musicians of old

Chapter 815 Tower
"Master Fan Ning, you came up very quickly," the man in the wheelchair said.

"Where are the others?" Fan Ning replied noncommittally, then looked around at his surroundings.

As soon as I climbed up the gap at the top of the "circular ruins," the world suddenly became deathly silent.

The faint sounds of airflow and low whispers that had been lingering in my ears all disappeared, and the light suddenly dimmed several levels, making it impossible to tell whether it was day or night.

Thick, rust-red fog filled the air, and Fanning could only barely make out that he was standing on a huge, open circular platform, like the top of a tower!

Fanning immediately noticed that there were only two people on the platform besides himself: Mr. Wax was next to him, and Pogrerich was at a distance.

"The others," Mr. Wax drawled, "maybe they're still on their way."

Fan Ning slowly stretched, took a few steps, and looked around.

"Before, before."

"For each fragment of the Source God, your esteemed hall has used every means at its disposal, both overt and covert, soft and hard. Everyone is scheming against each other, one after another, with each step linked to the next. As for the big picture, the big picture is the priority, and the lives of others are certainly not taken into consideration."

"Thankfully, the wreckage is finally complete."

"The director's mindset seems to have improved as well. He's been far ahead all the way and isn't worried about anything happening to the people transporting the wreckage along the way."

Fanning's tone was relaxed, as if she were chatting casually.

Looking around, the ground was almost covered with sheet music, all belonging to musicians of this old industrial world, contemporary and deceased, of various styles and genres, piled up to an average thickness of at least one centimeter.

In addition, what is even more conspicuous are the several huge blood-red scratches on the ground, which are two opposing triangles that intersect and run straight through the entire platform!
A giant six-pointed star symbol!
Despite having no verifiable reason, Fanning could sense that only the sheet music scattered everywhere was newly laid, while this blood-red six-pointed star was not.

Its existence evokes a sense of unknown and ethereal terror, completely transcending the realm of "ancient": at some point in time in a secret history that has been relegated to non-existence, a horrific event must have occurred here!

An exorcism ritual?

The process of understanding it is completely destructive to human cognition, like trying to understand the 8th or 9th God outside the 7 Great Source Gods, the 5th or 6th Season outside of Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, the 25th or 26th Hour outside of Time, or another Flood outside of Flood, another Radiant Tower outside of Radiant Tower.

But another figure in the distance, Pogrerich, was at the center of the six-pointed star, the very center of the platform. He sat there, eyes slightly closed, paying no attention to Fan Ning, leaving only his blue-black tuxedo silhouette against the backdrop of his back.

"The leader needs to adjust to the final state, and the others haven't arrived yet, so... we can only talk first, Master Fanning."

Mr. Wax's wheelchair is not at any particular node of the six-pointed star; it is simply parked randomly in one place.

"To be precise, the situations of other travelers are not all the same." The man straightened his body slightly.

"Perhaps some are on their way, but perhaps some can't find their way here, or perhaps some have already come." "They must have sensed a shift in their understanding. In these final days, you, me, and a few others should be beginning to comprehend all of this. For 'Noon's' worldview, time, space, and direction are concepts different from ordinary understanding. You asked if the leader was worried about accidents during the transport of the wreckage; in fact, whether it's what you're worried about or the person you care about, your understanding of these concepts will also shift."

The man slowly rocked his wheelchair along the armrests until he reached the precarious edge of the platform. His gaze swept over the abyss below, across the endless, deserted area opposite, and continued forward until he reached the end.

"Look, that world in the farthest distance."

"When you and I stand here and look out, that place may still be the same world we came from, or it may not be. Who can say for sure for mortal beings? Those who are promised to come will come, and those who are promised to see will see. This is related to our preparations, but it depends even more on the outcome of the disputes and judgments of the higher world."

Fan Ning nodded with a half-smile, seemingly agreeing with some of the judgment and reasoning, and then looked up following Mr. Wax's words.

The rust-red fog was thicker high up, and a blurry orange patch of light hung in the corner of the sky, perhaps indicating that the sun was still visible.

As for the sky directly above
The scene of collapse spreading like a junkyard was even more disorienting and dizzying, with thousands of tiny black dots, almost humanoid in shape, still converging from all directions of deep space.

What's up there?

Fan Ning, with her head tilted back, asked a question casually, as if chatting.

"It's obvious that the collapse started from the top, then formed this 'ring of ruins,' also known as the 'X-coordinate,' and finally B-105, which is a constantly expanding aberration zone. So, what's up there?"

“The worms at the end of things grow fat, so something must have died there.” Mr. Wax bent down and picked up several sheet music from the ground.

Blah blah blah
As a result, the colorful "mountain" made of snails at the top of the musical score was also dismantled due to its removal.

In fact, a quick glance reveals that there are quite a few "hills" like this on the entire platform. The double-disc trematodes in the eyestalks of these snails wriggle and urge them to crawl and pile up on each other. A height of 10 or 20 centimeters, or 30 or 50 centimeters, may not be high, or may be meaningless, but they are always a little closer to the sky.

“Something died there, huff,” Fan Ning muttered to himself, squatting down in one spot, making the six-pointed star symbol on the entire platform look like a strangely intersecting track in his field of vision.

"Could the hexagram symbol be a witness to the death of the person it points to?"

It is indeed hard to understand, as it seems that no hidden knowledge inheritance system of any power records such a witness master with a "six-pointed star symbol".

But what else could the mystical symbols that form the foundation of the entire altar be if not witnesses?
"Pointing to the Witness Lord?" Mr. Wax chuckled and shook his head twice. "Only 'secret rituals' are used to pray to the Witness Lord, while the 'exorcism ritual' is probably not a 'secret ritual' as commonly understood. The ritual objects that make it up are already on the same level as the Witness Lord. Think of it that way."

"In short, this is exactly what the discussion group is going to do next. The leader's goal is to use this to see what exactly died there."

“And you?” Fan Ning glanced at the man in the wheelchair. “What is your purpose?”

"Mr. Scriabin, what is your purpose?"