Wandering Swordsman |

Guiguzi's gaze wandered between the lines, his brows sometimes furrowing, sometimes relaxing. As he turned the pages, he murmured to himself, as if conversing with the "God of War" in the book.

His fingers slid slowly across the pages, each word like a brand etched into his heart. He turned the pages extremely slowly, yet with utmost care, as if afraid of missing any crucial word.

Suddenly, his gaze fixed on a certain page, his eyes narrowed, and his breath seemed to stop for a moment.

On that page, it was clearly written:

"In times of chaos, a sage appears, using literature to educate and martial arts to quell the disorder. His name is Confucius, also known as the God of War. His martial prowess can reach heaven and earth and defend against all enemies."

Guiguzi slowly closed the book, shut his eyes, and remained silent for a long time. His breathing gradually became steady, but the waves in his heart were like a raging storm.

"Confucius...the God of War..." he repeated softly, as if confirming this astonishing fact, "Could it be that the 'Tomb of the God of War' is actually his burial site?"

His gaze was piercing, as if piercing through the mists of a thousand years, and in that era of nascent wisdom, he saw that "sage" who appeared out of nowhere and used both civil and military means to quell the chaos of the world.

Just then, footsteps came from outside the library, and Mo Yan led the bookworm quickly over.

"Valley Master."

The bookworm bowed deeply, his voice low and respectful, a hint of doubt in his eyes. His gaze fell on the yellowed ancient book in Guiguzi's hand, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "You summoned me here; what are your orders?"

Guiguzi did not answer immediately, but slowly handed the booklet to him, his tone calm but with a hint of solemnity: "Look at page 45, line 10."

The bookworm took the book, his fingertips lightly tracing the slightly rough pages, as if he had touched some long-forgotten truth.

He opened it, his gaze quickly sweeping over the densely packed black characters, finally settling on that one line—

"In times of chaos, a sage will emerge, using literature to educate and martial arts to quell the disorder. His name is Confucius, also known as the God of War, whose martial prowess can reach heaven and earth and defend against all enemies."

In an instant, the bookworm's pupils contracted slightly, as if struck by lightning, and he froze on the spot.

"The God of War... Confucius?" he murmured to himself, his voice trembling slightly, an expression of disbelief in his eyes. "Isn't this the 'Teacher of Ten Thousand Generations' revered by the Four Great Academies? The sage-like teacher worshipped by scholars throughout the world... How... how could he be the God of War?"

Guiguzi nodded slowly, his gaze as deep as the night, as if piercing through the mists of a thousand years: "Indeed. Today, people only know him as the Sage of Literature, not the God of War. But have you ever considered that if it weren't for him, the martial world would probably have long since turned into a sea of ​​blood?"

He paused, then spoke in a low but powerful tone: "He used literature to educate people and martial arts to suppress chaos. Without him, where would the martial world be? Where would the peace we enjoy today be?"

The bookworm remained silent for a long time, staring down at the line of words, his mind in turmoil. He had been well-versed in poetry and literature since childhood, and his reverence for Confucius was deeply ingrained in his bones. However, he had never imagined that the man revered as the "Teacher of Ten Thousand Generations" had another identity—the God of War.

He looked up, his eyes no longer filled with simple shock, but with heartfelt admiration and awe.

"Sir..." he asked in a low voice, "You summoned me here just to find out about the God of War?"

Guiguzi smiled gently, a hint of warmth in his eyes: "No, I summoned you here so that you could go to Dali."

The bookworm was taken aback: "Dali?"

"Not bad." Guiguzi turned to look at the night outside the library and said slowly, "Shen Mo."

"Shen Mo?" The bookworm's eyes lit up, and a smile unconsciously crept onto his lips. "Where is he?"

Guiguzi glanced back at him, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes. "As a member of the Martial Arts Alliance Elite Academy, I have already sent him to the Diancang Sect. He has found out that the Diancang Sect is working with the Black Wind Gang to find the 'Tomb of the Martial God'."

The bookworm's eyes shone brightly, and his tone was tinged with excitement: "I knew it, Shen Mo is no ordinary person! When he saved me back then, his quick wit and courage had already impressed me."

Guiguzi smiled slightly, clearly aware of the Bookworm's attitude towards Shen Mo. He knew that although the Bookworm was indifferent to worldly affairs, he valued loyalty and affection, and always held a sense of appreciation and closeness towards Shen Mo, his old acquaintance.

"Now, Shen Mo has confirmed that the 'Martial God's Tomb' is most likely hidden near Erhai Lake," Guiguzi said in a deep voice. "And Duan Qianya, the Black Wind Gang, overseas martial artists... all kinds of forces are already making moves. If we don't send people to support him as soon as possible, I'm afraid Shen Mo will be left isolated and helpless."

The bookworm nodded, his expression solemn: "Sir, do you mean... I should go to Dali?"

"Exactly." Guiguzi slowly turned around and stared at him. "However, he went under the pretext of the martial arts alliance's headmaster requesting Guiguzi's assistance, rather than being directly arranged by me. After all, Shen Mo doesn't know that my true identity is Guiguzi."

The bookworm pondered for a moment, then solemnly clasped his hands in a salute: "Yes, Valley Master, I will set off immediately for Dali to assist Shen Mo."

Guiguzi nodded in satisfaction, a hint of relief in his eyes: "Because this matter involves the Diancang Sect, it is inconvenient to send people from the Martial Alliance to support Shen Mo at this time. And you are proficient in ancient texts, mechanical arts, and can also disguise yourself, making you the most suitable candidate."

The bookworm turned to leave, but then stopped, turned back to look at Guiguzi, a hint of inquiry in his eyes: "Sir... why do you attach so much importance to the 'Tomb of the Martial God'?"

Guiguzi remained silent for a moment before slowly speaking, his voice deep and resonant: "Because it may not only be the final resting place of Confucius, but also contain martial arts techniques left for future generations. If the martial arts of the God of War fall into the hands of evil people, the Central Plains will never have peace again."

The bookworm bowed deeply: "Valley Master, I will certainly live up to your trust and will never allow what the Martial God covets to fall into the hands of evil cultivators overseas."

A gentle night breeze stirred, and the lights in the library flickered slightly, as if silently witnessing the earth-shattering secret that was about to be revealed.

And the bookworm's trip to Dali quietly began in the stillness of the night.

......

The scene returns to Dali, where the night is as dark as ink, the Milky Way hangs low, and the Diancang Sect's mountain gate casts 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 also stirred the subtle atmosphere within the Diancang Sect.

For the next two days, Shen Mo remained at the Diancang Sect. On the surface, he was sent by the Martial Alliance to investigate overseas evil cultivators, but in reality, he was secretly investigating the Diancang Sect's collusion with the Black Wind Gang.

However, after he disguised himself as "Xuanwu Saint Lord" and met with Duan Qianya two days ago, and then re-entered the Diancang Sect as "Shen Mo," Duan Qianya's attitude changed surprisingly. The two Diancang disciples who had been monitoring him were no longer monitoring him. When Duan Qianya saw him every day, he would only nod slightly or ask, "Young Hero Shen, are you getting used to your stay today?" His tone was completely devoid of any probing, as if Shen Mo was just an ordinary envoy of the martial arts alliance, and he, as the leader of the Diancang Sect, was merely fulfilling his duties as a host.