Wandering Swordsman |

Soon after, with Situ Changkong and the Red Lotus Demon quietly departing, the Righteous Alliance, this pirate ship, finally lost its last helmsman.

The wind has not stopped, the clouds have not dispersed, but the Righteous Alliance that once terrified the martial world has collapsed like a sand tower, silently turning into dust.

The news spread like wildfire—

"The overseas heretical practitioners have been defeated!"

"The Emperor was deposed, Toyotomi was beheaded, and Oda Nobunaga fled eastward!"

"Sword God Shen Mo, one sword decides the fate of the world!"

Those scoundrels of the martial arts world who were once wanted by the Martial Arts Alliance and had no other choice but to join the Righteous Alliance are now like ants on a hot pan, living in constant fear.

Many people packed their belongings overnight and left the Righteous Alliance.

In just three days, the Righteous Alliance collapsed.

The once magnificent Diancang Mountain gate, with its fluttering banners, is now reduced to broken halberds and tattered flags, wailing in the wind.

The beams and pillars of the council hall are dilapidated and covered with cobwebs. The incense table where blood oaths were once sworn has been gnawed away by wild dogs, leaving only rotten wood.

On the training ground, the knife marks are still there, but no one is sweating profusely anymore. Only withered leaves swirl around, like lonely souls wandering.

The mountain wind swept through the hall, stirring up ashes and fragments of paper money—the unburned eulogy from before the Diancang Sect's demise, now serving as a funeral talisman for the Righteous Alliance.

The once glorious Diancang Sect, which was founded on swordsmanship and passed down through generations on righteousness, was slaughtered by evil cultivators overnight.

Then, the Righteous Alliance usurped the throne, recruited villains from the Central Plains, and under the guise of "acting on behalf of Heaven," carried out acts of burning, killing, and looting, turning this thousand-year-old Sword Mountain into a den of demons.

But now, the mountains remain unchanged, and the demon's lair is empty.

The mountain is still the same mountain, the cloud is still the same cloud.

But the people have scattered, and the alliance is broken.

Only the broken walls and ruins cast long shadows under the setting sun, like unhealable scars etched on the spine of the martial world.

A crow landed on the tattered plaque that read "Alliance of Righteousness," cawed twice, and then flapped its wings and flew away into the distance.

Down the mountain, a woodcutter, seeing this scene from afar, shook his head and sighed, "Alas, the world is so cold and indifferent... Not long ago it was bustling like a marketplace, but today it's overgrown with weeds up to our knees. In this world, the victor is king and the loser is villain, all in the blink of an eye."

Where the wind passes, the grass and trees bow low, as if mourning the short-lived oath of brotherhood.

Diancang Mountain, along with the ambition, hatred, and dreams it embodies,

Eventually, it will be buried by time.

It will become a sigh from later generations:

"There used to be a sect called Diancang; there used to be a den of thieves called the Righteous Alliance. Now, only ruins remain."

......

A secret letter from the Heavenly Demon Sect arrived swiftly from the Central Plains, striking the Heavenly Demon Palace like a thunderbolt.

"The Heavenly Demon God - Shen Mo, defeated the Japanese Emperor, reclaimed the Martial God's treasure, and was revered as the 'Sword God' by the Central Plains martial arts world!"

"Sword God?!" The Blood Demon Lord abruptly rose to his feet, erupting like a volcano. His voice boomed like thunder, shattering the heavens: "Hahaha! As expected of the Master of the Heavenly Demon God Sect! The title 'Sword God' is truly well-deserved!"

Beside him, the Flame Demon Lord stood with his hands behind his back, his golden eyes seemingly churning with molten lava. A rare smile played on his lips, his voice low and ardent: "Heh... Blood Demon Lord, you overestimate those ants of the Central Plains." He paused, his gaze piercing, as if penetrating mountains and rivers to reach Shen Mo. "'Sword God'? Merely an empty title. How dare they measure the might of their lord with mortal eyes? He is—the Heavenly Demon God!"

As he spoke, the Flame Demon Lord's demonic energy subtly rose, as if crimson flames were swirling around him, and his pride was even greater than that of the Blood Demon Lord.

Not far away, the Moon Demon Lord stood silently like a plum blossom in the snow. A barely perceptible smile curved her lips, her voice as clear and cold as a drop of jade falling from a cold spring: "The martial arts world of the Central Plains has always been hypocritical. In this battle, my lord must have deliberately concealed his demonic aura, otherwise..." Her eyes flickered, as if a thousand words were hidden beneath a layer of ice, "Otherwise, how could the mere title of 'Sword God' possibly bear even a fraction of his true power?"

She understood: if Shen Moruo appeared in the Central Plains under the name of "Heavenly Demon God," even if it was only to exterminate evil, it would inevitably attract the wrath of the hypocritical masses in the Central Plains. The distinction between good and evil was already etched into their very bones. How wise he was to conceal his demonic power and don the robes of "Sword God."

"Hahaha!" A wild, unrestrained laugh erupted from the corner of the hall. Hua Tianyou strode forward, his black armor clanging, his eyes gleaming like lightning. "My lord, in this battle, the Central Plains have bowed down! Given time, the martial arts of this world will surely revere you!"

Everyone was filled with excitement, but one person remained as silent as dust.

Behind the Moon Demon Lord, Yue Linglong stood with her head bowed. The words "Sword God" pierced her heart like an ice spike.

Six years ago, when she first met Shen Mo at the Moon Demon Pavilion, Shen Mo's strength was almost equal to hers. At that time, she also thought that she could stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

But what about now? He is now the Heavenly Demon God, ruling the Heavenly Demon God Sect and commanding the Four Demon Lords and Twelve Supreme Beings; he is also the "Sword God," whose sword strikes are awe-inspiring, revered by all. And she, although her strength has increased considerably, the gap between her and Shen Mo is widening.

The gap is no longer just a step away, but an insurmountable chasm.

She raised her eyes, gazing at the swirling light and shadow in the hall, stirred by the demonic energy of the crowd. She seemed to see Shen Mo standing on a cloud, his robes fluttering, his sword pointing to the heavens. And she herself was left far behind, like dust.

"Could it be..." A bittersweet feeling welled up inside her, "that he was ultimately just a passerby in my life? Like a shooting star streaking across the night sky, brilliant yet fleeting, destined to be unattainable?"

She suddenly felt a profound sense of powerlessness—not hatred, not jealousy, but a kind of tragic, almost fatalistic sorrow. It was as if from the very beginning, they were on different tracks, one destined to illuminate the entire era, the other only able to look up at his brilliance from afar.

Inside the Heavenly Demon Palace, cheers and exclamations rose and fell. But Yue Linglong's heart sank into a silent snowfield.

......

In Shenjiazhuang, Hangzhou, the twilight was as dark as ink.

Shen Tianxing sat alone at the rosewood desk in his study, clutching a letter tightly in his hand.

The paper was deeply wrinkled from his knuckles, just like his tense and turbulent emotions at that moment.

The flickering candlelight cast a dim glow on the words "Sword God," which pierced his eyes like sharp blades, breaking through his feigned calm.

"Sword God?" he murmured to himself, his voice hoarse like the rustling of withered leaves.

The scene from six months ago flooded back to her mind like a tidal wave—Shen Mo stood in the hall, his gaze icy, his tone resolute: "I came here only to understand my parents' past, not to acknowledge my ancestors."

He, as the grandfather and the head of Shenjiazhuang, chose to remain silent after his wife said, "How can the son of a lowly servant be worthy of entering my Shen family ancestral hall?"

He didn't try to stop me, didn't apologize, and didn't even offer a sincere explanation.

He could only watch helplessly as the stubborn boy, as resolute as a broken blade, turned and left, never looking back.

Now, Shen Mo has defeated the Japanese Emperor in Nanjing, retrieved the Martial God's treasure, and is revered as the "Sword God" by the martial arts world of the Central Plains!

The news struck like a thunderbolt through the martial arts world, yet it felt like a dull knife cutting into his heart.