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Hercules pinched his eyebrows and finally suppressed the anger that was rolling in his heart.
No, it didn't work.
I can't let this teacher teach anymore.
He made this decision in his heart.
This thing is scolded once a day, and there is no positive feedback at all, and the
gods can't stand this. Although he is not a god - well, strictly speaking half - but in the past few months,
he has almost been tossed out of trouble.
Hercules lowered his hand and took a deep breath.
He knew that this music teacher had real skills. Adès' musical attainments are
indeed high, those understanding of rhythm, those playing skills, and those
handling of the tune are all enough for ordinary people to learn for a lifetime. In the past few months, his piano skills have indeed improved a lot.
Probably progress, right? Hercules is now beginning to wonder if he can make music. He was scolded all
day long, and now he almost felt that he was nothing.
Hercules felt that he had been pua.
This guy is really not suitable to be a teacher.
What is teaching? It is to let others learn what you know. It's not about turning what you know into a tool to humiliate others. Ades obviously didn't understand
this truth. Or rather, he understands, but doesn't care. This is thanks to the fact that teacher qualifications do not require examinations in this era. Otherwise, Hercules would have to report this guy to the Education
Bureau.
It's so unethical! 1r5Rp
Hercules leaned back in his chair, looked at the ceiling, and let out a long breath.
This teacher has been here for a few months. Although the attitude was bad at the beginning, Hercules was still acceptable. After all, people with abilities have a bit of a temper, and he can understand. Although those scolding sounds are ugly,
they are at least still in the category of "teaching" - you play wrong, he scolds you,
and then tells you how to play. Although the method is crude, it makes logical
sense.
But this time is different.
It has intensified. The scolding became more and more sharp and mean. From "you don't play
right" to "you don't understand music at all", from "you can't do it at this level" to
"you practice all your life". Those criticisms are no longer directed at his performance, but at him as a person.
Hercules could sense the malice.
He didn't know what he had done to offend Ades, nor did he know what the teacher was thinking. But he could sense the malice.
And it's getting stronger.
Hercules felt he could no longer endure it.
It wasn't because he couldn't stand the insults. It was because he felt the reaction of the power within him. The insults were accumulating, flowing faster and faster, as if reminding him, urging him on, inciting him.
Each time Ades spoke, that golden river would begin to surge. It flowed slowly through his veins, along with...
he.
Go do something.
Go and shut that person up.
Use those hands —
Hercules had to exert a great deal of effort to suppress that impulse each time. His anger was not entirely an emotional issue.
He knew this better than anyone else.
For ordinary people, anger is an emotion. When something unpleasant happens, negative emotions arise, and then anger occurs.
Anger can be controlled; if you are rational and calm enough, you can suppress it.
But his anger was different.
His anger had become an instinct.
Just as a person drinks when thirsty and eats when hungry, his anger was etched into his very blood. That was the God-King.
The gift his bloodline bestowed upon him was also a curse. That power was inextricably intertwined with his emotions, and whenever he was angry...
Anger unleashes power; and as long as power surges, his anger grows stronger.
This is a cycle.
Even if he can control it, he can't keep stirring things up forever, can he?
Just like you can't keep someone in a state of hunger and then blame them for always thinking about food.
West. You can't keep adding fuel to the fire and then blame it for burning too brightly.
Adez was the one who kept adding fuel to the fire.
He cursed him once a day, occasionally twice, without fail. Those harsh words, those malicious glances, those condescending taunts—every single one was like kindling thrown into the fire within him.
Hercules has taken good control.
If it were someone else, it might have already exploded.
But he didn't want to gamble.
He didn't know how much longer he could control himself. He didn't know which day, which moment, which word, would trigger that...
A force will completely break through his suppression.
never mind.
Tell Dad to quickly give that music teacher a couple of coins and get him fired.
Ades watched Hercules' departing figure and nodded in satisfaction.
The figure seemed heavier than when it arrived. Every detail about the person spoke of what they were suppressing.
What?
very good.
Ades's lips slowly curved into a smile.
That was the first time he had smiled since he arrived here.
It's not because of Hercules' music.
The boy's piano skills were as mediocre as ever; the notes were played in a standard, unremarkable way, lacking any spark or inspiration.
Ades listened all afternoon, and the fire in his heart burned ever brighter.
Waste of time.
A complete waste of time.
Every time he saw Hercules intently playing the same melody repeatedly with his head bowed, a complex emotion welled up inside him. There was disdain, contempt, but mostly—
angry.
He's wasting it.
He is wasting resources.
What mortals must strive for to obtain is not worth pursuing for a divine being. Hercules should be doing more important things, pursuing a more glorious path, rather than burying himself in these pointless arts.
inside.
The boy was blinded by the emotions of ordinary people. He loved his ordinary mother and respected his ordinary father.
His mortal brother doted on him. Those things were like ropes, binding him firmly to the mortal world.
Ades tried to provoke him with words, hoping to make him realize his situation.
Let him be angry, let him lose control, let the power within him break free from the shackles of mortal emotions. As long as he can...
If he can demonstrate the qualities of a divine child in one outburst, his goal will be achieved.
Ades turned around and walked to the window.
Outside the window, the setting sun was painting the entire sky blood red. Its rays streamed in, falling on his face.
It cast an eerie red glow over that gloomy face.
Ades gazed at the blood-red stain and suddenly remembered that night.
That happened a month ago.
That night, Ades sat alone in the room, staring blankly at the bronze mirror. Moonlight streamed in through the window.
The light fell on his face, highlighting the increasingly deep lines at the corners of his eyes.
He is old again.
I'm getting older every day.
He stared at his aging face in the bronze mirror, and the hatred in his heart grew wildly like vines. He hated the one who had given him...
The mother of the human body hates those mediocre mortals who are unaware of their own insignificance, and hates this damned fate.
Then the messenger came.
The man appeared out of nowhere behind him, as if emerging from the shadows. Adez didn't even hear a sound.
There was no sound of footsteps, but suddenly I felt a chill rise up my spine.
He turned around abruptly.
It was a person dressed in a long black robe, their face hidden in the shadow of the hood, making it impossible to see their features. But that aura—that aura belonging to Olympus—Ades would never mistake it.
"Ades." The man's voice was low and cold. "The Queen of Heaven summons you."
Ardes was stunned.
Queen?
Hera?
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found that he couldn't say anything.
The messenger gave him no time to think. He simply reached out and placed his hand on Ades's shoulder.
The next second, everything went black for Ades.
When he opened his eyes again, he was already standing on Mount Olympus.
The sacred mountain he could only gaze upon in his dreams was now beneath his feet. The majestic temple gleamed in the moonlight.
A silvery light shone, clouds churned beneath his feet, and the stars seemed within reach.
Ades's legs almost gave way.
He followed the messenger through those majestic temples and magnificent buildings he had never seen before, finally stopping...
They arrived before the largest temple.
That is Hera's temple.
The messenger pushed open the door and gestured for him to go in.
Ades took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Inside the temple, Hera sat on her golden throne.
That legendary throne was now right before him. And the person sitting on that throne—the one who commanded the entire...
A being revered even by the Greeks, the woman who has sat on the throne of the gods since ancient times, with eyes that cannot be fathomed...
Eyes on him.
Adez knelt down.
"Queen of Heaven."
His voice trembled slightly.
Hera remained silent. She sat on her throne, her chin resting on her pale wrist, her gaze fixed on Ades. That gaze was…
It was light, yet it made Ades feel as if he had been completely seen through.
It's been a long time.
"Son of Apollo," Hera spoke, her voice languid and nonchalant, "raise your head."
Ades looked up and met those eyes.
Hera looked at him, and a slow smile curved her lips.
"You are in Thebes," she said, "as a tutor to Hercules."
Ades' heart skipped a beat; he had a vague feeling that what was about to happen would change his life.
1r5Rp
"Yes," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
Hera nodded.
"That child," she said, her voice devoid of any emotion, "what do you think of him?"
Ades was silent for a moment. 1r5Rp
Then he spoke. He poured out the words that had been building up inside him for so long, bit by bit. He said he was wasting his life.
The poem says he was blinded by mortal emotions, that he was unworthy of such blood; the more it was said, the more it became...
He was so excited that by the end he didn't even know what he was saying.
Hera listened without any change in expression.
Ades finally finished speaking, bowed his head, and awaited the Queen's verdict.
silence.
A long silence.
Then Hera laughed, a laugh that sent a shiver down Ades' spine.
"Very good," Hera said. "You are very sensible."
Adez looked up at her.
Hera leaned forward slightly from her throne, her eyes fixed on him.
"I need you to do one thing," she said, "to make that child…make a mistake out of anger."
Adez was stunned.
Did Heracles make a mistake?
"What mistake?" he asked.
Hera didn't answer.
She just looked at him, her eyes unfathomable.
"You can do it."
Ades was silent for a moment.
Hera leaned back on her throne and waved her hand casually.
"If you do it," she said, "you can stay on Mount Olympus." Ades' heart stopped for a moment.
Stay on Mount Olympus?
Become a god?
To be among those immortal beings?
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found himself unable to utter a word. Those things he had longed for day and night...
West, those things he thought he could never reach, were now right in front of him.
He can stop aging.
He can stay young forever.
He could shed that damned mortal body and become a true one.
"I promise.
He blurted it out almost without thinking.
Then he knelt down, pressing his forehead against the cold ground.
Ir5Rp
"I swear allegiance to the Queen of Heaven." His voice echoed in the empty temple. "From this day forward, Ades will be..."
I would gladly die at the Empress's command.
Hera looked at him, and the corners of her mouth curled a little deeper.
"Very good."
She waved her hand.
"Go." The messenger stepped forward again and held Adès' shoulder.
Before he was taken away, he took one last look at the woman sitting on the
golden throne.
She was holding her chin and staring into the void, not knowing what she was
thinking.
The moonlight poured in from outside the window and fell on her, illuminating her
beautiful face half-bright and half-dark.