Chapter 1253 Sridhar's Deal <TOC> Chapter 1255 Ruins on the Plateau
Next page password is bold portion: -R*s94sLk#s4
Translator: SumTLMan
Bidding farewell to Sridhar’s antique shop, a journey of silence ensued until they reached the exit.
Perhaps perceiving the turmoil within Angel, Sanders mused for a moment before speaking, “Sridhar has his unique standards of judgment. He venerates balance, and in his taking, he also gives. He applies these standards not just to his patrons, but equally to those who suffer due to his transactions.”
Sanders paused, then suddenly chuckled, “Come to think of it, when Sridhar first entered the Wizarding World, he was somewhat similar to you.”
“But, you surpass him. Even when you face issues that unsettle your heart, you can still confront them rationally and objectively. However, the young Sridhar was exceptionally impassioned.”
This was the first time Angel had heard Sanders share anecdotes from his past. Intrigued, he asked, “And what happened afterward?”
“Human life is fleeting, and human nature is elusive. The longer the journey, the more you come to understand. Time eroded Sridhar’s fervor, and even the most naive cannot withstand repeated trials and tribulations.” Sanders refrained from elaborating on ‘trials and tribulations,’ and instead, continued, “In retrospect, I believe Sridhar today has not changed much. At least, compared to others in the Wizarding World, he has managed to retain his original intentions over hundreds of years.”
Sanders turned to look at the row of cursive letters engraved on the gate wall——
“If you are willing to burn the radiance of life in exchange for a single rose. I suppose, you must be mad.”
Although this quote originated from —The Florist Who Danced For Sin—, the actual author of the book was Sridhar himself. By inscribing these words on his front gate, he was not only declaring his identity but also signifying his personal journey.
He was both narrating his story and introspecting.
Because once, in a moment of rashness, he had traded his life for an inconspicuous rose.
…
They embarked on the Gondola, taking to the skies.
Just as before, the Gondola was shrouded in Sanders’ illusion magic, imperceptible to others. But even if this illusion was absent, the current weather was such that few would pay heed.
Thick fog.
And not just any fog, but a fog arising on a gloomy day.
The overcast sky cast the whole of Shepherd City Beneath the Thick Fog in a gloomy bluish-black hue, teetering on the edge of being clear enough to see, yet also hazy enough to cloud vision.
The fog, while not dense, further reduced visibility, except for the areas immediately near streetlights or buildings illuminated by internal lights, everywhere else was a vague silhouette.
Angel steered the Gondola, flying towards the outskirts of Shepherd City.
Throughout the journey, Angel, having experienced an epiphany due to his previous transaction with Sridhar, was lost in self-questioning contemplation. Sanders maintained his silence too, his mind still grappling with the wave after wave of shock that Angel had previously imparted.
For a while, the atmosphere remained silent.
It was only as they approached the periphery of Shepherd City that Angel snapped back to reality. Not because he had figured things out, but due to a gleam of light that caught his eye from the ground below.
Beneath them was an uphill road, lined with the outlines of buildings on both sides. Devoid of streetlights, the illumination from within the buildings escaped out, sparing the uphill road from utter darkness.
This uphill road wasn’t part of the main city route, hence the city’s development plan hadn’t extended here, and the ground wasn’t paved with tiles but was simply a dirt road. A drizzle seemed to have occurred the previous night, leaving the road significantly muddy.
At that moment, a solitary figure, holding a lantern, was struggling up this muddy incline.
The figure was wearing a rain cloak, so at first, Angel didn’t pay it much heed, thinking it was just a lone traveler. What drew Angel’s attention was when she slipped because of the slick ground, taking a tumble.
She lay prostrate on the ground, her cloak hood had tumbled down due to her movements, revealing her silver-white hair in all its glory.
A fallen oil lamp lay nearby, casting a dim and yellow glow, which just happened to illuminate her visage. From high above, Angel could see a face, aged by time and wisdom, bathed in this soft luminescence.
It was an elderly woman, the very same one Angel had previously encountered in Sridhar’s antique shop!
As Angel studied the figure on the ground, a sense of familiarity swelled within him, so subtly that he himself did not register it. Preoccupied by his observations, he unknowingly halted the flight of the Gondola.
This, indeed, caught Sanders’ attention.
Peering down, Sanders could discern an elderly woman with white hair sprawling on the ground. She seemed to have stumbled, motionless for a while, as if time itself had taken a pause. After a seemingly endless interlude, she, with much effort, managed to sit up slowly.
She sat there, covered in dirt, on the incline. Her surroundings were bathed in a cerulean hue, occasionally pierced by specks of light. Mists hung in the air as the old woman panted quietly.
Sanders turned to Angel, “Do you know her?”
Angel shook his head, “I am not sure. There is a nagging sense of recognition, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
Upon hearing Angel’s response, Sanders took another careful look at the elderly woman on the ground. Compared to his earlier glance, his gaze held more gravity this time. However, his conclusion remained the same, “A very ordinary human being. If I were forced to point out anything peculiar, it would be a sense of incongruity about her.”
“Incongruity?”
“Her eyes don’t belong to an old woman. Yet, the aura of senescence around her seems genuine.”
Sanders’ words triggered a flood of narratives in Angel’s mind from the stories in the holographic tablet, “Could it be, a young soul has intruded into the shell of an aged woman?”
Sanders chuckled lightly, “If a soul could so easily seize the body, why would there be so many wandering spirits in the world? The infiltration of the soul is laden with restrictions. How could a soul capable of overcoming such restrictions choose to inhabit an aging woman whose time is fleeting?”
“Moreover, this individual’s soul and flesh are in harmony; there is no contradiction.”
Angel seemed to ponder, as if something had dawned on him. “I’ve seen her in the antique shop before. Could she be a guest of Lord Sridhar? Has she traded her youth and life span to achieve her current state?”
Sanders mused for a moment, “It’s possible. But even if it’s a simulation of her younger self, I haven’t seen it.”
The elderly lady on the ground finally managed to stand. Her foot seemed to be twisted; she had to hold onto the railing by the side of the path, slowly making her way forward. As her silhouette gradually faded into the distance, Sanders told Angel, “It’s time to go.”
Angel nodded in agreement. Whether he recognized the old lady or not, he could be sure that even if he had a familiar feeling, it wasn’t strong enough to identify her immediately. It seemed that this elderly woman was probably not someone he knew well. At most, a familiar stranger and moreover, an ordinary person… there was no need to continue wasting time thinking about it.
With that thought, Angel took one last look at her staggering silhouette before he drove the Gondola towards the distant blue-black horizon.
…
Ananda looked up at the blue-black sky, shrouded in heavy fog.
For some reason, she had felt as though someone had been watching her, and that the gaze was from the sky. However, after a long observation, she didn’t detect anything unusual.
Could her senses have been wrong?
At that moment, at the top floor of a four-story building on the side of the road, a window was pushed open. The head of a chubby boy, whose features were obscured by his plumpness, appeared.
The tubby adolescent in question was likely around thirteen or fourteen. Upon setting eyes on Ananda, his orbs sparkled, rapidly followed by a shift in gaze as if a thought had dawned on him. In an instant, his chubby cheeks sucked in, and a globule of phlegm, following a parabolic trajectory, was launched towards Ananda’s location.
Nevertheless, the accuracy of this mischievous lad left much to be desired; his expectoration fell a good five or six meters short of Ananda.
Ananda glared menacingly at the round youngster, the desire to reprimand him coursing through her veins, but her current frailty couldn’t support such a vehement outcry, leaving her to grumble softly, “Damnable urchin. Were it just a few days prior, I’d have climbed up and dismembered your limbs!”
However, as much as she vented her wrath, her current frail state was no match for the robustness of the lad.
All she could do was spit in frustration, hunch her back, and shuffle away. The mocking laughter of the boy resonating in her ears.
The prank, courtesy of the hellion, detracted Ananda from her earlier sense of being spied upon. Perhaps that intrusive feeling was simply the residents of the nearby high-rise buildings making light of her stumble.
Ananda, a cloud of gloom hanging over her, exited the uphill road. Her current dwelling was still several hundred meters away. In the past, she could’ve sprinted there in a matter of minutes. However, in her present condition, that distance felt as endless as the dozens of miles she used to traverse, wearisome and drawn-out.
Ananda slowly shuffled her feet, a sense of stiffness permeating her bones and muscles, causing her great discomfort. Moreover, a prior ankle sprain added to her mobility woes.
Barely covering over two hundred meters, Ananda found herself unable to press on, reluctantly resting on a flower bed at the roadside.
During her rest, Ananda’s ears suddenly caught the melody of an entrancing hymn.
Curiosity piqued, she turned her head, only to find that the hymn was originating from a theater behind her.
Ananda was familiar with this theater. It hosted children’s choirs during the day and adult ensembles in the evening. In her days before aging, she had attended a performance. However, as a Lowesyan, she could not appreciate this mellow music. Rather than enduring these ambiguous, excessively sentimental love poems, she would have found it far more enjoyable to take in an adult stage drama at the Enchanting Fragrance Grand Theater.
Now, the melodies that emanate from the theater bear the very essence of sentiment and passion, the very tunes that she once held distaste for.
Nevertheless, it might be her resigned compulsion to listen, or perhaps the recent unpleasant occurrences she’s endured, that, while immersed in the harmony from within, Ananda starts to find these amorous verses less repugnant than she once thought.
In fact, she becomes entranced.
The choir narrates a romantic tale of a libertine nobleman and his true love. Sadly, after overcoming countless trials and tribulations, the lovers are finally united, only for the nobleman to meet a tragic end, succumbing to a disease caused by the indulgences of his youth, leaving behind the devoted damsel who was his faithful companion throughout life.
The narrative may be cliché, but the romance ballad is a beautiful one.
“How many have loved your presence, the silhouette of you when the night’s coconut flowers bloom. Admired your beauty, loved the slender waist of yours that could be encircled with a mere grasp.”
“How many have yearned for you, the profile outlined by the quill of a white goose. Yearned for your past, the radiance of your smile bright as the stars.”
“But time has carved its own memory on your face.”
“Though you may age, though your face may be etched with wrinkles, though everyone else might abandon you, but I, just as I was back then, await you in the mountains, behind the twinkling stars, and in your memories.”
Perhaps Ananda has never experienced such a love, but the stark contrast before and after time’s metamorphosis has etched itself deeply into her heart. Not long ago, she was a young, ravishing maiden, but now… She’s covered in wrinkles, looking as old as if she were on the verge of entering her grave.
“Would anyone still care for someone like me now?” Ananda murmurs softly, an image of a young boy involuntarily surfacing in her mind. He was her childhood companion, Wimbledon.
“The verses in the song were right, love eventually fades, and youth too will age.” Ananda takes a deep breath, “As long as I’m able to tread this path, everything is worth it.”
With this thought, Ananda rises once again. Her home is just two hundred meters away.
Once she reaches home, she can take the potion obtained from Sridhar, even if it means sacrificing her youth, even if it entails acceding to Sridhar’s devilish terms. As long as she can succeed, she’s willing to pay any price!
Chapter 1253 Sridhar's Deal <TOC> Chapter 1255 Ruins on the Plateau