Chapter 698: Writing

“Venting his anger? Speaking of which, why did Divine Intent Grand Duke want to wipe out your ratman clan?”

Ariel’s teacher drifted around this space a few times, but this space—just like her ancient memories—was clean to the point of emptiness, with no useful value at all. So she simply asked directly.

“I’m very curious about this. Divine Intent doesn’t look like the kind of guy who would casually lay hands on his own kind among demonfolk. Among the demonfolk Grand Dukes, he should count as one of the few who are relatively mild, shouldn’t he?”

“You know him?”

“Not really know him, but based on the memories I still have, I also traveled through the Abyss several times, so I have some understanding of this place.”

“Heh heh. Understanding and knowing are two different things. That one may look the part on the surface, but in truth he’s not as benevolent as the rumors outside say. At least, when it’s time to be cold, he’ll be colder than anyone—more ruthless than anyone. As for the so-called reason... it’s probably that those guys still won’t accept their fate to this day, while we... already accepted ours long ago.”

The ratman sat down on the ground, his withered, bony hands resting on his knees. That sigh was dry and weathered, like it came from hundreds of years ago.

“Sounds like the ones who got furious from embarrassment were them?” Ariel’s teacher raised a brow.

“Wasn’t it?”

The ratman stared at his own stick-thin, bony feet. There was no focus in his gaze, yet it also seemed as if he were staring into the void.

“If they hadn’t already reached the point of madness, they wouldn’t have come this far. The entire demonfolk race has already been pushed to the edge of a cliff. If they fail, they’ll be completely beyond redemption—there won’t even be a chance to try again.”

“You seem to know a lot of the inside story.”

“You’re thinking too much if you call it inside story. I’m just an old rat living at the very bottom of the Abyss. What use can an old rat be besides crawling around in the gutters?”

The ratman crooked a finger.

Along with a few squeaks, a small mouse suddenly slipped out of the shadows. Sniffing as it went, it climbed up onto the ratman’s palm.

The ratman stroked its grayish fur as he fed it dry, tough jerky. At the same time, his mouth also squeaked as if he were communicating with the mouse about something.

“I see. I probably know what you want to do now.”

Not long after, the ratman gave a light pat, and the mouse whooshed right back into the darkness and vanished without a trace.

Bracing himself on his knees, the ratman struggled to stand. His legs were far too thin—it was hard to imagine those legs could support his body.

But he still stood up, swaying as he made his way to the other side of this underground space and reached into a clay jar to rummage around.

Very quickly, he pulled out half a bottle of ink and a sheet of paper.

These were things that were extremely hard to find in a place like the Abyss, because even high-ranking demonfolk rarely used paper and pen to write.

The ratman plucked one of his own whiskers, skillfully dipped it in ink, and scribbled rapidly across the paper.

Ariel leaned over curiously to watch...

“Ancient writing?!”

Ariel blurted out without thinking. “You actually know ancient writing?”

“Anc... ient?”

The ratman chewed on those two words.

“Humans nowadays don’t use this writing anymore?”

“Of course. This writing has been lost for a long time. Now you can only see it in some ancient texts and ruins.”

“Is that so? But I can tell you that in this Abyss, demonfolk were still using this writing at least three hundred years ago. It’s just that later on, fewer and fewer demonfolk had the ability to use writing, so now, aside from a few rare high-ranking demonfolk who still use a simplified version, writing has almost gone extinct in this civilization.”

The ratman sighed as he handed the paper to Ariel.

“Since you are her...”

“Disciple.”

“Oh right. Disciple. Since you are her disciple, then reading this writing shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“It’s not a problem, exactly...”

Ariel took the paper.

“So what is this?”

“What you wanted. Just a bit of insignificant information.”

The ratman rose with his back hunched. “Right now, this is all I can do.”

“Information...”

Ancient writing that normally could only be deciphered in old books was being used to write something as ordinary as intel—Ariel’s brain short-circuited for a moment.

“Oh right. That’s why we came.”

“What about the payment?”

Ariel’s teacher asked from the side.

“As demonfolk, you helped us. What payment do you want?”

“Payment?”

The ratman thought briefly.

“Normally, I’d naturally extort a big sum, since I’m one of the few demonfolk merchants in this Abyss. But right now... forget it. Consider it a gift.”

“Why?”

“Because... you’re going to go make that old thing’s life difficult next. I like that.”

The ratman laughed. On that aged, bizarre rat face of his, you could actually see a trace of unrestrained pleasure.

“That little girl over there.”

“Huh... what?”

“Can you do me a small favor?”

“What favor?”

Ariel tucked away the paper with the intel, then came over in a daze.

“Didn’t you say you don’t want payment?”

“No payment. It really is just a tiny favor.”

The ratman handed the whisker-pen in his hand and another sheet of paper, already yellowed with age, to Ariel.

“Can you write something? Modern human writing.”

“Huh?”

Ariel was even more confused. “What’s there to write about something like that?”

“Write it.”

“...Fine.”

After all, she’d just received a favor for ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) nothing. Refusing didn’t seem very good either.

But Ariel still couldn’t accept writing with a rat’s whisker. She pulled out an exquisite fountain pen of her own and looked at the ratman.

“What do you want me to write?”

“Anything.”

“Anything? How am I supposed to write ‘anything’?”

“Then write ‘anything.’”

“...Fine. Anything it is.”

Ariel gripped the pen and, in a few quick strokes, wrote a string of words on the paper.

“Here. Your ‘anything.’”

Because of the limits of the conditions—and because she didn’t know the other side’s intent—Ariel’s writing was a bit sloppy.

But the ratman still leaned in and looked closely.

“Such beautiful writing.”

After looking for a while, the ratman sighed in admiration.

“Beau... tiful?”

“Of course. Compared to ancient times, it’s simpler, and more beautiful.”

“...Well, that I do agree with.”

Ariel finally understood that when he said “beautiful,” he wasn’t talking about her handwriting, but about the writing itself in the present day.

A thousand years had flowed by, plus the near-extinction of that once-brilliant civilization. The writing of the present day and ancient writing basically no longer had any connection, which was why so many scholars now found deciphering ancient writing so agonizing and headache-inducing.

But even Ariel—whose appreciation of beauty stopped at pale skin, pretty faces, big chests, and long thighs—could tell that compared to those tadpole-shaped ancient characters that made people go blind, modern writing really was simpler and far more aesthetically pleasing.

“Something that already disappeared completely into the long river of time, yet in a short time it can still bear new fruit—completely different fruit.”

The ratman held the paper over the fire and let it burn to nothing. In his dim red pupils, those ashes that slowly floated up were reflected.

“Humans... truly are a species that’s far too smart.”

“Is that praise?”

Ariel’s teacher asked. “Praising demonfolk’s current enemy?”

“No. I’m mocking.”

The ratman whooshed out a breath and blew out the candle.

“Don’t forget—demonfolk were once humans too.”