The art gallery was enveloped in a prolonged silence. Huai Shi was stunned in place by the profound heritage of the All Hells United Music Association. Bach, after all, is the forefather of all classical music theory— even if not the founder, he's an essential rule-setter, comparable to Newton in the field of physics. If musical theory had a Creator, he would undoubtedly be the one. There aren't many above him in terms of status. And yet, the association nonchalantly tossed an original manuscript from Bach—for all intents and purposes, a creation born of his lifeblood. With Huai Shi's current legendary cello performance skills, even he could grow from studying this manuscript, which speaks volumes about its value... No wonder the association gained the recognition of so many Disastrous Musicians. To those who are passionate about artistic performance, the association is nothing short of a treasure trove! Huai Shi pondered for a long time, breaking out in a cold sweat, "Uh, may I ask, does the association possibly have... " "No, Mr. Bach was not a Sublimator. Although his abilities were no lesser than any Creator, his artistic achievements ultimately did not receive recognition at the time," the skeleton said regretfully, "It is said that he turned down the association's invitation before he died, and his consciousness did not sink into the Sea of Silver, but was instead taken away by some unknown entity, granting him eternal rest undisturbed by anyone." Huai Shi fell silent for quite some time, suddenly feeling a twinge of regret and relief. Indeed, if a creator like Bach could prolong his life, who knows what miracles he might craft? But since such a person chose to face death, he surely deserved eternal peace. Looking at it now, the association had probably anticipated Huai Shi's visit all along; otherwise, why send him a piece that is most suitable for a cello adaptation? It was a clear hint: See, brother, music in Hell has such prospects, with comprehensive benefits and year-end bonuses—young talents like you not descending into Hell would truly be a pity! Fine then. Sensing the association's heartfelt enthusiasm, Huai Shi could not help but twitch a smile. You all really have your eye on me, don't you? Am I, the Secretary of the Book of Fate, the Second fifth of the Heavenly Kingdom Genealogy, supposed to fear this? Mere sugar-coated bullets meant to corrode my spirit—you shoot them at me, I'll swallow the bullets and spit out the coating... ""Aria", huh?" After carefully inspecting it for a while, Huai Shi exhaled deeply, "Good, lend me a cello, when do we start?" "We can start at any time." The skeleton bowed gratefully, the ghostly flames flickering. In an instant, the scene before Huai Shi's eyes shifted, and he found himself in a vast warehouse. A dust-proof case opened before him, revealing an ancient cello nestled in sponge. Despite the passage of time, it was immaculately maintained, not the slightest damage to be seen, and it even glistened faintly with the crystalline sheen that comes with age. Touching the cool body of the cello made him feel as though he was caressing a piece of cold crystal, and a light tap would set off ancient echoes. The strings had been removed and carefully preserved on the side, free of rust and with elasticity untouched, made of an exceptional material, with the art of twisting and preserving being flawless. Upon holding the instrument, Huai Shi could feel the Source Substance flowing seamlessly within it, indistinguishable from his own body, every subtle shift keenly felt. Feeling the nearly crystallized essence of the Abyss within it, Huai Shi involuntarily gasped. It could certainly be considered a Border Relic, right? "Fine instrument," complimented Huai Shi softly, his expectations for the master craftsman's work growing—if only he could also elevate his own cello to that of a Border Relic, even at the cost of more Source Crystals, it wouldn't be a loss. After all, current top master-level instruments are worth more than three to four million. After stringing the cello and tuning it briefly, Huai Shi tried playing a practice piece, and to his surprise, despite not practicing for a long time, his skills were miraculously smooth. Thanks to the relationship between the Sword Art: Ornament Play and cello performance, if he didn't have an hour to practice cello every day, spending an hour sword-fighting produced almost the same effect. How delightful that was! With his initial vacillation dispelled, Huai Shi lifted the cello, raised his head to the skeleton before him, "Let's begin." The skeleton nodded excitedly, donning an even more solemn dress suit, and bowed deeply to Huai Shi in sincere gratitude. In a flash, the light and shadows shifted around him. Amidst the darkness, a spotlight shone down upon Huai Shi's shoulders, illuminating his hands and the bow in his grip. He was now on a grand stage, and below it, the ancient skeleton sat alone within the empty auditorium, quietly awaiting. It was Huai Shi's first formal performance, and yet the venue was in Hell? Huai Shi chuckled softly, feeling as though something was amiss. But still, a stage is a stage, the audience is present, and the cello is in hand. Surely, that was all correct, wasn't it? So then, let's begin. The first performance as a Disastrous Musician. Beneath the light, Huai Shi took a deep breath, lowered his gaze to the sheet music on the stand before him. As the bow descended from his hand, like weaving notes, and with each careful movement, the first gentle strains of music rose from the strings like mist, drifting and spreading outward, carrying a melancholy imbued with joy into the air. In the audience, the Old Skeleton instinctively sat up straight, leaning forward. The ghostly flames within his eye sockets trembled with excitement, yearning to draw closer, to reach out greedily and bask in this merciful downpour. The cello solo that emerged from Bach's Orchestral Suites and now interpreted by Huai Shi in an impromptu rendition of the "Song of the G string", thus began! The cello hummed deeply, from the hands of Huai Shi. The melodious and gentle tune slowly emerged, spreading through the air, not aggressive, not fierce, but tranquilly like a spring, lightly covering everything, smoothing out restlessness and anxiety, bringing all souls to a state of peace. Merely listening quietly caused the long-gone dead to shed tears. Bringing peace to every pained spirit. Huai Shi once again fell into a trance-like state of reverie, gazing blankly at the yellowed sheets of music in front of him, feeling a great will surging within those lines and records—everything that the Creator once wanted to convey, the emotions he wished to express, the melodies he wanted to craft, which now seemed to emerge directly from the soul. Even though the instruments and mediums had changed. It was as if a teacher were standing beside him, each measure, each note, as if personally taught. The tenderness and mercy poured into the melody were wholly entrusted to Huai Shi's hands. The Source Substance of the Mountain Ghost poured into the body of the instrument like a torrent, blending silently into the invisible tune within the deep vibrations, filling the contours created in the past, extending along the changing main theme on its own, recreating a fleetingly transient miracle. That was indeed no mistake for a miracle. A miracle that existed only in this brief performance, like a flash of magical splendor that vanished in an instant—entrusting indiscriminate mercy upon this melody, soothing every suffering consciousness, allowing all despair to find tranquility, and letting all perseverance face the promised relief in the vastness of time. It became the gentle encouragement at the start of a lengthy and arduous journey, as well as resembling the end awaiting at the road's conclusion. In the tender sound of the cello, every loneliness and solitude seemed to have found its meaning. Even as time was spent in vain. It was as though returned to the once-packed concert hall, under brilliant lights, gazing at past companions, recalling the fervent symphonies and choirs. But all that had ended, just as even the most magnificent melody would meet its conclusion. At some point, the old skeleton had lain down in the chair, and just at the corner of his eye, a tear formed from pure Source Substance slowly fell. "How beautiful we once were..." He whispered softly, lost in the fleeting return to yesteryears. A return to yesterday. As the soft melodies spread from the stage, the entire concert hall seemed to come alive, the dormant lights lighting up one by one, and vague phantoms began to appear on the empty seats. Those phantoms of the past walked through the corridors, chatting silently with each other, their eyes brimming with hope and yearning. All the bleakness was given color by that tune. It was as if under the reflection of the tiny candles, everything submerged in darkness came back to life, revealing the splendor and magnificence of bygone days. Within the embrace of the melody, even the continuing roars from afar seemed insignificant. Even though the sounds were chaotic, heaven-shaking. Even as destruction loomed ever so close. But the humble music still spread, unyieldingly ascending to the heavens, falling like rain, sweeping across the scenes of destruction and the thunder of conflict, indifferently falling upon the earth. In this gentle melody, the struggle of the two great Genealogies had already escalated to its climax. . . Fifteen minutes earlier, atop the high walls, Ye Xueya slowly turned back, looking at her bloodied subordinates, her eyes subtly lifting. "So that's how it is?" She sighed softly, as if with regret, "Who is the traitor? Gu Yue or Gao Hao?" "It's Gu Yue." Luo Shen lifted his broken arm to make it easier for Shen Yue to bandage it, reporting promptly, "He killed Bai Hao, and after taking one Dark Gold Item and two Border Relics, he has already left. I didn't catch up." "You're not to blame; after all, no one is on guard against their own teammate all the time," Ye Xueya shook her head, "You don't need to worry. I'm afraid it won't be long before he comes to us." Luo Shen looked up, puzzled. "Intelligence is time-sensitive." Ye Xueya tilted her head, lighting a cigarette, "Especially now, as all our main forces are out, and the camp's defenses are weak—this piece of information will be worthless in half an hour. If they're going to act, it should be within these ten minutes..." Before she finished speaking, a thunderous explosion came from afar. A gigantic pillar of fire soared into the sky, releasing cruel light wildly in all directions, instantaneously eradicating an outpost hidden outside our base. Then came the second, the third, and even the fourth... Eventually, with the four pillars of fire engulfing it, the entire Ginza District was blockaded within. "Here they come." Ye Xueya raised her eyes, showing a pleased smile. It was as if her entire being was excited, eager. After enduring for so long... finally able to have a proper fight!

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