Wandering Swordsman |

Shen Mo's heart began to race, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. His gaze continued downward, growing increasingly apprehensive with each reading. Familiar and unfamiliar names leaped off the page; some were illustrious figures he had heard of in the martial world, others were leaders of obscure minor sects, and even some young disciples who had not yet completed their apprenticeships were included.

He couldn't help but rub his temples and mutter to himself, "Are these people truly loyal to the Flame Demon Lord, or were they forced into this situation?"

Despite his doubts, he knew he couldn't let anyone discover this list. Otherwise, a leak would surely unleash a bloody storm.

So he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began to memorize.

An hour later, 165 names were deeply imprinted in his memory like carvings. He slowly opened his eyes, his eyes revealing a trace of weariness, yet also a sense of relief.

He picked up a corner of the list and gently brought it close to the flame of the oil lamp.

With a whoosh, flames licked at the paper, spreading rapidly from the edges. The piece of paper, carrying countless secrets, gradually curled and charred in the firelight, eventually turning into a wisp of ashes that drifted away in the wind.

......

Three days later, as the first rays of morning sunlight fell upon the gates of the Murong family, Shen Mo, Murong Qing, and the other members of the Murong family clan were ready to embark on their journey to Nanjing. A gentle morning breeze brought a slight chill, but it could not conceal the solemnity and anticipation on everyone's faces.

However, on this seemingly peaceful eve of departure, Murong Wei sat alone in his study, the flickering candlelight illuminating his somber face. His pen flew across the paper, a barely perceptible cold smile playing on his lips. He knew that this journey to the Martial Alliance presented the perfect opportunity to eliminate Murong Qing; if he missed this chance, he would likely forever lose his position as family head.

"Huangfu Hui..." Murong Wei muttered to himself, a sly glint in his eyes, "I hope you can make good use of this opportunity."

After finishing the letter, he summoned a trusted servant, whispered a few instructions, and handed him the letter. "You must deliver this letter to Huangfu Hui personally by galloping horse, without the slightest delay."

Soon after, the secret letter arrived in Huangfu Hui's hands. When Huangfu Hui unfolded the letter and read its contents, his eyes lit up instantly, as if he saw the dawn of victory.

"The opportunity has come!" he muttered to himself, a cruel smile creeping onto his lips.

Without the slightest hesitation, Huangfu Hui immediately set off for Blood Shadow Tower—a mysterious organization renowned in the martial arts world for its assassinations. He knew Shen Mo's strength well, and only by relying on Blood Shadow Tower's assassination could the success rate of this operation be greatly increased. Moreover, if it failed, he could use the pretext of someone else seeking revenge for Bai Yijue to entrust the task to Blood Shadow Tower, thus ensuring that the Huangfu family had nothing to do with it.

......

Meanwhile, on their way to the Nanjing Martial Arts Alliance, Shen Mo and his group were riding their horses. The autumn wind was bleak, leaves were falling, and the trees on both sides of the road rustled in the wind, as if whispering, foreshadowing the impending danger.

"We haven't encountered a single pedestrian along the way today. Something feels off," Shen Mo said, frowning as he warily scanned his surroundings. "We'd better be on high alert."

Murong Qing also sensed that vague unease. She gripped the long sword tightly in her hand, her eyes revealing determination and resolve: "Shen Mo, no matter what happens, I will not let anything happen to you."

Upon hearing this, Shen Mo was slightly taken aback, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes. Five years ago, Murong Qing was a willful and capricious girl, but now she had transformed into the mature and composed woman before him. Time had not only brought about changes in her appearance, but had also tempered her spirit.

Then, a surge of emotion welled up inside him, and a faint smile appeared on his lips as he nodded gently: "Okay, whatever happens, we'll face it together."

On their way to the Nanjing Martial Arts Alliance, the group passed a teahouse on the outskirts of the city. A chilly autumn wind blew, and everyone, having traveled for several hours, was starting to feel exhausted. Someone suggested, "Let's rest here for a while and have some hot tea to warm ourselves up."

Shen Mo's sharp gaze swept over the seemingly ordinary teahouse, a vague unease creeping into his heart. The area around the teahouse was eerily quiet; not even the birdsong could be heard, as if shrouded in some invisible force. He noticed several expressionless waiters standing at the teahouse entrance, their eyes revealing a hint of coldness.

"We'll reach the next town in two more hours," Shen Mo said in a low voice, his brows furrowed slightly. "Let's continue on our way."

However, the other members of the Murong family were already exhausted. Upon hearing the news that they could rest, they all chimed in, "Young Master Shen, we've traveled for so long, everyone is tired. Why don't we rest for a while before continuing?"

"Yes, it's rare to find a teahouse like this. It's a good place to rest and quench our thirst," another disciple said, a longing look on his face.

Seeing that everyone insisted on resting, Shen Mo helplessly looked at Murong Qing, who nodded: "Alright, but don't rest for too long, otherwise we won't be able to reach the next town before dark."

Led by Murong Qing, the group entered the teahouse, where a waiter greeted them attentively and brought them a pot of steaming tea.

The aroma of tea filled the air, but it only made Shen Mo more alert. He discreetly observed his surroundings and found that besides their group, there were only a few other customers in the teahouse, and they all seemed unusually quiet, as if they were waiting for something.

Murong Qing picked up her teacup, about to drink, when she suddenly saw Shen Mo make a slight gesture—he tapped the table lightly with his finger, a warning glint in his eyes. She immediately realized something was wrong, quickly put down her teacup, and after a serious glance around, decisively ordered, "Everyone, don't drink!"

The moment she finished speaking, the atmosphere in the teahouse instantly became tense. The other members of the Murong family stopped what they were doing and looked around warily. Shen Mo stood up, his gaze sweeping across the seemingly calm customers like lightning, and said in a low voice, "It seems this place isn't safe."

Before he finished speaking, several assassins in black emerged from the shadows, their longswords gleaming coldly, and charged straight at Shen Mo. Their movements were incredibly swift, like ghosts, clearly indicating they were elite assassins from the Blood Shadow Tower.

Shen Mo dodged the first wave of attacks with a swift movement. He knew these people were obviously after him, but he was more concerned about the safety of Murong Qing and the others.