Wandering Swordsman |

The eight hesitated for a moment, but seeing that his eyes were clear as autumn water and showed no sign of reproach, they slowly stood up, but still stood with their heads bowed, not daring to look him in the eye.

Peng Chengxiao gritted his teeth, mustered his courage, and looked up: "Captain... since you are not a Wudang disciple, how could you receive the true meaning of Tai Chi personally taught by Master Zhang? This... this doesn't make sense."

Shen Mo smiled slightly, his eyes seemingly shimmering with mist: "Although I am not a disciple of Wudang, I am a 'guest elder of Wudang'."

Upon hearing this, the eight people were deeply shaken.

At this moment, Peng Chengxiao drew his long sword from his waist, held it horizontally in front of his chest, and said in a deep voice, "Men of the Peng family keep their word. From this day forward, the eight members of the Qingfeng Team will follow their captain through life and death, honor and disgrace!"

The other seven echoed in unison: "We'll be together through life and death, honor and disgrace!"

Shen Mo looked at them quietly, a genuine smile finally appearing in his eyes. That smile was like spring water just beginning to melt, gentle yet firm.

He nodded slowly: "Good. Since it is Qingfeng, it should be like a sword—sharp but not fierce, sharp but not arrogant, concealing its edge in its sheath, and making a sound when it is drawn."

The wind rises again, swirling up fallen leaves and carrying away the last trace of estrangement.

From this moment on, the Qingfeng Team of the Martial Arts Alliance finally has a true leader.

......

As dusk settled and the setting sun bleed-red, it cast a thin layer of bronze rust on a small inn called "Qiyun" beside the official road.

The wind swept dust across the eaves, emitting a low, mournful whimper. The nine members of the Green Edge Team sat around a wooden table by the window, the tea in their rough porcelain bowls slightly cool, their sword sheaths resting on their legs, their sharpness faintly visible.

The inn was quiet, with only the innkeeper behind the counter, his knuckles white from the effort he was putting into his abacus.

Suddenly, a burly man with a face full of scars and a ghost-head knife at his waist strode in, followed by two henchmen.

His gaze swept across the room like a hawk's, finally settling on the shopkeeper. He grinned, revealing a set of yellow teeth: "Old man, it's time to pay this month's 'peace money,' isn't it?"

The shopkeeper trembled, his lips quivering, but he dared not speak. He silently took out a bag of copper coins from under the counter and presented it with both hands.

The thug snatched it away, weighed it in his hand, and sneered, "That's all? Last month it was doubled! What, want to try my knife?"

The expressions of the Qingfeng team members changed drastically.

Peng Chengxiao's face contorted with bulging veins as he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Liu Qingyi gripped the tassel of her sword with her fingertips, and the rest of the team members tensed up, waiting for Shen Mo's command to capture these scoundrels on the spot.

However, Shen Mo simply lowered his eyes and lightly tapped the rough wooden table with his fingertips—like a leaf falling into water, silent and still, yet carrying an undeniable sense of defiance.

Everyone was taken aback, and all eyes turned to him.

Shen Mo did not raise his head, but only slightly turned his head. His eyes swept over the crowd out of the corner of his eye. His gaze was as calm as a deep pool, yet it seemed to have a tremendous force, forcing them to slowly loosen their grip on their weapons.

The thug took the money, spat, and swaggered away, cursing under his breath. The soles of his boots echoed dully on the stone slabs, as if striking the hearts of men.

Just then, in a corner of the inn, a figure in green slowly rose.

He was a young man dressed in a plain blue robe, with a handsome face and exquisite features, yet he exuded an indescribable aloofness.

He had been quietly eating a bowl of vegetarian noodles, without even making a sound with his chopsticks. Now, he put down the coins, rose from his seat, and his robes brushed against the dust, seemingly untouched by any impurity.

He paused slightly as he walked past Shen Mo.

Shen Mo raised his eyes.

Their eyes met—

In that instant, time seemed to stand still. The young man's eyes seemed to sparkle like cold stars, yet also like a deep, still pool; Shen Mo's gaze was like lightning, piercing through appearances and reaching straight to his spirit.

Neither of them spoke or stopped. Their gazes met for only a moment before they looked away, as if it were just a breeze passing over the eaves or clouds drifting over the mountain peaks, and nothing had happened.

But a slight ripple had already stirred in Shen Mo's heart.

This person's aura was extremely restrained, and he moved without making a sound... To have such a level of skill at such a young age is definitely not that of an ordinary martial arts practitioner.

"Captain!" Peng Chengxiao finally couldn't hold back any longer. His voice was extremely low, but he couldn't hide his indignation. "That villain was bullying the innocent. As members of the Martial Alliance, how could we sit idly by?"

The other team members also looked puzzled, their eyes showing both sympathy for the weak and concern for Shen Mo's "cowardly" actions.

Shen Mo slowly stood up, his gaze fixed on the doorway, his voice calm as still water: "You think that killing one person is an act of chivalry?"

He turned around, his gaze sharp as he swept over eight young and fervent faces: "That villain is nothing but a dog. A dog barks because it has a master behind it. If we only beat the dog but don't capture the master, another one will come tomorrow, and a whole pack the day after—this inn will never have a peaceful day."

He paused, his tone growing serious: "True chivalry is not about acting impulsively, but about cutting off the root and eliminating the source. If we act today, we may only scare one person away; but if we follow the clues and uproot the entire den, we can protect the long-term peace and tranquility of this region."

Upon hearing this, everyone felt as if they had been struck by lightning. The resentment on their faces gradually faded, replaced by realization and respect.

Liu Qingyi said in a low voice, "So... the captain had been planning this all along."

Peng Chengxiao bowed deeply, his voice sincere: "It is we who are shallow."

Shen Mo didn't say anything more, only gently patted his shoulder. In the twilight, he looked in the direction the young man in blue had left, a glint of unfathomable light flashing in his eyes.

A gust of wind rose, swirling up a few withered leaves from the ground, and also carrying away the last trace of restlessness in the hearts of the young people.

The true world of martial arts is never about the thrill of revenge and the clash of swords, but rather a hidden game of chess, where every step is carefully planned and a single move can determine the fate of the world.

......

Shen Mo then slowly walked to the counter. The copper coin fell lightly onto the table, making a crisp sound, which startled the shopkeeper who was still immersed in fear.

"Manager," Shen Mo's voice wasn't loud, but it was as steady and clear as the sound of warm jade striking a chime, "who was that person who was collecting protection money just now?"

The shopkeeper was hunched over, his hands gripping the hem of his clothes tightly, his knuckles white. He glanced at Shen Mo, then swept his gaze over the eight young faces of the Qingfeng team, his eyes burning with intensity.

His heart ached, and he shook his head repeatedly, his voice hoarse as if grinding sand: "Young master, you... are still young, don't meddle in these affairs. The world is a deep and dangerous place, not for you to wade into."

He paused, his eyes filled with pity: "I've lived most of my life and seen too many hot-blooded youths come with swords, only to have their bodies never returned... You should leave now."

Upon hearing this, Peng Chengxiao clenched his fists, his eyes blazing with anger—he was a member of the Qingfeng Team of the Martial Arts Alliance! How could he be treated like an ignorant brat?

Shen Mo remained unmoved, and slowly took something out of his pocket.

"bite--"

It was a token—based on black iron, with gilded patterns, and the words "Martial Arts Alliance" engraved on the front, the strokes as sharp as swords and the momentum as powerful as a rainbow.

As soon as the token was presented, the shopkeeper's pupils contracted sharply, his breath caught in his throat, as if he had been nailed to the spot by an invisible force.

His hands trembled, and he almost knelt down: "You...are...from the Martial Alliance?!"