ball of misery.
Then, as he slept, he felt himself kick something round.
The black-haired teen opened his eyes and saw a sphere of colorful, brilliant light squeezed under his blanket. It was face to face with him, and he saw it as soon as he looked over.
He’d fallen into a hazy sleep, and when he opened his eyes, they were stabbed by the dazzling light. His eyes immediately shed physiological tears.
Zong Yan was so frightened that he threw back the quilt and rolled over to turn on the light. “What are you doing?!”
The brilliant sphere elongated and deformed, reappearing in the shape of a slender man with short hair wearing a trench coat. With his high nose and deeply defined features, he looked like a scholar from a classical 17th century oil painting.
His face was completely different from before, and his temperament was no longer ethereal but elegant and erudite. In short, his image was now perfectly consistent with that of a teacher.
“I’m here to tutor you.” Yog added gently, “This time we’ll use the minimally efficient human way.”
He made a gesture, and in his hand appeared a pile of Five Years of College Entrance Exams, Three Years of Simulations books.
Zong Yan’s sight went black.
—
The author has something to say:
Zong Yan: Do you want me to get a zero?
After Qingyang High School held its New Year’s ceremony, the students eagerly looked forward to winter break.
Zong Yan, on the other hand, entered a state of self-imposed isolation.
The moment he got home, he sealed up his flute inside a box forever, fastened it with a steel lock, and shut himself in his room. He hardly saw anyone for days.
Zong Yan couldn’t really be blamed for being so withdrawn. It was just that what happened at the New Year’s ceremony was so devastating.
Everyone below the stage who heard the music was in a trance, with their brains completely vacant. Meanwhile Zong Yan continued playing the flute on stage, completely oblivious.
Most terrible of all, the live broadcast continued. His music was transmitted to thousands of households through the television.
The conversion into electronic signals failed to diminish the effect of the terrifying sound. People unthinkingly stopped what they were doing and drifted towards the TV like wandering souls, staring at the live broadcast with disoriented eyes.
It was fortunate that Qingyang High School’s New Year’s ceremony didn’t make it to the city’s main TV station. Even so, its potency was astonishing.
As he played, Zong Yan gradually lost his nerves and quietly peeked out at the audience. All he saw were his fellow students staring back at him with gleaming eyes.
As a result, Zong Yan’s confidence exploded. He executed several flute tricks in a row, adding a variation to the Carmen Fantasy and improvising the melody a bit.
It was all thanks to the Great Old One Hastur. Otherwise he couldn’t have adapted the song so perfectly.
After the song ended, Zong Yan drew the sword he was wearing on his back, twirled it twice in his hand, and slowly exited the stage to the sound of the background music.
""
Li Bai would be followed by Su Shi.
Backstage, Zong Yan returned the sword to the prop table and then wiped the sweat on his face with a few pieces of tissue paper.
He hadn’t noticed it while performing, but after leaving the stage he realized that his palms were sticky from anxiety and tension. He almost couldn’t hold the sword straight.
After he managed to calm down a bit he felt that something was wrong.
He should have heard the sound of Su Shi’s poetry being recited on stage, but there was nothing. The only sound in the auditorium was the recorded accompaniment music.
What was going on?
Zong Yan originally intended to go change his clothes. He paused for a moment, walked up the steps to the side of the stage, and poked his head out from the curtain.
Then he saw Nyarlathotep’s avatars occupying the first row of seats. All of them had delighted smiles on their faces, and the one in a white coat was lying on the arm of his chair, laughing. Beside him was a gray-haired evil god wearing a white robe, lazily supporting his head with his hand. His golden eyes fell precisely on Zong Yan, who was peeking over at him.
But that wasn’t the most important thing. The most important thing was that the floor of the auditorium was covered with a multitude of circular black ripples. It was like someone had spilled paint everywhere. In the dim stage lighting, they were an unsettling, evil color.
And… it seemed like something was about to cross through those circular ripples.
The lights were turned towards the stage because of the performance. Everything else was in darkness.
The entire audience was staring at the stage. No one looked down to see that their feet had been swallowed by black ripples.
“Tick.” “Tick.” “Tick.”
Even the ceiling was covered by sticky, roiling black waves. A drop at a time, unholy black liquid fell to the floor like a scattering of rain.
At some point the pause button had been pressed on the performance. No one spoke, and the members of the Calligraphy Club who’d stood behind Zong Yan at the beginning were frozen in place, staring blankly ahead.
Zong Yan’s scalp was tingling. He couldn’t care less about changing out of his costume. He hurried out from the stage over to the first row of seats.
Strange to say, the black ripples scattered for Zong Yan when he approached, as if they were yielding before him.
“What did you do?”
The moment Zong Yan spoke, certain unidentifiable things poked their heads out of the black ripples.
They were like toads or ancient reptiles or octopi. They were composed of a strange flowing substance, like they had no proper bodies at all. Their ugly tentacles waved in the air, writhing and twisting, extremely repulsive.
What was even more frightening was that all of these creatures were holding flutes, and they bowed submissively to Zong Yan as they played.
Zong Yan: …
What the hell were these things!! And why was the sound of their flutes so awful!
It was so terrible to hear that Zong Yan’s face crinkled up. “Stop playing!”
The unidentified creatures’ liquid bodies suddenly produced pairs of eyes. They trembled and looked at him warily, and their large mouths immediately swallowed the flutes they were holding. Then they lapsed onto the floor in bewilderment.
Why were these repulsive things listening to him?!
The black-haired teen looked at Yog-Sothoth with a bewildered expression. He was beginning to suspect something that was both absurd and disagreeable.
“They’re servants of the Outer Gods, musicians who often surround the palace of His Majesty Azathoth and perform for him.” Yog thought the expression on Zong Yan’s face right now was quite interesting, so he didn’t mind adding another spark to the fire. “For the sake of the fragile humans around you, you’d better not play the flute. After all, that’s the Father God’s favorite instrument, and his servants are inspired by the music.”
So—by implication, he’d caused this entire situation?!
The words were deafening in his ears. Zong Yan looked around at the lax faces and empty eyes, saw Nyarlathotep’s thrilled expression as he observed everything, took in the little smile in the eyes of the all-knowing and all-powerful Lord, and with a “pop—” the thread in his heart snapped and broke.
After a flash of light, the young man with black hair and white clothes transformed into a god with blond hair and bare feet that didn’t touch the ground.
His eyes were as pure and clear as the sky, like a calm turquoise sky just after a storm had cleared, capable of perceiving anything at a glance. Like a statue carved from marble, with profound edges and planes, his face was incomparably beautiful.
The god held a lyre of pure gold in his arms, and he was wearing a short but elegant white and gold Greek robe. He was noble yet warm, gentle yet unapproachable and distant.
This was Apollo, the world’s most famous Sun God, and a strand of his blond hair was entwined with a small spray of white flowers woven by a water nymph. Golden light and fire surrounded him as if he were the convergence of all the light in the world.
Where the God of the Sun descends, all that is dark must give way.
Apollo gave a faint smile, and his long fingers danced across the strings of the lyre.
In Greek mythology, Apollo wasn’t only the god of the sun, but also the god of music and prophecy. In addition, he was a god of healing.
As he gently plucked the strings, the lyre produced a truly melodious sound, far different from the flute that was played previously.
The golden light around the sun god seemed to turn into long, straight arrows. They shot to every corner of the auditorium, forcing all the darkness to retreat.
The servants of the Outer Gods had arrived in great haste at His Majesty’s call, but under the repulsive force of the Earth, they were little more than shadows.
When the light hit them, these shadows dispersed one after another like torn pieces of paper. Silence gradually returned.
Under the golden light, the black haze was dispelled from the entire auditorium. Everything became normal again, but the people still didn’t wake up.
Zong Yan’s hands continued to play, the lyre continued to make music, and light flowed outward like meltwater, gently soothing the wounded minds of those who heard it, and incidentally blurring their memory.
Twenty minutes later, when the members of the Dragon Group rushed over, they found nothing.
“Qingyang High School? If I’m not mistaken, isn’t this the school of the newly-crowned tenth Monarch?” The investigator glanced in wonder at the stage where people were still singing and dancing. The New Year’s ceremony was in progress. He was a little confused.
“Didn’t they say there were A-rank or higher otherworldly fluctuations here? Strange, I’m not finding any abnormality. Is it a mistake?”
“It’s all right. Maybe the Monarch took care of it.” The other investigator put away his pen. “Lately all the monsters in Jiangzhou are approaching Monarch level. The tenth Monarch’s completed mission list is full of high-level creatures, too. Man, you can tell he was a Monarch at first awakening. People really shouldn’t try to compare themselves to others ah.”
All the Monarchs were extremely talented. They could use elemental powers without needing the guidance of magic patterns. If an ordinary investigator wanted to get stronger, they had to study.
Of course, through round-the-clock practice and precise calculation, the combat effectiveness of the senior investigators who fought with magic patterns wasn’t that much worse than Monarchs. This greatly increased the fighting strength of the human race.
“Yeah. All right, all right, let’s call it a day!”
They didn’t try to look any further. After making sure there was no mistake, they left the school.
Occasionally the Dragon Group’s detectors could make mistakes, so no one bothered to examine it deeper. After all, compared to Jiangzhou, New York was now a hell on earth.
But the incident still inflicted long-lasting damage on Zong Yan.
He was so self-absorbed that he ate nothing but takeout for two days. He even asked the harbinger bird to help him go to the door and bring the food to the second floor. He never set foot outside his bedroom.
When Yog appeared in his room, the lights weren’t on. He could vaguely see a person-sized bulge on the bed.
Yog-Sothoth: …
He stared at the bulge for a while then suddenly disappeared.
Zong Yan huddled under the blanket and slept. He was still immersed in the most unbearable blow of his life. For a while he didn’t even want to do his winter break homework. He hugged himself and curled up in a ball of misery.
Then, as he slept, he felt himself kick something round.
The black-haired teen opened his eyes and saw a sphere of colorful, brilliant light squeezed under his blanket. It was face to face with him, and he saw it as soon as he looked over.
He’d fallen into a hazy sleep, and when he opened his eyes, they were stabbed by the dazzling light. His eyes immediately shed physiological tears.
Zong Yan was so frightened that he threw back the quilt and rolled over to turn on the light. “What are you doing?!”
The brilliant sphere elongated and deformed, reappearing in the shape of a slender man with short hair wearing a trench coat. With his high nose and deeply defined features, he looked like a scholar from a classical 17th century oil painting.
His face was completely different from before, and his temperament was no longer ethereal but elegant and erudite. In short, his image was now perfectly consistent with that of a teacher.
“I’m here to tutor you.” Yog added gently, “This time we’ll use the minimally efficient human way.”
He made a gesture, and in his hand appeared a pile of Five Years of College Entrance Exams, Three Years of Simulations books.
Zong Yan’s sight went black.
—
The author has something to say:
Zong Yan: Do you want me to get a zero?
