Wandering Swordsman |

That smile was like a spring breeze breaking through ice, gentle yet sharp, but a cunning glint suddenly flashed in his eyes—like the cold light of a sword before it is drawn.

In a flash, he suddenly shouted loudly, his voice echoing through the long street: "Shen Mo! The ten thousand taels of silver you owe me should be repaid today!"

The voice was like a bell, deep and clear, penetrating the clamor of the crowd and reaching straight into the gate of the Martial Alliance, as if even the copper bells on the eaves trembled.

In an instant, the street fell into dead silence.

Those in line turned around in astonishment, while the guards stared in disbelief, their Adam's apple bobbing but no sound coming out; even the sparrows resting in the trees were startled and fluttered away, their wings sweeping across the vermilion gate, creating a barely perceptible breeze.

Who dares to call the "Sword God" by his own name?

—Who dares to say that the Sword God "owes money"?

Who has the right to make the Sword God owe him something?

The guard's face turned deathly pale. Although he didn't know the details of these two, if the rumor of the "Sword God owing a debt" were to spread, even if it was just a rumor, it would be enough to shake the prestige of the Martial Alliance, and might even be used by those with ulterior motives to tarnish Shen Mo's reputation. He dared not gamble, much less stop them.

"Please follow me to the front courtyard and wait!" His voice trembled as he clasped his hands in a fist and bowed, his tone suddenly becoming respectful. "I will inform them immediately!"

After saying that, he turned and strode into the alliance gate. His boots pounded on the bluestone slabs, making a rapid, drum-like sound, as if a ghost was chasing him.

Meanwhile, Shen Mo was in his residence discussing wedding details with Situ Meng and Murong Qing.

The red silk on the table was spread out like a rosy cloud, and the gift list was densely packed, with the names of prominent figures in the martial arts world marked with vermilion.

Situ Meng, her delicate hands and focused gaze, sketched out the seating arrangement for the guests; Murong Qing, holding a scroll of "A Study of Wedding Rituals in Jinling," her black hair cascading over her shoulders, was discussing the wedding route in hushed tones with Shen Mo: "According to ancient rites, we should depart from the Vermilion Bird Gate, pass along the Qinhuai River, and circle the Wende Bridge..."

Before he could finish speaking, a martial artist outside the door hurriedly approached, clasped his hands in greeting, and said:

"Young Master Shen, there are two people outside requesting an audience. They identify themselves as... Hua Tianyou and Yue Linglong."

"Hua Tianyou? Yue Linglong?!" Shen Mo suddenly stood up, slamming his teacup down on the table with a thud, spilling tea and wetting a corner of the red silk.

An undisguised astonishment flashed across his eyes, which then transformed into a long-lost gleam—a look he only revealed when facing a close friend with whom he had shared life and death.

Murong Qing was also taken aback, then her gaze sharpened. She immediately recalled that several months ago, when Shen Mo confessed to her, he had mentioned the names of two people. These two people were from the Heavenly Demon God Sect.

"Please come quickly! No—" Before Shen Mo could finish speaking, he strode out of the hall, his clothes fluttering like an eagle soaring through the air, leaving only a black shadow that swept across the corridor.

As Situ Meng watched his hasty departure, her pen paused, and a drop of ink fell, spreading a thick black blot over the three characters "Main Guest Seat".

A sense of doubt and surprise, unlike anything she had ever felt before, welled up in her heart: Hua Tianyou, Yue Linglong... who exactly are they? How could they make the usually composed Shen Mo lose his composure like this?

In the front courtyard of the Martial Arts Alliance, the ground is paved with bluestone and ancient cypress trees stand tall.

Hua Tianyou and Yue Linglong stood as still as pines, their clothes unmoved, yet their demeanor was naturally elegant.

The autumn wind blew from the Qinhuai River, carrying the lingering fragrance of osmanthus and moisture, swirling up a few golden ginkgo leaves, which fluttered past their feet like butterflies, only to be carried away by the wind into the distance—as if even the wind knew reverence and dared not disturb the two of them in the slightest.

Hua Tianyou stood with his hands behind his back, a faint smile playing on his lips, as if his earlier statement, "Shen Mo owes me ten thousand taels of silver," was nothing more than idle gossip, casually mentioned and not worth mentioning.

Yue Linglong lowered her eyes slightly, her green robe flowing like water, but her fingertips subtly dug into her palms within her sleeves. She dared not look up, afraid that the suppressed emotions in her eyes would betray her feelings. Five years had passed. She had grown from the girl who said "I like you" on Demon Refining Mountain into one of the new Twelve Venerables, and officially become the future successor of the Moon Demon Pavilion. Yet, as she stood before him now, her heart still pounded like a drum.

Suddenly, a figure strode over and appeared in the front courtyard.

Dressed in black with his hair half-down, he moved with the speed of the wind, his flowing robes carrying a chilling sword intent – ​​it was Shen Mo.

He stopped in front of them, his gaze sharp as lightning, first sweeping over Hua Tianyou's feignedly relaxed face, then landing on Yue Linglong's lowered eyelashes. In that instant, his eyes held both surprise and worry: "Why are you here?"

—This question may sound light, but it carries immense weight.

Shen Mo's mind was in turmoil: the Martial Alliance was the heartland of the righteous martial arts world in the Central Plains. Although Hua Tianyou and Yue Linglong had concealed their demonic energy, even the slightest carelessness, even the slightest leak, could cause serious trouble!

He dared not think about it—if the two of them were to expose their identities here, and the righteous sects were to rise up and attack, how could he, with the title of "Sword God," protect them on the eve of his wedding? And how could he explain to the entire martial arts world why members of the "Demonic Sect" would appear at his wedding banquet?

This is not only dangerous, but also a storm powerful enough to overturn the entire martial arts world.

Hua Tianyou immediately saw the worry in Shen Mo's eyes. He quickly clasped his hands in a respectful but not servile gesture, his tone as natural as that of an old friend reuniting: "Master..."

The words were on the tip of his tongue when he suddenly stopped—the word "lord" almost slipped out!

His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly changed his tune, saying loudly, "As close friends, how could we not attend Brother Shen's wedding?"

The pause was extremely brief, yet it was as sharp as a blade slicing across water, and Shen Mo heard it clearly. His eyes flickered slightly, a mixture of relief and bitterness rising in his heart—they even had to change their way of addressing each other, just so as not to disturb the righteous people of the city.

At this moment, Yue Linglong nodded slightly and looked up at Shen Mo. The frost-like coldness in her eyes melted slightly, like spring ice cracking, revealing a soft and gentle underlying tone. Her voice was clear and melodious, yet deliberately softened: "Brother Shen, a wedding is a major life event, and we have come to offer our congratulations."

She spoke "Brother Shen"—these three words were spoken very softly, yet very steadily. There was no reverence for "Lord," no aloofness for "Young Master Shen," only the most common form of address among江湖儿女 (jianghu children, people of the martial arts world), concealing all unresolved feelings and the gap in their identities.

She knew that the person standing before her was not the lord of the Heavenly Demon God Sect, nor the young man who had first arrived at the Moon Demon Pavilion years ago, but Shen Mo, who was about to be married. And she could only be that "friend" who had come from afar.

Shen Mo stared at her, speechless for a moment.

That "Brother Shen" was like a fine needle, gently piercing the softest part of his heart. He remembered the expectation in her eyes when she mustered up the courage to say "I like you" on Demon Refining Mountain, and he also knew the fleeting disappointment in her eyes when he rejected her.

Now, she stands before him, smiling gently and addressing him with propriety, as if that past affection had never existed.

Shen Mo's gaze shifted slightly, and he asked again, "Is it just the two of you on this trip?"

Hua Tianyou and Yue Linglong exchanged a glance, their eyes meeting like lightning, their tacit understanding concealing a complex and indescribable tension.

Hua Tianyou then smiled and said, "Actually, Xie Xin is here too, but she'll be arriving later. As for the details... we'll talk about it later." He spoke casually, but deliberately lowered his voice, as if there was an untold secret hidden behind the name "Xie Xin".

Upon hearing this, a gentle smile appeared in Shen Mo's eyes—a smile like autumn sun melting snow, not intense, yet warming to the core. He seemed to see again the stubborn girl with the defiant face in Qilin Village.

"Good, good..." he said twice, his voice so soft it was almost carried away by the wind, yet full of satisfaction. He then stepped aside to lead the way, his sleeve fluttering lightly: "Come inside quickly. You've come a long way and must be tired. Sit down and rest, have some hot tea."