Wandering Swordsman |

The night breeze in Jiangnan, carrying the coolness of the water vapor from Taihu Lake, brushes across the ancient bluestone path, causing the weeping willows on both sides to sway like smoke.

Shen Mo walked under the moonlight, his figure like a fleeting shadow, swiftly traversing the mountains and forests. He carried Murong Qing in his left arm, her head resting gently on his shoulder, her hair fluttering in the wind like a wisp of unfallen snow. Though still wounded, she remained silent, only occasionally whispering as he caught his breath, "Are you tired?"

"Not tired," he always answered, his voice low yet as firm as a rock.

......

Five hundred li (approximately 250 kilometers) in six hours.

Shen Mo held Murong Qing in his arms, his robes fluttering, his black robes billowing like ink-stained clouds. His breathing was steady, like the low murmur of pine trees, and even after traveling a hundred miles, there was not a trace of disorder. With his strength as the Heavenly Demon God, he could have gone even faster, but he didn't. He slowed his pace, deliberately avoiding the rugged mountain paths and the biting cold passes, just to minimize the suffering of the person in his arms.

Murong Qing leaned on his shoulder, her face pale and her lips slightly blue. Although her injuries had stabilized, she still needed to rest. In her dazed state, she felt as if she were floating on a cloud, the wind whispering softly in her ears, as if she were not moving quickly, but being carried forward by the wind. She slightly opened her eyes and saw Shen Mo's profile clearly defined in the moonlight, his brows radiating a halo of unwavering resolve and tenderness. Every step he took was measured and deliberate, landing silently, yet as steady as a rock.

At this moment, Shen Mo whispered, his voice steady as a bell, "We're almost there."

His warm breath brushed against her ear as he spoke, sending a shiver down her spine. She tried to struggle to get down, but he gently pressed her down with one hand: "Qing'er, if you move around and aggravate your injuries, I will put you to sleep by pressing your pressure points."

Although his tone was cold, it contained an undeniable concern.

Murong Qing closed her eyes, a slight smile playing on her lips. She knew he was being so careful because he was afraid her injuries would relapse. In this world, besides her, there was no one else who could make him drop everything and travel thousands of miles to reach her.

Finally, a majestic outline appeared on the horizon ahead—

It was a colossal city, standing on the banks of the Yangtze River in the eastern part of Nanjing, built against the mountains, with an imposing presence. The towering city walls resembled a giant dragon coiled around it, and the vermilion gates were three zhang high, with copper nails arranged like stars. Above the gate, a black plaque with gold patterns was prominently displayed: "Martial Arts Alliance".

The eaves soar like eagles spreading their wings, the brackets layered like clouds, and the glazed tiles gleam with a deep blue luster under the cold moonlight, resembling a roof of ice. On the city tower, the night watchmen stand guard, swords at their sides, clad in armor and sharp weapons, their eyes scanning the surroundings like hawks. On either side of the city gate, stone lions roar with heads held high, pearls in their mouths, as if ready to unleash thunder at any moment.

The city lights twinkled like an inverted Milky Way. Martial arts schools, libraries, and training grounds were scattered about in a harmonious arrangement, and bells hanging from the eaves tinkled softly in the breeze, like the gentle sounds of a zither. In the distance, a clock tower stood tall, its bronze bell silent yet seemingly containing immense power, waiting only for a command to shake the world.

Shen Mo stood on the stone bridge outside the city, holding Murong Qing in his arms, gazing up at this holy city that symbolized the pinnacle of the righteous path in the martial world. Moonlight shone on him, casting his long, proud shadow. His eyes held no fear, only unwavering determination.

"Qing'er, we've arrived," he said softly, his voice like the wind through a pine forest, deep and gentle, rippling through the quiet night.

Murong Qing nestled in his arms, her cheeks slightly flushed. Strands of her hair were lifted by the night breeze, gently brushing against Shen Mo's neck and causing a slight tickle. Her already pale face now had a barely perceptible blush.

She suddenly opened her eyes, her gaze sparkling like stars, a sly smile playing on her lips, her voice clear yet sharp: "You stinking Shen Mo, we're already at the entrance of the Martial Alliance, why aren't you putting me down yet!"

Shen Mo remained unmoved, raising an eyebrow slightly, and said calmly, "Your injuries have not yet healed, so you should not move around."

"The injury hasn't healed, but it's not serious." Murong Qing snorted lightly, deliberately twisting her body as if trying to struggle to get down. "Quick, put me down! Otherwise... I'll scream!"

Shen Mo remained unmoved, only saying calmly, "Go ahead and shout, let's see if your voice is faster or my acupressure point technique is faster."

Murong Qing was furious, her eyes darting around. Suddenly, she stretched out her slender hand, clenched her fist, gathered a bit of internal energy, and with a "thud," struck Shen Mo's chest with just the right amount of force.

That hammer blow, seemingly playful, actually contained three parts real strength. If it were anyone else, their ribs would probably go numb from the impact. But Shen Mo only felt a warmth in his chest, as if a spring breeze had blown over him, and he didn't even frown.

His expression wavered, and the moonlight shone on his sharply defined profile, revealing a hint of helpless laughter in his eyes: "Qing'er, you know perfectly well that this little bit of force can't hurt me."

Seeing that he seemed unaffected and even smiled indulgently, Murong Qing felt even more annoyed, yet she dared not exert any more force—she was afraid of truly hurting him. She bit her lip, her eyes flickering slightly, and finally muttered softly, "...Who wanted to hurt you? I just... wanted to get down."

Her voice trailed off, the last syllable barely audible, but her cheeks flushed even redder, like a crabapple blossom just beginning to bloom under the moon.

Looking at her outwardly strong but inwardly weak appearance, Shen Mo's heart softened, and he chuckled softly. He supported her waist with one hand and gently placed his other hand on her shoulder, his movements as gentle as cupping a handful of spring water. He slowly lowered her down, deliberately slowing his pace as her toes touched the ground to ensure she stood firmly.

"Alright." He took a half step back, his gaze gentle as water. "Stand still, my young lady."

Murong Qing straightened up, subconsciously smoothing her slightly disheveled hair, avoiding his gaze, and said calmly, "Hmph, you finally know to put me down, otherwise I would have held a grudge against you."

Before she could finish speaking, a sharp shout rang out from the city wall: "Who goes there!"

Two disciples on night watch leaped down from the platform, their halberds crossed, gleaming coldly. One of them said in a chilling voice, "This is a sacred place of the martial world; those who are not members of the alliance are not allowed to enter! State your names!"

Shen Mo remained calm and cupped his hands in greeting, saying, "I am Shen Mo, a disciple of the Elite Academy."

The guard sized them up: one was travel-worn, his black robe stained with dust; the other was pale-faced, leaning against a tree. They had clearly just come from a long journey, but their identities were difficult to discern.

"Elite Academy?" one of them sneered. "I don't know anyone named Shen Mo!"

Just as Shen Mo was about to speak, Murong Qing took a step forward, her aura suddenly changing. Although she was slender, she possessed an innate majesty, like a plum blossom braving the snow, not to be trifled with.

"I am Murong Qing." Her voice was clear and cold, like ice spring striking jade, "and I am also a member of the Murong family."

After saying that, she took out an identity token from her sleeve, with the words "Murong" engraved on the front. The token shimmered in the moonlight, clearly indicating that it was no ordinary object.

Upon seeing this, the guard's expression changed drastically. Looking more closely at Murong Qing's face, the guard quickly sheathed his halberd and bowed, saying, "So you are one of the four most beautiful women in the martial world! Please come in!"

The other person hurriedly pushed open the vermilion gate. The copper rings jingled and the hinges creaked, as if awakening a sleeping giant.

Murong Qing nodded slightly, her expression indifferent, as if such courtesy was a given. She turned to look at Shen Mo, a sly smile flashing in her eyes, and whispered, "Shen Mo, aren't you going to follow me? Or am I really going to carry you inside?"

Shen Mo shook his head and chuckled, his gaze as gentle as the moon, as he followed her into the majestic city gate.

Behind them, the night wind swept across the stone bridge, swirling up a few fallen leaves, as if quietly playing a prelude to the return of the young couple.