Can a Scholar Be Called a Villain

Chapter 86: Greed and patience

Murong Jiao expertly guided Murong Liu, Murong Tong, and Murong Ran into a quiet chamber, ensuring their safety before he departed. His destination was the battlefield, where he needed to swiftly join forces with the great ancestor of the Wang clan.

The stakes were high, with Murong Lin boasting the support of two formidable Sky Reaching realm experts by his side. He couldn’t risk separating from the great ancestor, in fear of being ambushed individually.

The final Murong clan elder protected their flanks, repelling any encroachers who dared to venture too close.

Considering that Murong Tong’s spiritual acupoint had been sealed and he had fallen victim to the venomous clutches of the Poisonous Old Ghost, his current state rendered him akin to a powerless mortal.

The fierce battle before the imperial palace raged on unabated.

Nearly half of the forces clad in green seemed to have converged here, their sheer numbers aimed at thwarting any and all intruders.

However, Murong Jiao and the esteemed Wang clan ancestor couldn’t afford to engage with this force. Their focus was set on the inner palace, where Murong Lin was.

In a separate manoeuvre orchestrated by Murong Ding, Mo Wen Dao led the members of the three great clans through the palace’s rear entrance. They were able to gain access through discreet communication with concubine Xue’s servants, and the imposing gates swung open almost instantly upon their arrival, revealing the remaining contingent of green-clad men.

Murong Ding and Mo Wen Dao similarly chose to ignore these enemies, and instead immediately rushed towards the inner palace.

But as they charged forward, Mo Wen Dao’s steps faltered suddenly, his gaze fixed upon Murong Ding and Lu Shao Hua.

Murong Ding was perplexed by his strange actions, “Sect leader Mo, is something wrong?”

Mo Wen Dao was currently grappling with a torrent of uncertainty.

There were only the three of them in this area, and no one else.

Even with their strengths combined, the might of Murong Ding and Lu Shao Hua paled before him.

Acting swiftly, he could eliminate them and later claim to have lost them during the commotion. Then, no one would be able to fault his actions.

In the aftermath, Murong Ran would emerge as the sole contender for the throne among Murong Tong’s sons.

As Murong Ran’s uncle, he would also reap considerable rewards from this calculated move in due course.

A hesitant glance towards Murong Ding reflected Mo Wen Dao’s internal struggle.

After all, Murong Ding was still the son of his brother-in-law.

While Murong Ding remained perplexed by the turmoil evident in Mo Wen Dao’s gaze, Lu Shao Hua, as the leader of the ‘White Mountain Bandits,’ recognized the chilling intent concealed within those eyes.

He was all too familiar with such gazes.

When greedy men grappled internally with their desires and rationality, their countenances often bore this very expression—a fleeting hesitation that seemed intended to lessen the weight of their guilt.

And following that, in their moment of action, their conscience would be less burdened.

“Your Highness! Run, swiftly!” Lu Shao Hua’s urgent cry echoed as he surveyed the vicinity, yet the surroundings remained eerily void of anyone else.

Unbeknownst to them, this was a place meticulously emptied by Murong Lin, a stage artfully set for Mo Wen Dao, and the ultimate resting ground reserved for Murong Ding.

Mo Wen Dao, driven by his insatiable greed, was not endowed with keen discernment.

As such, Murong Lin prepared a floor master of the Qing Yi Tower to whisper persuasive words in Mo Wen Dao’s ear:

“Placing Murong Ran on the throne will undoubtedly yield immense profits for the Mo Shan sect.

Embrace this opportunity, and you shall become the emperor’s uncle. With the current chaos reigning over the capital and the government’s mismanagement, this presents your prime opportunity to shine!”

The floor master’s potent words planted the seed of temptation in Mo Wen Dao’s mind.

Not for anything, but by the allure of the magnificence that awaited him.

With a touch of regret in his tone, he addressed Murong Ding, “I apologize, Murong Ding. It is for Ran’er’s sake that you must endure this.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than Mo Wen Dao seized the moment. One hand ensnared the protective Lu Shao Hua while the other lunged at Murong Ding.

Caught in a frenzied escape, Murong Ding was caught off guard by Mo Wen Dao’s brazen attack.

Before he could even turn his head, he disintegrated into dust that was swiftly carried away by the wind.

In that heart-stopping moment, the captive Lu Shao Hua bore witness to his master’s gruesome demise at the hands of Mo Wen Dao. Anguish and fury surged within him, culminating in a piercing cry, “Mo Wen Dao! Do you know what you have done!”

Struggling against the binds that entrapped him proved futile, and he too met an abrupt demise with a single decisive strike, forever erased from existence.

Gently closing his eyes, Mo Wen Dao whispered to no one, “The path to the throne allows no companions, may you be spared from royal birth in your next life.”

Concluding his utterance, he reopened his eyes and flew towards the inner imperial palace.

And as for the eldest prince Murong Ding, he tragically met his end at this desolate place.

At a distance from the imperial palace, Sheng Yi and the Willow Sword Saint occupied a restaurant, keenly observing the unfolding battle at the eastern entrance.

In his hands, the Willow Sword Saint cradled the book bearing the lower Barren grade cultivation technique gifted to him by Sheng Yi, engrossed in its contents.

He believed that cultivation methods transcribed onto paper yielded the most efficacious learning, a principle that had guided his practice and restricted him to techniques documented in this tangible form.

Liu Wu lounged in an air of boredom beside him, his gaze fixed upon Sheng Yi as he inquired, “Can you truly guarantee that Murong Lin will depart through that particular entrance?”

Sheng Yi, eyes closed as he drummed his fingers upon the table, took a deliberate pause before answering, “Murong Lin is a master strategist.

I’ve left no stone unturned and sent people to investigate every conceivable point of entry within the imperial palace, including the sewers.

He’s cunningly cleared out the vicinity around this side entrance and even positioned three sizable boats in the middle of the river directly in front of it.”

Liu Wu’s brows furrowed, seeking clarity. “But what can this mean?”

With a measured tone, Sheng Yi replied, “It signifies that he had meticulously plotted his escape from the beginning, with full intent to utilize this side entrance as his means of escape.”

Given Sheng Yi’s background as a reincarnator, he possessed insights garnered from encounters in his past life, bestowing upon him a nuanced understanding of individuals akin to Murong Lin.

“Fair point. Then, why did he even siege the imperial palace? If he was aware of his inability to safeguard it, why embark on this futile endeavour? He couldn’t have become emperor anyway.”

Liu Wu thought that Murong Lin was strange.

Was all of this done to simply humiliate Murong Tong?

In response, Sheng Yi cursed, “I can’t fathom his reasoning, everything he does defies logic. He is a product of sheer insanity.”

Indeed, no rational explanation could account for Murong Lin’s audacious gambit.

With the influence that he had, he could have bided his time and waited for Murong Tong’s abdication. Afterwards, he could simply suppress the other princes and ascend the throne.

There was no rational need for Murong Lin to subject himself to such monumental risks—slaughtering his siblings and imprisoning his own father to seize the throne.

To Sheng Yi, Murong Lin was an embodiment of insanity. In his previous life, he had borne witness to Murong Lin’s indiscriminate massacres and the widespread chaos he sowed across the realm. Consequently, Murong Lin’s delusional quest for the throne appeared entirely consistent with his character.

“They’ve started to fight.” The Willow Sword Saint remarked without lifting his gaze.

Sheng Yi and Liu Wu exchanged glances before refocusing their attention on the side entrance.

Liu Wu conjectured, “Perhaps Murong Lin has already met his end at their hands.”

“Impossible. His audacity in attacking the imperial palace implies thorough preparation for his escape.” His eyes remained riveted on the side entrance, casting a glance over the distant smoke.

Sounds of battle resonated from both the main and rear entrances of the imperial palace, reaching their ears. It seemed as if thousands were locked in a relentless and frenzied battle.

Despite their fewer numbers, the Qing Yi Tower members were a force to be reckoned with, each possessing a minimum mastery of the Origin realm.

In contrast, the amassed coalition of influential factions was a hastily gathered mob.

A deadlock persisted at both the front and rear entrances.

Amid this tension, a horse-drawn carriage made a gradual exit from the side entrance.

Three individuals manned the front, gripping the reins, with three blade-wielding horsemen at the side. Hovering above, two elderly figures soared through the skies.

“They’re here!” Sheng Yi immediately noticed them, and so did Liu Wu.

Turning back, they realised that Liu Sheng, who was seated behind them, was nowhere to be seen.

And then, a beam of light shot out towards the carriage.

“Don’t you dare!” The ‘Flowering Steel Trees’ moved swiftly to intercept the Willow Sword Saint.

The trio launched into the air, their clash sending shockwaves that razed the nearby structures to the ground. A stroke of luck prevailed—no souls lingered amidst the destruction.

Simultaneously, Sheng Yi and Liu Wu initiated their assault, hurtling toward the carriage.

Liu Wu, who was at the first layer of the Manifestation realm, swung his sword towards the foreign men who manned the reins.

Meanwhile, Sheng Yi, bolstered by Nie Su’s bestowed strength, confronted the trio of knife-wielding opponents head-on.

At this moment, the battle raged on with unrelenting intensity.

However, the halted horse carriage amidst this chaos remained eerily tranquil.

Translator’s note

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