yasinovel Chapter 163 Brother and the Sparrow's Web
Chapter 163 Brother and the Sparrow's Web
Chapter 163 Brother and the Sparrow's Web
A small spider crawled across Geb's toes, but he didn't notice it at all.
The campfire crackled, its heat scorching Geb's skin. The goblin wizard felt his face burning and his body trembled slightly with excitement.
The communication stone moved its lips and uttered the following words: "Seven days, when the pearl sinks, Martina, Silver Moon Corridor."
Gebu was still waiting for what would happen next—but then nothing happened.
That's it?
Gebu could understand these words individually, but when put together, they left him completely bewildered and clueless.
This implies that it specifies the time and place for delivery.
The golden mask couldn't possibly refer to anything else; it must be that bottle of "King-Slaying Kiss" poison.
So, the Golden Mask agreed? Gebu felt a surge of joy. However, seven days was indeed a bit short; Gebu hadn't even gathered all the ingredients for the potion yet.
I'm going to be busy these next few days.
Gebu immediately returned to his tent and used the Book of Sand to search for several terms that appeared in the text message.
First, "when the pearl sinks" refers to the moment when the sun is about to rise but has not yet risen, the sky is turning white, and the stars are submerged in the morning light—around five in the morning.
This is a rather elegant way of putting it, and it's a common metaphor used by the "Thousand Lakes Guest".
The Thousand Lakes Plain is crisscrossed by waterways, with thriving commerce and a rich culture. At the heart of this network of interconnected waterways lies Yinshui City.
Yes, that's the hometown of the little meat ticket.
Within the bustling city of Silverwater lies the only Bard Academy on the Golden Continent. Bards and those aspiring to become bards come from all directions, leaving behind their romantic chapters in this sleepless city—they never hesitate to use magnificent words to praise this "City of Poetry," the spiritual home of poets.
The footsteps of the wandering bards of a thousand lakes have covered the entire continent, and over time, "the wanderer of a thousand lakes" has become the code name for these bards.
"Is that golden mask worn by a poet?" Gebu wondered to himself. "Or perhaps, this guy just enjoys dabbling in culture." The latter was more likely.
Next, Geb searched for the word "Martiana".
This is a place name, the name of a city—the capital of a new kingdom, also known as the Rose Capital, Martina.
Gebu had previously learned that the Holy Kingdom of Kane (referred to as the Kingdom) consists of three parts: the Kingdom of Kane (the old kingdom, where the Red Palace and the Kingdom Forest are located), the Rose Kingdom (the new kingdom), and the Northern Kingdom (the home of the Sword Maiden among the kingdoms).
Martina, a feminine name. It fits well with the tradition of women ruling in the Rose Kingdom.
Looking at the map, this city is about 400 kilometers away from Chifang. Crossing the border between the Old Kingdom and the New Kingdom and entering the heart of the New Kingdom, it would take seven or eight days for one person and one vehicle to travel normally.
However, the caravan traveled at a leisurely pace, stopping frequently to purchase goods and resupply. It would take at least two weeks to travel from Chifang to Matiana, which meant they wouldn't make it in time.
If Gebu wanted to make it to the agreed-upon seven-day deadline, he had no choice but to prepare the medicine, then temporarily leave the caravan and travel light.
Hmm—there's a bit of a risk. Inside the caravan, Geb is safe; once he leaves, the goblin wizard is alone again.
Martina is unfamiliar with the area, making it Golden Mask's home turf, which will put Geb at a significant disadvantage.
At the very least, he needed to bring the female swordsman along. Gebu thought that although he didn't know what role a mercenary could play in front of a wizard, having a bodyguard watching his back was better than nothing.
According to the text message, if Matiana is the city where the delivery is made, then the "Silver Moon Corridor" is the specific location.
Gebu couldn't find this place in the book; he could only see the name in some account books. Since there were account books, it must be a place that was open for business.
Geb hoped it was a public place, so the chances of being ambushed would be smaller.
Golden Mask didn't discuss payment with Geb—it was as if allowing the goblin to work for him was already a reward. Geb was somewhat unhappy about this, but considering the benefits Golden Mask could bring him later, he could tolerate it.
The magical energy of the communication stone was still lingering within it when Geb remembered that, as part of his short message spell, he could send a reply to the Golden Mask.
He pondered for a moment, deciding that saying too much at this point would be pointless; a simple reply would suffice. So he replied to the communication stone: "I will be on time. I look forward to cooperating with you."
Geb felt the message disappear from the communication stone's ear, and after a long time, there was still no response. He finally breathed a sigh of relief.
That was how it was decided—the next step was to produce the poison within the allotted time.
If Dulin can get the materials by tomorrow, Gebu can do some basic preparation work in the carriage during the day. Once the materials are ready, the team will arrive at the next town by tomorrow evening and stay for two days, according to the caravan's schedule.
In the camp in that town, you can set up the alchemy furnace and herbal workbench, start working at high intensity, and then hand it over to Dulin to pack up. You can then take the potions and the swordswoman and travel lightly and quickly towards Matiana to deliver the goods.
If everything goes smoothly, it should be enough time. Geb calculated, even having a night to scout out the delivery location.
That's settled.
After making the plan, the goblin was still a little excited. He drank a calming potion to calm himself down and then entered a meditative state.
The cruelest thing in the world is watching your face age irreversibly with the passage of time.
Even for long-lived races like elves and dwarves, death is as slow as a snail's pace, but that snail will eventually crawl to their feet, touch their skin, and take their lives.
This is a despairing thought.
Until seven days ago, Lady Peacock had never considered that she would die.
She has lived in this world for a very long time and intends to live a long, long life.
The world is a grand ball, and no matter where she is, or what her dance partner's name is—church, empire, or the Gray Raven Society—as long as the music plays, the woman will not stop dancing. She stood proudly at the center of the stage, surveying the bustling hall. The peacock had never doubted this: when she spread her feathers, all eyes would be fixed on her.
A proud peacock, a performance that never stops.
In the dark basement, the old elven woman tremblingly applied white powder to her face. The glossy foundation, like a white porcelain mask, completely obscured all the features of the woman's face.
The female elf in the mirror possessed an eerie and exquisite makeup, but no amount of cosmetics could conceal the signs of aging in her body. The woman's waist was hunched, her skin was covered with brown spots, and her dry, loose skin hung limply on her skeleton, resembling a skeleton.
The woman's hand slipped, and the porcelain-like foundation cracked, with a shard the size of a fingernail falling from her face.
"No----"
The woman quickly covered her face, and cracks spread from the gap, the fine cracks turning into a net that crumbled at Lady Peacock's fingertips.
"No! No, no, no!"
The woman in the mirror revealed her true appearance—an ugly and frail old elf, her face devoid of any life.
Peacock couldn't accept this terrible reality. She covered her face with her hands and howled like a banshee. With a wave of her hand, she smashed the mirror on the ground.
Clap!
The mirror shattered into countless fragments, which piled up with a thick layer of mirror shards on the floor.
The woman's cries echoed in the dark room; her moans were like those of a hungry beast, her whimpers like those of a ghost.
On the peacock's desk lay a bloodstained, broken deer antler, its white bones reflecting the red spots, seemingly still carrying the warmth of the deceased.
It's over. It's all over.
The manticore is dead, and the Ansar people were buried with it. But the manticore's stinger is nowhere to be found.
This was a cruel joke fate played on the peacock. Clever all her life, she refused to be overcharged by the Ansar people, and so she kept searching for other ways to obtain the Scorpion Tail Needle until the golden mask cursed her, forcing her to buy time with gold.
But when she wanted to buy it, she couldn't. Five thousand gold coins, ten thousand gold coins, or even one hundred thousand gold coins couldn't buy back the time she had lost or her aging face.
The peacock turned its head away mournfully, looking at the unfinished bottle of venom.
The Kiss of the King-Slayer.
The bluish-purple potion lay quietly on the herb table, as if mocking the elven woman with its silent presence.
I shouldn't have accepted this order—why was I so greedy?
With the war nearing its end, Peacock's war profits were dwindling, and she desperately needed a new opportunity to maintain her position within the Gray Raven Society.
Yes, the protection of the Grey Ravens was the only barrier standing between her and the gallows. The kingdom would not tolerate the crimes she had committed, and her enemies would not cease their quest for revenge, the path to power paved with countless bones.
However, the Goddess of Shadows only favors her subordinates who can continuously bring in money. When her womb, which produces golden eggs, completely dries up, this old peacock will no longer have any value.
This is why the peacock so eagerly tried to curry favor with the golden mask, and it was also the beginning of her downfall.
The members of the Gray Raven Society are always so snobbish. After news of the peacock's curse spread, no one knocked on her door again.
They feared the terrible curse would affect them, and they also feared that the peacock would use its last strength to unleash its resentment upon them.
But the peacock could still hear their footsteps, pausing at the door at the same time every day, and then leaving. Today was no exception.
Outside that door stood a person. Silent, pretending not to exist.
"They're waiting for me to die," the elven woman thought. Then, like ravens, she pecked at my remains, sweeping away all the valuables in the house.
Will I die alone?
Throughout her life, the peacock had countless lovers. She enjoyed their bodies, experienced all the joys of life, and felt the warmth of her lovers in the cold night.
But they all left the woman's life for various reasons, some peacefully, some violently, some because of betrayal, and some because of death.
The peacock never tried to hold them back; she was so proud that she didn't even bother to remember their names or faces.
Ironically, in this abyss of despair, the peacock cannot remember the lover she once had.
Peacock could only remember the man she had never possessed. The handsome young man who slipped through her fingers, the stubborn man whose mind was only set on gods.
The guy whose eyes were full of longing, yet on that night when something should have happened, he said "no" to her.
The door opened, and a person walked in.
"—I'm not dead yet, you bastard—" the old elven woman said weakly in a hoarse voice.
The man did not speak.
The boots made a screeching sound as they stepped over the broken glass.
"I said—I'm not dead yet—you'd better have good news for me—otherwise—"
The newcomer approached Lady Peacock. The woman raised her head mournfully, looked at the figure before her, and with her last remaining strength feigned a fierce expression: "Get out of here—"
The woman froze. The image of the witch hunter vulture was reflected in her cloudy eyes.
The vulture frowned, its deep, pool-like eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and sorrow.
"What happened, Peacock—"
The old elf looked at the man in front of her with suspicion, seemingly unable to believe that he was standing in front of her.
"—Tell me, are you really—"
"I am real," the vulture whispered. "I am here, Peacock."
The elven woman's pretense crumbled in an instant. She leaned forward, reaching out to grab the man in front of her, but her legs gave way, and she fell into the vulture's arms.
"I'm old—I'm so old—" Peacock cried out in anguish, unable to shed tears, only dry sobs.
The vulture gently embraced the elderly woman, as if holding a fragile work of art. For a fleeting moment, as they traversed the long years in the dark room, the curse of time vanished from their faces.
It felt like the first time we met.
silence.
silence.
A long silence.
The woman fell silent, and the man released her, placing his hand on her shoulder.
"—Tell me, is it magic?" He frowned, looking at the woman's tormented face, his suppressed rage churning in his throat.
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"This is a wizard's curse—come with me, Bishop Benedict can help you."
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"—No, the church will never forgive my betrayal—"
"The gods are merciful, Peacock, as long as you repent—"
The peacock looked up at the vulture, and she knew exactly what that so-called repentance meant.
"Don't do this to me, Vulture, at least not you—anyone will do, just not you, please."
"Believe me, the Lord will remove the curse from you, and then—"
"Don't lie, Vulture, especially don't lie to yourself," Peacock said hoarsely. She looked at the man before her with her cloudy eyes. "You know very well what I've done. What we've done."
"—I will never forget. I will repay the sins I committed with a lifetime of devotion." The vulture's voice was so low it was almost inaudible, yet even so, the woman could still hear the anger rising in his chest. "And you chose to run away, but you cannot escape—no one can escape God's judgment. Look at the consequences of associating with the wizard, what that evil magic did to you—it's not too late to return to the Lord's embrace."
Peacock pursed her lips, a wave of sorrow welling up inside her; she no longer had the strength to argue with the paladin before her.
"I'd rather die alone in this basement than become fuel for the sacred flame in front of everyone—if you still have any lingering affection for me, please grant me this final dignity."
Gascoigne's silence froze the entire room. After hesitating for what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, avoiding the woman's gaze.
"—Whoever cursed you, I assure you, that evil wizard will be punished by the Lord."
"I can't say, Gascoigne, it's not for me, it's for you." Peacock's voice was so soft it could be blown away by a breath. "I don't want to lose the life of an old friend in the final moments of my life because of a single sentence."
"Peacock----"
"Go, Gascoigne. Forget what I look like now. I'd rather you think of me when we first met."
The woman turned her head away, ignoring the man. The vulture half-reached out its hand towards the peacock's retreating figure, then withdrew it.
The sound of a leather jacket turning around, boots clicking on the glass, the door opening and closing, the dull footsteps fading into the distance.
A tear fell onto the floor.
Peacock sat down again; her body could no longer allow her to stand for long.
The woman's pride wouldn't allow her to continue living like this. Her eyes drifted to the sharp shards of glass on the table.
If I end it now, perhaps the pain will end sooner.
But just as she reached out and took the fragment, a familiar voice suddenly rang in her mind: "Seven days, when the pearl sinks, Martina, Silver Moon Corridor."
"You and the goblin, only one of you will remain."
A spider web had sprung up in a corner of the basement.
A flying insect, in its panic, crashed into the sticky spider web. Its struggle caused the web to vibrate, and the vibration, transmitted through the silk threads, awakened something hidden at the center of the web.
One eye opened and spotted the prey's location. Then, ten thousand eyes opened in the void, all staring at the struggling insect that was sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss!
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