418 Court Session

It was December 24th in the Sacred City. In the heart of the city, three sets of large doors opened in the solemn square surrounded by statues of saints. One led to the Papal Chamber, the core of the Sacred City, the core of the core. It was where everything saintly and theological resided. One led to the Holy Instrument Hall. The instruments of saints from various countries and other holy instruments, natural catastrophe scores, saintly inheritances, and other relics were kept there. It was a shrine for everything related to musicians. One led to the Sacred Court. It was where the Church and Sacred City executed and carried out all law and order.

Everything related to God, wisdom, and order in the world existed here.

Early in the morning, it was already bustling. A mass of people stirred outside the square. Armed guards tried to maintain order but the reporters who tried to get to the front could not be stopped. It had been so long since there was such big drama. It was the hottest news from the Sacred City in decades.

The first was Colt's identity as a hero being overturned. Then it was him being killed right before the Sacred City gates. Finally, it was the murderer accepting the arrest. And now, it was finally the day of the court session opened! This news had been brewing for the past few days. Even though it was censored, the civilians were still curious and attracted even more bystanders.

Of course, Maxwell had something to do with this. After all, the more people who followed the news, the less chance of dirty tricks. Pressured by public onion, the Amnesty Institute, in charge of the Sacred Court, put out the strongest team. The deputy minister Borja was the judge. For the past few days, countless events had happened. They were all stressed over this matter.

Outside the square, a cry suddenly sounded above the din. "They're here! They're here! I see the procession!"

Soon, a solemn procession moved through the cleared street. Between the armed guards was a sealed steel car. The crowd started yelling but it was too chaotic to tell if they were cheering or jeering.

"Well, it sounds pretty intense. It's big news, right?"

In the carriage, Ye Qingxuan sat layered in shackles. He sighed and glanced at the muscular black-clothed guards on either side. The guards and musicians acted as if he did not exist. It was boring.

Ye Qingxuan did not seem stressed at being the accused for the first time. He knew how serious his actions had been. He had already been prepared to die before he prepared the mission.

For someone who did not even fear death, not many other things were scary. However, if possible, Ye Qingxuan still wished to live. It would be great if he could live.

While he thought nonsense, the door suddenly opened. Amidst the din, Ye Qingxuan was forced off the car. He passed through the square between the many guards and climbed the white stone steps. When he reached the middle, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the crowd. The people sensed his gaze and the cheering or jeering instantly raised an octave. However, Ye Qingxuan's eyes moved past them to the quiet square.

There stood a black iron monument. The gloomy monument rose in the center of the square, between the Papal Chamber, the Holy Instrument Hall, and the Sacred Court. Ye Qingxuan studied it silently. No matter how the guards shoved him, his eyes were focused.

He sighed, "Is this…fate?"

This was the Tablet of Fate. According to legends, this was the top holy instrument. 'Fate' was something that could not be touched. It was also the hardest proposition. Nothing could escape fate's plan; everything was fated.

Even struggling seemed to be part of fate.

God held this invisible web, controlling how the world operated. But here, other than the abstract meaning, the word represented something else.

It was the Kind of Red's scepter score—Fate! It was the legend of legends, the mightiest of all mightiness—it was the strongest music score in the world!

This tablet was famous and even played a role in many legends because the entirety of Fate was carved on it. The Sacred City even put it out in public for people to look at. If a musician wished to study it, he could find a duplicate in any shop or stall. They were sold for five dollars per book or even a package with more resources for fifteen.

Of course, this was all useless. The structure of the music score seemed to be simple but no matter how it was played, it would have no effect. Practically every musician who came to the Sacred City would try to decode the tablet's secret but no one has been able to play it successfully. Other than the mighty King of Red.

'Fate' would only unleash its power in the hands of the Pope. There were no tricks or secrets. The melody just created unbelievable effects in his hands. It was a miracle.

In myths, people even said that anyone who could perform Fate would be the next King of Red. It was as if the Pope's crown was passed down through this mysterious yet odd requirement.

For years, countless researchers had tried to undo this secret. Three hundred years ago, decoding master Enrique had spent four days before it until he vomited blood and died. It added another mysterious veil to the tablet. After that, more and more musicians tried figuring out the secret. No one succeeded.

No matter how hard people tried, nothing changed. The music theory structure could not established. It could not have any effects and could barely even be called a music score. It was at most just a majestic symphony.

That was it.

Decades ago, the last grandmaster who had vowed to decode it finally gave up. He had used up forty years. From then on, the white-haired grandmaster decided to never speak of music theory. He gave up his status as a musician and chose to join the clergy as a regular priest until death. He had already witnessed the insignificance of the mortal man.

It was evidence of God's existence!

This was also why the Sacred City displayed it so brazenly. Only God could turn a failure into a legend. This was God's blessing; all glory and holiness naturally resided there. Therefore, only the Pope—God's apostle—could control the power of Fate. This was the King of Red's crown.

Created by God, it was unshakable.

This was proof of Fate's existence and of God's existence. This tablet established all justice, order, and the foundation of holiness. It separated God from men like a ruler.

This was why it could be ranked before all holy instruments even without any power or additions. As a pure piece of metal, it was able to be number one.

There was nothing more undeniable than that fact.

"A pity. I would be great if I could take a look." Ye Qingxuan sighed. He looked away and allowed the guards to push him through the door.

Behind him, the door slammed shut. After going through many gates and searches, all that remained on Ye Qingxuan were the symbolic shackles on his feet.

The final door opened before him. Under the solemn atmosphere, he stepped in and looked up at the holy emblem in the ceiling. It seemed to descend from the sky.

The time of judgement had arrived.