Sylvester added, "Ah, what I mean is—it's been purified. They're merely remnants infused with the departed's lingering strength. They wouldn't have such great power otherwise."
Only then did Feixiao and Topaz truly grasp the meaning behind the word relic.
The vessel left by one who has passed. Carrying the unfulfilled wishes of its original owner.
Behind every relic lies a legend, a moment of disgrace, a tragic song.
"So that's how it is…" Feixiao recalled her comrades who had lived alongside her, but had not died together.
Yet she did not linger in mourning.
The dead are gone—why disturb their rest? Safeguarding peace and joy for the living is her wish, and surely also the wish of her fallen companions.
Feixiao said to Topaz, "On the battlefield, it's common to seize weapons from the fallen in desperate times. Miss Topaz, there's no need to dwell on it."
"I appreciate your comfort General Feixiao." Topaz pressed her temple. "I just need a little time to adjust."
She wasn't one to be overly sentimental.
But thinking of Aventurine's ordeal a few days ago… [The Resentment of the Hapless Ones].
Could this relic also be hiding some curse of Duke Inferno?
Ghosts shouldn't exist… right?
Seeing Topaz's troubled expression, Sylvester chuckled. "Director Topaz, if you really feel uneasy, you could always hold a little ritual—something to honor the spirits."
Topaz's eyes brightened at the suggestion. "Would that actually work?"
She knew this was a Xianzhou tradition—but it wasn't mere superstition. Many powerful warriors' deaths left behind wraithlike remnants. To let the souls truly rest, there were indeed dedicated ritualists on the Xianzhou.
"Should work. Just find some reliable ones, and offer plenty of tributes." Sylvester's eyes flicked slyly. "Oh, maybe offer a Roasted Lamb Head too. If the Grand Duke knew in the afterlife, I'm sure he'd love it."
"Roasted Lamb Head…" Topaz began seriously considering it.
Sylvester then turned his gaze toward Jingliu.
Among them all, she was the one he regretted for most.
The death of her closest friend Baiheng wounded her enough. But the reckless folly of Yingxing and Dan Feng, dragging themselves into ruin, was what angered Jingliu the most. At the brink of succumbing to insanity, she should have stepped away quietly, with only a small regret. Instead, she bore immense willpower to fight with endless hatred against the scourge of Yaoshi.
Could she even be called alive anymore?
"Shopkeeper Sylvester." Jingliu's voice was soft, yet it carried both allure and distance.
"In the past, I've learned of many Curios you've sold. Some were as powerful as the [Four Swords of Slaying Immortals]."
Her tone suddenly sharpened.
The black eyepatch could not hide her crimson gaze. "I only want to know if there exists a Curio capable of killing an Aeon."
"I do not ask for something instantaneous—just the possibility. A chance."
Sylvester frowned. He understood well what she meant. He even knew her long-cherished wish.
But he had no desire to witness a grand tragedy. He preferred clichéd happy endings.
Rather than seeing Jingliu unleash her might in a final battle against Yaoshi, he wanted her freed from insanity, living once more in earthly splendor.
Hm… if there were even tales of family life, that'd be perfect. Though, of course, the choice of husband would have to be locked in.
He smiled lightly. "Perchance."
"Perchance?" Jingliu repeated, weighing the words.
She had expected Sylvester to say something like 'there's nothing the trash cans don't contain' or 'with enough luck, maybe the Aeon of Abundance will drop dead on the spot'. But instead, he'd only uttered those three words.
Feixiao's gaze changed as well. This was a drastic shift from the image Sylvester had shown before.
Perchance…
It was a rare word found in Xianzhou's ancient texts, remembered because it was tied to the posthumous affairs of a great hero.
Scholars usually interpreted it as perhaps it exists.
But tavern storytellers twisted it for flair, saying it meant no need for it to exist.
So, which meaning applied here?
If it was perhaps it exists, it was no different from there's nothing the trash cans don't hold.
But if it was no need for it to exist…
Then was Sylvester implying he had another way to slay the Aeon of Abundance?
Feixiao felt her heart blaze with fervor.
For millennia, under Lan's guidance, the Xianzhou had fought the vile spawn of Abundance. None could say when the war would ever end.
But now, Sylvester's words hinted—he might know a way to kill Yaoshi.
If she could witness that in her lifetime, Feixiao would laugh even in her dreams.
Yet after those three words, Sylvester said nothing more.
She sighed, exasperated. The man was either joking or playing mysterious tricks. Maddening.
Still, a spark of hope had lodged in her heart.
Perchance…
Neither Feixiao nor Jingliu could fully unravel his meaning.
But Jingliu no longer pressed him. What mattered more than his riddles was what she herself could gain from these trash cans.
"Then I'll open one."
She strode to the shelf, casually lifted a can, and opened it. Blue light burst forth.
"Oh, not bad luck." Feixiao spoke lightly, then handed a Jade Abacus to Sylvester. "Just swipe it."
Watching the fox woman's nonchalant manner, Sylvester remarked, "Don't you have to use your own assets?"
"Of course it's my own," Feixiao said. "That wasn't my Abacus, it was special allowance issued by the Xianzhou."
He nodded, almost forgetting Jingliu's special status. With a wave, he swiped—one million deposited.
The blue glow vanished, leaving a small crystal orb in Jingliu's hand.
Sylvester read the system description and sighed.
Of all things, why this? Wasn't this just salting her wounds?
[Re: Dreamer: Placing this at your bedside lets you dream of the happiness you long for. (Note: Happiness is priceless. It cannot truly be obtained from dreams.)]
"This is called the [Re: Dreamer]. Place it by your pillow, and in sleep you'll dream of the happiness you desire."
When he finished, not only Jingliu and Feixiao, but even Topaz felt this was in poor taste.
What was Jingliu's happiest era? Of course, the time when the High-Cloud Quintet shook the Luofu, standing united.
And her deepest sorrow? The Quintet's dissolvement.
Old glory tainted with shadow. Friends who made grave mistakes. They weren't merely estranged—they had vowed never to meet again.
And their recent gathering in the Scalegorge Waterscape—could that really be called a reunion?
Feixiao's eyes flicked worriedly to Jingliu, fearing this Curio would cut too deep.
Yet, to their surprise, Jingliu only nodded and tucked it away.
"Thank you."
Two words—fewer even than Sylvester's Perchance.
And suddenly, Sylvester understood.
How could this item possibly unsettle her?
She had always borne her pain. Those who owed a price had already paid it.
Dan Feng suffered the Exuviation Charm Punishment. Blade received her Ten-Thousand Swords technique by her own hand.
But did she truly hate them?
When all was settled, what gnawed at her heart was not blame for old friends—but the happiness that had slipped too far into the past.
And that happiness… how could it ever drive her mad?
Perhaps, in her dreams, Baiheng would softly tell her: 'You woke up. You had a bad dream, wasn't it? You cried so much in your sleep.'