Wandering Swordsman |

"Brother Situ, are you alright?" Shen Mo asked softly, his voice filled with endless concern. He approached the bedside with light footsteps, each step seemingly afraid of disturbing the man who had finally found peace. He stood there, quietly waiting for a response, his gaze gentle yet firm.

Situ Changkong slowly opened his eyes. When he saw Shen Mo, he forced a smile. The smile held a hint of bitterness, but also a touch of gratitude. "Brother Shen, I'm sorry to have worried you." His voice was low and hoarse, as if each word had taken a great deal of effort. "But..." He paused, a flicker of self-reproach and helplessness in his eyes, "I failed to rescue Junior Sister Meng last night. I have let Master down."

Hearing these words, Shen Mo's heart skipped a beat, and a wave of sorrow washed over him. The experience of infiltrating the Black Wind Gang together last night was still vivid in his mind. They had faced a life-or-death ordeal together, an experience that had forged an even stronger bond between them. Shen Mo sat on the chair beside the bed, gazing at Situ Changkong with eyes full of understanding and comfort, as if trying to melt away all his worries and anxieties with his gentle gaze.

"Brother Situ, don't worry," Shen Mo said gently but firmly, "I will definitely rescue her safely." His voice was soft but full of strength as he spoke, as if the promise had already taken root in his heart. He gently placed his hand on the back of Situ Changkong's hand, conveying silent support and encouragement.

Feeling the warmth from his friend, Situ Changkong's eyes welled up with emotion. "Brother Shen, thank you," he said softly, his voice weak but filled with genuine feeling.

Afterwards, the two had a heart-to-heart talk for half an hour before Shen Mo quietly took his leave.

......

The scene shifts to the Murong family mansion in Luoyang. This historic family residence stands like a fortress in the bustling city, witnessing countless changes in history.

That night, the Murong family mansion was brightly lit, with lanterns in the courtyard swaying gently in the breeze, casting warm shadows. All around was quiet, save for the gentle murmur of flowing water and the occasional chirping of insects, adding a touch of life to this tranquil scene.

Stepping into the patriarchal meeting hall, a solemn and dignified atmosphere immediately greets you. It is a spacious and bright hall, with portraits of successive heads of the Murong family hanging on the walls. Each portrait is lifelike, as if transporting the viewer back to that glorious era. These portraits are not only witnesses to the family history but also symbols of its spiritual strength; their presence imbues the entire space with a sense of weight and history.

In the center of the hall stood a massive round mahogany table, covered with a red silk embroidered with the family crest. The vibrant color and the rustic wood grain complemented each other perfectly, exuding unparalleled nobility and majesty. Around the table were neatly arranged a dozen or so carved chairs, each seemingly concealing a legendary tale. At this moment, all eyes were fixed on Murong Liang, the head of the Murong family, seated in the main seat.

Murong Liang was an elderly man with flowing white hair. His face, like jade weathered by time, radiated both wisdom and the marks of a life lived. He wore a black brocade robe, the collar and cuffs embroidered with exquisite silver thread patterns, adding to his dignified elegance. However, what was most striking were his eyes—deep and bright, as if they could see through the secrets of the world. Whenever he looked at someone, he exuded an invisible pressure, a power of authority and wisdom accumulated over the years.

"Gentlemen," Murong Liang began, his voice steady and powerful, each word seeming to emanate from the depths of his heart, echoing throughout the hall, "we have gathered you all here today because we face a crucial decision." His words fell silent, even the rustling of leaves in the wind outside became exceptionally clear. The elders exchanged glances, their eyes revealing worry and caution. They knew that such gatherings often foreshadowed a momentous event.

After Murong Liang finished speaking, a brief silence fell over the hall. After a moment, another elderly man with white hair, clearly one of the most respected elders, finally broke the silence: "Patriarch, is this related to that matter?" His voice was low and slow, with a hint of probing, as if every word had been carefully considered.

Murong Liang nodded slightly, his expression serious. "Indeed, the head of the Huangfu family personally came to propose marriage the day before yesterday, wanting his second son to marry into my Murong family and become Qing'er's husband. At that time, I did not reply, so the head of the Huangfu family said that he would visit again in ten days. We must carefully consider how to deal with this matter." His words were heavy, clearly indicating that this matter had become a thorn in his side.

At this moment, the second elder, whose hair was half-white, spoke up: "Patriarch, everyone in the world knows that although the Huangfu family does not concern themselves with worldly affairs, their members wield considerable power in the imperial court. If we rashly refuse, we may find ourselves in an unfavorable situation." His gaze swept over everyone present, trying to evoke their agreement.

Upon hearing this, the young master of the Murong family, Murong Tian, ​​felt a surge of anger welling up inside him, which he could hardly contain. As Murong Qing's father, he knew his daughter's character and wishes well, and he absolutely could not allow her to become a victim of a political marriage. Immediately, he stood up abruptly, his chair sliding back a few inches, making a slight scraping sound that was particularly jarring in the quiet hall.

"Father!" Murong Tian's voice suddenly rose, filled with undisguised anger. "We can't do this! Qing'er is the future head of the Murong family. Her future and her marriage are not for us to decide here, but for her to decide herself!" His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white from the force, and his eyes burning with intense flames.

Murong Tian strode confidently to the center of the round table, facing all the elders. His voice grew even more impassioned: "Qing'er has been intelligent, brave, and strong since childhood. She is not only the pride of our Murong family but also its future hope. How can we disregard her happiness for the sake of so-called interests?"

The elders exchanged glances, sensing a hint of wavering in each other's eyes. They understood Murong Tian's feelings, but also the political considerations behind this marriage proposal. However, Murong Tian didn't give them much time to think, continuing, "If we can sacrifice Qing'er's wishes for power today, what about tomorrow? Where will we go from here?"