Wandering Swordsman |

Shen Mo's eyes turned cold, and Murong Qing trembled slightly.

Three days ago, more than ten highly skilled overseas heretical cultivators launched a surprise attack on Diancang Mountain. Overnight, the entire sect suffered heavy casualties, with only a dozen or so disciples managing to escape. Even more terrifying is that—those heretical cultivators did not retreat. Instead, they used Diancang as their base to recruit scoundrels from the martial world and form the "Righteous Alliance"!

"Scoundrel?" Shen Mo frowned.

"Yes," the disciple replied in a low voice. "They are all villains wanted by the Martial Alliance. Due to their heinous crimes, they had nowhere to go, and now they have been recruited by overseas evil cultivators and joined the 'Righteous Alliance'!"

The disciple then stated that the Martial Alliance was now in a state of emergency. Besides dealing with the "Righteous Alliance," overseas martial artists were continuously landing from the East China Sea. It was as if they had agreed to launch a pincer attack with the "Righteous Alliance," aiming to swallow up the Central Plains martial arts world.

"A martial artist from overseas?" His voice was deep, yet it carried an invisible sense of oppression.

The disciple was intimidated by his imposing aura and involuntarily took a half step back, lowering his voice even further: "Yes...yes, young hero. According to urgent reports from various sects along the East China Sea coast, seven waves of overseas martial artists have landed one after another. Each wave is equipped with strange and bizarre martial arts techniques and exotic weapons. Wherever they go, rivers of blood flow. Based on the direction of those overseas martial artists' movements, their target is Nanjing."

Murong Qing's face grew paler as she listened, her fingertips trembling slightly. Leaning on Shen Mo's shoulder, her voice weak yet firm, she said, "It seems they are not scattered soldiers... This is an organized and premeditated invasion targeting the entire Central Plains martial arts world."

Shen Mo nodded slowly, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

"The Righteous Alliance is in the west, disrupting the foundations of the martial arts world; overseas martial artists are in the east, heading straight for the Martial Alliance's headquarters. One from within, one from without, they advance step by step..."

He paused, his gaze sharp as a knife, and asked in a deep voice, "Has the Jiangnan branch received any instructions?"

The disciple's expression darkened, and he shook his head, saying, "Although the Alliance Leader has ordered the elders of all the major sects to convene the 'Martial Arts Conference' at the Nanjing Martial Arts Alliance tomorrow, due to the suddenness of the event, several elders from the nine sects and one gang have already died in battle. What's even more terrifying is that the Righteous Alliance, under the banner of 'acting on behalf of Heaven and eliminating corruption,' has misled many ignorant people, and even some small sects have taken the initiative to join them..."

Shen Mo's expression was surprisingly calm. He simply said, "Have those Central Plains martial artists who have joined the Righteous Alliance forgotten the code of the martial world, or have they already been blinded by greed?"

Murong Qing gently stroked his arm and said softly, "Shen Mo, the most urgent task right now is to find out the true purpose of this 'Alliance of Righteousness'."

Shen Mo's gaze narrowed slightly as the scene from Dali a few days ago flashed through his mind like lightning—Duan Qianya's hypocrisy, Oda's pretense, Ding Chengfeng's scheming, the "tragedy" in Dali City... everything seemed to be the reason that pushed the Diancang Sect to its demise.

After a long pause, Shen Mo said softly, "Qing'er, I will first send you back to the Murong family in Luoyang to recuperate, and then I will return to the Martial Alliance to participate in this matter and contribute my share."

Shen Mo looked at Murong Qing, and his usually cold and aloof eyes, like a deep pool, now showed a slight ripple.

Her face was still pale, and although the wound on her shoulder had been bandaged, faint bloodstains still seeped into her clothes. But her eyes were like a plum blossom braving the snow, clear and firm, without the slightest intention to back down.

"Shen Mo." Murong Qing gently grasped his hand, her fingertips slightly cool, but her tone was as fiery as fire. "You said that those who have joined the Righteous Alliance have forgotten the code of chivalry of the Central Plains martial artists. If I were to hide behind the high walls of a noble family right now, how would I be any different from them? The Murong family's century-old reputation is not based on protection, but on responsibility."

She looked up out the window. In the distance, the vast expanse of Taihu Lake was shrouded in mist, and dark clouds churned in the sky, as if foreshadowing an approaching storm that would sweep across the world.

"Since entering the Elite Academy of the Martial Arts Alliance, the first lesson taught by the headmaster was 'Martial artists are defenders of the Way.' Now that the Way has collapsed and the world is in chaos, with foreign enemies pressing in and internal traitors causing trouble, it is the time for us, the younger generation of the martial arts world, to uphold the code of the martial arts world."

After hearing this, Shen Mo remained silent.

He knew all too well that she was strong-willed and righteous. But it was precisely this that pained him even more. He had witnessed the Dali City massacre firsthand and seen the ordinary people persecuted by overseas evil practitioners. Therefore, he didn't want her to be in any danger, and he wanted to keep her away from even the slightest possible peril.

But he also understood that if he forced her to return to Luoyang now, given her personality, she would find it difficult to resolve her inner conflict, and might even go against his wishes. She was not a caged bird, nor was she anyone's possession.

She paused, gazing at him, her voice soft yet sharp as a drawn sword:

"Shen Mo, I am your fiancée, not a burden to you, nor a weakling who needs protection. I am the one who walks alongside you."

As soon as he finished speaking, the room seemed to be frozen by an invisible force.

The disciple, who had been busy packing his belongings, suddenly stopped. He slowly raised his head, his gaze falling on Murong Qing, his eyes filled with shock and shame. He had thought these scions of noble families were merely there to "gild their resumes" by completing tasks assigned by the Martial Alliance—just going through the motions and gaining experience.

Yet this seventh young lady of the Murong family before him, though severely injured and pale, dared to face death head-on, her words as firm as iron. She wasn't being defiant; she was upholding the code of the Central Plains martial artists. Her words struck his heart like the morning bell and evening drum.

He looked down at his rough hands and suddenly felt incredibly small. He had been a member of the Martial Arts Alliance branch for so long, but only today did he understand—the true martial arts world is not about swords and shadows, but about this sense of responsibility to "do what you know is impossible."

Shen Mo remained silent, only nodding slightly. That nod carried immense weight.

After a long while, Shen Mo slowly closed his eyes, as if making a final stand against fate. He took a deep breath, and the faint scent of winter plum blossoms emanating from Murong Qing brushed past his nose. The fragrance was as clear and pure as snow, yet it carried a hint of blood, which made his heart tremble.

When he opened his eyes again, the coldness in his eyes had not faded, like the snow and wind of the North, but there was a touch of gentleness and determination, like the first ray of light before dawn.

"Alright." He finally nodded, his voice low yet firm, as if a vow were etched into the mountains and rivers. "Qing'er, I won't try to persuade you anymore. But you must promise me—to follow in my footsteps."

Murong Qing's lips curved slightly upward, like the first melting snow of spring, reflecting the candlelight, breathtakingly beautiful. She raised her hand and gently stroked his cold cheek, her fingertips trembling slightly, yet carrying an undeniable firmness.

"Shen Mo, you are someone I acknowledge. If you die, I will not live on alone; if you are still alive, how could I not follow in your footsteps?"

Shen Mo remained silent.

He gently pulled her into his arms, his movements incredibly light, as if afraid to touch the wound on her shoulder. Yet his embrace was as solid as a rock, as if he wanted to embed her into his very bones.

Her hair brushed against his neck, carrying the scent of medicine and blood; her breath was weak, yet warm, falling on his chest like a flame that refused to be extinguished.

"Qing'er..." he whispered, his voice hoarse, as if squeezed from the depths of his chest, "If this world is destined to be in chaos, with evil people running rampant and people's hearts collapsing... then I, Shen Mo, will use the sword in my hand to slay all the evil people and protect you for a lifetime."