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Chapter 282 That Is How Big a Pigeon Is!

Robin, clad in a red ceremonial robe, walked into the dark basement. His eyes were cold under his hood. Thick blood bubbled inside the pool. Naberius walked out of the pool without any clothes on. His skin continuously withered away and grew back. After shedding the aged appearance, he recovered his youth. He was no longer injured.

He stepped onto the stone and walked forward. Darkness wrapped around him like a black robe. "I really waited for so long." He smiled at the Robin. "Were you busy with something?"

"None of your business." The Robin glanced at him. "Didn’t I say to not message me unless necessary?"

"Frankly, I don’t want to see your face either." Naberius sighed helplessly. "But I couldn’t help it. There’s a problem with the decoding of the Elizabeth Tower."

The Robin furrowed his brows. "The enchantment was created by the Purple Branch and has a core inheritance. Does Ingmar not even have the ability for reverse decoding?"

"It’s not the ability." Naberius shrugged and pointed at his head. "It’s here."

With that, he pulled open the secret door and guided the Robin. There was another door at the end of the tunnel. A frail old woman was sitting in a chair before the door and sleeping under the dim light. Seeing their arrival, she moved aside without speaking.

"Did he take the medicine?" Naberius asked.

The old woman nodded and pointed at the foul-smelling kettle in the corner. "He just had it and calmed down after a bit."

Naberius nodded in satisfaction. He motioned for the Robin to be quiet and opened the door. The room behind it was covered in colored paper. Some were filled with orderly music notes. Others were scribbled with messy brainstorming. Still, others had the alchemy process written on them.

Even more pages were covered in strange and undecipherable doodles. They looked like pictures of various horrible deaths. One could vaguely make out a one-armed man pierced by thousands of arrows, a white doll with a big head that was ripped apart by horses, a blonde man hacked into pieces… A man with graying hair knelt amongst the papers, fervently scribbling on a piece of white paper with a crayon. The frail sickly body and wild eyes were terrifying.

Naberius stood beside him. Bending over, he called softly, "Ingmar, Ingmar." The man known as Ingmar continued to draw with his head down. Naberius reached out and took the paper away. "What are you drawing? Why don’t you show Uncle? Come, be good kids and show Uncle!" Using all his strength, he yanked the paper from Ingmar. Without it, Ingmar stopped moving. He sat on the ground dumbly and muttered something to himself.

The Robin took the paper and furrowed his brows at the scribbled sketch for a long time before looking up. "Is this…a pigeon?"

Hearing the word ‘pigeon,’ Naberius’ expression changed. However, the Robin had already said the word and it could not be taken back. On the ground, Ingmar began twitching and screamed as if seized by psychosis, scrambling around on the ground.

Finally, he had nowhere to go except curling in the corner. He tried to cover himself with the ripped pieces of paper. With terrified yet blank eyes, he chanted, "Pigeon, pigeon, pigeon…" Suddenly he began cackling and looked up at Naberius. "Why is the pigeon so big? Such a big pigeon…it flew!"

No one reacted to him. He tossed the shreds into the air and cheered happily, "It flew! It flew! The pigeon flew! But why is it so big?"

"…" The Robin glanced at Naberius and waited for an explanation.

"Can’t help it. This is the aftershock from breakdown of his sound of heart." Naberius sighed. "His blood pressure shot up and his brain was already messed up when he was treated. He couldn’t be saved even if he was turned into a dark musician. I never thought that the first follower who trained in the name of God in these sixty years is a retard…ha."

They left the room and closed the door.

"You can’t mention anything about deciphering ancient texts before him now. You can’t talk about the Voynich Manuscript either. If you’re lucky, he’ll be lucid the entire day. If you’re not lucky…then it’s hard to say." Naberius sighed. "He can’t do anything in this state."

"We don’t have time for him to go crazy like this," the Robin stated coldly. "Inject opiates, raise the amount, and use the prescription for the dried petals agent. Inject it until he’s lucid."

"What if he dies?"

The Robin glanced at him. "Does it matter if he’s alive or not if we get the result?"

"Fine, hand this over to me. No dark musician is more knowledgeable about drugs than me." Naberius nodded and changed the topic. "However, Holmes is a bit more difficult. I’m worried that he might be planning something. He hasn’t appeared in a while."

"Just do what you need to do," the Robin said lightly. "Don’t take your work lightly. It’s easy for God to punish you for sixty more years."

"Don’t say those scary things. I’m already scared." Naberius sighed in disappointment. "I had wanted to hear some encouraging words from you. But what if I can’t do it?"

"I have plans." The Robin turned around and left, disappeared into the darkness.

-

It was the afternoon three days later by the port. Rotten leaves flowed through the sewer with the dirty water into the sea. Amidst the scent of fish and sounds of hawkers, a cargo vessel stopped by the bank. The second shipman Bonin directed the two sailors to move a wooden box to land.

"We’re finally here."

They had sailed for three days and nights. During the entire trip, people had handed items to him continuously. When they finally reached Avalon, the wooden box was already stuffed completely.

The items were covered in wax paper and seemed to be iron. They made him curious but Bonin did not dare to open them. Having lived off the sea for so many years, he knew well what happened to the guys who did not follow the rules. It would be okay if they were other smugglers but this was what the Shaman asked for. No one dared to try anything. Those who had were all dead.

Furthermore, who knew if it was something troublesome or not? Sometimes, one could lose their life just for a glance. It was stupid. As a small smuggler, Bonin had been forced to take this tricky job. Of course he felt anxious.

These past few days, he had imagined countless scary schemes and evil plans. He had been nervous the entire trip. Now that he was in Avalon, he just wanted someone to take the things off his hand. But why was the connection not here? Did they…

For some reason, he was nervous. He was standing under the blazing sun but he felt an eerie chill haunting him.

God bless, did I really get dragged into some untouchable mess? He swallowed thickly and glanced fearfully at the crowd. He was not sure if he should remain here anymore.

"Bonin?" a cool voice sounded in his ear.

Jolting, he spun around but saw nothing. A blurry shadow looked at him from the distant.

"Come see me," the voice said.

Bonin looked up instinctively and saw a pair of cool eyes. The eyes were pure black but felt like they were made of colored glass. They were bottomless as if an invisible vortex was hidden within them. One could not look away.

When Bonin snapped out of it, he was standing in the middle of a busy market. A youth sat on the steps, leaning against the corner before him as if sunbathing. He was squinting his eyes and humming an unclear and distant song.

Beside him, the hawkers yelled loudly. Sailors had taken over every bit of the dock to transport the goods. Passersby came and left; some crude sailors had already started to fight, filling the air with cheers and insults. But for some reason, no one noticed the youth. It was as if he did not exist in this world. Then what was there? An angry spirit?

Bonin was covered in cold sweat and he trembled. However, the youth tossed a strip of paper into his arms and pointed at the empty space at the front. As if freed, Bonin threw down the box and ran away without looking back.

After going far, far away, he finally had the courage to turn around and look through the crowd. This entire time, the youth had never opened his eyes. It seemed that he was napping in the afternoon sun.

Bonin looked away, not daring to look anymore, and ran to the port. No matter what, this creepy job was over.

After a long, long time, the youth finally woke up from his nap. Rubbing his face, he climbed up from the ground with a troubled expression. "How did I fall asleep again?" he muttered. "I knew I shouldn’t have spent the whole night playing cards. I lost so much too. Ah…I hope Auntie won’t be mad."

He jogged into the bakery on the side of the street. Soon, angry scolding came from the store. The youth ran out while bowing submissively and brought a fresh loaf of bread to the inn across the street.

The box had been tossed onto a carriage by the workers transporting vegetables. The carriage galloped down the street and stopped before a restaurant. Workers unloaded the fresh vegetables, meat, and seafood.

The wooden box that was mixed in was taken by the workers to an Indian restaurant. A man with a turban and a hookah pipe ordered a few kids to bring the things into the kitchen.

"Boss, isn’t there another box?" a child worker asked in confusion.

"What box?" The boss glanced at him. "This is how much we order every day. Why would those stingy Angloians give us an extra box? It’s already a feat for them to not cheat us ten pounds."

The child glanced back in confusion but the wooden box was already gone.

Just like that, the wooden box was accidentally taken around Avalon the entire afternoon. Finally, it was tossed into the postal carriage as a regular package and brought to the Academy.

"Three hours and twenty minutes." Ye Qingxuan sat in an open air seat of the café across from the school. He stopped his stopwatch. "I’ve already calculated but there’s still a ten minute difference. There’s still room for improvement."