At the grand festival held on a planetary scale, a veteran Miltan singer was singing her heart out.
She sang and chanted at the same time, seemingly in a form similar to opera.
Her low notes were like the words of love he had once whispered into her ear, carrying the warmth of breath and seeping into his blood one word at a time; her high notes were like the glass shattered by lovers during an argument—sharp and painful, yet flashing with dazzling light.
This "opera" told an ancient Miltan love story said to date back to the Imperial era. The story itself was not complicated: An Imperial warrior was ordered to go to war, leaving his lover behind in their homeland to wait longingly for him. From their quarrels and disagreements before his departure, to her lovesick waiting afterward, she eventually learned that her lover had died. She sang, crossing light-years to call his soul back.
It was worth mentioning that in that era, the Miltans still had distinct genders. The absence of gender came later.
Master Gao listened in silence.
There was no denying it—the old artist was indeed an old artist. Her singing was truly infectious.
Of course, it was also possible that the Tier Three art structure was enhancing it, making the "enhancement effect" exceptionally powerful.
The audience's tears did not flow slowly. They suddenly burst their banks, as though some invisible force had seized their hearts in a death grip before abruptly letting go. Some covered their mouths, yet could not hold back their trembling sobs; others tilted their heads back and let their tears flow into their hair, as if shattered memories were being pieced together again.
Master Gao silently glanced at the system panel. Sure enough, several buffs had stacked up, and their