RoleplayNovel Chapter 41 Dream
Chapter 41 Dream
Chen Mo stood there, looking down at the grassy ground beneath his feet, which smelled of earth.
The grass here grows very tall, up to his knees.
The grass blades were grayish-green, dull as if their color had been absorbed by something.
When the wind blows, the grass rustles, like countless snakes crawling in the grass, their mouths open as if whispering something.
He raised his head.
The sky was like a faded old silk cloth that had been washed many times.
There was a damp, putrid smell in the air, like the cloying, intoxicating odor of leaves and withered grass that had been soaked in rainwater for a long time.
The sunlight fell on his face, making him look deathly pale, as if someone had draped a veil over the sky, filtering out all colors.
The garden was surrounded by a heavy fog.
The fog was grayish-white, blending with the color of the sky, making it impossible to tell where the fog began and where the sky ended.
Chen Mo stood at the edge of the desolate garden's grassy area, watching all of this.
His gaze moved across the garden, from the tall, gray-green grass to the bare, black trees, to the jagged, strange rocks, and to the heavy, impenetrable wall of mist surrounding it.
Then he saw the three portals.
As far as he could see, deep within the garden, above the overgrown weeds, stood three tall gates made of massive stones.
They are three groups of huge stone pillars, with a hollow, rectangular opening between each pair of pillars.
The surface of the stone pillar is covered with patterns, ancient, rough symbols that resemble some kind of lost script.
The symbols gleamed with a dull, grayish-white luster under the pale light, like wounds etched into stone that would never heal.
On the other side of the door, there was mist.
I can't see anything.
Chen Mo stared at the three portals for a long time.
Then he heard voices talking.
The voice came from the right.
Chen Mo turned his head.
A long table was placed in the middle of the weeds.
The table is made of wood, wide and long, and covered with a white tablecloth.
The table was laden with food—cheese, mead, bread, roast meat, fruit, and cake.
The aroma of food wafted through the pale air, sweet and cloying, mingling with the damp, decaying smell of earth, creating an indescribable, unpleasant odor.
Two people were sitting on either side of the long table.
The man on the left has white hair and beard, wears a purple robe embroidered with gold and silver patterns, and his boots are pointed with the toes pointing upwards, like two overturned boats.
A subtle slyness lingered on his face.
The Mad God Shelgra.
Chen Mo recognized the person's identity in an instant.
Shelgra clearly saw Chen Mo too; he tilted his head slightly and grinned at Chen Mo.
Sitting on the right side of the long table must be Pelagius III.
His clothes were a yellowish-brown robe with exquisite patterns embroidered on the collar and cuffs, but the gold threads were no longer so bright, and in the pale light they shone with a dull, bronze color, as if worn down by time.
His nose was very straight, but the nasolabial folds on both sides of his nose were so deep they looked like they had been carved with a knife. His lips were thin, pressed into a line, and the corners of his mouth drooped slightly, as if he were someone who was always being picky.
The Mad Emperor, former lord of Solitude, and master of the side hall of Pelagius.
He, who had been dead for hundreds of years, sat at a table laden with cheese and mead, the sunlight falling on him and making the gold threads on his royal robes gleam.
His lips were moving slightly, as if he were saying something.
Chen Mo strode over.
Dry, bare trees grow on both sides, with no leaves, only twisted, finger-like branches reaching towards the sky.
The bark's texture is twisted, like wrinkled faces, like souls screaming, frozen in the trunk.
As Chen Mo approached the long table, he overheard their conversation.
The sound drifted from the long table covered with a yellowed tablecloth and reached his ears.
It was a hoarse voice, as if it had been suppressed for a long time and was struggling to breathe.
"Oh, no, that won't do," Pelagios said. "I don't feel well after drinking it. Besides, I have a lot of things to do."
His brow furrowed, as if recalling something that displeased him. "Too many troublesome people. Those who always disagree, those who try to fool others, and those who maliciously slander—ugh, my executioner hasn't slept for three days!"
Shergra sat on the left side of the long table.
He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the table, his eyes fixed on Pelagios, and the corners of his mouth turned up.
"You're setting too high a standard for yourself." His voice was as light and nimble as a cat darting across piano keys. "My dear, bloodthirsty little madman, Pelagios—"
His tone was as if he were coaxing a child.
"What would people do if they lost you?"
Pelagios' lips moved slightly, and his brows furrowed even more, clearly wanting to refute Sergra.
Shergra did not wait for his reply.
He leaned back, the front legs of the chair raised, and he balanced on his two hind legs, swaying slightly like a bird perched on a tree branch.
"You are the most outstanding Septine ever. Well, of course, we're not counting that old man Martin. He ended up becoming a dragon god, and that's no joke..."
He paused. His body stopped swaying, and his eyes looked at the sky, at the gray sky that covered his head like an old quilt, a hint of reminiscence in his eyes.
"You know what? I was there when that filthy thing happened. What a glorious moment! Butterflies, blood, a fox, a severed head—"
His voice rose in pitch, with an upward inflection at the end.
"Oh! And that delicious cheese!"
Pelagios looked at him impatiently and said, "Fine, fine, I know, just like you said, as you've said countless times before..."
As Pelagius III was speaking, he turned his head and saw Chen Mo approaching.
The young man who approached stood across the long table, bathed in pale light, with behind him the tall, gray-green grass and the bare, black trees with their twisted branches reaching towards the sky.
Pelagius III's body suddenly stiffened.
Like a spring that had been compressed for a long time suddenly released, his stool was tripped by the huge movement and crashed onto the grass with a dull thud.
"Auntie!" Pelagios's voice squeezed out from the gap in his throat, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"Why...are you here!?"