Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Truth
The utmost power in the school, when it came to martial prowess, was Katsura’s sword-drawing technique.
Watching Zhang Qingqing rush toward her, Liu Mengchao felt not a trace of nervousness. The closer the blade in Zhang Qingqing’s hand came, the steadier Liu Mengchao’s own hand became.
Steady hands—only then could the blade move swiftly.
The essence of the sword-drawing technique was simple: strike to kill in one blow. The moment you draw your blade is when your strength peaks. Once your blade is fully exposed to the air, only two outcomes remain: either your enemy’s blood spills forth, or you die.
In Liu Mengchao’s pupils, Zhang Qingqing’s blade grew larger and larger. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the anger and resentment radiating from Zhang Qingqing's blade.
But this was no fairy tale, nor some comic where the protagonist shouts and shatters the world, defeating all foes in a single breath.
“The most important thing… is that you are not the protagonist.”
As the words fell, the blade was drawn.
The invisible Tang horizontal blade flashed from Liu Mengchao’s left. In that instant, a crisp sound split the air, the result of the blade’s swift motion.
Target: temple.
The long blade thrust forward, meeting Zhang Qingqing’s own, piercing straight for her head.
A spray of crimson blossomed, silent as a flower opening in the night, appearing at the right temple of Zhang Qingqing. Her tightly clenched hand slackened.
That red flower, so beautiful, bloomed wantonly beside Zhang Qingqing’s temple.
Clang—
The blade in Zhang Qingqing’s hand fell to the ground, as if the prelude of a symphony.
Hua Weiwei watched everything unfold, unable to contain the surge within her heart. She had worried Liu Mengchao might fall, stifled and defeated, by Zhang Qingqing’s sudden counterattack.
But Liu Mengchao’s blade, having pierced, now swept to cut.
Crack!
Zhang Qingqing’s once beautiful face suddenly became a helpless doll, soaring through the air.
Thud...
After that hopeless sound, Zhang Qingqing’s body collapsed backward, headless. The cold system prompt echoed in Liu Mengchao’s ear.
“Agent of the Main God: self-defense counterattack completed. Scanning: Agent of the Main God is no longer in danger. Scanning: Main God Space player Zhang Qingqing deceased. Cause: Life-threatening attack on Agent of the Main God, counterattack fatal.”
Yes, dead.
Liu Mengchao held the transparent Tang horizontal blade upside down. Blood dripped from its clear edge, dotting the ground with red marks, like winter plum blossoms blooming silently, scentless.
“You…”
Seeing Zhang Qingqing finally die before her eyes, Hua Weiwei’s smile could no longer be suppressed. She laughed, for events had unfolded exactly as she had hoped.
Liu Mengchao was by no means a newcomer to the reincarnation world like herself. He must be a veteran, using “School Days,” this easy anime, to select worthy teammates.
Hua Weiwei believed, even if Liu Mengchao would not admit it, the truth was plain. How could a newcomer so skillfully perform the sword-drawing technique? And how could a newcomer possess a transparent, razor-sharp blade?
She had won her gamble!
At that thought, Hua Weiwei clenched her fists unconsciously.
Liu Mengchao, however, said nothing. Though adept in psychology and able to adjust his mindset, the experience of ending a life so directly, without mercy, still left him uncomfortable.
He felt he ought to say something. As he sheathed his blade, he needed to return his heart to its rightful place; otherwise, over time, he would become bloodthirsty, losing all reason.
Consider it a farewell, reincarnator. In this foreign land, after a long sigh, poetry slowly spilled from Liu Mengchao’s lips.
“At parting, we finally know—flowers are flowers, people are people.”
As Liu Mengchao recited Zhang Qingqing’s death poem, the voice of Bai Ya, the Main God’s secretary, arrived by his ear.
“Agent, ten minutes and twenty-three seconds remain until the Main God’s mission in School Days concludes.”
Ten minutes, twenty-three seconds?
Liu Mengchao turned, amusement dancing in his eyes, watching Hua Weiwei who stood behind him.
“You certainly aren’t an ordinary reincarnator!”
Hua Weiwei’s gaze brimmed with hope and longing; she seemed to glimpse her own bright, peaceful future.
A woman should be like a vine, clinging to a man, reaching the summit with ease. As the saying goes: men conquer the world, women conquer men. Her task was to conquer the man before her.
“Please let me join you.”
As she spoke, tears sparkled in her eyes.
“Bai Ya,” Liu Mengchao looked upon Hua Weiwei’s expression, yet felt no inclination to smile, “issue mission prompt:
Prompt: 1. Makoto Itou has despaired of the world.
2. Katsura has not been won over.
Warning: When the mission ends, reincarnators with negative scores will be erased!
Warning: Nine minutes and fifty-seven seconds remain until mission completion.”
Once Liu Mengchao issued the prompt, he noticed something interesting.
Prize pool: 180,000.
Are you looking forward to it? Or do you feel fear?
“Liu Mengchao, let’s hurry and find Katsura! She must still be waiting for you on the rooftop. Winning over that young girl should be easy for you.”
As she spoke, Hua Weiwei’s cheeks flushed red.
“Even I, inadvertently, have been charmed by your allure.”
“No rush.”
Instead, Liu Mengchao sat down calmly, closing his eyes in peace. He had no desire to waste further effort on Hua Weiwei; he would simply wait for time to end, and erase this self-important woman.
Such composure from Liu Mengchao…? Hua Weiwei watched him in disbelief: at this critical moment, he closed his eyes to rest.
No—he must be testing me, to see if I am fit to join his team. But what do I have to offer…?
Hua Weiwei lowered her head, glanced at her proud chest, then at Zhang Qingqing’s corpse lying on the ground. Suddenly she realized her looks alone would not sway Liu Mengchao.
So—what was her advantage?
Think fast!
Hua Weiwei felt her throat grow ever drier, anxiety rising within her. Suddenly, a light flashed in her mind.
She had survived so far only because she always followed Liu Mengchao’s words—she always chose the right side.
“I am someone who knows how to adapt, Brother Liu Mengchao. No matter what you ask of me in the future, I will obey. I will be like a vine, clinging to your side; whatever you need, I will provide.”
With that, Hua Weiwei walked lightly to Liu Mengchao’s side, gently shaking his arm, “Please, just give me some points.”
Points…?
A strange smile appeared on Liu Mengchao’s face. This smile sent the wrong signal to Hua Weiwei; she believed Liu Mengchao had decided to accept her.
“Wonderful! I knew Brother Liu was the best!” With that, Hua Weiwei pressed herself to Liu Mengchao, as if she really was a vine.
Liu Mengchao remained unmoved, silently counting the system’s prompts.
One minute, ten seconds…
Fifty-eight seconds…
Forty seconds…
Hua Weiwei panicked.
“Please, please, just let me live. I’ll do anything! Anything you want!”
No answer—only time marched on.
Thirty seconds…
“I’ll be your slave, just please…”
Hua Weiwei knelt, her face full of ingratiating cheer, yet her brows could not conceal her panic and despair.
Twenty seconds…
Liu Mengchao’s eyes opened. So this was the true face of ugliness.
But Hua Weiwei, lost in her fantasies, nearly cried aloud in excitement—Liu Mengchao had not given up on her!
Fifteen seconds…
This was the last test. Even now, Hua Weiwei kept cheering herself on.
Ten seconds…
Finally, Liu Mengchao spoke. Hearing his voice alone, Hua Weiwei felt she’d entered paradise, for salvation was at hand.
Yet, in the next moment, despair overtook her.
“Sorry, I am the Main God.”
The countdown continued.
Nine seconds…
――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――
Ps: The death poem chosen is Hikokawa Tamako’s death poem…
Any advice on how to reduce inflammation? Recently I’ve been writing until two or three in the morning every night, drinking too much coffee… This afternoon I had a cup and my left gum started hurting terribly…