Wandering Swordsman |

A moment of hesitation flashed through his mind, but he ultimately gave up the idea of ​​taking action.

Then, he slowly walked to the bedside, his voice low but restrained: "Miss Wei, wake up, we need to talk."

The Crimson Lotus Demon slowly opened her eyes, her gaze clear and her expression innocent, as if nothing had happened last night. She stretched lazily and said sweetly, "Brother Changkong, what's wrong? Are you still angry about what happened last night?"

"Snapped!"

As soon as she finished speaking, Situ Changkong slammed his hand heavily on the table, making the teacup vibrate slightly. He turned around abruptly, his eyes blazing with anger, veins bulging on his forehead—because he had heard the words "Brother Changkong," a term only Situ Meng could use, carrying intimacy, tenderness, and irreplaceable affection.

"Don't you dare call me that!" he gritted his teeth, suppressing the emotions welling up in his chest. "Tell me, what exactly is your purpose?"

The Crimson Lotus Demon was neither surprised nor annoyed; instead, her smile became even sweeter.

She propped herself up, the sheer fabric slipping off her shoulder to reveal half of her snow-white skin, her eyes brimming with allure.

"Brother Changkong," she repeated deliberately, and seeing that Situ Changkong's face was getting more and more gloomy, she put away her playful expression and said seriously, "I said last night that I can help you get out of your current predicament and help you deal with Shen Mo, as long as you are willing to cooperate with me."

She paused, then added, "Of course, that's assuming you have the courage and determination."

Situ Changkong fell silent. He stared into her eyes, trying to find any flaws, but found them unfathomable, as if they could see through people's hearts and hide all secrets.

He knew he had no better choice. The woman before him might be a dangerous presence, but at least, knowing his current predicament, she was still willing to stand by his side, help him out of his predicament, and fight against Shen Mo together.

"Fine!" Situ Changkong said in a deep voice, his tone as firm as iron. "But I warn you, if you dare to play any more tricks, you will bear the consequences."

A smug smile crept across the Crimson Lotus Demon's lips, a smile as beautiful yet dangerous as a crimson lotus blooming in a pool of blood: "Don't worry, I won't let you down."

Before she finished speaking, she sat up, draped a thin veil over herself, and stretched lazily: "In that case, let's go get something to eat first, and then discuss the specific plans."

Situ Changkong looked at her, his heart filled with resentment, but he could only silently accept reality. He knew he was like a moth trapped in a spider's web, the more he struggled, the deeper he sank. But he had no choice; even if it led to an abyss, he had to keep going.

"Let's go," he said in a low voice, turning and walking towards the door, his steps heavy as if he were treading through mud.

The Crimson Lotus Demon watched his retreating figure silently, her eyes flashing with complex emotions. She knew that this prey was firmly ensnared within her; all she had to do now was slowly tighten the threads until he became her pawn completely.

The sun still shone brightly, and the streets were still bustling, but at this moment, the gears of fate had already quietly turned, slowly moving forward in an unpredictable direction.

......

Meanwhile, the scene returns to the Martial Arts Alliance's "Elite Academy".

In just two short days, Shen Mo displayed astonishing talent, overpowering the true disciples of those prestigious families and the nine sects and one gang.

Even the rising stars who were famous in the martial arts world, such as the Ninth Prince, paled in comparison to him.

Shen Mo not only surpassed his peers in martial arts skills, but also impressed everyone with his insights into martial arts. This led the martial arts instructors in the academy to admire him, believing that Shen Mo would surely grow into an unparalleled hero and bring new glory to the Central Plains martial arts world.

Finally, on a quiet night, the moonlight shone like water on the courtyard of the academy. Shen Mo was meditating alone in the courtyard, adjusting his inner energy.

Suddenly, a soft footstep broke the silence. He opened his eyes and saw the curator slowly approaching, his figure like a silent shadow, almost imperceptible.

"Director!" Shen Mo immediately stood up and bowed, his tone respectful and humble.

The curator nodded slightly, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes: "Shen Mo, come with me, let's talk somewhere else."

Shen Mo's heart skipped a beat; he wondered what the curator wanted to see him about. Out of curiosity, he followed the curator's footsteps, passing through a quiet path and arriving at a secluded pavilion.

The place is surrounded by lush bamboo, and a gentle breeze rustles the bamboo leaves, making them sound like whispers.

Moonlight filters through the bamboo grove, casting dappled shadows that sway gently on the stone bricks of the pavilion, like ripples on flowing water in the night.

A gentle breeze swept by, carrying a few bamboo leaves that twirled and fell gracefully between Shen Mo and the curator, as if they too were quietly listening to the conversation that was about to unfold.

The two sat facing each other, the curator's gaze deep and unfathomable, as if he could see into people's hearts.

He smiled slightly, his tone gentle yet carrying an undeniable force: "Shen Mo, let me check your pulse first."

Upon hearing this, Shen Mo's expression changed slightly, and a barely perceptible hint of wariness flashed in his eyes. He instantly became alert—if he allowed this mysterious and unpredictable curator to take his pulse, he would surely discover that he possessed the Heavenly Martial Body.

He lowered his eyes imperceptibly, concealing his inner turmoil, his thoughts racing: Who exactly is this person? Why would they make such a request at this moment?

Then, upon further reflection, Shen Mo realized that this was, after all, the Martial Alliance, and it seemed unlikely that the other party would intend to harm him. More importantly, Shen Mo had absolute confidence in his own strength. Even if the headmaster truly harbored ill intentions, he was confident that he could escape unscathed using his martial arts skills.

After a moment's hesitation, he finally nodded, slowly extended his right hand, and placed his wrist on the stone table in front of the curator. His movements were calm and unhurried, as if he had already accepted everything.

"Please, Director." His voice was calm as usual, his tone respectful yet neither servile nor arrogant.

The curator smiled slightly and lightly placed his fingertips on Shen Mo's pulse. In that instant, a warm and gentle internal force quietly entered the meridians, slowly flowing along the blood vessels, like a spring stream flowing over a mountain ravine, or like a gentle rain nourishing all things silently.

Shen Mo held his breath, appearing calm on the surface, but in reality, he was highly vigilant. He could clearly feel the probing force, like an invisible hand exploring the secrets within him.

A few breaths later, the curator raised an eyebrow slightly, then quickly regained his composure. He slowly withdrew his finger, looking at Shen Mo with a complex expression, before speaking after a long pause, his tone tinged with surprise and disbelief:

"Shen Mo... your pulse is extremely unusual. Do you... know that you possess the Heavenly Martial Physique?"

As he said this, a hint of shock and inquiry deliberately appeared in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he was trying his best to suppress his excitement and shock.