Can a Scholar Be Called a Villain

Chapter 71: Seemingly the end

Murong Lin’s unwavering gaze fixated upon the figure of ‘Xue Qian Shi,’ who knelt before him. In his grasp rested the bag of holding, something that he had entrusted to him earlier.

“Reveal your true face, are you Qing Yu Lou?” Murong Lin spoke.

‘Xue Qian Shi’ channelled his spiritual power, releasing his Manifestation transformation that distorted his skin and unveiled his original appearance – that of a middle-aged man.

He responded respectfully, “Yes, I am the floor master, Qing Yu Lou.”

His voice resonated with a palpable sense of enthusiasm, as though he found profound joy in his master’s recollection of his name.

Yet, Murong Lin’s ability to remember him wasn’t astonishing. Within the expanse of the Qing Yi Tower’s 108 floors, a mere eight floor masters held the distinction of attaining a cultivation at the ninth layer of the Manifestation realm.

More than a thousand people knelt behind him.

In a meticulously coordinated effort, five levels of the Qing Yi Tower seamlessly orchestrated the infiltration and replacement of vital figures within the Xue clan, while an additional fifteen floors conquered their present stronghold. In addition, sixteen floors had been dispatched to deal with other buildings and personnel affiliated with the Xue clan within the capital.

These 36 floors of the Qing Yi Tower represented the last batch of personnel that Murong Lin could mobilize. The remaining 72 floors were busy revolting in the 32 counties of Yan, but they should be done soon.

Meanwhile, the remaining 72 floors were deeply immersed in fomenting rebellion across the 32 counties of Yan.

However, it was a venture expected to reach its conclusion in the near future.

“Very well, gather the remaining resources with your men and disperse.” Murong Lin commanded.

Without hesitation, the entire assembly responded in unison, “Yes!”

In an instant, their figures vanished from the ruins of the Xue clan, leaving behind a vacant silence in their wake.

Only now did the dire state of the Xue clan begin to capture the attention of the influential forces in the capital. Nearby residents, eager to learn of the unfolding events, refrained from approaching the Xue clan’s manor due to the eerie screams emanating from within. Instead, they awaited the arrival of patrol teams to reveal the truth.

With the Xue clan’s residence growing eerily silent, uncertainty plagued the hearts of those gathered. Not a single member of the Xue clan had emerged, leaving speculation that they were either too preoccupied with cleaning up after their victory or that they had all been killed by their enemies, leaving their corpses scattered around the manor.

Five minutes of unsettling silence passed before those brave enough ventured closer to the walls of the Xue clan’s manor, utilizing their divine senses to investigate the situation within.

And with one sweep of their divine senses, a wave of astonishment washed over every single person, leaving them visibly pale and taken aback.

Following a brief pause, a handful of individuals among them found their voices, their exclamations echoing in a high-pitched shriek, “The Xue clan has been annihilated! The has been annihilated!”

In the wake of this revelation, a palpable shock reverberated through the assembled crowd, their gazes interlocking in mutual bewilderment, leaving them immobilized and uncertain about their next course of action.

Emerging at the scene, the ancestor of the Wang clan descended swiftly from the skies, bellowing towards the very skies themselves, “Who is responsible for this atrocity?”

His words resonated with every onlooker, bringing clarity to the unimaginable events that had transpired.

The Xue clan was no more.

Yet, the commotion surrounding this revelation distracted everyone from the fact that the palace guards who regularly patrolled the capital were nowhere to be found.

Within the confines of the imperial palace, a force exceeding a thousand cannon fodders found themselves mercilessly decimated by an equal contingent of the real palace guards. Those who remained, paralyzed by fear and lacking the mettle to fight, yielded to the inevitable and surrendered. Yet, even in the act of laying down their arms, their lives were callously snuffed out by the relentless onslaught.

This was what Murong Tong meant.

The imperial dignity could not suffer humiliation.

Even in their final moments, these cannon fodders remained ensnared by bewilderment. Weren’t they dispatched here to protect the palace? How was it that the very emperor they were supposed to defend was now their executioner?

Murong Tong had already arrived in front of ‘Murong Lin’ by this time.

His hands rested behind his back as he confronted Murong Lin, his gaze fixated upon the face before him. With a look of astonishment etched across his features, he voiced his incredulity, “Impressive transformation, truly remarkable. Is this the power of your Manifestation transformation?”

Upon hearing Tang Can’s analysis of the situation, Murong Tong’s mind conjured images of the third-rate novels currently trending in the capital, featuring cats transforming into the crown prince.

Finally, it all made sense – the audacity of these rebellious thieves attacking the imperial palace.

Concurrently, the cabinet ministers responsible for either safeguarding the palace or overseeing its administrative matters hastened to the scene. Observing that Murong Tong had already assumed control of the unfolding circumstances, they refrained from intervening.

‘Murong Lin’ remained silent, his heart chanting fervently: Long live Qing Yuan Lou, long live Qing Yuan Lou!

Murong Tong chuckled as he stared at the silent man before him, “To dare harbour aspirations for my throne with such audacity? Speak! Where are your remaining forces? Where is the third prince?”

Upon the revelation that the Murong Lin before him was an impostor, uncertainty gripped Murong Tong’s thoughts. The fate of the genuine Murong Lin remained shrouded in mystery—whether he was dead or alive.

Gradually, Murong Ding, Tang Can, and the others approached from the rear slowly. Those who they had suspected to have been replaced by the impostors were all mercilessly killed during the battle.

“It is indeed a chilling spectacle.” Murong Ding’s gaze remained fixed upon a cabinet minister whom he had previously engaged with. Now, the man’s face had been gruesomely torn apart and discarded, replaced by a macabre mass of mangled flesh where his face once resided.

And then, he turned his gaze towards ‘Murong Lin’.

Unbeknownst to him, the moment when Murong Lin had been replaced had eluded his attention, possibly transpiring days or even years earlier.

Nonetheless, a glimmer of hope lay within his heart that Murong Lin’s life had met its end – a prospect that could only be deemed as the most favourable outcome to him.

In that very instant, ‘Murong Lin’ parted his lips,

“You thieving dog, die!”

With an abrupt lunge, he charged forward, thrusting his palm towards Murong Tong’s chest—a shocking turn of events that sent a tremor through the onlookers.

Yet, Murong Tong had anticipated this very scenario. He was, after all, an extremely wary man.

His palm descended with force, effortlessly nullifying the impact of ‘Murong Lin’s’ assault.

Almost in tandem, ‘Murong Lin’s’ spine yielded to the pressure, a sickening snap reverberating as he crumpled to the ground.

Fixing his gaze upon the fallen form, Murong Tong’s tone remained nonchalant as he remarked, “Seventh layer of the Manifestation realm, commendable, though it’s regrettable your talents were squandered elsewhere.”

‘Murong Lin’ wailed in pitiable anguish, his voice laden with desperation, “I was mistaken! Spare me, I beg you! I had no hand in the third prince’s demise either, please, let me go!”

A palpable wave of revulsion rippled through the assembled onlookers as they bore witness to his state. A mastermind behind such a grandiose conspiracy was now reduced to a sorry sight begging so vulgarly.

How did he muster the audacity that emboldened him to launch an assault upon the imperial palace with a mere thousand followers?

Tang Can’s expression flickered with anger, impelling him to stride forward. “Your Majesty,” he addressed Murong Tong, “this wretch was responsible for my father’s demise. Would you grant me the honour of ending his life myself?”

Despite harbouring his own resentments toward Murong Tong over the death of his mother, Tang Can understood that the present circumstances didn’t allow him to confront him head-on. As a disciple of the Tang sect, he recognized the importance of strategy and subtlety.

Simultaneously, the ethos of the Tang sect demanded that he settle debts owed.

Hence, Tang Can sought Murong Tong’s approval for executing ‘Murong Lin’.

In contrast, Murong Ding’s expression soured considerably. Having just learned of Murong Lin’s survival from the lips of the imposter, the revelation cast a shadow of bleak news upon him.

An enigmatic gleam danced within the Poisonous Old Ghost’s gaze.

Murong Tong turned to regard the youthful disciple of the Poisonous Old Ghost, nodding slightly. An opportunity to secure favour was not to be squandered.

Swiftly stepping aside, Murong Tong’s gesture signalled for Tang Can to seize the moment.

With a gesture of gratitude, Tang Can levelled the Storm Chrysanthemum Needles at ‘Murong Lin’s’ face, deftly squeezing the trigger, unleashing an onslaught of tens of thousands of needles.

A collective exhale of relief swept through the assembled witnesses, liberated from the unsettling presence of this abhorrent technique.

Indeed, the repulsiveness of this technique was all too evident. Its capacity to facilitate seamless impersonation was fraught with the potential for unfounded accusations and manipulation.

A cascade of contemplations surged through the minds of those in attendance as they focused their gaze on the individual who had precipitated such turmoil in Yan. Slowly, the gathering began to disperse.

Meanwhile, Tang Can remained rooted in place, his gaze affixed to the porcupine-like corpse. Breathing heavily, he spoke with fervent excitement, “Father, did you see it? I’ve finally avenged you!”

His gaze lingered upon the corpse, noticing a faint trace of scorn etched onto its mangled face.

Yet, the perplexing question lingered—given the fear and despair that surely accompanied his final moments, why would the imposter meet his demise with such an expression?

Another puzzling aspect caught Tang Can’s attention, but he had no time to ponder further.

The Poisonous Old Ghost advanced, his palm descending with a resounding impact upon the corpse. His potent poison commenced its work, dissolving the remains into a grotesque puddle.

On the other hand, Lu Hai Miao joyfully leapt into Tang Can’s arms.

She beamed with fervour, her words overflowing with excitement. “You’ve finally avenged him! I’m certain your father in heaven will find solace in this.”

Tang Can returned her embrace awkwardly, offering a nod in response.

Only then did Lu Hai Miao register the impropriety of her actions. Hastily jumping off Tang Can, her cheeks flushed a deep hue as embarrassment flooded her features—a blush that bespoke the bashfulness of a young woman.

Tang Can, too, felt his face flush with embarrassment, aware of the genuine emotions he had just experienced.

Amused, the Poisonous Old Ghost emitted a hearty chuckle, his hand moving to stroke his beard as he regarded the duo with a knowing glint in his eyes, “Continue, continue, this old man shall take a stroll.”

Tang Can and Lu Hai Miao promptly interjected, their faces reddening as they halted him in his tracks.

Translator’s note

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