Wandering Swordsman |

He had already made up his mind, but his face became even more respectful: "Young hero, please—the roads on the island are slippery, let me show you the way."

Shen Mo stood quietly, raindrops dripping from his hair and wetting his shoulders.

He naturally noticed Wu Ba's momentary hesitation, the fleeting ruthlessness in the depths of his eyes, and the feigned insincerity in his smile. He also caught a faint whiff of blood in the air.

He's lying.

Shen Mo's mind was as clear as a mirror.

Even if there's only a sliver of hope, he has to see it for himself.

"Let's go." Shen Mo finally spoke, his voice as cold as ancient ice, yet he had already stepped forward.

Wu Ba was secretly delighted, thinking, "He's taken the bait! Young man, after all, love has got him by the throat!"

He quickly stepped aside to lead the way, his steps light and quick, as if he had finally escaped a life-or-death crisis. Little did he know that he was personally leading a lurking ferocious beast to his lair.

Shen Mo followed behind him, his steps steady, each one feeling like it was treading on Wu Ba's heart. His gaze was like a knife, sweeping over the bandits standing on both sides—their swords were sheathed, but their hands gripped the hilts tightly, their eyes flashing, their killing intent hidden.

A barely perceptible sneer appeared on Shen Mo's lips.

Not long after, Shen Mo followed Wu Ba to the mountain stronghold.

His gaze was slightly lowered, seemingly calm, but in reality, all five senses were fully activated. Every movement of air and every echo of footsteps left a mark on his mind.

"Young hero, please—" The bandit leader grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth, a glint of malice flashing in his eyes, "I have prepared a banquet in the hall, awaiting your arrival."

Shen Mo nodded slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips, as if he believed him without a doubt. However, just as he stepped onto the third step, the wooden plank beneath his feet made a soft "crack," and the ground suddenly collapsed!

"Hahaha! Fool! You think you can leave my Blackwater Stronghold alive after entering?" The bandit leader laughed wildly, looking up at the sky.

Before he could finish speaking, the wooden walls around him suddenly burst open, and dozens of crossbows fired simultaneously, arrows flying like locusts, aiming straight for Shen Mo's vital points! The ground cracked open, iron spikes stood like a forest, and poisonous smoke billowed out from the cracks, emitting a pungent stench.

However, just as the rain of arrows was about to hit him—

A figure suddenly soared into the air, like an eagle striking the sky. In mid-air, he spun around, his robes fluttering as the Tai'a sword was drawn three inches from its sheath! The sword light flashed like lightning, slicing through the thick fog. With several clanging sounds, all the arrows were shattered into dust in mid-air by the sword energy!

Immediately afterwards, Shen Mo touched the collapsed mechanism panel with his toes and landed like a ghost, completely unharmed.

He slowly raised his head, his eyes flashing with a cold light, and a chilling smile curled at the corner of his lips: "This is the banquet you prepared?"

The bandit leader's smile froze on his face, his pupils shrinking sharply: "You... how is this possible..."

"Impossible?" Shen Mo chuckled, his voice low and deep, like the night wind brushing against a grave. "Heh, compared to my experience at Demon Refining Mountain? These mere wooden and stone mechanisms are nothing but child's play in my eyes."

Before he finished speaking, his inner energy erupted! A surge of black energy surged from his dantian, flowing through his meridians and condensing into a thin layer of black flame armor on his body. The black flames burned eerily, as if they came from the depths of the netherworld, carrying an evil power that could devour all things.

"Demonic...demonic power?!" The bandit leader retreated in terror, his voice trembling.

Shen Mo said nothing more, and in a flash, he was already in front of him. The Tai'a Sword was drawn, its light like a waterfall, and a sweeping arc slash was unleashed!

"puff--!"

Blood splattered, the head flew high into the air, and the headless corpse crashed to the ground, the steel knife in its hand clattering to the ground.

The killing began from there.

Shen Mo descended like a demon god, his black robes stained with blood. Wherever his sword flashed, heads fell to the ground. He showed no mercy, no more probing; every strike aimed for the vital points, every move a fatal blow! The bandits in the stronghold had no time to react before they were already dead beneath his blade.

A burly man wielding an axe roared and charged forward, but Shen Mo swung his sword in a backhand motion, the blade piercing the man's throat and straight through the back of his head. Another bandit shot an arrow from the second floor, but Shen Mo didn't even turn his head. The demonic energy in his sleeve transformed into a fine needle, instantly piercing the bandit's brow. Black flames erupted, and the corpse fell from the building, charred like a piece of coal.

In an instant, wails, screams, and the clash of weapons intertwined into a hellish symphony. Shen Mo's figure weaved through the blood mist, like the Grim Reaper reaping all, leaving no survivors in his wake.

Only one person was slumped on the ground in the corner, his crotch soaked and urine dripping down his trouser legs—it was "Old Six," the scout in charge of reconnaissance in the village.

He witnessed it all: the young man in black moved with unparalleled ease, his sword strikes always drawing blood, and demonic energy swirled around him like a demon descending upon the world. He even forgot to flee, only trembling as he knelt down, kowtowing repeatedly: "Great hero, spare my life! Great hero, spare my life!"

Shen Mo walked slowly forward, blood dripping from the tip of his sword, his gaze piercing towards Lao Liu like an icy blade.

"Speak." He uttered only one word, yet it carried the weight of a thousand pounds.

The sixth man trembled, his teeth chattering: "Great...Great hero, I'll tell you everything I know! That...that Miss Murong...she...she's not in the stronghold at all!"

Shen Mo's eyes narrowed: "Where is she?"

"Tell me...where is she?!" Shen Mo's voice was deep and thunderous, each word like a crushed stone from the ground, carrying an irresistible pressure.

The sixth man trembled, tears streaming down his face, his voice hoarse as a broken gong: "In...in the north of the island! In a sinkhole...called...called 'Ten Thousand Foot Abyss'...but...whether he's dead or alive...I don't know!"

"Abyss?" Shen Mo murmured, the three words rolling across his tongue as if he were chewing on a piece of red-hot iron.

His pupils suddenly contracted, and it seemed as if a silent volcano was erupting in his eyes, a blood-red storm of intense anger and excruciating pain intertwined. He abruptly raised his hand and struck the sixth man's Jianjing acupoint with a palm strike. The force of his palm struck through the meridians like thunder, instantly shattering the foundation of his true energy!

"Ah—!" Old Six screamed in agony, his whole body trembling violently. He spat out a mouthful of blood, and his limbs went limp like mud. His martial arts were completely destroyed, and he could no longer circulate any internal energy. From then on, he was nothing but a cripple.

Shen Mo didn't even glance at him, turning and heading north at breakneck speed. His blood-stained black clothes fluttered in the wind like a battle flag, his back like a solitary peak standing between heaven and earth, his killing intent still lingering, but transformed into a resolute belief—even if the abyss is bottomless, I will see you.

The wind is even stronger on the north side of Xishan Island.

Shen Mo stepped over the jagged rocks, his toes lightly touching the ground. His movements were as swift as lightning. The further north he went, the colder the air became, and the dampness felt like needles piercing his bones.

Finally, he stopped.

Before us lay a huge pit, half-hidden by weeds and vines.

The pit opening is not large, about twenty zhang in diameter, shaped like an inverted giant bell, with jagged rocks along the edges, as if gnawed by a giant beast. The pit walls are steep and barren, with no vegetation except for slippery moss and vines hanging down, swaying gently in the wind like the tentacles of a ghost.

This is the "Abyss of Ten Thousand Feet".

Shen Mo stood at the edge of the pit, leaning down to look—

Bottomless.