Can a Scholar Be Called a Villain

Chapter 105: The fourth blade

The Saint of the Blade Dao was also known as the ‘Blade Intent’ in this world.

Murong Lin had fused his own ‘Blade Intent’ in this single strike, launching it with brutal force against Wan Roc King.

Dodging was impossible.

A seemingly unremarkable blade light, devoid of ostentatious embellishments, pierced through Wan Roc King’s neck.

His head was severed and catapulted through the air, his expression a mix of astonishment and disbelief frozen in death.

The employment of the ‘Blade Intent’, even in its nascent form, proved more than sufficient to shock Wan Roc King.

This occurrence was something only recounted in ancient records; never had he anticipated anyone capable of achieving such mastery.

Murong Lin slowly sheathed his blade, exhaling deeply.

Then, his gaze drifted across the battlefield. Scores of first and second-rate experts laboured in unison to combat the Blood Bat Locusts. Witnessing the event that just unfolded, a prevailing sense of hopelessness overtook them, plunging them into a pit of despair.

“It’s all over for us! Old Bo is dead! Even Old Bo is dead! We stand no chance!”

“If even Wan Roc King couldn’t evade this demon’s blade, how can we possibly defeat him?”

“He’s looking this way! That demon is watching us! Run!”

“But we can’t run! Everyone, attack! We must vanquish that demon!”

Desperation took hold, prompting some to act on their hopelessness; a few opted to end their own lives then and there, impaling their necks with their own weapons.

Murong Lin surged forward, weapon in hand, only to suddenly halt mid-stride. The wicked grin on his face froze as his legs stilled.

Swiftly sidestepping, he narrowly evaded an explosion that erupted where he’d stood moments ago. A sword light descended from the sky, revealing the arrival of reinforcements.

All eyes turned to its source, only to see a wave of support headed their way quickly.

Their leader was Meng Xing Hun!

Meng Xing Hun’s gaze was keen as it locked onto Murong Lin with the occasional comet flying past within his eyes.

The recent attack had originated from him.

Within his grasp was a human head—the one responsible for controlling the Blood Bat Locusts’ rampage in Yun Nan.

Murong Lin’s attention fixated on the severed head, then, he scrutinized Meng Xing Hun’s eyes.

With the demise of the nine individuals he’d manipulated using the Blood Bat Locusts, only one individual remained who could control them—himself.

Meng Xing Hun bellowed in fury, “Murong Lin! Are you responsible for the deaths of Ye Xiang and Xiao Die?”

He pointed an accusing finger at Murong Lin, his appearance in disarray, with wild, untamed hair and his potent sword aura surging from his form.

His eyes held a mixture of rage and grief as they bore into Murong Lin.

Murong Lin merely tilted his head, a cynical chuckle escaping his lips, “If I were to deny it, would you believe me?”

He raised his knife, launching two strikes in quick succession.

“Sky Net style!”

“Catastrophe style!”

However, Meng Xin Hun expertly parried the twin blades with the sword in his grip.

The comets in Meng Xing Hun’s eyes blazed even brighter as he glared fiercely at Murong Lin.

While his two attacks failed to reach Meng Xing Hun, they continued on toward the people behind him.

“Ping!” The ground shattered as countless people were injured, and even a large number of Blood Bat Locusts perished. But all eyes remained fixed on Meng Xing Hun.

Old Bo and Wan Roc King were both dead, leaving Meng Xing Hun as their sole hope.

‘Comet Butterfly Sword’ Meng Xing Hun – that was the name they pinned their hopes on. They wanted to see if he could defeat this demon.

The corners of Murong Lin’s lips curled up slightly as he remarked, “You’ve seen my third blade before.”

Meng Xing Hun responded calmly, “I have.”

“Then you must know how terrifying it is.”

“Yes.”

“And yet, you still dare to stand against me here?”

“I only know that retreat is not an option.”

Meng Xing Hun slowly drew his sword before him, and the comets deep within his eyes blazed even brighter with each passing moment.

Murong Lin didn’t utter another word. Instead, he immediately unleashed his third blade.

‘Dark Sky Style’.

In an instant, just like before, an entire sea of darkness swallowed Meng Xing Hun.

All five of his senses were robbed from him, and he felt utterly cut off from the world.

In this darkness, he couldn’t even sense the passage of time.

But Meng Xing Hun wasn’t afraid.

His gaze remained resolute and unyielding.

The comets in his eyes slowly emanated outward, causing even Murong Lin to falter and stand still.

These comets appeared to originate from the depths of Meng Xing Hun’s eyes, but in reality, they emanated from his sword technique.

A single comet streaked past, illuminating the entire dark world.

In an instant, the warm and affectionate light exploded forth, only to vanish just as swiftly.

It was like a comet, an entity that appeared fleetingly before disappearing into the darkness.

What remained, however, was a sky filled with romance and profundity.

Were comets beautiful?

Of course, they were. These streaks of light brought boundless joy and anticipation to humanity.

Just like butterflies.

Both were extremely beautiful existences, destined to exist only for a brief moment.

Butterflies had short lifespans, and they, too, could only grace the world with their presence for a fleeting period, akin to the comets that streaked across the sky.

But why did they exist?

What was the purpose of their fleeting lives?

For such a short existence, what meaning did they hold?

To whom were they offering their existence?

Only Meng Xing Hun knew the answer.

Flowers were beautiful, yet their existence gained meaning when someone appreciated their beauty.

Comets were ephemeral, yet in the few seconds of their existence, thousands, if not tens of thousands of people would witness their magnificent display.

This was the meaning of their existence.

And it was the meaning of every human life.

And so, he swung his sword, shattering the cage of darkness in an instant.

But the sword’s brilliance didn’t diminish there; it continued to surge forward with pinpoint precision toward Murong Lin.

In that moment, it was as though the entire radiance of those comets had converged upon Murong Lin.

Comets were fleeting, but so were human lives.

When would the endless cycle of spring flowers and autumn moons find its conclusion? How much of the past do we truly comprehend?

The starry sky doesn’t question the fleeting nature of light; it simply shines brightly in the present night.

Meng Xing Hun poured all his strength into this single strike, his eyes reflecting the profundity of the dark night.

The sword light struck Murong Lin, propelling him through the air, and a smile played upon his lips – a smile seemingly filled with joy.

As he soared, his body twisted and tumbled, crashing forcefully into the ground and sending up clouds of dust.

Expressions of joy immediately blossomed among the onlookers, and some couldn’t contain their disbelief, exclaiming, “The demon has been defeated!”

But Murong Lin wasn’t ready to let them revel in their victory just yet.

He struggled to rise from the ground, his gaze locked onto Meng Xing Hun.

They were both in similar states—Meng Xing Hun had depleted his energy, and Murong Lin had suffered severe wounds.

Meng Xing Hun spoke first, “I’ve overcome your third blade.”

Murong Lin replied indifferently, “If you weren’t the protagonist, I would have killed you long ago.”

“I was only hoping for a pleasant surprise from you, just like Han Tang. But it turns out you both are quite decent!” Murong Lin grinned, his teeth stained with blood.

“Hah! You demon, you can still banter when you’re on the brink of death?”

“I just don’t want you to die in ignorance. Apart from that, thanks for showing me the comet technique!” Murong Lin slowly raised his blade once more.

Meng Xing Hun’s anxiety became even more palpable as he raised his blade in response.

“Your third blade won’t work against me.”

He attempted to undermine Murong Lin’s confidence.

“That’s exactly why I’m thanking you. Your comet technique has provided me with the chance to forge my fourth blade.” Murong Lin said deliberately, his body straightening as his eyes radiated with arrogance.

Meng Xing Hun’s expression shifted, his face draining of colour. What followed was a sentence that struck despair into his heart:

“The fourth blade, Everlasting style!”

Translator’s note

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