C242 three-quarters of an hour

Xiao Miao's flute music was hurried yet monotonous, it was a string of repetitions without any sort of rhythm. It wasn't music at all, at least not one I'd ever seen in the world.

Such sounds have only one purpose: the ringing of bells. A warning bell.

I suddenly remembered my initial goal for coming here. I had come to enter the Golden Man's dream to search for the Little Tang Wei