Silent Crown

Chapter 200 Fatal Weakness

In the next fifteen minutes, almost every one of Modifications was attacking in full force. Those guys were getting desperate. They seemed not to care about their lives anymore, gambling with their own dignity and credit despite everything.

They looked at the Music History department as if they were looking at enemies who had killed their fathers. They were so angry, so desolate. If a dirge was played now, it would be a great epic poem of revenge.

The turbulent aether burned most of the field into ashes. Ruins were scattered on the rest of the place. Even the goals on both sides had become crooked, almost razed by James\'s self-destructive attack. Unfortunately, it did not work.

The history department was two points ahead. Their players stood before the goal, then…Charles, that b*stard, froze the goal into a giant ice cube.

Bench Guy guarded outside and demonstrated how to build battlefield fortifications. It could be said to be a model example. Even the most fastidious professor would nod and praise it. The history department gained a lot fans back with this move.

In the end, the referee’s shrill whistle announced the end of the most humiliating game held by Royal Academy of Music. It finally ended…

On the stands, everyone let out a sigh relief, as if they were the survivors of a catastrophe. In this short game, all of them felt that their views towards the world had been strongly tested and shattered. In thirty minutes, their limits had been challenged four or five times. When the whistle sounded, they were already numb.

The eyes looking towards the music history team grew strange. Some of them were stunned and some of them were disdainful; others were slightly frightened.

No matter what, the team that had always been ignored by others had just won the game. They only had four people plus a dog to fight against the promising team of Modifications, but they managed to win two to zero.

They did use some means which were indescribably shameless, but they did win at last, and that made them legends.

They were the classic example of underdogs, causing many to be secretly shocked. Gazing at the young people hugging each other and cheering, their expressions involuntarily grew awed.

On the field, Bai Xi cheered excitedly while hugging Old Phil, running all over around and screaming. Ye Qingxuan saw her excited appearance and smiled wordlessly.

Behind him, Charles patted Bench Guy on the shoulder. "It’s all thanks to you. I\'m sorry that I doubted you before."

"I\'m just doing my job." Bench Guy smiled, not upset at all. "Besides, now you trust me, don’t you?"

Charles sighed and looked into the eyes of Bench Guy with a troubled expression. "Hey, you, are you a saint?" He always felt that he was blinded by Bench Guy’s radiance. Was this the so-called human brilliance? "Don’t you care about being doubted and distrusted?"

Hearing this, Bench Guy shrugged after a moment of silence. "Maybe I\'m just used to it."

-

Right at the exit, Ye Qingxuan saw James, who had waited for a long time. Seeing that Ye Qingxuan was coming over, James hummed coldly. He shook off his companions who were propping him up and limped over. He said hoarsely, "Don’t be too proud. You’re just two points ahead."

Ye Qingxuan looked up at his dark expression. He felt no pressure and just shrugged. "Two points still made me a winner."

James immediately wanted to hit him. He clenched his jaw and growled, "I’d like to see how far you can go with that set of despicable tricks."

Ye Qingxuan smiled and patted his shoulder. "Don’t think too much. You lost the game, but you gained our friendship!"

What f*cking friendship was this? Winning hatred was more like it!

But this did not stop Ye Qingxuan from emphasizing James’s previous words of "friendship first, competition second." There was nothing to be won with snide comments, but that did not matter.

Behind him, James growled angrily, "You won\'t be so proud for too long! People who use those crooked means will never win the final victory!"

Hearing this, Ye Qingxuan could not help but laugh. "Win? Who said we want to win?"

Yes, Ye Qingxuan’s team, since the beginning, had never gone intended to win the trials, but to not lose. It was clear from the players of the music history team.

What they had was: a failure who was stuck at the Rhythm level for eight or nine years; Ye Qingxuan, who had just entered the Rhythm level and was still building his foundation; and Bai Xi, who was not interested in music and always cut class; and a dog.

Bench Guy could count as useful companion, but compared the handfuls of players and golden combos, he was not enough. To win this game, they had mainly relied on Bench Guy’s strong aid, Charles’ fast reaction, Bai Xi’ supernormal performance...But in the end, they just won the game with despicable tricks.

If the enemy in the next round put in every effort to keep steady at the beginning and avoided strategic mistakes that Modifications had made, they definitely would not lose. After all, they had obvious advantages.

The number of players itself was an impassable moat and a fatal weakness. It was also a weakness that Ye Qingxuan could not avoid. He was not afraid to compete with technique or brain, but muscles…

Ye Qingxuan had learned with the exhaustive method. He gave up on illusory feelings and chose to study with the interpretation method. It was more difficult and he learned more slowly because of this, but he was confident in his technique.

This was the benefit of the interpretation method—as long as one mastered it, one could never go wrong. But he was very afraid of the situation at hand!

Since his debut, he had never fought face to face unless he had absolutely no other way. On the one hand, it was because sneaky attacks worked well; on the other hand, he truly lacked the skills…So if he had to fight face to face without any equipment on his body, he would definitely die. But if he wore the set of steel skeleton and Indra’s Eye, it would be like he was declaring to Avalon that he was Sherlock Holmes.

"This sucks." Ye Qingxuan sighed and covered his face. "This feeling of being stuck really sucks."

-

In the current competition, the hot contenders for the final victory were all from the four major schools. Two teams were from Modifications, one from Summoning, two of Revelations, and one team from Royalty. In addition to these six powerful teams, practically armed to the teeth, there was also a faculty team and a team of students.

After the first round of selection, a total of more than thirty teams successfully extracted credits from their opponents and qualified. But when everyone looked at the current list, they involuntarily looked at the bottom of the list—Music History’s team, five players.

Every time they saw this name, the students who had passed the last round of trials could not help but feel a strong sense of uneasiness. This name had been forced to the bottom, but they always felt that it would be like the last round of trials, and suddenly soar to the top, trampling over everyone else.

One must say that this feeling was really bad.

Really, really bad.

-

"You saw this round of matches. Do you have any ideas?" A disembodied voice rang out around Bart. It was Ingmar’s voice.

At the moment, Ingmar was still sitting on the bleachers, seeming to focus on watching the game without a word. But his voice sounded from the void, coming from all directions, as if he was wandering in the room. His voice was deep and clear.

This was a skill of the School of Revelations. They mastered information, as well as nearly all means of communication. Once a Revelations musician reached the Scepter level, they could even send their voice over thousands of miles.

Today\'s worldwide communication network had been created by alchemists from both the School of Revelations and Modifications. Most of the functions of the aether ball were drawn from the music of Revelations as well.

After hearing the professor\'s question, Bart mused for a moment and reported the names of several teams. "These people will be our main competition, as well as Banner. It’ll be difficult for us to win if the School of Royalty prepares to cultivate Banner, and if Gavin uses the power of the student council to help his brother."

"Of course. The School of Royalty’s status in Anglo is unshakable. You’re a freshman this year. Don\'t think about touching them yet," Ingmar said lightly. "What you need to do in this trial is to show your potential. Let the school board see that, and put you in the list of seeds. Later, in order to suppress the civilian musicians, the board will be biased toward the seed students. You have to seize this chance. I’ll tell our graduates of this year to cooperate with you."

"I promise."

"Good. But remember; don’t let those crooked guys swagger in front of you."

Bart naturally understood who Ingmar was talking about. He subconsciously cracked his knuckles and his expression darkened. "I saw their game. If we meet on the field, I’ll let them understand the gap between us."

"So you’re confident?" Ingmar asked lightly, taking a seemingly-unintentional jab at him. "Even now, you haven’t won that Eastern kid even once, have you? You were defeated by him. He made you lose your dignity and face."

Bart lowered his head and gritted his teeth, his expression unpleased. "Yes, sir."

"Then how can you have the confidence to beat them?"

"Strength and skills, sir," Bart said. "Those musicians can never catch up with the Revelations’ heritage and strength—not even in their dreams. No matter if it’s the practice of all aspects, the materials offered, or the teaching of precious movements, we all have the advantage. Moreover, they have a fatal weakness."