Wandering Swordsman |

Situ Meng was startled and looked up at him.

Shen Mo also looked down at her, the sadness in his eyes fading, replaced by a resolute light.

"You say I'll be in a difficult position... but have you ever considered that if I choose to run away, that would be the greatest difficulty for me?" His voice was low, yet resonant like a bell. "Although I, Shen Mo, lost my parents early, I have no regrets towards heaven and earth, my sect, or my principles. But if I save you today, only to abandon you and leave you to bear this secret and grievance alone... then would I still deserve the title of 'hero'?"

He paused, then gently stroked her cheek with his fingertips, wiping away a tear that was about to fall.

"You said you wanted to keep it a secret... but I can't pretend nothing happened." He looked directly into her eyes, each word etched into her soul, "I, Shen Mo, swear to heaven—I will take full responsibility for what happened today. If you're unwilling, I'll wait until you are; if you don't believe me, I'll spend my whole life proving it."

The wind rose, blowing his black clothes, making them flutter like flags.

"Situ Meng," his voice was low but firm, "I cannot betray Murong Qing, but now that things have come to this, I cannot betray you either. When I return to the Martial Alliance, I will tell her this in person."

Situ Meng trembled, and tears finally streamed down her face.

She didn't speak, but buried her face in his chest, her shoulders trembling slightly.

She knew what the word "responsible" meant.

This means he will carry two burdens of loyalty and friendship, walking alone through the storms of the martial world; it means he will likely face gossip and rumors from the martial arts community.

But he still spoke.

Because he is Shen Mo—the Shen Mo who broke the lock with a single sword when they first met at the Black Wind Gang, the Shen Mo who stood in front of her in the secret prison.

A night breeze swept by, swirling fallen leaves like butterflies.

In the stillness of the night, a promise, like a spark, ignited the darkness.

Some things, once done, can never be undone.

But some people, once they choose to take on the responsibility, are destined to have no regrets.

......

As dawn broke and the sky turned a pale, fish-belly color, a night mist, like a veil, enveloped the small town at the foot of Mount Qingcheng.

The stone path was wet, reflecting the rising morning light, as if it were covered with a thin layer of silver.

The streets and alleys were quiet, with only early-rising porters walking by, their footsteps clear in the morning air.

Shen Mo and Situ Meng walked side by side, their steps slow and deliberate, yet carrying the weariness of a sleepless night.

She was draped in his black robe, the wide lapels almost completely covering her, revealing only a slender ankle and messy hair.

His aura still lingered on the outer robe—cold, composed, and mixed with a faint trace of demonic energy.

He was dressed in only a plain white shirt, his figure was upright, but his shoulders and back were slightly tense because he had exerted too much energy last night.

To avoid being noticed, Shen Mo lightly touched his cheek with his fingertips, quietly channeling his inner energy to distort and reshape his face once again—lowering his brow bone, widening his nose, and thickening his lips, instantly transforming him into an ordinary-looking wandering swordsman.

Then he gently applied a disguise technique to Situ Meng, altering her features: removing some of her delicate beauty and adding a touch of commoner charm, transforming her from the daughter of the martial arts alliance leader into a gentle woman from an ordinary family.

The two men's appearances had completely changed, and as they blended into the morning light, no one gave them a second glance.

Before long, they found a tailor shop on the street.

The lintel was low, the curtain was half-rolled up, and inside were a dazzling array of needlework and thread, with neatly stacked fabrics, and the air was filled with the scent of new cotton and dyes.

"Good morning, sir." An elderly tailor, around fifty years old, looked up and glanced at the two of them. The man was dressed simply but had an extraordinary air about him. The woman wore an outer robe, her hair was disheveled, her cheeks still flushed, and her eyes were slightly tired, yet they held an indescribable softness.

With his vast experience, the old tailor could tell the difference at a glance.

He remained impassive, a slight smile playing on his lips, a knowing glint in his eyes, yet he respectfully stepped forward: "Are you two looking to have clothes made, or buy ready-made garments?"

Shen Mo's voice was low and deliberately hoarse: "Buy a set of women's clothes, as soon as possible."

"Alright." The old tailor nodded with a smile, turned around and took out three sets of prepared women's clothing from the cabinet, spreading them out on the table one by one.

The first outfit is a "Moon White Embroidered Orchid Dress". It is made of plain silk, with a light blue silk sash tied at the waist. The skirt is embroidered with a few elegant orchids, making it pure and refined, like a pear blossom in early spring.

The old tailor smiled and said, "This is specially made for young ladies from scholarly families. Wearing it will make you look gentle and graceful, with every step you take gracefully."

Shen Mo looked at Situ Meng, who nodded slightly and went into the inner room to try on the clothes.

A moment later, she walked out slowly.

The morning light streamed through the window, illuminating her elegant attire. The dress clung to her figure, outlining her slender waist and long neck, while her hair was styled in a simple bun, further highlighting her flawless complexion.

She stood there, like a lady stepping out of a painting, aloof as frost, yet carrying a trace of tenderness lingering from last night.

The second outfit is a "crimson narrow-sleeved outfit." It is made of crimson brocade, with tight cuffs, a leather belt around the waist, and matching trousers. It exudes a heroic and dashing aura, as if it were made for a hero or hero of the martial arts world.

The old tailor chuckled, "This outfit is neat and easy to walk in. If you're a martial arts practitioner, it would be perfect for you."

After Situ Meng changed into the new clothes and walked out, her demeanor changed drastically.

Her eyebrows were slightly raised, her eyes were clear and bright, and her red dress was as red as fire, which made her skin look as white as snow. She was both heroic and beautiful.

She gently raised her hand, as if to draw her sword; for a moment, she resembled a female knight-errant.

The third outfit was an indigo coarse cloth skirt and jacket. The fabric was ordinary, the style simple, with piping around the neckline, slightly wide cuffs, and an ankle-length skirt. It lacked any embellishment, yet exuded a rustic warmth. The old tailor said, "This is what country women often wear; it's durable, inconspicuous, and perfect for traveling."

After Situ Meng changed into the new clothes and walked out, her demeanor changed once again.

She was no longer the high and mighty daughter of the alliance leader, nor a heroic and dashing female knight-errant, but an ordinary village girl.

The coarse cloth concealed her stunning beauty, but it could not hide the brilliance in her eyes.

She stood in the morning light, her smile serene, as if she were just a girl next door, carrying a basket to pick mulberry leaves and washing clothes by the stream.

But it is precisely this ordinariness that makes her seem incredibly real and serene.

Shen Mo looked at her and suddenly felt relieved.

This is how she should be right now—unobtrusive and free from trouble.

"This one will do." Situ Meng seemed to notice Shen Mo's satisfied expression and said softly, her voice gentle yet decisive.

Shen Mo nodded and took out some silver to pay the bill.

The old tailor took the money, gave the two men a meaningful look, and said in a low voice, "Sirs, clothes can be replaced when they get old, but if people's hearts change, it will be hard to find peace."

Shen Mo was taken aback, then solemnly cupped his hands in thanks: "Thank you for the reminder, sir."

The old tailor smiled, turned around to arrange the fabric, and said nothing more.

The two stepped out of the tailor shop, the morning light bathing their shoulders. Situ Meng looked down at her coarse cloth dress, her fingertips gently tracing the rough fabric, and suddenly chuckled, "I've always worn fine silks and satins since I was little, but this coarse cloth... feels exceptionally comfortable."

Shen Mo turned his head to look at her and saw that her smile was sincere. The heavy stone in his heart finally lifted a little.