Wandering Swordsman |

Shen Mo's alarm bells rang loudly. He knew that the seemingly ordinary old man in front of him was actually a peerless master who was hiding his true strength.

Although the old man had not yet reached Shen Mo's level of extraordinary skill, his profound power probably surpassed that of the four Demon Lords of the Heavenly Demon Sect. Shen Mo never expected that such a powerful figure would suddenly emerge in the Central Plains martial arts world. Even Situ Dengfeng in his prime would probably find it difficult to match this old man.

Shen Mo's heart involuntarily quickened, and he tried his best to remain calm, attempting not to let others notice his nervousness.

At the same time, the old man's sixth sense seemed to detect that someone was watching him, and he felt a great sense of crisis, like a frightened bird. He frowned slightly and his gaze swept towards Shen Mo's direction like lightning.

When the old man's gaze fell on Shen Mo, Murong Qing, and the others, his tense expression suddenly relaxed, and a hint of relief flashed in his eyes.

He realized he might be overthinking things. Although the group of young people in front of him were all very energetic, he did not see them as a threat.

He quickly withdrew his hostile gaze, and a kind smile returned to his face.

Although the old man's level of understanding was not as high as Shen Mo's, he was able to judge, based on his rich experience and keen intuition, that these people were not enemies.

Soon, the old man slowly spoke. His voice did not amplify into a booming bell like Zhang Taixuan's through internal force, but rather entered everyone's ears gently and naturally, as if he were standing right next to you, whispering softly.

This unassuming way of speaking only highlights his profound inner strength. Every word is clearly audible, yet warm and friendly, like a spring breeze that soothes the soul.

"Young heroes," the old man said, his gaze sweeping gently over the crowd, "I am the headmaster of this 'Elite Academy.' Here, I will be responsible for all the major affairs of the academy and dedicate myself to guiding each and every young person present to grow into pillars of the Central Plains martial arts world."

His voice, though soft, possessed an indescribable penetrating power, seemingly reaching directly into everyone's heart. As he spoke, the tense atmosphere in the training ground gradually dissipated, replaced by an atmosphere filled with hope and trust.

"You have gathered here from all corners of the world, each carrying your own dreams and ambitions. This is not only a place to learn martial arts, but also a crucible for forging willpower and tempering the mind." The old man's gaze was as deep as a pool, as if he could see through all the truths of the world. "I hope that in the days to come, you will not only make breakthroughs in martial arts, but also cultivate an indomitable spirit and noble character. Only in this way can you truly become the mainstay supporting the martial arts world of the Central Plains."

He paused, his gaze hardening. "As the head of the martial arts school, I will do my utmost to provide you with the best guidance and support. But please remember, true growth is inseparable from your own hard work and perseverance. On this path, you may encounter numerous difficulties and challenges, but as long as you have faith in your heart, there is nothing that cannot be overcome on the path of martial arts."

The old man's words were concise and powerful; each word was like a carefully polished piece of jade, radiating the light of wisdom. His words were not merely a vision for the future, but also an inspiration and encouragement, causing an invisible force to surge within everyone present.

When the old man finished speaking, the training ground fell into silence, as if even the wind had stopped blowing.

All eyes were focused on the mysterious old man, immersed in his words full of wisdom and power; time seemed to stand still at that moment.

Then, like the first rays of sunlight piercing through the morning mist at dawn, a low but enthusiastic round of applause slowly rose from the crowd.

The applause started softly, gradually growing into a chorus of applause. It was an expression of recognition and respect for the mysterious curator, as well as a sense of pride in being a member of the "Elite Academy."

However, the old man did not take this opportunity to introduce himself further. He simply smiled slightly, his eyes revealing a deep and serene light, as if he had seen through all the illusions of the world.

"From now on, you can call me Director." His voice was calm yet firm, as clear as a mountain spring. "Finally, welcome to the Elite Academy. You have now passed your third test."

As soon as the words were spoken, an indescribable sense of relief filled the air. Most people were immersed in the joy of successfully entering the academy, their faces beaming with excitement and anticipation. As for the identity of the mysterious headmaster, most people didn't pay much attention, after all, the joy at the moment was enough for them to temporarily forget everything.

But Shen Mo was different. He keenly sensed that the curator's identity seemed to conceal a deeper secret. Every subtle movement, every word, revealed an extraordinary and refined aura, making one want to explore more about his story.

The old man's appearance was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, stirring up ripples in Shen Mo's heart. He knew that behind this seemingly ordinary old man, there might be a power powerful enough to shake the entire martial arts world.

Nevertheless, the curator clearly had no intention of revealing any further about his background. His unhurried demeanor was both reassuring and shrouded in mystery.

Shen Mo pondered to himself that perhaps this curator was a true reclusive master, disdaining to use fame and fortune to demonstrate his existence. And such low-key yet powerful figures often play an unexpected role at crucial moments.

......

Soon, the first day of the "Elite Academy" quietly came to a close amidst laughter and anticipation for the future.

As night falls, a magnificent and imposing stone pagoda stands atop Langya Mountain, a hundred miles northwest of Nanjing.

This building, called the Tower of the Preceptor, is made of huge bluish-gray stones, each engraved with ancient runes, as if telling a thousand-year-old legend.

The tower stands dozens of meters tall, its imposing presence like a guardian deity overlooking the earth, exuding an awe-inspiring aura.

The moonlight, like water, spilled onto the top of the tower, outlining a silver silhouette.

In this tranquil setting, the old man's figure slowly appeared before the Preceptor's Tower.

His steps were light and unhurried, as if he blended into the night.

The old man gently pushed open the heavy tower door, which emitted a deep rumble, like the sound of an ancient bell echoing through the valley.

He slowly walked into the tower, his gaze deep and calm.

The light inside the tower was dim, with only a few oil lamps flickering, illuminating a figure sitting cross-legged.

That man was none other than the Alliance Leader, Situ Dengfeng. He sat upright on the futon, his eyes closed and his mind focused, as if he were isolated from the entire world.

Hearing the commotion behind him, Situ Dengfeng immediately opened his eyes and stood up.