Demon King: Hero, don’t run away!

The pale elderly man chuckled, moving a little closer to the crowd, and his playing of the music also ceased.

”The profession of a Bard often takes one across the world.

Perhaps we really have met somewhere before.

Sadly, I’m old now and no longer up to snuff; I can’t remember every person I meet like I could when I was young.

But somewhere in the depths of my being, I feel like we’ve met before.

I often tell stories to people; would you like to hear a story? After listening, perhaps you’ll remember something.”

At first, the oddly dressed woman didn’t care whether they had met somewhere, but the old man’s next words touched her heart.

”If you’re willing to listen to my story, give me a few coins to have a warm meal, I can tell this hero some special information to avoid the tragedy that just occurred.”

In this world, Bards are those who specifically chant blessings and bestow them upon others, perpetuating the tales of heroes or weaving stories from their own experiences during their travels, all passed down by word of mouth.

Because they possess a Skill that is highly aesthetic, coupled with heart-stirring blessings and the delightful sound of their playing, they often leave people longing for more, and large families or Nobles frequently invite them to perform.

That is their main source of livelihood.

But the world of Minstrels is quite cruel; it’s a profession that feeds on youth, and those favored are always the fair-faced young men or the universally beloved beauties.

Imagine, on a festive day, instead of handsome men and beautiful women dancing to lift spirits, you have a scruffy old man and woman, straining their voices, seemingly stuttering but in fact fervently chanting blessings—it would be a mood killer.

Of course, if the old man and woman could pull off various tricks, playing the fool to catch the wise, becoming the center of attention amidst all the Taunts, that would be a different story altogether.

The woman in strange attire recalled another Minstrel she met a year ago.

That Minstrel was graceful, dressed in splendour, which is what most people’s impressions of Bards probably consist of.

If a Bard did not save enough money when young, they would likely end up like the old man in front of her, destitute and nudging through remote mountain villages on the fringes, desperate for a meal.

The woman dressed in odd attire wasn’t interested in the story, she simply wanted to offer some charity to the elder,

”Since you say so, I’ll listen, but I hope it doesn’t take too much of my time.”

The old man smiled, ”I am truly honored, the story is not very long. Before it begins, may I boldly ask for the lady’s name?”

”My name is Pingru Kejie Wulais, the vice-captain of the S-class adventure group ’Sky-breaking Stone.’”

”A fine name indeed, I’ve remembered it,” The old man gently strummed the piano strings, ”Now, let me tell you about the tale of a hero who proceeded silently in the Darkness...”

The old man began to play a beautiful piece and started to recount a story about a man forsaken by the goddess, and also the tale of the Catastrophe’s maiden from a millennium ago.

The more Pingru Kejie Wulais listened, the more familiar it sounded, and finally, she realized that the Minstrel she met last time had told a similar story.

About half an hour later, the old man’s tale had come to an end.

Dishearteningly, the story’s conclusion the old man told was identical to the ending of the story Pingru had heard before.

—The hero who marched through Darkness embraced the Darkness itself, overthrew some tyrant who capriciously dictated the fates of others, but in the end, the hero was engulfed by Darkness.

At this point, the story abruptly ended.

The old man’s hand ceased its motion on the piano strings, ”I am very glad that you listened to the entire story I told.”

Pingru took out two large Gold Coins and handed them to the old man, ”A fine story, yet the ending is somewhat lonely.”

The old man chuckled, ”I often think so myself. This story should have had a better ending...”

”How about, in the end, a person comes to rescue the hero?” Pingru suggested.

The old man declined, ”That is indeed a very charming suggestion, and it would certainly make the story more pleasing, but that would...”

He continued, ”Differ from what this story is trying to convey.

If I were to write this story, in the beginning, there would be no heroes or perhaps everyone would be heroes.

The people oppressed by the tyrant, as long as they unite, would easily overthrow the tyrant’s rule and not let the story’s hero die alone.”

Pingru spoke, ”But dying in such a way is what makes one a hero, isn’t it?”

”You are not wrong,” the old man replied with a sigh, ”but unfortunately, you still do not understand the core of this story, but no matter...” He lifted his withered hand with a sigh, pointing southeast of the village, ”As previously said, I will now entrust you with the special intelligence I promised.

There is another Beastman Army southeast of the village, having crossed the border between two countries.”

Pingru’s brows furrowed slightly, ”Another Beastman Army has arrived?”

Just as Pingru was about to ask the old man how he had come by this intelligence, the old man had already turned away, humming a strange tune, as he slowly left the village.

Pingru did not pursue him; if the old man had wanted to tell her, he would have done so already, instead of just turning and leaving like that.

After hesitating for a moment, Pingru pushed off the ground with her feet, soaring high into the sky, wanting to personally verify whether the Beastmen had set foot within the territory of Luo Ze Empire.

Leaving the village, the old man touched the piano strings, sitting beside a large tree, slowly closing his eyes.

His consciousness connected with countless others, relaying the events that just transpired via a network of consciousness to his other ”selves.”

The harp’s patterns shimmered as the information recorded upon it followed the direction of the old man’s consciousness, landing on another new harp.

Not far from the village, a woman with an elegant figure and lavish attire slowly opened her eyes, greeted by the sight of a silver-white Armor emblazoned with beautiful jasmine flowers and shouldering a broad giant sword, dazzling under the sunlight.

A magnetic female voice emanated from the Armor, ”How did it go?”

The woman, also a Bard, smiled delightfully, ”Miss Jasmine, it went very smoothly. There’s nothing we can’t do once we get involved.

Her distinctive Magic Power has also been fully documented.”

”Characteristic Magic Power, Characteristic Magic Power, Ha—Ha—Characteristic Magic Power! Give it to me, quickly give it to me... quickly give it to me...”

Following Chaste Jasmine, a person with a naked upper body, half-crouching on the ground, huffed and puffed, hair disheveled, face drawn, indistinguishable as male or female, with a yellowish body partially like a semi-solid substance, wobbling like a Slime.

”Don’t rush; I’ll give it to you now.”

Strumming the strings, myriad enchanting notes wove together an illusory figure—it was the likeness of Pingru Kejie Wulais.

The yellowish figure, eager as a little dog, reached out both hands to touch the illusory figure, and soon after, merged with it.

The false version of Pingru Kejie Wulais thus made a dazzling entrance.