Wandering Swordsman |

Then, the Moon Demon Lord turned to Xie Xin, who was standing quietly to the side, and said in a slightly gentler tone, but still with the concern of an elder: "Xie Xin, she is stubborn. You are calm and steady. Please keep an eye on Linglong along the way."

Xie Xin immediately bowed, her voice soft yet firm: "Yes, Moon Demon Lord. I will stay by her side at all times and protect her."

Just then, Hua Tianyou strode forward, his black robe fluttering without wind. Although he did not release any demonic energy, he exuded a sharp, sword-like aura.

He laughed loudly, his voice booming like a bell, causing the bronze bells at the corners of the hall to ring softly: "Moon Demon Lord, you can rest assured! With me here, I swear in the name of the Heavenly Demon Lord—I will never allow those two to fall into the slightest danger!"

His gaze was intense, and his tone was resolute: "With my current skill, apart from my lord, there is no one else in the Central Plains martial arts world who can defeat me. Even if I cannot use demonic arts on this trip, my agility and techniques alone are enough to protect them."

Upon hearing this, the worry in Moon Demon Lord's eyes finally dissipated considerably. She knew Hua Tianyou's abilities well—although young, his martial prowess was comparable to that of the previous Heavenly Demon God. If Shen Mo hadn't appeared out of nowhere, the position of Heavenly Demon God would have been his for the taking. Especially after he was appointed Heavenly Demon Lord by Shen Mo, he was second only to the Heavenly Demon God within the Heavenly Demon God Sect.

Thinking of this, the Moon Demon Lord's tense shoulders finally relaxed. She nodded slightly, a relieved smile appearing on her lips: "Heavenly Demon Lord, with your words, I am at ease."

Thus, the matter was settled—Hua Tianyou would lead the team, with Yue Linglong and Xie Xin accompanying them. The three of them would disguise themselves as wandering martial artists and set off from Tianjian Ridge, heading east all the way to the Central Plains Martial Arts Alliance.

They will conceal their identities and hide their extraordinary demonic skills, all for the sake of sending blessings to the master of the Heavenly Demon God Sect at that wedding banquet filled with red silk.

......

Deep in the Daliang Mountains, clouds and mist swirl like locks, and thousands of peaks, sharp as blades, cleave the sky.

Qilin Village is built against the mountain. The walls are mottled and moss grows in the cracks of the stones, as if time has frozen here and quietly decayed.

Before the gate of the village, two tattered banners fluttered in the wind, half-furled and half-hanging, like the low growl of a beast in its twilight years, conveying a sense of desolation and vigilance.

In that instant of deathly silence intertwined with the sound of wind, two figures slowly emerged from the end of the mountain path.

The leader, dressed in black robes that fluttered even without wind, walked with a steady gait as if a mountain had shifted. His face was cold and stern, his brows seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and the deep-seated hatred within him was like molten lava from the earth, burning the air even before it erupted—it was none other than Situ Changkong.

At this moment, his eyes no longer held the gentle radiance of a former righteous disciple; instead, they were covered by a layer of frost, his killing intent restrained yet sharper than a blade.

Behind him, Wei Honglian followed slowly, her long, blood-red lotus dress trailing on the ground like flames. The hem of her dress brushed against the withered grass, as if igniting an invisible fire. Her eyes sparkled, alluring like a red lotus under the moon, but the smile did not reach her eyes. Instead, it revealed a chilling aura of danger—a cold beauty tempered by blood and betrayal, a flower blooming on the tip of a knife.

"Halt!" the gatekeeper shouted sharply, his hand already on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white with tension.

Before he could finish speaking, one of the older guards suddenly widened his eyes, his pupils contracted, and his voice rose sharply, filled with disbelief and fear: "...It's you?! You're the one who came with Situ Dengfeng to attend the young chieftain's wedding back then!"

Memories flood back like a tidal wave. That year, at the wedding banquet in Fujiang, Qilin Village was brightly decorated and filled with guests. At that time, Situ Changkong was dressed in white, with a sword at his waist, and his eyes and brows exuded the heroic spirit and humility of a rising star of the righteous school.

But now, when they meet again, Situ Changkong is still as upright as a pine tree, yet he seems to have changed his soul. His white robes have turned black, his once warm and smooth garments have become cold iron, and there is no longer a trace of light in his eyes, only an abyss-like silence and killing intent.

Situ Changkong's gaze, sharp as a knife, slowly swept over the two gatekeepers. His voice, deep yet thunderous, shook the withered leaves falling from the gate: "I've come today not to kill the innocent. I'm only looking for one person—Fu Sheng. Tell him to come out."

His tone was calm, yet every word was like a nail, piercing the heart, as if even the wind paused.

The gatekeepers looked at each other, their backs drenched in cold sweat.

One man forced himself to remain calm, while the other turned and ran, his footsteps rapid as a drumbeat, crushing rocks as he rushed towards Fu Sheng's residence within the stronghold, shouting, "Chief! Report—someone has come to visit at the mountain gate! They seem to have ill intentions!"

Before long, Fu Sheng led more than ten elite warriors from Qilin Village out.

When he saw that there were only two people, he showed no wariness whatsoever. Instead, a contemptuous sneer appeared on his lips, almost mocking him.

"Heh..." Fu Sheng stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping over Situ Changkong like a hawk's, his voice filled with undisguised sarcasm, "So it's you, Situ Changkong, the traitor of the Martial Alliance! Betraying your sect—you still have the nerve to live? What's even more laughable is that you dared to deliver yourself to our doorstep?"

He stepped forward slowly, his tone suddenly turning stern, his voice like a knife scraping bone: "Do you perhaps want me to tie you up and offer you to the Martial Alliance in exchange for a favor? Or... are you desperate and have come begging for my help?"

Before he finished speaking, more than ten experts from Qilin Village behind him burst into laughter. Their laughter was harsh and full of mockery and contempt, as if the two people in front of him were nothing more than prey delivered to their door, and they didn't even need to struggle.

However, Situ Changkong did not make a move.

He simply stood there quietly, like a stone statue that had crawled out of the abyss of hell, his clothes still and his aura restrained, yet within a three-zhang radius around him, even the wind seemed to freeze.

Only those eyes—deep as a frozen pool, cold as a frost-covered blade—held a glint of cold light, like blood seeping through a crack in a glacier. It was a blood debt accumulated over many years, a debt that had to be repaid with Fu Sheng's life today!

He spoke slowly, his voice so low it was almost swallowed by the mountain wind, yet each word was like a knife chiseling through stone, piercing into everyone's marrow: "Fu Sheng... do you truly not know my identity, or are you feigning ignorance?"

Fu Sheng's smile froze abruptly, as if a mask had shattered.

He frowned, his eyes first showing surprise and doubt, then turning into deeper contempt, and a cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"Ha!" He sneered, standing with his hands behind his back, his voice carrying a condescending mockery. "What? Here for revenge?"

His gaze was like that of an eagle, scrutinizing Situ Changkong from head to toe as if he were an overconfident ant: "Back then, with Situ Dengfeng's protection, I still treated you with some respect. But now? You betrayed the Martial Alliance, becoming a discarded pawn of the martial world—yet you still dare to storm my Qilin Village alone?"

He paused, a murderous glint in his eyes, his tone suddenly turning ruthless: "This guy is a carbon copy of your grandfather Xie Feng! Arrogant and conceited, utterly ignorant of his own mortality! Truly worthy of being grandfather and grandson—your fate will be the same as his later, bringing about your own destruction, leaving no trace of your remains!"

Upon hearing this, the members of Qilin Village burst into laughter again, their blades slightly raised, exuding a murderous aura.

At that moment, Fu Jiang, who was standing beside Fu Sheng, suddenly paused when his gaze fell on Wei Honglian.

The woman stood in the wind, her long, blood-red lotus dress fluttering like flames, her lips as red as blood, her eyes slightly upturned, her skin as white as snow, her allure breathtaking. She remained silent and still, yet she was like a datura flower born on a knife's edge, breathtakingly beautiful, and terrifyingly dangerous.

Fu Jiang's Adam's apple bobbed, and lust flared in his eyes like flames. He chuckled softly in public, his voice light and greedy: "Father, Situ Changkong can be killed, but—that woman who accompanied him… remember to keep her. Such a beauty, it would be a pity to kill her, better… take her as a concubine."