Wandering Swordsman |

"Qing'er... Qing'er!" Shen Mo called out softly again and again, his voice echoing in the vast and deep abyss, hitting the rock walls, and then being swallowed by the darkness, leaving only an empty echo, like the sigh of a dead soul.

He no longer moved swiftly, but instead stomped each step with tremendous force, as if trying to shatter the deathly silence of the darkness with his footsteps. He once again activated his demonic energy, a faint blue light emanating from his palm, like a solitary lamp illuminating the jagged rocks and winding dark river ahead. The giant python's corpse lay behind him, its foul-smelling black blood pooling on the ground, gurgling into the fissures of the earth, like a tributary of the River Styx.

I don't know how long we've been traveling.

Time lost its meaning in this abyss. There was no sun, no moon, no stars, only an eternal chill and dampness, coiling around his limbs like a spiderweb. His breathing grew heavy, not from exhaustion, but from the growing fear—what if he couldn't find her? What if…she was already…

No! He shook his head sharply, cutting off the thought.

She must still be alive. How could someone as stubborn and proud as her die in a place like this? She hasn't even married me yet, and she still wants to see how I can stand tall in front of the Murong family... She won't just die like this.

"Qing'er—!" he screamed again, his voice slightly hoarse, but even more resolute than before.

Just then—

The wind seems to have changed.

A very subtle stream of air seeped out from a crack in the left rock wall, carrying a faint... fragrance.

It wasn't bloody or putrid, but a clear, delicate fragrance, like orchids and snow—the "Winter Plum Fragrance" from her favorite sachet!

Shen Mo shuddered, turned abruptly, and the blue light swept towards the narrow crevice. He practically rammed into it, bracing his arms against the slippery rock wall, ignoring the jagged edges that cut his palms, and squeezed into the crevice that was only wide enough for one person to pass through.

Inside was a downward-sloping passageway. The further he went, the colder and more humid the air became, but the fragrance grew clearer and clearer, like the hand of fate guiding him forward.

"Qing'er! Is that you?" He called out hoarsely as he walked, his voice echoing in the deep tunnel, filled with heart-wrenching anxiety, as if every syllable was being forcibly torn from his chest.

Water droplets seeped from the damp, cold rock wall, falling onto his shoulders, but he was oblivious. The azure light formed from the demonic energy danced in his palm, like an unquenchable flame illuminating the increasingly narrow passage ahead. His steps quickened, his breathing became more rapid, as if if he slowed down even a moment longer, she would vanish completely from this world.

suddenly--

A faint, almost inaudible sound drifted from the end of the passageway.

"...Shen...Mo..."

The voice was as faint as a whisper, intermittent, as if it came from a distant dream, or like the sobbing of wind through withered bones. But to Shen Mo, it was like a thunderclap from the heavens, exploding deep within his soul!

"Qing'er!" His eyes snapped open, a surge of azure light erupting from his pupils. His inner energy surged forth like a raging river, exploding instantly! His figure shot through the air like an arrow released from a bow! His robes fluttered, stirring up dust, and demonic energy condensed into a azure light curtain around him, illuminating what lay ahead—

She was there.

Huddled deep in the cracks of the rocks, like a butterfly broken by wind and rain.

Murong Qing lay on the cold stone ground, her purple plum-patterned dress tattered, with only a few strips hanging from her shoulders, revealing large expanses of snow-white skin covered in abrasions and bloodstains. Her left leg was twisted unnaturally, clearly broken in the fall; a deep, bone-revealing wound on her right arm was slowly oozing blood, a venomous mark left by the fangs of a giant python. Her long hair clung messily to her face, stained with dirt and dried blood, her lips were bluish-purple, and her breathing was so faint it was almost imperceptible.

But she is still alive.

Shen Mo felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if an invisible hand was gripping his heart tightly, making it almost impossible to breathe. He rushed forward and knelt heavily on the ground, oblivious to the pebbles piercing his skin. He reached out his hand, his fingertips barely daring to touch her, afraid that she would vanish like smoke.

"Qing'er..." he called her softly, his voice hoarse like the grinding of sand.

Upon hearing the sound, Murong Qing's eyelashes trembled slightly, and she opened her eyes with difficulty.

Her vision blurred, light and shadow overlapped, and she saw a figure kneeling in front of her, holding a ball of faint blue light in his palm, illuminating a face so familiar it was etched into her very bones.

Shen Mo.

But she closed her eyes, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Is it...another hallucination?" she murmured, her voice as weak as a candle flickering in the wind. "This time...it feels more real than before...even his voice...is exactly the same..."

She had seen him countless times in her dreams—in the night in Jinzhou, in the garden in Luoyang, in her loneliest and most desperate moments. But each time she woke up, she was greeted by the cold reality. So this time, she couldn't believe it.

"Qing'er, look at me." Shen Mo's voice was deep and firm, carrying an undeniable power. "I am not hallucinating."

She opened her eyes again, her gaze unfocused, filled with deep doubt and fear: "You should be in Dali right now... You won't come..." As she said this, a tear slid down her cheek and slowly rolled down her pale face.

Shen Mo felt as if his heart was being torn apart. He gently picked her up, his movements as tender as if he were holding a petal about to wither. Her body was cold and light, like a soulless shell, yet it trembled slightly in his arms.

He held her tightly in his arms, saying nothing more, and quietly let her feel his body heat.

Murong Qing leaned against his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat and feeling his warm breath brush against her hair. That temperature, that scent, that familiar mixture of sandalwood and blood… it all felt so real.

But she still couldn't believe it.

"Don't...don't go..." she murmured, her fingers clutching his collar weakly, as if afraid he would disappear at any moment. "Let me...deceive myself a little longer...just a little longer..."

Shen Mo's eyes welled up with tears, which finally rolled down her cheeks.

"I'm here," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion but firm. "I've come to save you."

Murong Qing finally raised her hand, trembling as she touched his face. Her fingertips brushed against his warm skin and felt the tears welling up in his eyes.

it is true.

Her eyes widened suddenly, tears streaming down her face like a burst dam, her lips trembling violently: "Shen Mo...it really is you...you really came..."

She sobbed uncontrollably in his arms, like a child who had finally been found, crying out all the fear, loneliness, and despair of the past two days.

Shen Mo held her tightly, letting her tears soak his clothes. He lowered his head and kissed her hair, then said nothing more.

Beyond the crevice in the rock, the abyss remained dark, and the wind howled like ghostly wails. Yet, within this confined space, it seemed as if light was piercing through the darkness.