Wandering Swordsman |

As expected, when Shen Mo arrived at the gate of the Wudang Sect, two gatekeepers dressed in green robes and with long swords at their waists immediately stepped forward and blocked his way.

One of the older disciples clasped his hands in a respectful bow and asked in a neither humble nor arrogant tone, "Fellow Daoist, please wait. If you are here to attend the September 9th Temple Fair, please wait a moment at the mountain gate." He then pointed to the disciples of various sects gathered at the mountain gate not far away.

Shen Mo stopped and looked calmly at the two men. He returned their greeting with a cupped hand, his voice low but clear and strong: "Thank you for reminding me, brothers. However, I did not come for the temple fair, but specifically to visit Master Zhang. Please inform him of my presence."

As soon as he finished speaking, the disciples with slightly higher martial arts skills in front of the mountain gate not far away, with their keen hearing, heard Shen Mo's words, and the crowd that had been talking in hushed tones immediately quieted down. At the same time, the disciples from various sects who were standing in front of the mountain gate waiting to enter all turned their gazes toward him—some with suspicion, some with surprise, some with curiosity, and many with a look of schadenfreude, as if waiting to see how an arrogant fool would be humiliated.

"Hahaha!" Sure enough, a shrill laugh rang out from the crowd. It came from the Kunlun and Qingcheng sect disciples who had been fawning over Zhou Xinlian all along the way. One of the Kunlun sect male disciples sneered, "Boy, do you think you can see Master Zhang? You'll probably be kicked off the mountain in a minute."

Another person chimed in sarcastically, "Exactly! Even bragging needs to be thought out! How could someone like you, a nobody, just casually meet a highly respected martial arts master like Master Zhang?"

Shen Mo remained unmoved, a slight smile playing on his lips as he swept his gaze over them, his eyes filled with disdain and composure. He ignored their mockery and instead turned to the two gatekeepers, his tone still calm: "Without credentials, we would naturally not dare to presume to enter. Please take a look."

After saying that, he took out a wooden plaque from his bosom. The plaque was engraved with two characters in seal script: "Wudang". The back of the plaque had the three characters "Zhang Zixuan". It was the token given to him by Master Zhang five years ago to prove that he knew the Taiji Xuantian Sword.

Upon seeing the token, the two gatekeeper disciples' expressions changed drastically. Almost reflexively, they bowed and saluted in unison, saying, "Disciples greet Martial Uncle! We were unaware of your arrival and have been extremely rude. Please forgive us!"

This scene was like a thunderclap, and the entire area in front of the mountain gate fell silent instantly.

The Kunlun and Qingcheng disciples, who had been laughing and joking just moments before, froze on their faces, each one as if someone had grabbed their throat, unable to utter a single word. They never expected that this young man would be addressed as "Uncle-Master" by the Wudang disciples. Could Shen Mo truly be a direct disciple of Master Zhang?

Whispers immediately arose from the crowd:

"That's... Master Zhang's identity token? Good heavens! It's said that only his most trusted disciples possess this token!"

"Oh no, we were just laughing at him, now we've really lost face..."

......

Seeing the shocked, bewildered, and regretful expressions on everyone's faces, Shen Mo felt no pride, only a faint sense of relief. He nodded slightly, his tone still gentle: "Brothers, there's no need for such formality. I am not a disciple of Master Zhang. Please inform him that Shen Mo has come to visit."

"Since you have given this order, then you must be our senior uncle!" The two quickly stood up, their attitude extremely respectful. "Please wait a moment, senior uncle, we will go and report this immediately."

After saying this, one of them rushed into the mountain gate to report, while the other stood respectfully to the side, not daring to even breathe loudly.

Shen Mo stood still, feeling the countless complex and intertwined gazes around him, yet his heart remained unusually calm.

Before long, the gatekeeper disciple strode out. His steps were brisk and powerful, each one carrying the composure and restraint characteristic of the Wudang Sect. A respectful expression graced his face, his eyes revealing his recognition and reverence for Shen Mo's identity. He approached Shen Mo, cupped his hands in a gesture of respect, and performed the movement with fluid grace and without hesitation.

"Uncle-Master, Grandmaster is awaiting your arrival at the Zixiao Palace. Please follow me." The disciple's voice was gentle and polite, each word carefully crafted, filled with the respect due to an elder. A barely perceptible excitement flickered in his eyes, clearly showing his honor at being able to personally greet this mysterious figure who possessed the Zhang Zhenren token.

Shen Mo nodded slightly, a faint smile appearing on his lips. "Thank you for your trouble." His voice was deep and steady, as if containing endless power, instilling a sense of awe in everyone.

Under the astonished gazes of the surrounding crowd, Shen Mo followed the disciple into the gates of the Wudang Sect. The others at the nearby mountain gate cast curious and surprised glances; their previous disdain had vanished without a trace, replaced by deep doubt and speculation. Those who had previously mocked Shen Mo were now ashen-faced, filled with regret and unease.

As you walk along a path paved with bluestone, the surrounding scenery gradually opens up. Lush green mountains stretch endlessly, and the distant sound of a waterfall echoes like celestial music through the valleys. A gentle breeze carries the fresh scent of grass and trees, invigorating the senses. Occasionally, a few birds can be seen soaring across the sky, their cheerful calls adding a touch of life to the scene.

"Uncle-Master, the Zixiao Palace is just ahead." His disciple's voice interrupted his thoughts. Shen Mo looked up and saw a magnificent palace standing before him. Above the vermilion gate hung a gleaming golden plaque with the three large characters "Zixiao Palace" inscribed on it. The palace was surrounded by lush trees, and sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the ground.

Shen Mo took a deep breath, adjusted his mindset, and then slowly walked towards the steps leading to the main hall. Each step was unhurried, as if he had long been accustomed to this way of walking. Sunlight streamed through the tall lintel of the hall, falling on his shoulders and highlighting his resolute and confident figure.

Upon entering the Zixiao Palace, eight disciples stood in neat rows on either side of the main hall, each with a solemn expression and upright posture, like eight towering pillars guarding this sacred hall. Inside the hall, three elderly men with an air of otherworldly wisdom stood quietly, their white hair fluttering in the wind, seemingly one with the heavens and earth. These three elders were Elder Zhang Zhenren of Wudang, the sect leader Zhang Taixuan of Wudang, and another Grand Elder of Wudang, Zhang Daoxuan.

Upon first seeing Shen Mo, Zhang Taixuan, the leader of the Wudang Sect, showed a hint of surprise. He tried to sense Shen Mo's martial arts cultivation, but found that he could not fathom it no matter what he did. He muttered to himself, "Just who is this young man? Either his martial arts are far superior to ours, or they are too weak to be detected." Wudang Elder Zhang Daoxuan also showed a puzzled expression, and both of them were filled with turmoil.