Wandering Swordsman |

Not far away, Oda and the others stood in the shadows at the exit of the sword passage, their figures distorted and swaying in the fluorescent green river water, like evil spirits crawling out of the water.

When the words "bookworm" drifted by on the wind, Oda suddenly froze, his pupils contracting sharply as if pricked by an invisible needle. He involuntarily trembled slightly, emitting a very faint buzzing sound, like a startled snake flicking its tongue.

Not only him—the Three-Handed Sword Demon's previously languid posture instantly stiffened, a look of disbelief and horror flashing in his eyes; the blood droplet on the Blood-Handed Judge's fingertip, before it could even drip, suddenly froze on his fingertip. Almost simultaneously, all the overseas evil cultivators turned their gazes like sharp arrows towards the Bookworm, their eyes not merely filled with hostility, but with a complex mix of shock, and even… a hint of fear.

Shen Mo and the bookworm noticed the several piercing gazes that seemed to be sticking out from behind them almost simultaneously.

The bookworm frowned slightly, instinctively tightening his grip on the folding fan at his waist, his fingertips trembling slightly. He said in a low voice, "Do they... recognize me?" His tone carried a rare hint of solemnity.

Shen Mo's gaze was sharp as he subtly swept over Oda and his group. He sensed that although they appeared unmoved, their inner energy was quietly circulating, subtly forming an encirclement, like a venomous snake coiled up, ready to pounce and devour at a single command.

He sneered inwardly, but remained outwardly calm. He ignored the evil cultivators overseas and instead responded loudly to Ding Chengfeng: "Since Chief Ding has made this suggestion, let's put aside our past grievances and explore the secrets of the Martial God's Tomb together."

Upon hearing this, Ding Chengfeng's smile deepened, as if he had everything under control.

He turned to face Oda not far away, his voice loud and clear, echoing in the empty underground space: "Chief Oda! These two are heroes of the Central Plains martial arts world, and I also have an old friendship with them. Today we are both in danger, so why don't we temporarily form an alliance and explore the mysteries of this place together?" As he spoke, he intentionally or unintentionally placed his hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist, his gaze sweeping over Shen Mo and the Bookworm, as if showing off his newly formed "strong allies".

Oda watched Ding Chengfeng's performance, a cold smile curving his lips. He sneered inwardly. He knew this Black Wind Gang leader all too well—outwardly generous, but inwardly a master strategist. Now that the Diancang Sect had been destroyed, the Black Wind Gang was left to fend for itself. Ding Chengfeng was trying to use Shen Mo and the Bookworm's names to create a false impression and gain leverage in negotiations.

Just then, the Three-Handed Sword Demon quietly approached his ear, his voice as low as a mosquito's buzz, yet every word was like a knife: "Leader, the Thousand-Faced Demon has not arrived, but these two youths have appeared with the God of War Hammer... It's highly likely that the Thousand-Faced Demon has met with misfortune." He paused, a cold glint flashing in his eyes, "These two were able to kill the Thousand-Faced Demon; they should not be underestimated."

Oda nodded slightly, still smiling, but his voice was as cold as ice: "It's alright. Since the Thousand-Faced Demon has 'returned to the embrace of the sun,' let him rest in peace." His gaze swept over Shen Mo and the Bookworm, his eyes devoid of any emotion, as if he were looking at two insignificant tools. "These two, though capable, are nothing more than pawns. We will 'cooperate' with them for now, and settle accounts with them after we have achieved our goal."

He was certain: so what if there were two more young men? Two mere teenagers, even if they had some skill, couldn't cause any real trouble at their age. He had already secured victory in this game.

Once the thought was settled, Oda's smile became even gentler, like a spring breeze.

He slowly stepped forward, leading the overseas heretical cultivators toward Shen Mo and the bookworm. Oda wore that carefully crafted "kind" smile, as if he were a distinguished guest from afar.

He slowly raised his hands, palms facing upwards, making a seemingly humble "welcoming" gesture.

The movements were slow and graceful, like bowing before an altar, the fingertips gleaming with a cold, jade-like luster under the pale green glow.

He bowed slightly, the movement just right, showing both politeness and the dignity of a superior.

"Young heroes," he said in a deep, resonant voice, enunciating each word clearly as if reciting an ancient waka poem, "it is truly Oda's good fortune to meet you today."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the Tai'a sword at Shen Mo's waist and the folding fan in the bookworm's hand. A barely perceptible glint of greed flashed in his eyes, which then transformed into a gentle smile. "The secrets of the Martial God's Tomb are as vast as the ocean, and cannot be fully grasped by one person alone. If we can join hands today, perhaps we can glimpse the ancient truth behind the 'Confucian School'."

As he spoke, he waved his hand slightly. The Three-Handed Sword Demon, the Blood-Handed Judge, Granny White Bone, and the others behind him, though expressionless, bowed and clasped their hands in unison, as if to show their "sincerity" through their actions. However, the gesture of clasping their hands was so uniform and synchronized, like a well-trained military formation, that it exuded a cold sense of oppression, rather than a genuine expression of goodwill.

As Oda finished speaking, everyone's gaze—whether they believed it or not—was involuntarily drawn to the majestic stone gate with the character "儒" (Confucianism) on the opposite bank of the river.

Under the glow of the fluorescent light, the stone gate seemed to be carved from a single piece of green jade. The character "儒" (Confucian) was written with great force, each stroke seemingly containing a righteous spirit, which was incongruous with this gloomy and eerie underground world, yet strangely integrated into it.

"Please look," Oda said, pointing to the wide underground river. His voice suddenly turned deep and solemn. "This river is called 'Yingyuan,' and it is no ordinary waterway. According to our ancient overseas records, an ancient creature called 'Xuanlin Crocodile' lurks beneath the abyss. It is impervious to swords and spears, and cannot be harmed by water or fire. Only the Six Divine Weapons can harm it."

"If we don't obtain the Six Divine Weapons, crossing the river rashly," he shook his head, his tone full of worry, "we might never return!"

Upon hearing this, the four members of the Black Wind Gang, and even the bookworm, all showed expressions of doubt.

Ding Chengfeng frowned slightly, his gaze sweeping across the calm river surface—fireflies flickered, the water was undisturbed, and apart from the rumbling of the water, there was no sign of danger. He then sneered, thinking to himself, "This kind of alarmist talk is nothing more than a trick to control the situation."

Only Shen Mo raised an eyebrow slightly. His inner strength had reached a transcendent level, and his five senses far surpassed those of ordinary people. At this moment, he concentrated and calmed his mind, and sure enough, he sensed some extremely faint yet cold and viscous aura from beneath the deep river of fireflies, like a sleeping giant breathing slowly in an abyss. A sense of alarm arose in his heart, but his face remained expressionless.

"Hmph! How arrogant!" The White Tiger Saint King was the most arrogant of all. Hearing this, he snorted coldly, his face full of disdain.

He then strode to the edge of the riverbank, looking down at the thirty-zhang-wide luminous river, a haughty smile playing on his lips: "What Xuanlin Crocodile? This river is calm and still, where's the monster?"

The White Tiger Saint King took a deep breath, lightly touched the rocks on the shore with his toes, and soared into the air like an arrow! He used his lightness skill, lightly touching the remnants of several half-submerged stone beams with his toes, and leaped with the help of them. His movements were graceful and elegant, like a lithe white tiger treading on snow in mid-air.