Upon seeing the Scribe's appearance, the samurai's pupils contracted.
His full head of black hair was stained with blood, and his clothes were dripping with undried blood, as if they had been pulled from a pool of blood.
Just getting close to it added a pungent, fishy stench to the air.
The ferocity in his eyes far surpassed that of anyone the samurai had ever encountered in his life.
"Click".
Before he could react, the samurai felt a sudden pain in his throat.
With the sound of something shattering, everything went black, and consciousness slowly faded away.
The lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud, and everyone who saw it was terrified.
"Dead, dead?"
The nearest samurai watched his comrade die before his eyes, his eyes filled with confusion and bewilderment, but even more so with intense fear.
"What have you all done?"
A hoarse voice rang out, like the low murmur of a desert traveler before madness, which was hard to accept.
"What did you do?"
Summoning his courage, the head guard put on a tough front.
"Why should we tell you when we're doing something? 'Someone, come here and catch this murderer.'"
However, none of the samurai who heard the order dared to move.
"What are you doing? Didn't you see him just kill someone?!"
The captain of the guards roared angrily at his men.
"The news reports are accurate; the Scribe is a complete murderer!"
The only response he received was the Scribe's low, hoarse voice.
"I'll ask you one more time, what have you done?"
Even though the Scribe wasn't staring at anyone, all the warriors felt as if they were being looked directly into his eyes.
The murderous intent in their eyes, unlike that of humans, had almost destroyed their hearts.
"We are looking for a plant called 'Blue Spider Lily'."
"That's right, we just dug up a few graves."
"We didn't do it; the deputy head of the guard ordered us to do it, and he even spat in it!"
The samurai, one after another, quickly betrayed their leader.
"You!"
He glanced at the warriors in alarm, and before his deputy could say anything, he suddenly felt a chill down his spine.
The sword at his waist had been taken away at some point, and the next moment, a whooshing sound of wind cutting through the air came.
"Pfft"
The sound of flesh being cut was followed by intense pain.
"Ughhhhh!"
The pain was excruciating; the brain, overstimulated in a short period, instinctively tried to force the body into a state of dormancy.
At that moment, another sound of flesh being severed rang out.
This time, the deputy finally realized where he had been hurt.
He had legs before, but now he has lost both arms.
A scream that pierced the clouds echoed, and only then did the other warriors realize that their deputy had been mutilated into a human pig by the Scribe.
"Scribe, what are you doing!"
The head guard felt a burning pain on his face as he saw his deputy being crippled in front of so many of his men.
This situation is no less than slapping yourself and then kicking yourself in the face.
Anger burned within him, and the captain of the guard drew his sword and slashed at the Scribe.
But the Scribe, who had his back to him, didn't even glance at him and instead swung his sword backhand.
"Ping!"
The two knives clashed together, producing a piercing explosion.
"Click click".
A strange sound came, and then, under the watchful eye of the head guard, his sword shattered into several pieces.
The other knife also broke off from the front half, but the remaining part still slashed at his shoulder.
The next second, an arm was thrown into the air.
"Aaaaaaah!"
Clutching the wound on his severed arm, the captain of the guard collapsed to the ground, rolling around in agony.
Blood gushed out continuously, splattering onto the faces of the surrounding warriors.
More blood splattered all over the Scribe, adding to his ferocity and terror.
After crippling the head guard with a single blow, the Scribe said nothing, but simply raised the broken sword in his hand and then plunged it down fiercely.
With the support of his immense strength, his second-in-command's armor was easily pierced as if it were rags, disappearing completely from his lower back.
After stabbing the man's kidneys, the Scribe gripped the hilt of his knife and dragged his assistant forward.
A large amount of blood flowed from the wound, robbing the deputy of his strength to resist and gradually eroding his life force.
If left unattended, it won't be long before it turns into a corpse.
From where I was standing to the tomb, it was only a few dozen steps away.
But the Scribe walked so slowly, his steps so heavy, as if there was an insurmountable chasm between them.
By the time he got closer, it was already dusk.
Then, the sight of the grave being dug up appeared before his eyes.
Seeing his junior brother's coffin being overturned, seeing his master's wife's bones being spat on, seeing his master's tombstone being kicked over and his name being covered by mud, Scribe's breath seemed to stop at this moment.
There was silence for a long time, and even the gentle breeze around them disappeared at that moment.
After a long while, a hoarse but trembling voice rang out.
"Did you do all of this?"
The deputy, whose life was nearing its end, had lost most of his consciousness and was only repeating one sentence.
"Spare me, spare me, spare me."
"I'll spare you, but who will bring peace to my master, his wife, and my junior brother?"
The anger that had been beneath the surface finally erupted. With a roar, the Scribe gripped the hilt of his sword and threw his deputy into the air.
One hand grabbed the other person's head and then pulled hard.
Before he could even let out a scream, his already mangled body was torn to pieces in the blink of an eye.
The blood turned into rain, splashing onto the ground and onto the Scribe's face.
Chapter 540 Massacre
His calm face showed no emotion. The Scribe did not wipe away the blood, but slowly walked towards Yoriichi's grave.
He knelt on the ground with a thud, plunged his hands into the soil, and grabbed a handful of dirt.
One handful, two handfuls, three handfuls...
He enlarged Yoriichi's grave a bit before standing up and collecting the remains of his wife and children, along with their coffin.
After rearranging everything and putting it back in, the Scribe buried the entire family of three in one grave this time.
He used his hands to fill the soil back in, and then erected the tombstone.
Wiping away the dirt with his blood-stained hands, the Scribe gently stroked the name on the tombstone, his eyes somewhat dazed.
After a long while, he drew his Nichirin Blade and carved a few more words on the tombstone.
"Yoriichi's wife" and "Yoriichi's son"
From now on, no one will be able to separate Tsugikuni Yoriichi's family.
Ayu won't do, Muzan do, and the Scribe won't do either.
After placing the tombstone back in front of the grave, the Scribe kowtowed several times before it.
"Master, from now on, no one will bother you anymore, I promise."
Two lines of clear tears slid down his cheeks, and his long-suppressed emotions erupted, turning into a roar.
Hearing that furious roar, the warriors who had been frozen in place suddenly collapsed to the ground.
At this point, they had no other thoughts but to get away from this place and to escape from the Scribe's clutches.
"I quit, I'm done."
A pale-faced samurai dropped his sword, his lips trembling so much he could barely speak.
"I want to leave here, I want to leave Crown Prince Ayu, I want to leave this land."
With that, he let out a strange cry and ran off into the distance.
At that moment, the instincts of the creatures erupted completely, and the other warriors followed his example, dropping their swords and scattering in all directions.
The head guard, who was lying on the ground, watched this scene but did not stop it.
It wasn't that he didn't want to, but that he had lost the strength to shout.
Blood was still flowing from the severed arm, forming a small puddle on the ground.
A mocking glint flashed in his lifeless eyes, it was unclear whether he was referring to himself or someone else.
"Escape, even if it's just one person, tell the world everything that happened here."
Then, the appearance of a figure shattered all his hopes.
Holding the Nichirin Blade in his hand, the Scribe slowly exhaled.
His eyes slowly moved, sweeping over the fleeing warriors in all directions, before he looked up at the sky.
"The moon tonight looks a lot like the one that day."
After saying that, the Scribe moved.
His arm and Nichirin Blade seemed to vanish as he swung them out at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye.
In an instant, countless crescent-shaped Blade Wind appeared out of thin air and flew outwards.
Amidst the whistling sound of wind being cut, more tiny, crescent-shaped Blade Wind were created, continuously slicing through the ground.
Wherever it went, the land turned upside down, boulders shattered, and trees broke.
Deep ravines appeared, and nothing in sight was intact.
In the blink of an eye, the fleeing samurai were overtaken by the Blade Wind.
The armor they wore was completely ineffective in providing any protection.
Amidst screams of agony, everyone except the head guard was chopped into pieces.
Blood splattered on the ground, making the moonlight seem even more crimson.
Upon witnessing this bloody scene, the head guard seemed to forget his pain and stood there frozen in place.
The pungent smell of blood rushed into his brain through his nasal cavity, and he vomited with a "whoosh".
At that moment, he finally realized why the seemingly frail Scribe had been reported in the news to have killed more than a dozen people.
The Scribe is not human!
Footsteps sounded, and a tall figure loomed over the head guard.