aircannonsinc Chapter 85 Frost Blade under the Moon
Chapter 85 Frost Blade under the Moon
Under the moonlight, Leonard stood not far from Karl, the moonlight shining from behind him, hiding his face in shadow.
But Karl could still see the enigmatic smile on the other person's face. He instinctively stood up, hid the manuscript behind his back, and asked somewhat warily, "Teacher, why are you here?"
Leonard didn't move. He stood there, seemingly smiling, his voice still gentle: "Do you believe in the Church, Karl?"
Carl hadn't expected Leonard to ask such a question. He stared blankly at his teacher, unable to understand the teacher's underlying intentions.
After a moment, he nodded and said firmly, "I believe you."
"Karl, I remember you mentioned that your dream was to bring a better life to everyone in Loren Town." Leonard's voice rang out again, sounding somewhat ethereal in the quiet night. "Even if the Church executes Professor Derwent later, even if the Church doesn't care about the lives of the lower classes, will you still believe in the Church?"
Leonard stared at Carl quietly, his voice still gentle, but speaking very quickly, as if he were forcing Carl to answer.
Karl was stunned. He had never expected that his teacher, Leonard, a priest, would say such blasphemous things. He inexplicably recalled his conversation with Suren that day by the river, when Suren had stretched out his arms and pointed to both ends of the city.
At that moment, he suddenly understood what Suren meant that day.
Seeing that Karl did not answer, Leonard continued to ask, "Karl, if the manuscript contained the power to fulfill your dreams, would you betray the church for it?"
Leonard's voice seemed to possess a certain magic, prompting Carl to involuntarily reply, "Perhaps, but..."
He paused, lowered his head to think for a moment, then looked up at Leonard with unwavering determination. He solemnly said, "But if this manuscript can save the professor, I will not hesitate to donate it to the church."
A flicker of disappointment crossed Leonard's eyes, but it was fleeting and imperceptible.
His face still wore a gentle smile, and he nodded: "Very good, Karl, you have passed the test. Now hand over the manuscript to me, and I will report it to the church and try to get the professor pardoned."
Carl was overjoyed and was about to hand it to Leonard when he suddenly remembered Suren's warning.
He stopped and asked, somewhat puzzled, "Teacher, how did you know this was that manuscript? And how did you know it might grant you a pardon?"
"That's why I said I'd try, isn't it? As for why I knew it was a manuscript..." Leonard chuckled softly, raising his cane to tap the house, "The previous 'Harp Library' here was the 'Gate of Truth's' stronghold in Loren Town. It was my investigation that led to their temporary withdrawal."
He put down his cane, tapped the ground, shook his head, and smiled helplessly: "That's why I'm still here at this time. I originally just wanted to wait for the members of 'Gate of Truth,' but I didn't expect to run into you."
Karl stood there, his mind a jumble. Leonard's explanation made perfect sense, but why did he ask him about betraying the church? Was it really just to test him?
His intuition told him that something was wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint the source of the problem.
He clenched the manuscript in his hand, as if he had made up his mind. He looked at Leonard quietly and said, "Then, teacher, I'll submit the manuscript to the police station with you tomorrow."
Leonard chuckled and shook his head. He looked at Karl with some appreciation, nodded, and said, "That's right, Karl, keep that vigilance. Well then, let's do as you say. Let's go back."
After saying that, he strode onto the stone-paved road.
Carl was stunned. He had just been prepared to run away, but Leonard agreed so casually.
"Looks like I was overthinking it," he muttered to himself.
He then followed closely behind Leonard.
The two walked along the quiet street, chatting softly and casually.
At this moment, Leonard asked casually, "By the way, why didn't Suren come with you?"
"That guy's always busy taking on bounties, he's a workaholic, he's probably resting by now." Carl thought of Suren, but decided not to involve him. After all, Leonard would likely face scrutiny from the church after he offered a pardon. "Besides, he's always been against me getting involved, so I didn't mention the manuscript to him."
At this moment, Leonard suddenly stopped, took out a strangely shaped coin and tossed it into the air. The coin spun in the air and then landed in his palm.
Carl stopped and looked at his teacher, who had his eyes closed. A question crossed his mind, and he couldn't help but ask, "What's wrong, teacher?"
Leonard didn't answer Carl immediately, seemingly sensing something. After a while, he opened his eyes, nodded, then put the coin away. His gaze fell on Carl, and a peculiar smile appeared on his face.
"Karl, do you know why I'm called the 'Frostblade Saint'?"
Leonard's voice echoed through the silent street, carrying a hint of coldness.
At the same time, he raised his cane and tapped it lightly on the ground. The magic circle on the cane lit up with a pale blue light, which then disappeared into the ground along the cane.
Karl was stunned. A strange sense of palpitation came over him. Before he could react, a wall of air suddenly rose up around him!
The air wall formed a ring around him, encircling him, and Karl could even hear the sound of the air blasts coming from right next to his ears.
He couldn't help but take a step back. As he moved, the corner of his uniform touched the wall of energy, which sliced through his clothes instantly like a blade, leaving a clean cut as if it had been cleaved by a sharp knife.
Leonard's actions completely baffled Carl. He couldn't believe that his teacher, who had taught him so diligently, would attack him. Instinctively, he shouted, "Why?"
Leonard did not respond. He raised his cane again with a blank expression and tapped it lightly on the ground. Countless ice spikes immediately emerged around the air wall and pierced into the air wall at the same time!
In a flash, Karl's right hand glowed. He did not try to save himself, after all, he was just a "Seeker of Reason". What he had to do was burn the manuscript.
However, he was still too slow. The flames had just been lit when the ice spikes came flying in, piercing Karl's arms, thighs, and chest!
The manuscript scattered on the ground instantly, and the flames were suppressed by the surrounding cold.
He spat out a mouthful of blood, and the world in his eyes was stained crimson. In his vision, Leonard was slowly walking towards him.
"It's a real shame, Karl. It pains me to see someone as talented as you die here." Leonard looked at Karl, who was covered in wounds, with a hint of regret in his expression. Then, as if he had thought of something interesting, he smiled. "By the way, Deventer was not sent to the Holy See. He died the moment he refused to hand over the manuscript."
He walked over to Karl, the wind wall had disappeared. He picked up the scattered manuscripts from the ground, glanced through them briefly, and his smile grew increasingly cruel.
He looked up, appreciating Karl, who was supported by ice spikes and resembled an ice sculpture, as if he were looking at a work of art.
Looking into Leonard's eyes, Karl felt his life slipping away and his strength being drained, yet he felt no resentment.
A jumble of thoughts flashed through his mind, followed by images of people: Professor De Went, Caregiver Marian, and others appeared one by one, waving to him.
Karl's pupils gradually dilated, and in the final moments of his life, he remembered that familiar face—Surren.
Suren, I understand. This is what it feels like to pursue the truth. This is "Sherlock Holmes".
This was his last thought.
Leonard looked at Karl, who had completely lost all vital signs, and gently tapped the ground with his cane. The ice spikes seemed to evaporate, leaving no trace.
He looked at Karl's corpse, pondered for a moment, then took out the coin again and tossed it out, repeating the same action.
After a while, he opened his eyes, but there was a hint of doubt in them.
"Sherlock Holmes? Who is that?"