Twisting Words to Suit Oneself: The Legacy of Moon Breathing

At the street corner, the Scribe slowly sheathed his Nichirin Blade.

His gaze was icy as he slowly walked towards Imamura.

With each step he took, a part of Imamura's burning body would fly away.

Moreover, an aura gradually emerged from the Scribe's body.

Like the blazing sun high in the sky, it was scorching hot, so hot that one dared not look directly at it.

As Hakuji and the other two sensed this aura, they felt as if they had fallen into the center of the sun.

Even though they weren't engulfed in flames, they still felt parched and their bodies were sweating profusely.

Tamayo was familiar with the Scribe, knew that he was angry.

Kneeling on one knee, Hakuji gasped for breath, watching the approaching Scribe with only one eye.

He hadn't expected that the seemingly amiable Scribe could unleash such a terrifying aura.

This pressure alone could probably crush him to death.

When the Scribe walked up to Imamura's enormous, demonized body was reduced to just a head.

The bone armor on its head had long since melted from the high temperature, turning into a pool of liquid that stuck to it.

Looking down, the Scribe could feel the anger and hatred emanating from the other person.

Scribe!

Forcibly tearing apart the stuck-together flesh, Imamura let out his final roar.

No sooner had he finished speaking Scribe crushed his charred head with a single stomp.

The fragments gradually dissipated, eventually turning into dust and disappearing into the world.

Even so, the aura emanating from the Scribe, which seemed to melt everything, still did not dissipate.

Under the oppressive force of this aura, Koyuki was physically weaker, had already fainted.

Even Hakuji and Keizo were in slightly better condition, felt difficulty breathing and their faces began to turn blue.

Just then, a cool, jade-like hand grasped the Scribe's hand.

I'm fine.

The moment he heard that voice, the aura within Scribe's body swirled rapidly and completely disappeared into his body.

A second later, the previous momentum completely vanished, as if it had never existed.

The invisible pressure disappeared, Hakuji and Keizo were soaked to the bone, as if they had just been pulled out of a water tank.

You forgot, I'm a ghost, I won't get hurt so easily.

Holding the Scribe's hands, Tamayo spoke softly, her words full of comfort.

Without saying a word, the Scribe turned around and pulled Tamayo into his arms.

They hugged each other tightly, burying their heads in each other's hair.

This was the first time Tamayo had been treated this way by the Scribe, and her cheeks flushed slightly.

He gently patted the other person's broad shoulder, as if to comfort him and tell him not to be nervous.

With the delicate fragrance of Tamayo's hair filling her nostrils, Scribe felt her mood gradually relax.

He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

I'm fine now.

When he opened his eyes again, his usual smile was back on his lips.

"Release Tamayo, "the Scribe said.

Go check on Koyuki and the others, and while you're at it, treat Keizo's fracture.

Nodding, Tamayo turned around but didn't forget to glance back at the Scribe one last time.

It's really alright now.

The Scribe waved his hand and scratched his head.

With that, Tamayo walked over with a sense of relief and began to check on Hakuji and the others' injuries.

With a slight narrowing of his eyes, Scribe turned around and ran towards the town.

There, more than twenty ghosts were waiting for him.

He walked toward the sound of screams and quickly found the first one.

This is a ghost with a gorilla's head, covered in black fur, and two large fangs at the corners of its mouth.

The moment the Scribe saw this guy, he knew that this was the disciple that Hakuji had encountered during hand-to-hand combat.

At this moment, he had already abandoned reason and his human identity for the sake of power, and turned into a demon that preys on humans.

Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, the gorilla-like ghost's protruding tongue was covered in barbs.

His eyes, the size of copper bells, were filled with longing—a longing for the flesh and blood of the Scribe, a primal urge.

With a roar, the gorilla demon charged forward and then punched the Scribe in the face.

His mouth was splitting open in a wide grin; he seemed to already see the other person smashed into a bloody pulp.

The black fist in his eyes grew larger and larger, but the Scribe's gaze remained as calm as ever.

Extend your arm straight out, with your right palm outstretched and upright in front of you.

Two fists, one large and one small, completely disproportionate, collided.

The next moment, the gorilla's expression suddenly twisted into a grimace.

The other person's hand felt like an iron hook, piercing deeply into his fist.

Muscles were pierced, veins were torn apart, and bones were shattered.

The Scribe's five fingers pierced deeply into it, and intense pain instantly shot through his brain.

Awooooo!

With a painful roar, the gorilla demon threw another punch, intending to force it back.

But reality is cruel.

He made a fist with his left hand and slammed it hard into the other person's wrist.

The immense force transformed into a heavy hammer, instantly shattering the gorilla's left wrist.

Blood and flesh splattered everywhere, revealing a crater the size of a fist.

With both arms crippled, the gorilla's facial muscles twitched wildly, as if something had gone wrong.

With its mouth wide open and body stretched forward, a foul, fishy stench assaulted the Scribe.

He actually planned to eat the Scribe whole!

The shadow overhead grew larger and larger, and the chill emanating from its sharp teeth drew ever closer. Scribe could even see a sense of madness, a desire to perish together, in the other's eyes.

Even so, the expression on his face remained icy.

With his free left hand, he drew his sword from his waist, and the Nichirin Blade was unsheathed, transforming into a streak of light that pierced through his opponent's body.

Before the gorilla ghost could react, it only felt a chill on its body, and then felt nothing more.

Before he could figure out what the Scribe had done, a burning pain suddenly shot through his body.

As if he had swallowed a bomb, a burst of flames instantly erupted from his body.

High temperature, raging flames, pain, enemy.

These simple eight words encapsulate the entirety of the gorilla's final moments.

Before he died, a memory from his time as a human flashed through his mind.

It's true, there are always people more capable than you.

The falling body was continuously burned, eventually turning into dust.

With a single strike, the Scribe annihilated the ape demon and, without pausing, headed towards the location of the other demon.

Its mouth bristled with fangs, and it moved forward on all fours, resembling a ferocious saber-toothed tiger ready to slash with a single blow. (Reading La)

Its legs were muscular, and its arms were like springs, capable of slashing with a single blow.

The insect-like creature, covered by a sturdy carapace and capable of spitting out toxic liquid, was slain with a single strike.

These demonized disciples were as powerless as lambs to the slaughter before the Scribe.

They were wiped out one by one with a single strike, and in no time they were all eliminated.

When the Scribe had finished off the last evil spirit, six words on the ground caught his attention.

Outside the town, in the deep pit, awaits you.

His brow furrowed slightly when he saw the signature.

Because this was left behind by Kokushibo.

Chapter 85 Sophistry, the Legacy of Moon Breathing

What does Kokushibo want with me?

Feeling very puzzled, Scribe was curious as to why the other party would choose to contact her at this time.

From a human perspective, Kokushibo was the mastermind behind a large-scale demonization.

If it weren't for the Scribe's intervention, the entire town would likely have been reduced to ruins overnight, with not a single one of its inhabitants surviving.

Despite the tense relationship, Kokushibo still insisted on seeing him.

Unsure of what the other party was up to, the Scribe still headed out of town.

The Scribe was very familiar with the large pit where the meeting place was located; it was created when he used Radiant Flower Thrust to eliminate Mizuru's clone.

Before long, he arrived at the edge of the pit.

In the center of the sunken pit, a figure stood with his back to him.

The moment Scribe saw that figure, she understood why the other person had the confidence to come see her.

This body of yours, is it a clone?

Although the form in front of him looked no different from Kokushibo, Scribe could sense that it was just a clone with little combat ability.

To be precise, this is called projection.

Turning around, Kokushibo said.

This is just another use for the Moon Breathing.

In deserts and other places, you can sometimes see a spectacular sight.

Mirage.

This phenomenon is essentially a virtual image produced by the refraction of light emitted by an object through the atmosphere; it is an optical phenomenon.

The projection that Kokushibo is using now is similar to a mirage.

Through his mastery of the Moon Breathing, he projects his distant self here to communicate with the Scribe.

Of course, this ability is more advanced than a mirage, otherwise there wouldn't be any sound transmitted.

So, what do you want from me?

Upon realizing that the other party was a projection, the Scribe knew that Kokushibo had no intention of fighting him.

Otherwise, given the other party's personality, they wouldn't resort to such meaningless petty tricks.

Raising his head, Kokushibo looked at the moon in the sky and slowly spoke.

Yoriichi has been dead for a long time.

It is 156 years, 3 months and 7 days.

With a cold smile, Scribe seemed to have already guessed what the other party was thinking.

Kokushibo certainly didn't come to remind me of the past; he must have had his reasons for choosing this time and method.