I transmigrated to an apocalypse overrun by monsters, and from the start I was jilted, expelled from the city, and left penniless.
Luckily, I had a System.
But its missions had a rather bizarre style:
"Use a guqin to play a Dark Tide monster into tears. The more miserable it cries, the greater the reward."
"Use your flute to make every drunk in a tavern follow your beat."
"Use drumbeats to help the aunties at the market sell all their fish for the day."
I thought it was some goofy training game.
Then I casually played a practice piece, and the whole room fell silent. The strongest, ice-cold female enforcer in the Nine Realms drew her sword and pointed it at me. "No one has been able to play this piece for three hundred years. Where did you learn it?" Three thousand musicians in the audience dropped to their knees in unison. "We bow before the Music Sage! Accept us as your disciples!"
Wasn't that just one of our school's final exam pieces?
Later, I became the only Music Sage in the Nine Realms, with three thousand disciples, an academy, and an ice-cold girlfriend who kept saying, "I'm keeping an eye on you," while freeloading at every meal.
Life seemed to get better and better.
But there's one thing I've never told anyone: there's an "audience" in my mind, three hundred blurry figures who never clap or speak. Whatever I play, they listen. They are just waiting.
I don't know what they're waiting for.
But every time the night grows quiet, I get the feeling that...
It's almost time.
Can't keep grinding? Then play a tune.
This apocalypse has been quiet for too long.
Now that I, Shen Tinglan, am here, you can forget about staying quiet.
