Adopting A Stray Cat Chapter 1389: The Sleeping Deity

Chapter 1389: Chapter 1389: The Sleeping Deity

Qin Sisi’s loud shouting did not receive a response from Kurosawa Highland, yet it startled her own camp, with Mu Chi, Mu Xi, and Chen Pei all staring at her, dumbfounded.

Only Ye You gave her an encouraging glance with a deep look.

Qin Sisi thought for a mont and decided to trust her intuition. She fiercely shouted at the three young people: "If you don’t want to die, then shout with ."

After she spoke, she ignored the strange looks from others and continued shouting loudly to Kurosawa Highland across the deep trench: "Brother Xicheng, I’m sorry, Brother Xicheng, Mu Ze is back!"

Chen Pei and the others were stunned for a mont. Although they didn’t quite understand the reason for Qin Sisi’s actions, they felt she must have her reasons, and they themselves sensed the terrifying beauty of the rainbow glow – they were young and full of life, not wanting to die here.

So, the three young people followed Qin Sisi’s lead and shouted loudly: "Brother Xicheng, I’m sorry, Brother Xicheng, Mu Ze is back!"

The hoarse shouts echoed across the empty land, traversing the deep trench filled with multicolored stones, and drifted towards Kurosawa Highland shrouded in mist...

The night gradually deepened, like every night before, always so quiet, so lonely, so desolate.

lancholic flute music drifted in the night, wandering far and wide in the tranquil environnt, yet seemingly still unheard, unnoticed by anyone.

After a very long ti, Inkwest City dropped the short flute, paced around the grand, elaborately decorated room, and finally lay quietly on the bed.

What of Deity, year after year, age after age, who can understand the loneliness of one person?

So, he let himself sleep, and that sleep lasted for thousands of years.

"Thud, thud, thud..."

Inkwest City was awakened by the continuously unpleasant flute sound. He opened his eyes with a frown, showing a bit of displeasure.

He had finally managed to escape that suffocating isolation and loneliness through long, extended sleep. Who was so inconsiderate to dare to wake him?

Inkwest City suddenly stood up; after thousands of years of sleep, his black robe was without a wrinkle, still elegant and dignified.

He walked out of the room into the thousand-square-ter hall outside, followed the sound, and saw a twelve or thirteen-year-old boy trying to play the short flute he had played before sleep.

The boy was very cute with eyebrows delicate as if drawn, and his large eyes like two black gems, clear and bright. His small mouth, on the short flute, produced sounds that were unpleasant due to incorrect technique.

Yet the boy refused to give up, trying repeatedly, over and over again.

Inkwest City paused his steps, standing behind a large pillar in the hall, watching the boy with interest as the anger on his face slowly dissipated.

With the boy’s persistent practice, the sound from the flute eventually beca much more lodious than at the start, although it was still noise to Inkwest City.

That short flute was made of very hard tal; to prevent damage, he had infused a little magic power into it.

Even after thousands of years, the short flute remained intact, its golden body shining brightly, no wonder the boy was so captivated by it.

Inkwest City was well-versed in Music Magic but disliked crowds; he only enjoyed playing the flute quietly by himself.

Yet over the long years, being perpetually alone beca too solitary, leaving him even without the mood to play the flute.

Today, seeing a boy so cute and interested in his short flute suddenly brought an inexplicable ease, planting a notion in his heart: perhaps, teach this boy to play the flute?

Inkwest City was startled by his own thought – he was a lofty Deity, and the boy was just an ordinary person.

As if seeking a reason, Inkwest City’s Divine Sense scanned the boy, discovering he had already activated the Magic Source.

To Inkwest City, even with the Magic Source activated, the boy was but a humble, insignificant little ant; still, this situation provided him a suitable reason for his upcoming actions.

The boy’s magical talent was good, presumably from a family with a decent magic foundation. In the future, he might beco soone of importance, acquainting with such a person wasn’t beneath him.

Thus, Inkwest City walked out from behind the red pillar, speaking gently to the boy: "Do you like this flute?"

He initially thought the boy would be sowhat frightened upon seeing him. Unexpectedly, the boy, though surprised, showed no signs of fear.

The boy asked crisply: "Big brother, is this flute yours?"

Inkwest City nodded: "Yes, what do you think?"

The boy’s face revealed a look of envy as he spoke: "It’s wonderful, its appearance is beautiful, and the sound it produces is lovely too. Unfortunately, I can’t play it."

"Do you want to learn?" Inkwest City’s deep eyes rippled.

The boy nodded with determination, replying crisply: "Yes!"

"I’ll teach you, okay?" Inkwest City smiled and said.

"Great, thank you, big brother," the boy replied joyfully, handing the golden short flute to Inkwest City.

Inkwest City’s hand was cool; as he took the flute, he felt the warmth left by the boy’s skin.

Though weak, that warmth slightly thawed Inkwest City’s heart, cold for thousands of years.

Inkwest City taught with dedication, and the boy learned seriously too. Before long, the boy grasped the basics, and Inkwest City began to teach him a simple tune.

The sound the boy produced now ford a lody, echoing through the expansive hall with its stumbling notes.

"Young master, where are you?"

The shout echoed from afar, and the boy frowned unhappily, muttering softly: "Hmph, these annoying followers."

Inkwest City watched the boy’s innocent face and unconsciously smiled.

He raised his hand, revealing the scene near the colorful stone trench separating Kurosawa Highlands and Gravel Plains. Several teenagers were loudly shouting, searching tirelessly.

"Are they here to find you?" Inkwest City asked the boy.

The boy scratched his head and pulled at his lips, replying embarrassedly: "Big brother, I’m sorry for bothering you; I should go."

"Oh, really?" Inkwest City felt a bit disappointed; he suddenly did not want the boy to leave.