Chapter 183: Grand Performance

Chapter 183: A Grand Performance

The melodic notes of the piano rippled through the world, latching directly onto Mo Fei’s frayed spiritual anchors.

The fear that had just gripped his throat suddenly vanished, replaced by an intoxicating and irrational ecstasy. His tense muscles immediately relaxed. The phantom stitches twitched beneath his rolled-up sleeves... The decay of Flesh authority began to synchronize precisely with the rhythm of the staccato melody.

Clack.

Mo Fei’s leather boots stomped heavily on the stone slab, completely unaffected by his will. His left arm swung fiercely, fingers elegantly curling up as if trapping a phantom companion.

Across from him, Old Bai’s terrified face turned to alcoholic expression. His eyes were only slightly wide open, showing genuine sweat and panic, but the corners of his mouth blossomed into a broad, joyful smile.

He dropped the wooden box entirely. His elderly frame suddenly spun on his heel with the grace of a seasoned ballet dancer, his coat tails flying outward as he swept past a row of ancient bibles.

"Sherlock! Step, turn, kick! No—get out—and sliiiiddde!" Old Bai yelled, his voice cracking between a desperate warning and a joyful, rhythmic chant.

Mo Fei tried to maintain his composure and spoke. "Old Bai, I understand! I need to... one, two, three, danceeee!"

Old Bai: "The music is controlling our bodies! We need to break—twirl to the left and smile!"

"Stop smiling! You’re worsening this!"

"I’m not smiling on purpose! Splendid! But first, a little tap dance!"

Mo Fei tried to retreat into the Spirit World to summon the Mirror of Truth for the answers to break through the control, but the moment he raised his consciousness, the piano notes twisted into an upbeat waltz.

His mind blurred, the thoughts of the City of Light, the Sephirot, and the Angel of Death dissolving into a simple, overwhelming command: Dance. "What is the nature of this artifact, and how do I — spin gracefully beneath the moonlight!"

He looked at the spinning old man and said, "Old Bai, if I survive this, I will burn every musical instrument in this building."

"A bold declaration! Now, raise your arms and embrace the symphony!"

He grabbed Old Bai’s hand. The two adult men fell into a state of rapid mental decline, elegantly walking along the narrow hallway of the safe library.

The old scent of paper and ink seemed to celebrate with them, and so did the surrounding air.

Mo Fei’s tall hat tilted to one side, his legs perfectly circling the rosewood desk in a three-step spin. Every time his boots tapped the stone floor, a new wave of wild impulses in his mind nearly broke down. It was a joyful fall, entering complete madness.

Old Bai spun toward Mo Fei as both of their hands collided with each other and pushed themselves away.

Mo Fei’s hand moved toward his belt, trying to claw out his revolver, but the piano’s tempo spiked into louder music. Now, instead of drawing the revolver, his fingers snapped as the sound echoed through the secure library.

His hand swept outward, presenting a theatrical flourish to a towering bookshelf.

As Mo Fei’s boots danced rapidly on the slate, the heavy mahogany bookshelf began to tilt and sway perfectly. The leather-bound ancient Bible slid out of the trough, flipping in midair.

"Not the... cha-cha-cha... the forbidden texts!" Old Bai gasped, trying to move away, but the intoxicating smile remained attached as he let out a soft breath of satisfaction.

He kicked his elderly legs out horizontally. "Sherlock! Watch the — Dance, move hands, sing loud — door — let’s gather to the top of heart."

Mo Fei’s lips were stretched into a wide, painful showbiz grin of pure joy. He quickly spun three times and moved toward Old Bai, who grabbed his hand as they spun together before moving away.

Old Bai waved his hand, grabbing a nearby stick to use it in the dance. Both of their cloaks moved together by their movements.

An invisible force slammed Mo Fei and Old Bai back together once again. They were pushed toward the nearby table, where explosive mystical potions rested. Old Bai’s spectacles dangled from one ear, but his grin didn’t waver.

"If we drop that... spin, turn, dip! — we will blow up the entire organization!" Old Bai chirped merrily, his voice hijacked by the artifact to sound like a cheerful stage announcer.

Mo Fei snorted dramatically and quickly pulled Old Bai away. In his mind, the terrifying cosmic outline of the death angel Aiziq appeared, but instead of holding the history book, he wore a huge, shining top hat and performed a moon walk in the university hall.

The conceptual contamination had reached peak absurdity. Mo Fei’s top hat flew off his head, spun perfectly on the tip of a floating, glowing quill, and landed squarely back on his head backward.

The two of them pressed chest to chest, wildly dancing a super-fast waltz, spinning down the aisle. They kicked over the ink bottles, which splashed onto the floor, shaped like the high notes of music. The wind howled through the safe vault, beginning to howl.

They were dancing without stopping and entirely terrified out of their minds, celebrating their impending doom with the finest footwork the 19th century had ever seen.

Thump!

The heavy, lead-lined door of the archives was suddenly pushed open.

Lionel, his hair slightly dishevelled in his usual ignorant manner, stepped across the threshold, followed closely by the stern, imposing figure of Captain Benson.

Benson’s hand was already resting on the holster of his custom revolver.

Both of them froze from the sight. Although they hadn’t entered the boundary or the artifact yet. The dim gaslight illuminated a spectacular scene. The brilliant, enigmatic newcomer Sherlock Hermès and the veteran scholar Old Bai were currently locked in a passionate, high-speed dance.

Mo Fei was bent slightly backward, his face filled with a joyful, intoxicated smile, but his body executing a dramatic dip as Old Bai spun him toward the philosophy section.

Lionel blinked, his romanticized view of the occult underworld instantly shattering as he stared. "...Are we interrupting a promotion ceremony?"

Benson’s stern face didn’t waver, but his grey eyes tracked the duo with profound confusion. Even seeing them, they didn’t stop dancing. "Old Bai, I know the budget for the West District was approved, but this seems somewhat... premature for your age." He paused and added. "And Mr. Sherlock, as a new member here, shouldn’t you act more professionally? Then what is this performance?"

Mo Fei groaned underneath as the fresh embarrassment hit his mind, but suddenly it was replaced by a sharp throb in his brain. His brain was beginning to swell from the constant madness, making him reach closer to lose control if the artifact didn’t stop within a few minutes.

"It’s — one, two, three!! Move up, move down, move side!" Old Bai gasped out, his

face smiling radiantly while his brain began to violently ache as a sudden fogginess started to settle up, making him slowly lose consciousness.

Lionel first moved and took a step forward without realizing that he was entering the spiritual circle.

Mo Fei called out. "Don’t — dip and turn!"

"Mr. Sherlock. That’s an odd enthusiasm over a promotion." Before Lionel could fully process the words, the melody shifted, entering a grand, sweeping crescendo.

Lionel’s expression instantly blanked. His hand dropped from his coat pocket, and a sudden, radiant smile bloomed on his face as his boots began to tap rhythmically against the floor. "Oh. The acoustics in this room are remarkably... festive." With a sudden leap, he joined the fray, doing a series of theatrical jazz hands as he twirled toward the history shelves.

Captain Benson’s eyes widened. ’Wait... that’s not a celebration; they are losing control!’

He abruptly grabbed his charms, attempting to chant a secret phrase to activate the basement’s defensive runes.

While the battle-hardened, narcissistic member of the Midnight Wings slowly raised his arms, stiffly but firmly executing a perfect Victorian formal waltz step, moving directly toward Mo Fei.

Within the lead-lined walls of the library, under the flickering green light, the three enforcers of the law danced with absolute, flawless precision, while their sanity anchors slowly began to fray into pieces.

Lionel snapped his fingers, moving around with elegant movements, performing flawless steps. His hand grabbed the cowboy ha and moved his right hand backward, then smoothly walked backward to perform a smooth moonwalk. Finally, he spun and threw his hand into the air and murmured. "Oh, I’m so goddamn great, I never knew I was such a great dancer. I should become a model."

Captain Benson chanted the protective words to awaken the runes of the organization, but both Old Bai and Mo Fei were beginning to sweat hard as the pressure started to suffocate them.