The bard fantasized again.

Chapter 2 The True Bard

Tang Qi was puzzled and was about to turn away when a man approached from behind.

He had long, narrow eyes, a flat nose, and thin lips; his mustache added a touch of masculinity.

He had a sword at his waist and wore chainmail.

This attire is uncommon in the countryside, making him easily distinguishable from other drunken farmers—

The landowners of Xingmei Town would not live in remote, impoverished areas.

To this end, he recruited three professional mercenaries to look after his orchard, act as the village guards, and maintain order in the village along with another group of thugs.

He was quite drunk at the moment, and his unsteady steps made a clanging sound as he clattered metal objects together.

The sound attracted other drunks, and the once noisy tavern gradually fell silent, the clamor turning into whispers:
"These damn scoundrels, do they ever do something good sometimes?"

"I'd rather kick this bastard out than hear that jarring noise again."

"My grandma's ears are saved!"

Catherine, who inherited the tavern, certainly couldn't expect her business to be smooth sailing.

"Beautiful girls are like morning and evening flowers," is a local saying in Xingmei Town.

It grows deep in the western Dusk Forest, where the sun and moon magically alternate every four hours.

Whether in the sunlight or in the darkness of night, this wondrous plant, reflecting the sun and moon, will always shimmer with light, like an ever-burning lamp in the forest.

Therefore, whether it is voluntary or not, it will attract countless eyes like bees and butterflies.

Where there are bees and butterflies, there are also flies, snakes, and rats—

Whenever anyone harasses Catherine, the mercenary leader, Black Serpent, will send his henchmen, Jackals, to deal with it.

Tang Qi was kicked out of the tavern by the latter.

The drunkard's whispers reached the jackal's ears, and he enjoyed the subtle flattery, gently humming a tuneless melody.

This shows that people fear him, even if it's just because of the Black Serpent's name.

The alcohol made him smug, and he put one arm around Tang Qi's shoulder, holding him tightly in his arms.

The absence of a little finger does not impair the strength of the other four fingers.

His narrow eyes were squinted, making it impossible to see the pupils.

The smell of alcohol mingled with his breath, creating a pungent stench. He spoke in a low, almost threatening tone:

"That kick wasn't painful enough, was it?"

Tang Qi felt weak all over and was unable to move.

Thinking of what the jackals had done before, he couldn't help but feel indignant.

Although he died in the rain, it was mostly because his body was already weak and the other party had no intention of killing him.

But it was ultimately a contributing factor.

This made him unwilling to back down, and he had an urge to grab a lute and smash it on the other person's head.

But considering that the other party has accomplices, and that I am weak in the limbs, is there any possibility of escaping afterwards?
Of course, his accomplices, completely drunk, were probably in no better shape either...

After a brief hesitation, Catherine suddenly said:

"You jackal, don't disturb our business."

The jackal raised its eyebrows in surprise, but then released Tang Qi.

Catherine was highly regarded by the boss, the most beautiful flower in the morning and evening, so he naturally gave her full respect.

But he couldn't help but shrug and say jokingly:
"He's just a homeless man, what business could he possibly have to do with?"

"I'm trying to get a second chance to perform."

Tang Qi suppressed his irritation and tried to stay as far away from the jackals as possible before descending the donkey path.

Catherine frowned; it was clear to anyone that she wasn't entirely willing.

The jackal laughed loudly, turned to look at the drunkards behind him, and raised his shrill voice:
"Performance? Did you hear that? He actually called the previous back-and-forth 'performance'!?"

"Go to hell, you jackal! When I'm sawing wood, the noise is way more rhythmic than that singing!"

"Hahaha!"

The jackal's grin widened further as it grabbed Tang Qi's leather jacket.

"Just because you have a broken violin, you think you're part of a choir?"
Get lost, homeless man, stay away from this girl—

If you don't want to get kicked a second time!

Facing the jackals, Tang Qi thought the angle was perfect.

It's like picking up a lute and carving it into his temple—

"Let him go, you jackal."

Catherine sighed and quickly grabbed the jackal's arm guard.
"Do you remember what I said? If Black Serpent still wants to drink in the tavern, he shouldn't cause trouble."

Her words seemed to leave no room for doubt.

It also landed on a corner table, in the ear of a slovenly man with shoulder-length black hair.

He propped his legs up on the table, lay on his back, and began to call out:

"Don't do anything that will give the lady a headache. Jackal, come back and have a drink."

His tone was calm, yet his words carried weight.

The jackal frowned, squinted at Tang Qi, couldn't help but spit inwardly, and then returned to his seat dejectedly.

Looking into the black snake's cold, sharp eyes, he couldn't help but mutter:

"Boss, didn't you see that homeless man harassing Catherine? I was just..."

He didn't even understand why they, as mercenaries, should listen to this little wench.

If you like it so much, why not just force yourself on it?
The black snake had other plans.

He stroked the prickly stubble on his chin and responded lazily:

“If he messes up again, those drunks will throw him out themselves.”

"Instead of wasting time worrying about that, you'd be better off unloading your gear and enjoying a good drink!"

After a teasing remark, the one-eyed dwarf sitting beside him burst into laughter.
"He's definitely going to mess this up. I've been around for so many years and I've never met a single bard who actually knows what he's doing!"

These cunning people, besides fawning over the nobility, all they do is sing those old, worn-out tales of dragon-slaying heroes—and they're all made up!

His shouts drew sneers from the tavern.

The drunkards raised their glasses and drank heartily, shouting in unison:
"To hell with dragons, to hell with heroes!"

Seeing the atmosphere getting lively over there, Catherine, sitting at the bar, couldn't help but shake her head and rub her forehead:
"Did you hear that? Your story is clichéd and outdated."

Nobody wants to listen to your fabricated, unfounded legends and your praise of royalty and nobility.

Even if you change the piece and play it a second time, nothing will change.” Tang Qi reviewed the pieces his predecessor had practiced at the academy and found that the content in the textbooks was indeed exactly the same as what Catherine had said—

The Bard's Song is the only academy for poets on the Forgotten Continent, and the vast majority of bards come from here.

For various reasons, it had fallen into disrepair.

Now, relying on the western coast of the continent, the revival sponsored by the [Terran Empire] has evolved into a mouthpiece for those in power, with no independence whatsoever.

Among the students, some became court jesters, while others became spies who could not be seen in the light of day.

Most of those who dreamed of traveling the world died along the way.

As for the legendary romantic poets who ride giant dragons and stroll through alleyways; or the all-rounders and idea generators in adventure teams...

Friend, comfort is fine, but don't let yourself be fooled.

Those spellcasters who can communicate with the magic network and patiently study it are already few and far between, and those who can feel the magic in music need even more talent.

So much so that true bards are few and far between in this world—

Those with names and surnames are all celebrated in legends.

But there are no living legends in this world.

Mentor Ulasang, a half-human who lived for 120 years, most often said "May the gods bless you," and his most famous achievement was publishing "Ulasang's 1001st Praise."

Twenty years ago, it was approved as a college textbook, containing most of the auspicious sayings and application scenarios that noble gentlemen would like to hear.

Most of his students also became court musicians and made a fortune.

Meanwhile, the eastern coast of the continent, where major cities are independent and autonomous, relies solely on the weak contract of the "Lords' Alliance" to maintain trade and diplomacy.

In Xingmei Town, a place exploited by landlords.

Nobody wants to listen to you fawning over the nobility.

When Tang Qi understood this, he made a decision.

He wiped the strings and plucked the first note:
"Boom-"

"Who? Who secretly let out a silent fart?!"

Unfortunately, the gut strings of the lute wear out easily, and his lute had not been specially protected.

It had been thrown into the mud and then soaked by torrential rain.

It only broke at this point, which means it's quite durable.

Seeing the homeless man before her, who had become the amusement of the drunkards, Catherine didn't understand his stubbornness and simply said:

"Put down your violin, go eat something by the fireplace, and stop bothering these drunkards."

Tang Qi raised his eyes and asked:

"You said nobody likes to hear vague and unfounded legends, so what do they like to hear about?"

"how could I know?"

Seeing that he was still stubborn, Catherine decided to ignore him and could only reply impatiently.
"I like to hear what they like to hear."

"Thank you."

"ill."

She mumbled something under her breath and then began wiping the wine glass in her hand.

The wooden door to the kitchen then opened.

A little girl, her face hidden in her hood, hurried out carrying a tray.

On top are sliced ​​rye bread, stewed beans, and a glass of shimmering, fluorescent plum wine.

Star plums are a local specialty, but without magical protection, they only have a shelf life of three days and are not easy to transport. It is best to brew plum wine in time.

Therefore, it is considered scarce in Longjincheng, but here it can be drunk like water.

Seeing the homeless man who had been kicked out of the door staring at the strings in deep thought, the girl reached out with a tray to him.

But Catherine stopped him.

The girl didn't understand, but tilted her head and asked:

"Sister, are we not letting him eat anymore?"

My sister had said she would give him a meal, so I rushed to the kitchen to prepare it.

If I had known they would change their minds, I would have been too lazy to do it.

Catherine simply sighed softly:
"Wait until he finishes singing."

The little girl blinked:
"Should I go out and wait for him? That way I can eat as soon as he's thrown out."

She hadn't listened to much music, but she knew what was jarring.

The sound of the strings from that zither was like her claws rubbing against an iron plate.

It will emit a sharp, piercing "squeak" noise that makes your hair stand on end.

Her tail was practically sticking up.

Meanwhile, the drunkards on the other end of the line burst into unrestrained laughter when they saw that Tang Qi remained silent.

"My respected great artist, why haven't you started your grand performance yet?"

"Speak up! I'm waiting for you to scare my grandma back to life!"

"Come on, stop interrupting my drinking, okay? I have to go to work tomorrow morning..."

Tang Qi put down the broken-stringed lute, and the drunkards assumed he was giving up, and burst into laughter again.

Fortunately, he was thick-skinned enough to not care, and was only thinking about how to liven up the atmosphere of the entire tavern—

The simplest structure of a song consists of four parts: intro, verse, chorus, and outro.

The prelude is crucial, directly determining whether it can attract the earworms of these drunkards and immerse them in the music.

Otherwise, when everyone is judging him with the preconceived notion of him being a 'joke,' Tang Qi would not be able to suppress the laughter of these drunkards with just a monotonous human voice.

When all sorts of noises mix together, it will only turn into another farce.

But the loss of voice on the lute deprived him of an important foundation for the prelude.

We must choose a substitute to help him maintain order.

He recalled the band's essential opening note, crucial for capturing the audience's attention—

Beating the drum.

Tang Qi's eyes lit up.

Approaching the bar, he slammed his palm down on the long wooden table.

(End of this chapter)