Wandering Swordsman |

The vermilion gate slowly closed behind them with a dull creak, as if shutting out all the hustle and bustle of the world. The two stepped into the Martial Alliance compound, and a breathtaking view unfolded before them—the ground was paved with smooth, mirror-like bluestone, reflecting the sparse stars in the sky; ancient pines stood guard on either side, their branches gnarled and twisted like dragons, dew clinging to their needles, shimmering like shattered silver in the moonlight. In the distance, pavilions dotted the landscape, their eaves reaching towards the moon, the copper bells on their corners tinkling softly in the breeze, their gentle chimes like the tinkling of a zither, whispering the solemnity and mystery of this sacred place.

Shen Mo and Murong Qing walked side by side, their steps light and slow. Although she had already stood firm, she still unconsciously took half a step closer to him. The night breeze blew by, and her hair fluttered lightly, brushing past Shen Mo's sleeve and carrying a faint fragrance.

Before long, the two arrived at the area of ​​the Elite Academy.

Not long after entering the academy, a figure in a green robe suddenly appeared around the corner of the corridor ahead, his robes fluttering as he moved with the speed of the wind. Following him were several female martial arts instructors, all dressed in plain, close-fitting attire, short swords at their waists, their faces veiled, their expressions solemn as if facing a formidable enemy. The leader, a man around fifty years old, with sharp features and three long strands of beard fluttering in the wind, was none other than Li Yuantong, the elder deacon of the Elite Academy.

"Shen Mo, Murong Qing!" His voice boomed, piercing the night. "I've received your report via carrier pigeon!"

His gaze swept over them like lightning, and when it landed on Murong Qing, his brows furrowed abruptly. Her face was as pale as paper, her lips bloodless, and a faint bluish tinge emanated from between her brows, clearly indicating that her internal injuries had not yet healed and that she was forcibly holding on.

"Quickly!" Li Yuantong's expression hardened, and he waved his hand sharply. "Send Murong Qing to the medical pavilion to recuperate!"

Two female martial arts instructors stepped forward, one on each side, gently but firmly supporting Murong Qing's arms. Their fingertips lightly touched her wrists, immediately detecting that her meridians were disordered and her qi and blood were weak.

"There's no need for that." Murong Qing struggled slightly, her voice weak but carrying an unyielding stubbornness. "I'm fine, I can adjust my breathing for a few days."

She looked up at Li Yuantong, her eyes clear and bright, as if she were trying to dispel her pain with her willpower: "Elder, the school has many affairs to attend to, there is no need to trouble yourself for me."

Li Yuantong shook his head, his tone suddenly becoming calm and steady, like a bell striking the heart: "You young people are the pillars that the academy is painstakingly cultivating, the future backbone of the martial arts alliance. If we treat even the injuries you sustained because of the martial arts alliance carelessly, what is the point of this academy?"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the two men, his voice low yet fervent: "You are not tools, but the future hope of the Martial Alliance."

The night breeze suddenly calmed down, and the pine needles, covered in dew, seemed about to fall.

Murong Qing was stunned. She had intended to be strong, but the word "hope" flowed into her heart like a warm current, dispelling her forced pride. Looking into Li Yuantong's eyes, which were etched with the marks of time yet still bright, she suddenly felt a warmth in her heart.

She nodded slightly, a respectful smile playing on her lips: "...Yes, Elder."

That smile, like the first snowflakes under the moon, quietly melted away her usual sharpness.

Two female martial arts instructors immediately helped her walk. Her steps were unsteady, yet she still kept her back straight, as if unwilling to show weakness. As she left Shen Mo's side, she glanced at him sideways, her eyes swirling with unspoken words, yet only uttering a whisper: "Shen Mo...see you tomorrow."

Shen Mo watched her departing figure, a warmth spreading through his heart, and nodded gently.

Only after the figure in plain clothes disappeared at the end of the corridor did Li Yuantong slowly turn around and look at Shen Mo. His expression was respectful, even carrying a hint of barely perceptible awe—a respect for the strong and for the future.

"Young Master Shen." He cupped his hands in greeting, his voice deep and solemn, "The curator is already waiting in the study. Please follow me."

Shen Mo composed himself, nodded silently. He glanced one last time in the direction Murong Qing had left, then strode forward.

Before long, the two passed through several courtyards and arrived at a quiet little building. In front of the building, ancient pines stood strong and vigorous, entwined with vines, and the plaque above read "Listening to the Wind Pavilion" in powerful strokes, as if carved by a sword.

Pushing open the door, one finds a room with flickering candlelight. An elderly man sits upright before a desk, dressed in a simple robe, his face gaunt, his eyes deep and unfathomable. He is none other than Guiguzi, the headmaster of the Martial Arts Alliance Elite Academy, though Shen Mo is unaware of his true identity.

"Shen Mo, you've arrived." The curator's voice was deep, yet like the lingering sound of a bell, it went straight to people's hearts.

Shen Mo cupped his hands in greeting: "Greetings, Curator."

The curator gestured for him to sit down, his gaze gentle: "You escorted Murong Qing back without a break the whole way, you must be exhausted."

Shen Mo shook his head: "Qing'er is my fiancée, this is what a junior should do."

The curator smiled slightly, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes. He slowly said, "The bookworm gave me the 'Martial God Sword Technique,' 'Martial God Hammer Technique,' and the Martial God Hammer the day before yesterday. He also told me that you were going to Jiangnan to find Murong Qing. He originally intended to wait for your return, but because of important matters at Guigu, he has already returned first."

Upon hearing this, Shen Mo paused for a moment, a hint of disappointment flashing in his eyes. He had left in a hurry that day, thinking he could catch up with the Bookworm at the Martial Alliance, but now he couldn't see him, and felt a little regretful.

Recalling those days, the campfire in the cave, the admonition "Do good deeds and don't worry about the future"... scenes flooded his mind like a tide. He once thought that when he joined the Martial Arts Alliance, he might still be able to drink and chat with the bookworm, and listen to him tell another tale of the martial world. But now, the man is gone, leaving only a message.

"So... Brother Shu has already gone back." He said softly, his tone calm, but he couldn't hide the trace of melancholy.

The curator, observing the situation, smiled faintly: "The bookworm often says that you are a talent that comes along only once in a century. He has high hopes for you, and I believe you will meet again soon."

Shen Mo's heart skipped a beat. He wanted to ask again, but he saw that the curator had already stood up and was gazing at the moon with his hands behind his back.

"By the way," the curator said, his white robe fluttering slightly. His figure, standing in the moonlight, seemed to have hidden wind and thunder in his sleeves. "You have just returned and should be resting, but there is an important matter that I cannot do without you."

Upon hearing this, Shen Mo immediately stopped, cupped his hands in respect, and said, "Please give your orders, Director."

The curator turned around, his gaze seemingly piercing through mountains and rivers: "Situ Meng is currently at Qingcheng Mountain. Although she is intelligent and decisive, the martial world is treacherous, especially with the Righteous Alliance making frequent moves lately. I'm worried they might take advantage of this to harm her—after all, she is the only blood relative of the martial arts alliance leader."

He paused, his voice low yet resonant: "You must set off immediately to Qingcheng Mountain to escort her back to the Martial Alliance. On this journey, you must ensure her safety."

Just as he was about to accept the order, he heard light footsteps outside the door. A martial arts master rushed in, clasped his hands, and reported, "Master, the Alliance Leader urgently summons you to the main hall for a meeting! A messenger from the Black Wind Gang has arrived with a secret letter from Gang Leader Ding Chengfeng!"

The room fell silent upon hearing this.

The curator's expression remained unchanged; he merely hummed softly, as if he had expected this. He turned to look at Shen Mo, his gaze deep and unfathomable: "In that case, you will come with me."

Shen Mo was taken aback: "Director, given my status as a student, is it appropriate for me to...?"

"Let's go, you're not an outsider," the curator interrupted him, his tone leaving no room for argument.