A rift tore open in the sky, staining the eternal twilight with a streak of black. It spread like a haze, as though it meant to plunge the forest into eternal night.
The distant thunder had yet to reach the forest, much less break the peace of the Ebony Forest.
The Hundred Faces Troupe was still performing a comedy in the theater.
This was already their sixth play.
Looking at the faintly puzzled faces in the audience, Ponto, who had transformed into a red Tiefling, felt as though several nails had pierced his backside.
The audience's uncertain murmurs made it difficult for him to focus on his performance. "Hasn't this celebration gone on a little too long?"
"In previous years, we'd already be making wishes by now—"
"Surely nothing's gone wrong with the ritual?"
They could hardly fail to notice how strange this celebration was—the Hundred Faces Troupe, the bard, and even the carnival's circus performers had already returned for two encores.
Ponto had no idea what had happened. As soon as his part was over for the moment, he hurried backstage to question Tang Qi, who sat motionless. "What exactly is going on?"
He had a feeling Tang Qi knew something.
Although Tang Qi was only an outsider, their experience at the Wish Palace had shown Ponto that he was no ordinary man—otherwise, why would Mr. Markwen, the Ebony Forest's hero and most seasoned veteran, have followed him personally?
But today, Tang Qi seemed different.
He didn't look as... lively as before?
Ponto couldn't quite describe the feeling. The bard before him simply seemed dazed, his eyes vacant as he adjusted his Lute almost mechanically, even though Ponto could hear nothing wrong with its tone.
Strangely enough, he could still answer Ponto's question. "Ah, nothing—tell me where the snail