Wandering Swordsman |

However, the cold glint in Jianzhen's eyes grew even stronger. How could he allow the situation to remain deadlocked?

Immediately, he snapped his fingers together, and the insidious internal energy beneath the ground surged threefold like a venomous python turning over!

In an instant, Guiguzi felt as if his meridians on the soles of his feet were being pierced by a thousand needles, and his true energy in his dantian was abruptly cut off!

At this critical moment—Guiguzi swayed slightly, staggered half an inch, and the trajectory of his sword was forced to deviate by a fraction of an inch!

But who was Tokugawa? His eyes flashed with a murderous glint, like a ravenous wolf smelling the blood of its prey, and he roared, "Die!"

The Martial God Blade surged with crimson flames, like a dragon burning the heavens, aimed straight at Guiguzi's crown! Before the blade even arrived, the gale had already torn Guiguzi's robes, and his white hair danced wildly like an avalanche!

The gasps of surprise from the audience abruptly ceased, as if time itself had frozen in that instant.

Just as the blade was about to strike, a beam of azure light suddenly split open in the sky!

"Moo—!"

A distant and desolate bellow of a blue ox descended from the heavens, like the resounding of an ancient bell, penetrating straight to the heart!

Immediately afterwards, an incomparably vast sword aura cleaved down from the clouds, like a divine punishment descending upon the world, carrying the force of thunder and lightning, and crashed into the center of the arena!

"boom--!"

The earth cracked and dust billowed into the sky! A sword mark three zhang deep and more than ten chi wide stretched between Guiguzi and Tokugawa. The blazing sword intent surged like a raging tide, forcing Tokugawa to retreat seven steps. The aftershocks even caused cracks to appear in his black-scaled heavy armor!

His pupils contracted sharply, and the hairs on his body stood on end—just a moment ago, he clearly felt a killing intent powerful enough to destroy one's soul pressing down from above. If he hadn't instinctively retreated, he would already be decapitated!

The entire room fell silent.

When the wind stopped, even breathing felt frozen.

In the midst of this utter silence, a figure slowly descended from the billowing dust.

He was dressed in black, with long, flowing hair, carrying the Tai'a sword on his back and holding a green ox in his hand, like a deity banished from the heavens.

As his robes fluttered, a faint demonic aura seemed to circulate around him, yet it was suppressed by a righteous sword intent, combining strength and gentleness, majestic yet not evil.

—It was Shen Mo!

On the city tower, Situ Meng clenched her fists tightly, her knuckles turning white, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Shen Mo?!" Her voice trembled, her eyes filled with disbelief and deep worry. "How could he interfere in such a battle between grandmasters? If he rashly intervenes, wouldn't he be courting death?!"

Her heart clenched, and she wished she could rush down from the city wall and pull him back to safety immediately.

Murong Qing, who was standing not far away, felt her eyes well up with tears the moment she saw the figure clearly, and her tense shoulders suddenly relaxed.

"He's here..." she murmured softly, a relieved smile unconsciously appearing on her lips, as if a long-lost boat had finally found its harbor.

How could she not know his true identity?

That day, all three hundred assassins of the Blood Shadow Tower were killed. The world was as dark as ink, but he stood alone in the air, his demonic energy turning into needles, and with a wave of his hand, a battlefield of carnage was created.

At that moment, she understood that Shen Mo was no longer the boy who saved her in Jinzhou City, but the "Heavenly Demon God" who was powerful enough to shake the entire martial arts world!

With him around, even if the sky falls, he'll hold it up.

Among the martial arts alliance, many martial artists who had participated in the "Yunnan Aid to Jingtian Pavilion" were trembling at this moment, and tears of excitement welled up in their eyes.

"It's him! It's Shen Mo!" A burly man with a thick beard choked with emotion. "Back in Yunnan, it was he who stepped forward and saved Situ Meng with a fake manual!"

"Indeed!" another old man said in a trembling voice, "Back then he was just a teenager, yet he already showed his talent."

Everyone's eyes were fixed on the scene, as if they saw the future hope of the Martial Arts Alliance.

In the center of the arena, Shen Mo landed silently, his gaze sharp as lightning, sweeping over Guiguzi's slightly pale face, then over Tokugawa's ferocious expression, and finally landing on Jianzhen, whose face was gloomy in the shadows in the distance.

He smiled slightly, a gentle upturn of his lips, like a spring breeze caressing a frozen lake, yet carrying an undeniable air of authority. His voice was clear and resonant, like the wind rustling through pines in a stream, or a cold spring striking rocks, clear and sharp, each word like pearls falling onto a jade plate, echoing throughout the arena: "How about we call this a draw?"

Before he finished speaking, Tokugawa's eyes flashed with murderous intent, his sword vibrated and hummed, and crimson flames surged at the tip of the blade. His killing intent swept out like a tidal wave.

How could he allow a mere youth to disrupt things? Just as he was about to pounce and strike, a calm and authoritative voice stopped him: "Tokugawa, stop."

Jianzhen stepped forward slowly, his black robes billowing even without wind, his gaze sharp as a hawk's, fixed firmly on Shen Mo. After a moment of silence, he slowly nodded: "A draw... is acceptable."

The entire audience erupted in uproar! No one had expected that this young Japanese emperor would compromise because of a single sentence from Shen Mo.

But Jianzhen abruptly changed the subject, his eyes flashing with a sharp light: "However—who are you?"

Upon hearing this, everyone held their breath.

Shen Mo gripped the Green Ox Sword tightly, his white robes fluttering in the cold wind like an unyielding banner.

His gaze swept across the city wall, past the worries of the Emei elders, the expectations of the Wudang disciples, and the stares of his fellow students… Finally, he raised his head high and declared in a clear voice:

"I am naturally a member of the Central Plains martial arts world!"

These eight simple words are powerful and resounding!

That wasn't about introducing oneself, but about using one's body as a sword and one's bones as a monument, representing the entire martial arts world of the Central Plains to stand before this powerful foreign enemy!

He is not a disciple of any particular sect or school, nor a wandering knight from any particular place or city. He is the backbone forged from thousands of mountains and rivers and the martial arts lineages of a hundred schools! He embodies the spirit of the martial world and the integrity of the Central Plains!

These words ignited a surge of fervor within the martial arts alliance. Some had tears welling in their eyes, while others cheered softly. Even the flock of cranes atop the distant mountain peaks seemed to be moved by this righteous spirit, flapping their wings and letting out long cries.

Before anyone could react, Shen Mo took another step, his voice steady as a bell: "The third round—I'll take it."

These words were like a thunderclap!

The curator's body stiffened, and he hurriedly stepped forward, his tone full of urgency and worry: "Shen Mo! You are still young, with a bright future ahead of you. Why risk your life at this moment? In the third match, Master Zhang of Wudang will be there to oversee things. You... you should step down!"

His eyes were filled with regret—Shen Mo, such a gem: a talent with the Heavenly Martial Body, a peerless genius, if he were to perish in this battle, it would not only be a tragedy for the martial arts world, but also his lifelong regret!

However, Shen Mo gently shook his head, his gaze clear as autumn water, yet firm as a rock. He looked at the curator, his voice not loud, but every word resonating: "Curator, there's no need to worry. This junior is not acting rashly. This battle is not about showing off, but about restoring the honor of the Central Plains. Trust me this once—leave the rest to me with peace of mind."

At that moment, Guiguzi was stunned.

He saw no arrogance or fear in Shen Mo's eyes, only an almost divine calm and sense of responsibility.

His eyes seemed to have seen through life and death; his tone was like an ancient pine tree bearing snow, gentle yet firm, making it impossible to refuse.

Guiguzi felt a sudden surge of warmth in his heart. He suddenly recalled the composure with which Shen Mo extended his wrist for him to take his pulse in the pavilion that night; he recalled Shen Mo's sharp edge in the academy, overpowering the Ninth Prince... This young man had never gotten to where he was today by luck.

Guiguzi took a deep breath, as if inhaling the weight of the entire mountain and river into his lungs, and then slowly exhaled.

He stepped back, his sleeves fluttering slightly, and clasped his hands in a deep bow—this bow was not a master's entrustment to a disciple, but rather the entire martial arts alliance's entrustment to a junior who was about to shoulder the mantle.

"Okay..." His voice trembled slightly, but it was as firm as a rock settling down, each word carrying immense weight, "I believe you."

The winds rise and the clouds surge, heaven and earth bear witness.

Shen Mo turned around, his black clothes as dark as ink, the hem of his robes fluttering like eagle wings in the biting north wind.

Behind them, the silent gazes of countless sons and daughters of the Central Plains were like torches, forming an invisible backbone; ahead, the sinister blades and killing intent of the evil cultivators from the Eastern Sea were like a prison, and the bloody wind seemed to devour the light of the righteous path.

With only a sword, a thought, and a righteous spirit, he fought for this very reason for the martial arts world of the Central Plains!