Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

"It's best not to, Lyle, you'd better not get hurt in the slightest."

“Sister, we could let Lyle use the backstage area,” Beatrice suggested. “Doesn’t the opera house’s backstage area have a tranquility effect? ​​By weakening the concert’s power through tranquility, Lyle would at most get a migraine. Maybe the weakened elegy would even teach him the Soul Scream. Besides, sister, didn’t you want Lyle to stay with you until the end of the performance?” Beatrice smiled; she simply wanted to see Lyle suffer.

"Can I use the backend, Anna?" This seemed like her chance.

Ariana looked at Lyle in front of her and finally agreed to his request.

“Yes, Lyle, I’ll talk to Mr. Morales and ask him to lend you the backstage area so you can listen to the eulogy backstage.”

“Us? Sister?” Beatrice seemed to hear something.

“Yes, Beatrice, since this is your suggestion, I think it would be best if you were present as well. Not only Lyle, but I also hope that my sister can stay with me until the end of the Lament.” Ariana’s tone was firm, as if stating a fact that was about to happen. She turned to look at Lyle. “Take care of yourself, Lyle. Vampires’ senses are much sharper than yours. When Benny can no longer bear the singing, I hope you will leave with her.”

Ariana summoned a ghost that led Lyle and Beatrice to a backstage area, right at the edge of the stands, separated from them only by a curtain. Since most of the singers of the Lament for the Dead were incorporeal spirits, there was no problem with them blocking the way. For a long time afterward, Beatrice stood with her arms crossed, glaring angrily at Lyle.

The wait was always agonizing, and Lyle would occasionally peek through a crack in the curtain at the audience. After thirty minutes of packed houses and cheering, the lights went out and focused on the stage.

The performance of the elegy is divided into three parts: the initial sorrowful singing, the climax of painful singing, and the final peaceful singing.

The mournful accompaniment began with a ghostly solo, her voice melodious, mimicking the sound of raindrops striking the ground. Soon, the sound grew somber, expanding with each new chord added. As the atmosphere deepened, silence fell over the audience; creatures closed their eyes, and the lich's soul flame began to dim.

Like a dead man whose coffin has just been closed. In the rain, he is carried by the flowing water, along with sorrow, into memories where time stands still.

Every soul slowly sinks, like frozen snow. In the deep tomb, it can only slowly rust and decay in the coffin. All sound disappears, as if the time for the dead has come to an end.

At the end of sorrow, pain begins to fester, like a burning flame in the heart. Ariana begins to sing, and everyone's bodies tremble; their souls yearn to break free of their constraints and let their voices blaze forth. Death is not the end; the end of life should not be the end of the soul.

Ariana's entrance, accompanied by her soaring vocals, drew all eyes to her; she was the flame, and we were the moths.

Tremors erupted in every muscle of Lyle's body; his blood surged, his flesh convulsed. Nia emerged from Lyle's body and began to take over his form. But Nia herself was not in good shape. With her tentacles plugging his ears, he could feel their vibrations. Like Lyle and all the listeners, she was enduring the tremors that shook the very soul.

While Lyle was still relatively conscious, he had the capacity to consider whether the tranquility had failed.

Then, what he saw in front of him, a human in the audience, exploded.

His skin tore apart, blood and bits of flesh scattering into the air like fireworks. Soon he was just a trembling skeleton, and in his eye sockets, the flames of his soul were ignited.

He became a lich.

Arianna's song was raised to another level, and all the liches began to tremble, their teeth began to loosen, and their bones began to fight.

Click, click.

Lyle couldn't hear the sound of bones falling apart, but he could picture the liches crumbling. Their bones were scattered, becoming piles of bones on the seats. But the soul flames burned even more fiercely in the air.

White smoke formed on their bodies, outlining humanoid silhouettes along the soul flames. The soul flames thinned, spreading to every corner of the white smoke silhouettes. It became transparent and ethereal.

He became a ghost.

As Ariana sang, all the ghosts joined together in a soulful song.

After Ariana finished singing, she retreated backstage, leaving the stage to the spirits. She went to Lyle's side and began to check on him. Reassured that he was temporarily safe, Ariana breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the limp Lyle, quietly listening to the final, peaceful performance.

The Serenity Concert is a grand chorus, where singers and the ghosts present form a vortex of souls swirling in the air, praising the tranquility of the afterlife.

Chapter 222 Learning to Let Go

The commotion caused by the audience made the opera house erupt in chaos; it was hard to imagine that everyone present was a participant in a high-class concert.

"Ladies and gentlemen who wish to return to their original race, please assemble your skeletal structure in your seats or activate the resurrection device. The opera house's resurrection magic gives your ghosts a degree of recyclability. Please remain silent and stay in your seats. If you still have cognitive difficulties regarding your ghost form, we will provide an assistant for your resurrection."

A transparent spirit hovered above the opera house ceiling, its voice deep and resonant, carrying a comforting quality. Lyle recognized it as Mr. Moeller, one of the opera house's leaders, an artist and administrator.

"For those brothers and sisters who wish to join us, please go through passage number two to the compartment and find the administrators of the Secret Council to change your identity record. We will then guide you on how to live as a ghost in the Wandering City. Meanwhile, my orchestra also welcomes new talented musicians."

"Ladies and gentlemen who have been resurrected, please carefully check the functioning of your body parts and organs. You should know that after each elegy, one-twentieth of the audience members will be forced to become one of us due to various negligences. As a result, our opera house has become one of the ten areas with the highest accidental death rate in the City of Wanderings, which is a very serious blow to our reputation. If you really love music, love the elegy, and support us, please take responsibility for yourselves."

"Oh, of course, my lich friends, this reminder doesn't include you. I know you are my most loyal supporters; ghost liches are one family..."

"Oh, and also, my zombie friends..."

"My slime friends..."

Then came a long list of undead creatures, like reciting a menu.

“Mr. Morales has mild obsessive-compulsive disorder; he’s a perfectionist,” Ariana whispered in Lyle’s ear. After the trembling stopped, Lyle could finally hear her voice. Her hands were warm again, soft, and pulsating with a heartbeat. Ariana put on a disguise to savor that excitement.

"Have you learned the Soul Scream, Lyle?"

Lyle carefully sensed his body; it felt like a car with every pipe crammed full of sticky honey, just one tow truck away from being totaled. Lyle felt lucky; at least he hadn't exploded like a flesh-and-blood firework, all thanks to Nia.

“Nia?” Lyle found his little one on the ground, who looked like a half-melted lump of rubber.

"Are you alright, Nia?" Lyle reached out and touched Nia's soft body. Like popping a balloon, Nia suddenly stretched out her body, her lattice tentacles forming a large net in the air. Nia clasped her hands to her chest, her head held high, and with a piercing squeezing sound, a crack appeared beneath her mask and helmet, fragments flying everywhere, revealing a pair of lips. Between the two lips was an abyss, from which a soul-piercing scream was gushing forth.

Nia grew a mouth and learned to scream with her soul.

Nia ate her little dessert with her lips instead of stuffing it into her stomach as usual. Although she ate in a refined manner like a young girl, her sharp teeth left food residue all over her tentacles.

Ariana turned her head. "If Lyle had a little more cuteness in his head, I believe Nia would be much cuter."

Ariana expressed her dissatisfaction, and Lyle could only laugh awkwardly, "Don't worry, Nia is still young and will go through a period of losing her baby teeth. Probably every day from now on."

"Now that Nia has learned Soul Scream, Lyle, have you learned it too?"

“No, I still can’t, Ariana. The Lament really works. Maybe if I had let my guard down back then, I would have learned it now, just like Nia.”

“No, Lyle, I’ve seen your physical condition. You’ve already done your best. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Why are you so obsessed with learning Soul Shriek? Isn’t the final exam for Soul Studies about making Soul Stones? Lyle, Soul Shriek has little to do with making Soul Stones. Not learning it won’t affect your graduation grades at all.”

"But all my friends do it; it's just a fairly basic skill."

“Lyle, you are a human being, and you are special in yourself. I understand your desire to do everything well, but don’t forget who you are, and don’t abandon yourself in pursuit of perfection.” Ariana hugged Lyle, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Like me, Lyle, I know that no matter what I do, I can’t surpass Helena. If I try to become like her, I will suffer more setbacks and pain. I used to be like you, wanting to become another Helena. It wasn’t some lofty belief, just my competitive spirit. Being Helena’s sister was very stressful until I learned to let go. I just need to be Ariana, to be Ariana who loves Naslan, loves her sisters, and loves music.”

“Ariana…”

“Excuse me, dear sisterly Lady Ariana. As your sister, I was just forced to participate in an ear-torturing activity, so I’m a little hard of hearing now. My dear sister, could you please repeat that moving confession to me again? The part about your self-positioning.” Beatrice rubbed her ears, watching Ariana puff out her cheeks.

Ariana rolled her eyes. "My dear sister, 'My pranks on you are a testament to all my love for you.' Whose motto is that again? I'm just putting it into practice. You don't expect me to be bullied by you forever, do you?"

Beatrice stomped her foot on the spot, then turned and walked towards the door.

"Night is coming, I'm going to go to my own bar and get completely drunk. Nobody's coming to find me, you guys can just stay here and cuddle like a fusion monster until the end of time!"

Looking in the direction Beatrice had left, Lyle expressed his apology.

"Is Beatrice alright?"

Ariana smiled helplessly.

"It's alright. When a person gains something, she will lose something else."

"Is Beatrice the one who's lost?"

Ariana gave Lyle a light kiss on the cheek.

"What I've lost is time, time that I could have had to relax. I'm sorry, Lyle, Benny needs me more tonight than you do."

“Of course, Anna, you’ve helped me enough today. Go find Beatrice, but don’t let her get drunk.”

“I can’t do that. I can only help her minimize the harm she does to the surrounding environment when she’s drunk, and take her home.” Ariana straightened her clothes and said goodbye to Lyle.

"Lyle".

"what happened?"

"If you still have a grudge, I've heard that witches can use magic to mimic the screams of souls. You can try again."

Chapter 223 The Sharpness of Illusory Dreams

Trying to learn from a group of self-righteous feminists is not a good thing, especially when your personal safety, even your body parts and gender, are threatened.

Ariana wouldn't offer Lyle an impossible solution, so Lyle would naturally have shortcuts he could use.

During dinner in Naslan, Ariana and Monica discussed her prank on Lyle. It wasn't Lyle tattling; rather, the castle's mistress, Helena, happened to witness it. Although Helena's stone sculpture depicted a sweet smile, the usually aloof Monica surprisingly showed fear, making her appear pitiful.

The final decision was that Ariana's ghostly maids would take turns serving Lyle.

My comrades from the Necromancer's Figurine Club haven't returned yet, even after the aftereffects of my Lament have worn off. Liches are truly fragile creatures; this gives me time to make some bold attempts.

At this moment, in the Dark Fifth District of the Wandering City, the Invisible District, the abode of chaotic elemental creatures and formless demons, a tangible building was suddenly pushed open by three figures clutching their heads.

The blue cloud of smoke sitting on the counter emitted a sound like a fish bubbling, "Great, three tangible people have come to my shop, excellent! At least the door I foolishly built back then has finally served its purpose, hahaha, I forgot I don't have a brain!"

The puppeteer watched as the bubble people tumbled around in the hotel because of lame jokes, then turned to look at Shiny.

"Is your advice reliable? What kind of place is this?"

Shining placed a piece of ice scale on his forehead. "Well, it turns out that elements can't affect the temperature of the soul. Don't say that was my suggestion, that was Troy's. Based on his tone at the time, I'm not sure if he was reliable."

[Three days! You've turned your soul into a bloated mess, like a 200-pound waterlogged fatso! If I just crack open your skull, your soul will scatter like ripe dandelion seeds all over Andrei! Should I give you some credit for your perseverance? It's a miracle you even showed up in front of me! How could I not have imagined that after the brilliant Troy spent two hours teaching his student the Soul Scream, this genius student would turn himself into a soul bomb about to explode in just three days! My bad, you can't even explode a pile of shit! Damn Shining! You really gave me a surprise!]

If I told you there were actually three poop bombs, would you be a little happier, like you said, a pleasant surprise?

"Go to the inn in the Dark Fifth District and find Desiri," these were Troy's words, before I was thrown out of the Tower of Souls. Hopefully, Desiri can ease our pain.

The manipulator walked straight to the counter. "Boss, I'm looking for De Xili. You know where he is, right?"

Because of the stinging pain in his soul, the manipulator did not lower his voice. The three words "De Xili" made all the intangible creatures around pause for a moment, and then the whole place burst into laughter. A fire spirit's laughter and the flames it spewed out had a strange chemical reaction with the fog demon not far away. Perhaps that fog demon had a swamp monster relative.

The owner of the blue smoke shop ignored the small fire in the store and continued to laugh, as if blue liquid was flowing from the holes in his eyes. "You are the first group of young men I have ever seen who come to see Dexili so openly, and you are three liches, hahahaha."

"Is it funny that the Lich is looking for Dexili?" "It's hilarious, hahaha. Dexili is on the third floor, at the very back. You guys go ahead, let me laugh a little longer."

The walls here are well soundproofed; once you turn the corner on the third floor, the laughter in the lobby subsides considerably.

"Why can't Dexi be open about it? He's a dangerous figure from the dark side. Can I interpret their laughter as an insult to the lich, in the City of Wandering?"

"Who knows? Maybe they're feeling confident. After all, what can you do with a bunch of soap bubbles? Scrub them in the bath? I don't want to waste my soul stones on these people."

The corridor on the third floor was dark. Opening a hotel in the Dark Fifth District of the City of Wanderings was a stupid idea, because there was absolutely no privacy here. Sleeping in a hotel was no different from sleeping on the street. There were always some invisible things that liked to spy in the darkness.

The door to the last room was ajar, and an eerie purple light shone through the crack. The three unconsciously slowed their footsteps and peered through the crack.

The room felt cramped, like a crowded gypsy wagon. Several crystal balls emitting purple light served as the sole source of illumination. In the center, in a petal-like cradle, lay a human of about twenty years old. His eyes were tightly closed, and a strange expression graced his face. A pair of large, transparent hands rested on either side of his head, deep purple light particles surging into his ear canals from his palms. A gigantic, transparent phantom, filling the entire ceiling, grinned wickedly at the human in its palms. An Arabic-style turban was wrapped around the phantom's head.

Desili was like a genie, an evil genie.

"What is he doing? Toying with a human being?"

"What? You think you can be flexible? You actually have any compassion?"