Accompanied by the faint glow of the morning dawn, a large group of handsome men and beautiful women, led by the god Pan, arrived at the Arcadian settlement.
Because this place was originally a refuge for mountain folk, the terrain was rugged, and transportation was inconvenient.
As a result, it had not been greatly impacted by external cultures.
Both the architecture and the lives of the locals retained a primitive and original appearance.
Looking around, some were grazing cattle and sheep in the valleys, some were planting crops on gentle slopes, and others carried bows and arrows as they gathered and hunted.
Off-key rural tunes were hummed freely from their mouths, causing Apollo to frown deeply, unable to hide his displeasure.
Fortunately, they had not walked far when, at the city gate, a middle-aged man with slightly curled hair and adorned in glittering jewelry approached them with a broad smile.
"Midas, King of Phrygia.
My friend has recently been traveling through this area. Hearing that all of you had arrived in Arcadia, he admired you greatly and wished to sponsor a banquet in your honor."
Pan stepped forward and embraced the middle-aged man, enthusiastically introducing him to the assembled gods.
The group harbored no suspicions.
Under Midas's warm invitation, they all went together to the open-air banquet venue he had prepared.
As a city bordering Arcadia, the region naturally relied on the mountains for sustenance.
Thus, the banquet was filled with a large quantity of wild game and mountain delicacies purchased from the local mountain folk.
After being carefully prepared by the accompanying Phrygian court chefs, the dishes possessed a unique flavor, greatly satisfying the gods who were being entertained.
Their gazes toward the Phrygian king also softened with traces of goodwill.
Midway through the feast, the foreign king stood up from his seat.
While raising his cup toward Apollo and Pan, he shook his head and sighed. "I heard that yesterday, the two of you competed in musical skill in the forests of Arcadia. The wonderful music almost drove all the nymphs and spirits into a frenzy. It's truly a shame I couldn't witness such a scene."
Hearing Midas's praise, Apollo, as the victor, revealed a restrained yet self-satisfied smile.
However, immediately afterward, Midas changed his tone and spoke his true intention with a smile.
"Actually, today's invitation was meant to ask the two of you to compete once more, so that we mortals might also have the honor of appreciating music from the gods."
As soon as these words were spoken, Apollo turned his head to look at Pan beside him, a faint smile that was not quite a smile on his face.
He was not a fool and naturally understood Midas's hidden meaning and true plan.
Clearly, Pan had not been convinced by yesterday's wager, so this little lamb deliberately brought along his friend today, hosted a banquet, and used his mouth to request another contest.
Having his little scheme exposed, Pan felt awkward under Apollo's gaze and forced a dry smile, hurriedly pretending to scold Midas.
"What's there to compare? Who wins or loses, isn't it all the same?"
"Of course it's not the same. I've always believed that the melody of the panpipes is the most perfect music in the world! Defeating your lyre music is something I truly cannot imagine."
Midas shook his head repeatedly, every word filled with praise for Pan.
As soon as these words were spoken, Apollo, arrogant by nature, could not sit idly by and immediately stood up to respond.
"Since the King of Phrygia sincerely invites us, Pan and I shall each perform a piece here, and let everyone judge."
"Excellent, excellent! Thank you for fulfilling this small request!"
Having achieved his goal, Midas burst into hearty laughter, then clapped his hands to summon attendants.
He took out a large handful of gold and silver coins and issued a deep command.
"Call the nearby villagers over. Let them enjoy the feast, listen to the performances of the two gods, and then vote on which piece of music is more beautiful!"
Hearing this, Apollo frowned slightly but did not refuse the arrangement.
Whether the judges were the forest god and his nymphs, or these mortals before him, he was confident his music would conquer all listeners.
Upon receiving Midas's invitation, the villagers, hearing that there would be performances to watch, food to eat, and money to receive, immediately swarmed in, crowding the area until it was packed tightly, craning their necks to look inside.
With the audience in place, the competition officially began.
Under Midas's announcement, Pan was the first to play his panpipes.
The sound was lively and intense, like stones colliding, cliffs roaring, and dense forests howling.
As a pastoral god, Pan was extremely familiar with these sounds in the deep mountains and forests.
His playing was vivid and lifelike, shaking the listeners to their core.
The mountain folk who had long lived in Arcadia were also exceptionally excited, and so, they clapped enthusiastically, singing loudly in response, using their own off-key folk tunes to sing along, seamlessly merging into this wild revelry.
Even the foreign king Midas at the banquet was so delighted that he shouted with joy.
Accompanied by Pan's music, he clapped, stomped his feet, waved his arms, and danced wildly with those around him.
The chaotic twisting bodies and singing that could hardly be called music caused Apollo to frown deeply.
For the highly self-regarding god of art, everything before his eyes was nothing short of double torture, both visual and auditory.
Finally, when Pan played a rest note and ended his performance, Apollo stopped holding back.
He decisively picked up his seven-stringed lyre, cast his bright, piercing gaze into the distance, and plucked the strings.
The music was gentle and winding, like murmuring springs, like swallows whispering and orioles singing, like a sudden breeze, like moonlight first descending.
The pleasing melody carried people into an infinitely beautiful and tranquil realm.
When the piece ended, the venue fell deathly silent, as if stunned by the exquisite melody.
However, upon closer inspection, the villagers looking at one another had eyes filled with confusion and bewilderment.
Soon, whispers and waves of booing erupted from the crowd.
"That's it?"
"What kind of thing was that?"
"Not even as good as me…"
Hearing the ignorant discussions and frivolous judgments of the villagers, Apollo, who had been waiting on stage to receive cheers and worship, had his face instantly darken, anger flaring in his heart.
Before he could explode, Midas, sensing trouble, hurried onto the stage and announced loudly.
"The competition is over.
Everyone, please vote for whose music you believe was superior."
As he spoke, he ordered people to carry two ceramic jars onto the stage, representing Pan and Apollo respectively, and distributed stones engraved with special symbols to the audience.
As the gates opened, the villagers, who loved a good spectacle, immediately surged forward.
According to their preferences, they cast their stones overwhelmingly into the jar representing Pan.
Only a few dozen people stood on Apollo's side.
Among them, the nymphs and Muses made up the majority.
In the end, as voting concluded, Midas glanced at the two jars, the disparity in the number of stones obvious at a glance.
Without even counting, he directly announced the result.
"This competition—Pan wins!"
Seeing their favored performer win easily, the villagers erupted into noisy cheers.
They threw branches and garlands toward Pan on the stage, while showing utter disdain toward Apollo beside him.
They simply could not appreciate the affected performance of that noble young master, nor did they understand what refined art was.
To them, Pan's rural tune, which was emotionally intense, openly expressive, simple to understand, and even able to be sung together with their own songs, was true art!
Looking at the sparsely populated area around himself and the villagers beside him, continuously cheering and praising Pan, Apollo struggled to maintain his composure.
Yet his face grew increasingly gloomy, his teeth grinding loudly as fury churned in his heart.
What did these mud-legged peasants know about art?
They were judging blindly!
But no matter how dissatisfied Apollo was, faced with the indisputable voting result, he could only pinch his nose and accept the outcome of the competition.
"Your musical attainments are not bad."
The god of light on the stage forced out a stiff smile and offered a magnanimous-sounding compliment.
After speaking, he prepared to leave the stage as quickly as possible, eager to get away from this humiliating, wretched place.
However, Pan approached with a foolish grin, rubbing his hands awkwardly.
"Lord Apollo, since I won, then last night's wager…"
"Say it. What do you want?"
Apollo, who no longer had the patience to deal with this goat-headed creature, snorted coldly and asked.
Since he had already accepted Pan's hospitality, it was only proper to return the favor.
Now, he only wanted to get as far away as possible from this deformed creature that made him feel humiliated.
Hearing Apollo's public promise,
Pan immediately beamed with joy and raised his hand to point at a Muse with a hot figure, wearing a laurel wreath and a dance dress.
"I want to marry this Muse under your command. Please grant her to me as my wife!"
Terpsichore, one of the nine Muses, the goddess of dance and choral song, had the most outstanding height and figure.
She radiated fiery charm at all times and had countless admirers.
However, upon hearing Pan's proposal, the expressions of Apollo and the Muse goddess instantly changed.
"How dare you!"
The god of light erupted in rage, his sharp gaze like a blade piercing Pan, exposing undisguised disgust.
Hearing this, the latter's face stiffened, but he still protested.
"Lord Apollo, you can't say that. Yesterday, you personally promised that if I won, you would let me choose one gift."
Hearing this, Apollo's handsome face flushed crimson, nearly dying of anger.
No wonder this beast had been so attentive....he had planned this from the very beginning.
As everything connected into a clear chain in his mind, Apollo's gaze toward Pan filled with murderous coldness and fury at having been played.
Under the overwhelming divine pressure, Pan's heart faltered, and he retreated in fear.
But soon, the beauty of the Muse reignited his courage, and he gritted his teeth, rallying the surrounding audience.
"You already paid everything you owed when you won. Why is it that when you lose, you want to go back on your word? Everyone's watching! What can you win but not lose?"
"Yeah, yeah!"
The ignorant mountain folk joined in the jeering, directing waves of mockery toward Apollo on the stage.
The proud god of light turned green and purple with rage and roared furiously.
"I'll compete with you again!"
"No, no, this is enough.
Winning once is enough for me."
Pan shook his head repeatedly and walked straight toward the chosen Muse.
Although he had won once, there had been some trickery involved.
The villagers, as judges, were already accustomed to his panpipe music and naturally had no interest in refined art.
If Apollo prepared himself and selected a new panel of judges, Pan might not be able to win fair and square.
Rather than that, it was better to take the beautiful Muse home early and enjoy the feeling of holding soft jade in his arms.
"Nine."
The sudden murmur made Pan subconsciously stop and turn around in confusion.
"If you can win one more time, I'll reward you with all nine Muses!"
The god of art on the stage announced coldly, and as soon as these words fell, the entire venue was shocked.
The nine Muses, crowded behind Artemis, stared at their patron god in disbelief, trying to find a hint of jest on his face.
Unfortunately, they were disappointed.
Because Apollo was serious.
"As long as we compete once more according to my method, and you can still defeat me, they will all be yours!"
The god of light reiterated the terms in a gloomy voice, finally casting a cold gaze at the jeering villagers.
"The judges will still be them!"
At this moment, the Muses' hearts gradually turned cold.
Their gazes toward their patron god were filled with disappointment and distance.
Because Apollo's insistence on a rematch was not out of concern for them, but because he could not accept his defeat.
In the crowd, Lorne noticed the subtle changes in the Muses' expressions, and the corners of his lips lifted in pleasure.
This god of light was even more petty than he had expected, unable to endure even the slightest setback.
Even the smallest failure had to be overturned at any cost.
He had originally only planned to sow discord between Pan and Apollo, but now there was an unexpected gain.
After recognizing Apollo's innate arrogance and cold cruelty, the Muses, who were treated as bargaining chips, grew disheartened and gradually became estranged from their patron god.
'So, little lamb, you'd better put in more effort.'
Lorne swirled his wine glass, his gaze playful as he looked at Pan, as if looking at a dead man.
Incidentally, as a return for the hospitality he had received, he had also "returned the courtesy" by sharing his newly brewed wine at the banquet.
And when God wants someone destroyed,
He first drives them mad.
"Apollo!"
Hearing his words, even Artemis, his elder sister, could no longer stand it and was about to rise and speak out to stop this absurd behavior.
However, the god of light on the stage remained unmoved, staring fixedly at Pan and the jeering crowd below.
"Will you compete or not?
You only have one chance."
"Gulp."
Pan swallowed hard.
Although he knew it was presumptuous, at this moment, his eyes were already completely occupied by the beauty of the Muses.
Thinking about the nine beautiful Muses, in his arms, his heart burned hot.
In the end, he could not suppress the agitation in his heart and nodded fiercely.
"Compete!"
(End of Chapter)