After her grand announcement, Aurina leaped down from the head of the clown bard, who was still spinning like a top.
She reached out, grabbing for the lute in his hands.
As a bard who had experienced hundreds of battles, the clown bard would never willingly hand over his instrument to an opponent in this “rap battle.”
It was his pride—just as a proud warrior would never abandon his weapon.
Yet the lute ended up in Aurina’s hands, the motion so smooth it seemed as if he had voluntarily passed it to her.
Seeing this, Sophia quietly asked Richard: “Does Aurina know how to compose songs?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only heard her sing three times.”
The first time was on the road—singing about a red dragon who was greedy and strong, who made a deal with Tiamat.
After striking it rich, not only did he not pay tribute, but he even robbed Tiamat’s temple.
The second time, she turned Frostsilver’s lengthy family name into a song—singing until Frostsilver grew furious.
The third time, Frostsilver directly ordered trumpeters to drown out her voice.
All three times had left a deep impression on Richard.
Richard said: “…Each one was profoundly memorable.”
Both Richard and Sophia watched Aurina curiously, wondering what lyrics she would compose for her counterattack.
“Ah~ ah ah ah ah~♪.”
Unexpectedly, Aurina simply belted out a joyful melody at the top of her voice—no lyrics at all.
She had never thought about lyrics; she only wanted to emit a string of sounds to express her happiness.
She never lacked happiness.
Aurina sang freely from the heart, her hands moving as they wished, fingers plucking the strings as she bounced and leaped.
Her voice was extraordinarily infectious; the joy leaped into everyone’s embrace.
No one could control themselves—their gazes locked straight onto Aurina, greedily absorbing the happiness she radiated with ears and eyes.
Aurina’s tail curled and flicked.
A noble youth was kneeling on the ground, about to offer flowers to his beloved.
The blooming rose in his hand vanished, appearing in Aurina’s mouth.
Biting the rose, Aurina leaped onto the ladies’ and misses’ table, raising her legs high, bouncing and dancing right on the tabletop, playing cheerful music.
The matrons recalled their own girlhood days, when youth still lingered—one happy memory after another flooding back.
The young ladies giggled, thinking of some joyful thing or another.
Aurina leaped backward off the table, leaning against them.
The women and girls reached out and caught her.
Aurina sang as she presented a rose to the woman she deemed the most beautiful.
Influenced by her, the orchestra unknowingly began accompanying her joyful melody.
The Emperor of the Yanting Empire repeated his command again and again.
Finally unable to bear it, he roared: “Get her out of here!”
Only then did the servants snap out of their trance, rushing down the steps.
Aurina had just emerged from among the fragrant skirts of the ladies and misses when she ran straight into the servants.
They grabbed for her but couldn’t catch hold.
They lunged, and Aurina leaped like a joyful fawn.
They crashed to the ground; Aurina stepped on their bodies.
The enraged servants reached out to grab—but seized each other instead.
Aurina dodged nimbly, and soon the floor was littered with servants tangled limb in limb.
Laughter erupted once more, echoing through the banquet hall.
The Emperor of the Yanting Empire’s face flushed red as he issued another order: “On the monarch’s territory, what I say goes. Make that orchestra stop at once.”
The musicians were dragged away.
Aurina dashed over like a red whirlwind.
Hopping on one foot, she used both hands, her other foot, and her tail to hold various instruments—drumming and plucking—adding cheerful melody to her own singing.
Applause broke out in waves.
Under the furious emperor’s command, invisible servants carried away the drum—this was the Emperor of the Yanting Empire’s ability.
Aurina sang and danced over to the military nobles’ table, leaping onto it.
Holding drumsticks in both hands, she struck the helmets on their heads, producing enchanting rhythms.
The military nobles were nothing like the matrons and misses who doted on children.
Someone shouted: “For the emperor!”
“Catch her!”
They lunged and grabbed, but Aurina’s feet danced nimbly, leaping forward.
Behind her, military nobles crashed one after another onto the long table draped in white cloth, dishes and food scattering everywhere.
Aurina’s tail seized a drumstick and wildly thwacked the Light of Destruction’s bald head.
He leaped up and down in rage, grabbing futilely—not only failing to catch her but getting his head struck every time.
“Hahahaha.”
Even the other military nobles laughed until they fell over backward.
At this point, the clown bard finally stopped spinning.
Staggering, he reached for his waist.
He was certain the opponent must be some powerful bard who had swayed everyone’s emotions—but he was no slouch either.
As long as he drew that magic harmonica, he could directly interrupt her turn.
The moment the clown bard pulled out the magic harmonica, Aurina—who had long spotted this item worth two hundred thirty-one gold coins—appeared beside him.
Aurina leaped high, doing the splits mid-air, both hands gripping the lute and smashing it forcefully onto the clown bard’s head three times.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Three notes rang out, the perfect finale to Aurina’s song.
Aurina landed and extended her hand.
The magic harmonica fell neatly into it.
She stuffed the broken lute back into the clown bard’s hands.
The clown bard trembled like a struck bell, his whole body of copper bells jingling, vibrating as he “shook” toward the only door.
He vanished through it, and soon came the sound of tumbling down the stairs.
Everyone laughed unrestrainedly: “Hahahaha.” Applauding enthusiastically for her.
In the future, this wordless melody would spread far and wide, eventually reaching the ears of a bard named Edward Hill in a distant foreign land.
Having served in the army for fifteen years, he had finally returned home and wanted to express his joy through song—but for two years, no composition satisfied him.
Until he heard this melody passed down from the Yanting Empire’s capital.
Inspiration struck, and he created a song titled “Homecoming Tune.”
But that is a story for later.
The cathedral’s bronze bell struck ten times.
The banquet finally ended beneath the Emperor of the Yanting Empire’s face scrawled with “I’m not happy.”
The six holy warriors of the Hand of Tyr Knight Order left through the hall’s only exit, breathing a sigh of relief in their hearts.
Only after arriving had they discovered that the vast hall had just one exit.
Upon inquiry, they learned that long, long ago, this mansion had been a fortress—with narrow windows.
If the exit were blocked, they would likely have to break through the walls to escape.
After retrieving their weapons, they breathed another sigh of relief.
Meeting up outside with the Hand of Tyr holy warriors who hadn’t qualified to attend, their numbers rose to ten.
Everyone finally relaxed completely.
Traveling in a group was a great hobby of the order-loving Hand of Tyr.
Sophia sighed in relief: “No blood banquet—truly wonderful. Dear, you don’t have to keep such a tense face all the time. And stop always carrying Aurina on your back—it’s easy to cause misunderstandings.”
Richard: “I can’t. She won’t allow it. Earlier, to get her to act, I made a deal.”
“Deal, yes deal.”
Aurina rode comfortably on Richard’s head, feeling she had profited greatly.
“I still feel like something’s off.”
“Brother Richard.”
The Haisha Port commander said: “Always keeping your nerves taut will make your bow go soft.”
Richard said: “A blood banquet carries a heavy price—but what if the emperor chooses to strike after we’ve eaten?”