Wandering Swordsman |

Shen Mo nodded, then pretended to be thoughtful and asked, "In that case, why doesn't Sect Leader Duan wipe out all the overseas martial artists before entering the 'Martial God's Tomb'? I believe that if Sect Leader Duan joins forces with our leader and combines the martial prowess of our Four Holy Monarchs, dealing with those overseas martial artists would be more than enough."

Duan Qianya frowned, clearly wary of this question. He slowly said, "Has the Xuanwu Saint Lord forgotten that when those overseas martial artists told us about the 'Tomb of the Martial God' and sought our cooperation, they said that the tomb contains mechanisms that only their leader, Oda, can solve!"

Shen Mo's heart tightened, realizing he had said the wrong thing, but he maintained a calm and composed expression.

He quickly adjusted his strategy, attempting to salvage the situation: "Sect Leader Duan, if I may be frank, I believe what those overseas martial artists said is nothing but alarmist talk. Their aim is most likely to prevent us from finding the 'Martial God's Tomb' and entering alone behind their backs. Sect Leader Duan need not take it to heart."

When Shen Mo spoke, his tone was unhurried and calm, carrying a hint of comfort, as if he were simply offering advice to an old friend. His eyes were open and his brows were expressionless, as if he were genuinely concerned for Duan Qianya, rather than secretly testing him. He even turned slightly to the side, adopting a humble posture, making the whole scene appear exceptionally natural and flawless.

Duan Qianya remained silent for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly. His gaze lingered on Shen Mo's face for a few breaths, as if scrutinizing him or pondering something.

He slowly put down his teacup, the porcelain cup gently touching the stone table, making a very soft "ding" sound, but at this moment it seemed exceptionally clear.

"What the Xuanwu Saint Lord said makes sense." He nodded slowly, his voice deep and steady. "However, it's always better to be safe than sorry. After all, none of us know what's inside the 'Martial God's Tomb'."

Shen Mo secretly breathed a sigh of relief, but on the surface he remained calm, a faint smile appearing on his lips: "Sect Leader Duan is wise. Now that we have a clue, I will take my leave."

Duan Qianya also stood up and bowed to bid farewell to Shen Mo, who was impersonating the Xuanwu Saint Lord.

Shen Mo smiled slightly, clasped his hands in return, and performed the salute cleanly and efficiently, displaying the demeanor and style of the 'Xuanwu Saint Lord'. He turned and walked slowly out of the courtyard, his steps steady and his back as upright as a pine tree, like a true high-ranking member of the Black Wind Gang, leaving with composure.

At the gate of Diancang Mountain, as Shen Mo passed by the gatekeeper, the disciple still bowed respectfully, not daring to look at him for even a second, for fear of offending this "Xuanwu Saint Lord." He didn't speak, but simply nodded slightly and continued walking, his movements revealing the majesty and composure of someone who had long held a high position.

Only after completely leaving the Diancang Sect's mountain gate and stepping onto the path leading down the mountain did Shen Mo let out a soft breath, as if carrying a secret sense of relief and joy.

He looked up at the sky, a slight smile playing on his lips, a glint of light flashing in his eyes—he had successfully disguised himself as the 'Xuanwu Saint Lord'.

From beginning to end, Duan Qianya never suspected him. Not only did he not suspect him, he even shared information about the "Tomb of the Martial God".

Upon arriving at the gate of Diancang Mountain, Shen Mo stepped out from beside the gatekeeper disciple, who still bowed respectfully, not daring to look at him for even a second, for fear of offending this "Xuanwu Saint Lord." He didn't speak, but simply nodded slightly and continued forward, his movements revealing the majesty and composure of someone who had long held a high position.

Only after completely leaving the Diancang Sect's mountain gate area and stepping onto the path leading down the mountain did Shen Mo let out a soft breath, seemingly carrying a hint of secret relief and joy.

He looked up at the sky, a slight smile playing on his lips, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes—his disguise as the 'Xuanwu Saint Lord' had succeeded. From beginning to end, Duan Qianya hadn't recognized him as the real 'Xuanwu Saint Lord'.

He closed his eyes, and the riddle of the poem floated into his mind: "Sword marks are buried on the nineteen peaks, and true souls are sought in the clouds of the jade belt; the snow on the azure peak reflects the blade of a thousand autumns, and the Erhai Lake mirror hides the souls of ten thousand warriors; where the dragon raises its head, the three pagodas suppress the dragon, and the upside-down green blade hides the bones of martial arts."

He silently recited the plan, combining it with Duan Qianya's analysis, and gradually pieced together a complete map: the nineteen peaks of Cangshan Mountain, the Jade Belt Road connecting the nineteen peaks, the side of the Three Pagodas of Chongsheng Temple, and even the entire Erhai Lake could all be the entrance to the "Tomb of the God of War." As for the so-called "mechanism" mentioned by Duan Qianya, it might just be a lie fabricated by Oda's group to control the situation.

Shen Mo opened his eyes, his gaze sharp, and he already had a direction in mind.

Shen Mo hurried along until he was sure no one was following him, then stopped in a secluded valley.

With no one around, he scooped up water from the nearby stream and gently splashed it on his face. As his face became wet, the "Xuanwu Saint Lord" mask seemed to melt away, slowly peeling off to reveal his original handsome face. Shen Mo let out a long breath, as if an invisible mountain had been lifted from his shoulders.

He quickly took out another human skin mask from his pocket. This was a face of an ordinary martial artist that he had specially prepared—plain features, no special characteristics, which was the best disguise for blending into the streets.

He placed the mask on his face, adjusted its position, and a moment later, an ordinary martial artist appeared in the forest, his eyes slightly tired, his clothes simple and unremarkable. He put on a gray cloth robe again, tied up his long hair, slung a simple bag over his shoulder, and quietly descended the mountain, heading straight for Dali City.

As night falls in Dali, the city lights twinkle like stars.

The city's streets and alleys crisscrossed, wine flags fluttered, and the air was filled with the clamor of voices. Shen Mo blended into the crowd, like a drop of water falling into a river, leaving no ripple. He quickly found an inconspicuous inn in the west of the city. When checking in, he introduced himself as "Lin Yuan," a disciple from a small sect in Jiangnan, who had come here to travel the martial world.

After entering the room, he quickly closed the door behind him and took out a piece of paper and a brush from his pocket. Then, he wrote down all the clues he had extracted from Duan Qianya during the day.

After finishing writing, he whistled softly, and a carrier pigeon landed outside the inn's window. This was the elite academy's messenger pigeon, capable of traversing mountains and rivers to reach the academy directly. He carefully rolled the message into a small tube, tied it to the pigeon's leg, gently stroked its feathers, and whispered, "Return to the academy immediately, without fail."

With a flap of its wings, the carrier pigeon took flight, transforming into a black shadow that disappeared into the night sky.

......

As night fell, the gates of the Diancang Sect cast dappled shadows under the moonlight, resembling a sleeping behemoth, silent and majestic.

The mountain wind swept through the forest, carrying the chill of the night dew, and stirred up the uneasy atmosphere within the Diancang Sect.

In the corridor outside Duan Qianya's study, two disciples stood outside the door with their heads down, fine beads of sweat appearing on their foreheads.

Their clothes were slightly damp, clearly from their overnight journey. They exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with regret and apprehension.