Wandering Swordsman |

Outside Liaocheng, the mountain wind howled, as if weeping and lamenting.

Shen Mo returned as dusk fell, his clothes dusty, but the gloom of the battle at Mount Song was gone from his brow.

After the relic was refined, the balance between Buddha and demon was initially achieved, and his mind became clear and his steps light and agile.

Passing through Liaocheng, I originally intended to head straight for Qingfeng Camp, but when I passed through that familiar mountain forest, my steps involuntarily slowed down.

"That cave..." he murmured to himself, his eyes catching the image of two monkeys leaping and squeaking as they greeted him, the warm touch of their furry little hands stroking his back still lingering on his fingertips.

But when he crossed the ridge and arrived near the cave—

My heart sank suddenly.

The once tranquil mountain valley is now filled with tattered flags. The stockade walls are made of rough timber, and bloodstained animal hides hang from the watchtowers. Bonfires blaze in the village, reflecting the menacing clash of swords and wine jars. The cave entrance has become a side gate to the bandit camp, piled high with wine jars, broken armor, blood-stained sacks, and even several unburied corpses half-buried in the mud.

"Bandit stronghold..." Shen Mo's pupils shrank suddenly, and a chill ran up his spine to the top of his head.

He concealed his presence, as silently as a falling leaf, his figure transforming into a wisp of green smoke, disappearing into the village in a few leaps. The guard, drunkenly leaning against a wooden stake, was completely unaware that death had already swept over him.

The cave was completely unrecognizable.

The tranquil place where he once discussed martial arts with the bookworm and slept with monkeys is now piled with rotting debris: moldy hay, rusted iron chains, broken scabbards, and several animal bones gnawed by wild dogs scattered in the corners. The air is filled with a stench of rotting and putrid decay, so much so that even moonlight dares not shine in.

Shen Mo suppressed his anger and eagerly scanned the depths of the cave—the corner where he had personally buried the "Formless Sutra".

However, on the ground he had pressed down like stone, lay two small skeletons.

With slender bones, rounded skulls, and limbs curled up as if asleep—these were the two monkeys!

They had long since decayed, leaving no fur, only a few strands of grayish-white down clinging to the bones, trembling gently in the wind.

"..."

Shen Mo felt a lump in his throat, as if a boulder was blocking his throat.

In an instant, memories flooded back like a tidal wave—

Before he left, he said, "I'm going to a very far place this time, and I may not be back for a while... but I will definitely come back."

The monkeys squeaked, their eyes filled with longing, and silently watched him go.

But in the end... he broke his promise.

"I'm sorry..." Shen Mo's knees buckled, and he knelt before the white bones, his voice trembling like a candle flickering in the wind.

He reached out and lightly touched the cold skull with his fingertips, as if he could still feel its former warmth.

Tears fell silently, dripping onto the bone and spreading a small patch of dark color.

But at that moment, his gaze suddenly froze—

Around the skeleton, there were obvious drag marks on the soil; on the cave wall, there were several deep claw marks crisscrossing in a mess, as if they were frantically scratching before death; there was also a broken iron chain, rusty and tangled, with one end wrapped around the leg bone of one of the monkeys!

"These weren't natural deaths..." Shen Mo's voice suddenly turned as cold as iron, his grief instantly transforming into a raging inferno. "They were... tortured to death!"

He suddenly stood up, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug deep into his palms, oblivious to the blood seeping out. A murderous intent surged from his dantian to the crown of his head, even causing the newly stabilized Buddhist power within his body to tremble.

"Who is it?!" he growled through gritted teeth, his voice like the low growl of a wild beast.

His gaze swept outside the cave—the bandit camp was ablaze with bonfires.

The answer is self-evident.

Shen Mo's eyes flashed with murderous intent. "You seized this cave, desecrated my homeland, and even killed two innocent lives..."

He carefully lifted the skeletons of the two monkeys, wrapped them in his robe, dug a deep pit on the spot, and solemnly buried them. Above the pit, he used his finger as a brush and his inner strength to carve two lines of small characters:

"My dear friend rests in peace. Do not disturb him."

After doing all this, he stood up, his eyes no longer filled with sorrow, but only with a frozen killing intent.

"Your lives..." He gazed at the lights in the village, his voice as soft as a whisper, yet each word was like a knife, "Tonight, you will be buried with them."

Shen Mo stepped out of the cave, the night wind whipping up the hem of his blood-stained clothes like the flapping of a black crow's wings.

He no longer concealed his aura. Although the demonic energy within his body was not released outwards, it was already surging like an abyss. Within three zhang around him, the grass and trees moved without wind, and the chirping of insects ceased.

Two bandits guarding the village gate were dozing off, leaning against wine jars, when suddenly they felt a chill on their faces. They looked up sharply and saw a dark figure standing in the moonlight, his face as cold and stern as if carved by a knife, his eyes unfathomable, as if gazing at the entrance to hell.

"Who?!" A man drew his sword with a clang, his voice trembling.

Shen Mo did not answer, but only gave them a cold glance.

That one glance was like an ice pick piercing to the bone. The two bandits actually took a half step back, their throats bobbing, and cold sweat pouring down their backs.

"Take me to see your leader," Shen Mo said, his voice low but sharp as iron striking the ground, each word hitting the heart. "Now."

His tone was calm, yet it carried an undeniable air of authority. It wasn't the arrogance of a wandering swordsman, but rather the final ultimatum before the arrival of a judge.

One of them squinted at Shen Mo, noticing his simple clothes but imposing demeanor, and whispered, "This kid... seems to have some martial arts skills. We don't need to risk our lives. Let's take him to see the boss first; he'll have plenty of ways to deal with him then."

Upon hearing this, another bandit knew he couldn't fight back, so he forced a smile and shouted, "Kid, you've got guts! Since you want to die, come with me and see our boss!"

Deep within the mountain stronghold, a bonfire roared, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol. The owner of this stronghold was named Yan Zehu.

At this moment, the bandit leader, who called himself "Tiger of Liaodong," was sitting shirtless on a tiger-skin chair, one arm around a kidnapped woman, the other hand devouring a roasted lamb leg. His face was full of scars, with a knife scar running from his left eye to the corner of his mouth, and his smile resembled that of a demon baring its teeth.

"Oh? Where did this greenhorn come from, daring to trespass into my stronghold?" He narrowed his one eye, sizing up Shen Mo, and sneered, "Are you tired of living?"

Shen Mo stood at the edge of the firelight, his figure half-hidden in the shadows, like a silent Asura. His gaze was like a knife, piercing Yan Zehu: "How did the monkey in that cave die?"

Upon hearing this, the commotion in the entire village immediately ceased.

Yan Zehu was taken aback at first, then burst into wild laughter, shaking dust off the beams: "Hahaha! So it was all because of those two beasts?!"

He wiped his greasy mouth, a cruel glint of pleasure flashing in his eyes: "Those two monkeys? I thought they were in the way of the cave, getting in my way! I wanted to chase them away, but they wouldn't leave, and they even dared to grab my hand! In a fit of anger, I chained them up and left them in the cave to starve for three days—and guess what? They were still alive! And they even bared their teeth at me!"

He stood up, strode forward, and sneered, "When I get annoyed, I'll have them skinned alive and hung up at the cave entrance to dry! Their screams, tsk tsk, are more piercing than a woman's!"

The bandits in the village burst into laughter, some slapping their thighs and cheering, others pouring wine to celebrate, as if they were recounting a thrilling hunt.

Shen Mo listened quietly, his face expressionless.