Chapter 1064:
Rylie met his haughty tone with a simple question of her own. “Then tell me, which era do you think this score comes from?”
Connor’s face tightened. With the sheet music so damaged, blurred beyond recognition, and now reduced to a photocopy on plain paper, who could really say what era it belonged to?
Even though those thoughts unsettled him, Connor swiftly regained his usual air of self-assurance. A subtly condescending smile touched his lips, as if unfazed. “Music isn’t bound by time—why get caught up in the exact era? What matters is the feeling it sparks today. Would knowing whether it came from Bach’s era or Mozart’s actually help piece together those lost notes?”
Rylie did not press his lack of knowledge. She replied in a calm, measured tone, “This composition dates to the final years of Emperor Valerius the Conqueror’s reign. It is a Ritual Chant from the southwestern borderlands, written with intricate microtones and cyclic breathing patterns to induce a ceremonial trance. The damaged central section represents the chief officiant’s solo. Far from being hollow, it forms the emotional core of the ritual, connecting the opening prayers with the collective euphoria that follows.”
Her voice remained soft, yet it carried an unexpected authority that lent her words undeniable weight.
F𝗂nd 𝘯𝗈v𝗲l P𝗗𝗙𝘴 o𝗻 𝗴𝖺𝗅ոov𝖾𝗹𝘴.c𝗼𝗺
Connor’s previously mocking expression faltered. The calm certainty in her tone caught him off guard.
Emperor Valerius the Conqueror? A Ritual Chant? Microtones? Hearing such precise, almost arcane terms come so effortlessly from a girl who held only a plain paper bag and looked utterly ordinary left him momentarily speechless, caught between disbelief and curiosity.
A few musically knowledgeable students were already murmuring in amazement. “Emperor Valerius? The medieval emperor? His funerary music was supposed to be highly unorthodox.”
“Microtones? Aren’t those mostly used in modern experimental pieces? Did ancient ritual music really employ them?”
The whispers reached Connor’s ears, and the murmurs around him stung his pride. He refused to be shown up by someone who appeared to be an ordinary outsider, especially in front of his admirers.
Swallowing his rising irritation, he raised his voice, trying to reclaim control. “Ha. All this talk about Ritual Chants and microtones might sound impressive, but if you really had that kind of expertise, why aren’t you a student here? Did you fail the entrance exams and decide to put on a show instead?” He let his eyes roam over Rylie’s simple clothes and the unadorned bag in her hand, his disdain growing. “Music is a performing art. You don’t just make it up after reading a few obscure facts. True talent shows through performance and original composition. Throwing around fancy terms to critique an ancient score even our professors struggle with isn’t just absurd—it’s disrespectful to the craft.”
He emphasized “professors struggle” and “disrespectful,” aiming to paint Rylie as a pretentious amateur.
Rylie remained silent, her expression unshaken. She only responded once he finished, her voice still even. “You’re right—music requires practice. But what I shared isn’t trivia.”
Her eyes swept over Connor’s flushed, agitated face. “A top music student, and you can’t even recognize basic historical context. Figures.”
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