Chapter 146

Of course, this does not mean that there are no survivors in Ys: on the main road, groups of three Golem Knights are walking slowly, and nearby are citizens lying on the ground, barely alive.

Clearly, these citizens lying on the ground had no other symptoms besides hunger and old age, but for them, it must have been a living hell.

"Because of the lack of spiritual dew, the body has begun to degenerate..." Hebe's face showed little pity.

The five signs of decay in the body and the diseases that lead to longevity are principles that have existed since ancient times.

Atlantis's method of prolonging life has reached a dead end—the later the stage, the greater the quality and quantity of the Youthful Dew required, while the lower the effect it can produce.

In fact, Atlantis's method of prolonging life cannot be said to be entirely without merit. The Youthful Dew is indeed remarkably effective; according to Hebe's calculations, this period is roughly between one hundred and one hundred and twenty years.

Beyond this range, the efficacy of the Youthful Dew will decrease sharply.

What used to extend lifespan by ten years now only lasts five to six years at most.

"Therefore, the best way is to combine the Youthful Dew with the Path of Ascension ..." Hebe frowned slightly, "Through the harmless life extension provided by the Youthful Dew, qualified apprentices can complete the ascension at Twilight."

After twilight, life and achievements become intertwined. Naturally, there is no longer a need for the Youthful Dew.

This was the most orthodox and safest way to prolong life that Hebe could imagine. But for the Atlantis, the Path of Ascension was indeed a heretical one.

Because of the Sybil's relentless propaganda, the Path of Ascension is "a destiny manipulated by the gods," and all apprentices who embark on the path are "poor wretches whose fate is not their own."

Hebe stood on the city wall, deep in thought, seemingly unaware of the knights and squires gradually approaching from behind.

In Ys, only by becoming Golem Knights can one enter the Legion. Before that, no matter how hard one trains, one will only ever be a knight's attendant.

The servant who came to guard the city wall was very lucky, because no matter who was in charge of the city, the rations for defending the city wall would not be lacking... As for why not use the more powerful Golem Knights? It's simple, because Golem Knights require higher quality Spirit Dew.

The essence used to power one Golem Knights, when diluted, is enough to power nearly thirty knights and squires.

At this moment, the knight squire, wielding a short sword and round shield, stealthily approaching Hebe from behind, was not driven by loyalty.

'This person is a musician; she must possess spiritual essence!'

The urges churning in his brain and stomach made him completely oblivious to the danger.

He raised his left hand, preparing his small round shield to block damage, and swung his right hand, thrusting his short sword toward Hebe's back.

Before the knight's squire could even show a joyful smile, he saw the girl who had her back to him suddenly turn around.

"Ah!"

The knight's squire instinctively assumed a blocking stance, but Hebe was faster! No, she didn't make any unnecessary movements; she simply drew the Cross Sword from her waist.

As if it had been planned, Hebe's raised Cross Sword pierced the servant's throat.

"You're not going to torture him?" Medea asked.

"No need for such trouble." Hebe said, placing his hand on the squire's head, which was not yet completely dead, while sensing the spiritual dew within the squire's body and using illusion magic to read his memories.

But only a moment later, Hebe chuckled and dropped the head from his hands.

Internal strife broke out in the Ys City.

The two sides in the infighting were a coalition of musicians, citizen nobles, and nearly half of the philosophers, as well as Mozart and his few followers.

Although the two were vastly different in strength, Hebe believed that Mozart would win.

The difference between dusk and daylight is even greater than the difference between daylight and ordinary people.

During the Battle of Burgundy, if Hebe hadn't carried the Fool's Ship to the no-signal zone, Mozart, with the support of the Grand Symphony, could have killed Joan of Arc a hundred times over.

And this place and time is not the remote Orleans district where there is no signal for the Grand Symphony, but the Ys City, the heart of the Grand Symphony, the very heart of Atlantis!

"So, Mozart won?"

"I don't know," Hebe said to Medea. "That's all the squire knows... but I think Mozart will win."

Law enforcement should be compassionate, suppression should be forceful, marking should be precise, and achievements should be made with high standards.

Everyone's at their twilight, so don't lose points!

After spouting some nonsense, Hebe picked up the small round shield from the ground and waved it around in his hand, leaving Medea completely baffled.

"What are they trying to do?" Medea wondered.

"This is the mysterious and wonderful tool we'll be using later," Hebe replied.

Without saying much, she walked down the city wall. Several mummified corpses hanging from the eaves inside the city smelled the spiritual dew from her body and struggled to swing on their necks, which were bound by ropes, emitting dry and unpleasant roars.

Those with exceptional skills can even use their necks and chins to generate power, stepping through the air as if walking freely and gracefully in the clouds.

"Amazing, amazing."

Hebe looked around, not only not running away, but also commenting on their actions.

"This head-down 720-degree spin is undoubtedly a high difficulty level, I'll give him a big cup."

"This guy's movements are like a spindle swinging from side to side, or like a fish doing a sit-up. Although the difficulty is not high, the fluidity is the key. I'll give him a big cup."

Amidst the cacophony of shouts, Hebe strolled leisurely, seemingly oblivious to the knights gradually approaching from behind... This scene felt somewhat familiar.

But the Golem Knights stepped forward and slashed, while Hebe simply turned around and swung her left arm.

The small round shield blocked the greatsword in the knight's hand!

The knight's move was broken, and she staggered. Hebe stepped forward and kicked her, causing her to fall to her knees.

Ignoring the knight's pleas for mercy, Hebe stepped on the knight's knee, drew his cross-shaped sword, and plunged it into his heart, thus completing the execution.

Anyone who blocks the way should be killed, whether male attendant or female knight; only then can it be considered a healthy society.

Before the knight could completely die, Hebe reached out and grabbed his head, reading his memories.

"How was the harvest?" Medea asked.

"Not good," Hebe shook her head.

The knights are fighting for their own masters, and the order of Ys has fallen apart.

The current leader of the Citizens' Family Caligula, who can be considered Nero's uncle by blood. Of course, he is merely a representative chosen by the three major interest groups.

Apart from that, the knight knew almost everything the squire did.

But a sense of unease welled up in Hebe's heart: if there was still so-called "order" on the city walls, then the chaos in the city was absolutely not normal.

"Either Mozart abandoned the outer city and completely retreated to the inner city; or..."

Hebe frowned and tossed the small round shield in her hand.

The weapon wielded by the Golem Knights originated from orchards donated by citizens and nobles, was forged by musicians, and blessed by philosophers. Under normal circumstances, let alone parrying, even a little force could smash the great shield and the person behind it into a pulp.

Hebe's small round shield had already deflated after her parry.

Once Hebe leaves the main road, no more knights will appear.

The latter only patrolled the roads under the sun, or stood guard in groups of three or five at the end of the road, and had no courage to go into alleys or dark corners alone.

It can be said that Ys has become a lawless city, a city of evil, a city whose end is near.

Hebe frowned, reached out and dragged the musician who was hiding in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to attack, and threw him to the ground like a fish.

With a crisp snap, the musician was rendered powerless to resist.

Now, Hebe no longer expects to learn the truth about the Issu Incident from their minds.

"Yes, this is the road leading to the inner city," Hebe said in a low voice.

In this respect, Ys, Memphis, Heian-kyō are similar in that they built high walls to highlight the difference in status and set up access control to separate the inside from the outside.

The problem now is that, on the very first day of the unrest, Mozart completely shut down the gates to both the inside and outside. The only remaining connections between the two sides are these remote paths.

Caligula and the others were also in the inner city.

After passing through a narrow, dark, and damp passageway and killing seven or eight foolish musicians, Hebe finally saw the light.

At this moment, she felt a strong urge to recite the Peach Blossom Spring.

However, after fully pushing open the half-rusted iron door, Hebe raised an eyebrow slightly.

"This..."

A rare look of astonishment and disbelief appeared on that delicate face.

The reason is simple.

Right Golden Tree, on the stone circular terrace, in front of the wooden throne, hangs a tall mast.

Hanging atop the mast was a ragged man. Whether nobleman, musician, or servant, anyone could pick up a spear and stab him for amusement.

The person hanging on the mast was Mozart.

He was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, the first musician of Remus and Grand Harmonizer known for his effigies!

Caligula sat on the wooden throne, raising his glass to his collaborators who sat around him in high-backed stone chairs.

The cup contains mead made from the purest dew.

In Issu, this highest purity mead has another name – "Hebe," meaning the legendary goddess who governs youth and immortality.

Such a glass of wine is enough to prolong youth for seventy years, but for Caligula at this moment, it can only prolong youth for five years.

His collaborators were much the same; in short, they had all enjoyed a long enough life and consumed too much Pure Spirit Dew... Even the sweat or tears that seeped from their bodies had the effect of diluted spiritual dew.

Elizabeth had planned to target these citizens once all the Pure Water Spirit were exhausted, and even the Muddy Water Spirit and the Northerners were depleted.

"How much Spirit Dew do we still have in reserve?" Caligula asked, his eyebrows dancing with excitement.

"Your Majesty, our spiritual dew is enough to flow for eternity without running dry," replied the attendant holding the Water Bottle. "All the waters of the world flow towards Yisu, and the Golden Waterways carries an inexhaustible supply of spiritual dew..."

Before the servant could finish speaking, Caligula, in high spirits, poured the mead into his mouth and then embraced and kissed him.

The collaborators around them exchanged glances, some with interest, others with hidden disdain.

The Mad Caligula... Legend has it that he was cursed after speaking disrespectfully to the moon at the time of his birth.

When he is under the full moon, he falls into a completely uncontrollable madness; moreover, his personality is quite extreme, so the elders would rather choose Nero than Caligula.

Although Nero also has those capricious flaws, he seems gentler compared to Caligula, who is completely uncommunicative.

"Your Majesty," the head of the Musicians' Association emphasized, "You have held four banquets in a row... I think it is time to announce the decree to distribute the dew that Mozart withheld from everyone's share of spiritual dew."

Caligula released the limp servant from his arms, chuckled, and shook his head.

The head of the Musicians' Association had just frowned when his body went limp uncontrollably, and his gaze towards Caligula softened. A strange thought began to surface in his mind: he wanted to be subjected to Caligula's wanton actions...

"Damn it!" The manager with the gray beard cursed under his breath and sat back in his high-backed chair.

The collaborators exchanged glances, and each read regret in the other's eyes.

The symbol of the Philosopher King is a golden crown, a ceremonial staff, and a purple royal robe.

The golden crown was taken to Pavielon by the Philosopher King, while the fasces was destroyed on the battlefield along with Nero, leaving only the purple royal robe, which was sealed and collected by the elders.

Among them, the golden crown symbolizes the rule over Divine Authority and spiritual authority; the ceremonial staff signifies the authority to govern war and punishment; only the royal robe dyed "Tyropures" signifies the rule over the secular and eternal kingdom.

The elders gave the purple robe to Caligula, intending to strengthen his symbolism in this way, in order to seize sovereignty over the Grand Symphony from Mozart, in the manner of the Philosopher King.

In fact, they did succeed— Mozart, for some reason, lost all ability to influence Grand Symphony.

Therefore, the counterattack and reckoning against Mozart can only succeed.

After all, Mozart had already integrated his achievements into the Grand Symphony, and now that the Grand Symphony has shut down its services for him, the once powerful Grand Harmonizer has instantly fallen to the level of an ordinary person.

Yes, the Grand Symphony stripped Mozart of all his abilities, even suppressing his very essence.

The elders looked at Nietzsche, who sat calmly at the end of the Round Table: if it weren't for this philosopher who suddenly appeared and insisted on this coup, perhaps they wouldn't have even thought of resisting Mozart.

But what happens after the rebellion succeeds? Caligula becomes a thorny problem.

You were the one who proposed making Caligula the symbol of royal power. Now that he's such a mad king, shouldn't you come up with a solution?

Nietzsche simply smiled slightly at the gazes of the elders.

"Please be patient, everyone. I think... the curtain is about to rise."

223 The Past of Atlantis

Mozart was on a cross-shaped mast that few people knew about at that moment.

His arms were twisted and bound behind his back, and he was suspended high in the air. His pale, thin face was furrowed in a somber expression; the unique constitution of the Issu people brought him unbearable torment and humiliation at this moment.

Another time. Another time.