Wandering Swordsman |

The three walked side by side through the many corridors of the Martial Arts Alliance.

The fragrance of osmanthus trees wafts along the cobblestone path, and the copper bells on the eaves ring softly, as if humming a hymn for the reunion of old friends.

On the way, Hua Tianyou recounted the “debt collection” incident with a smile: “If I hadn’t told you that you owed me ten thousand taels of silver, I probably wouldn’t have been able to even get in the door—the guards, seeing that we had no name or invitation, actually made us line up, and the line was so long that you couldn’t see the end of it.”

Upon hearing this, Shen Mo couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle, a hint of understanding and gratitude flashing in his eyes. He said in a low voice, "You're quite clever. If I really made you wait in line for ten days, my wedding ceremony would probably be over before you were still standing outside."

His tone was tinged with helplessness, but not with blame; instead, it revealed a familiarity and indulgence from a long-awaited reunion. He knew that if Hua Tianyou hadn't been quick-witted, the three of them might have had to wait outside the Martial Alliance for several days—and given Yue Linglong's personality, she probably wouldn't have been able to restrain herself.

Before long, the three entered Shen Mo's residence.

The red silk banners inside the hall had not yet been removed, the gift list was still displayed, and the aroma of tea filled the air.

Situ Meng was busy organizing the guest list, while Murong Qing leaned against the window, flipping through a book, her black hair flowing over her shoulders, her expression serene.

Seeing Shen Mo lead the two inside, the two women looked up at the same time.

However, when Yue Linglong looked up at the two women in the hall, her heart felt as if it had been suddenly chilled by an autumn wind.

Situ Meng sat regally, her features gentle and graceful, exuding the poise of a noblewoman. Murong Qing, on the other hand, was as pure and beautiful as frost, her eyes displaying both the spiritedness of a wandering swordswoman and the elegance of a refined lady. Standing side by side, the two shone like twin gems, even the candlelight in the hall seemed to glow softly around them.

Yue Linglong felt a slight chill at her fingertips, and a sense of shame she had never felt before welled up in her heart.

She grew up in the Demon Refining Mountain and was known as a "prodigy," but the beauty there was cold, sharp, and bloodthirsty; while the beauty of the two women in front of her was warm, gentle, and could penetrate people's hearts.

She suddenly understood why Shen Mo chose them—not because of their status, but because the entire martial arts world seemed peaceful when they stood beside him.

Hua Tianyou, however, stared intently, his heart filled with amazement.

No wonder the Lord was willing to set aside his pride and step into the mortal world. These two women, one like the moon shining on a cold river, the other like the sunset reflecting on the first snow, are both rare beauties in the world. What is even more remarkable is that the concern they show for Shen Mo is completely unpretentious.

He nodded to himself: Shen Mo and them were a match made in heaven. If it weren't for his position, he would have even wanted to cheer loudly.

The hall fell silent for a moment, with only the wisps of tea smoke rising, reflecting the subtle and complex emotions among the four people.

Shen Mo remained composed and introduced them gently: "This is Hua Tianyou, and this is Yue Linglong—both are close friends I met when I was traveling in the northern desert years ago. They came to attend my wedding upon hearing that it was approaching. Please take care of them after their long journey."

"Mobei?" Situ Meng's eyes brightened slightly. She stood up, curtsied, and smiled gently. "So you are an old friend of Shen Mo. I am very pleased to welcome you. Please have a seat." Her tone was gentle and her smile was sincere. She clearly believed the "friend from Mobei" story. Although she was intelligent, she had never been involved in the demonic path and did not know the name of the Heavenly Demon God Sect.

However, when Murong Qing heard the names "Hua Tianyou" and "Yue Linglong," her fingertips paused slightly, and a hint of understanding flashed in her eyes. She had heard these two names from Shen Mo before—they had been present during Shen Mo's five years at the Demon Refining Mountain.

At this moment, she remained calm and composed, slowly closing the "Examination of Wedding Rituals in Jinling" in her hand. She rose, curtsied, and smiled dignifiedly: "You two have come from afar; you must be tired. Shen Mo often mentions you, saying that you are... sworn brothers."

She deliberately emphasized the phrase "friends through thick and thin," and her gaze swept lightly over the two of them, seemingly with a deeper meaning, but she did not reveal it.

Both Yue Linglong and Hua Tianyou felt a chill run down their spines—Murong Qing's behavior suggested she knew their true identities. However, seeing that she didn't expose them but instead treated them with courtesy, the two tacitly understood and simply acted like ordinary江湖儿女 (jianghu children, people of the martial arts world).

Shen Mo seemed to sense something, and coughed lightly, breaking the silence: "Come, sit down and have some tea. You've traveled a long way, you should rest well."

He personally took the teapot and poured tea for the two of them. The tea was clear, reflecting four young faces that had already weathered many storms—good and evil, love and righteousness, the past and the future, all quietly intersected in this cup of tea.

The scene shifts to a pitch-black night, enveloping the Huangfu family.

The Huangfu Mansion was a deep, high-walled compound with eaves that soared like eagle beaks. Yet, there was no festive atmosphere of bright lights inside. Only in the council hall, where candlelight flickered, did the shadows fall on several grim, iron-faced figures.

On the main seat, Huangfu Haotian sat upright as if on a stone, his brows furrowed, his knuckles unconsciously tapping the rosewood armrest, producing a dull and restless "tap, tap" sound.

Below him, Huangfu Hui stood with his hands behind his back, his face ashen; several elders sat on either side, each with their heads bowed and silent, the atmosphere so heavy it was almost palpable.

"Shen Mo's wedding..." The elder of the Huangfu family spoke first, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping, "He's just a wandering swordsman, yet he's going to marry two of the four beauties, forming an alliance between Jingtian Pavilion and the Murong family. Is he trying to become the 'uncrowned king' of this martial world?"

No one answered; only the crackling of the candlelight seemed to mock their powerlessness.

Huangfu Hui slammed his fist on the table, making the teacups jump. "If I had known this would happen, besides sending the Blood Shadow Tower out in full force, my Huangfu family should have joined the fight too! Even if it meant a fight to the death, it would have been better than watching him sit high on his pedestal today!"

"A fight to the death?" A white-haired elder coldly raised his eyes. "All the assassins of the Blood Shadow Tower have vanished without a trace. Judging from the strength Shen Mo displayed in repelling the overseas evil cultivators, they are most likely already dead at Shen Mo's hands!"

Everyone fell silent.

Even more fatal is that they had secretly allied with evil cultivators overseas. Now that the evil cultivators have been defeated and the alliance is broken, if Shen Mo obtains the evidence, the Huangfu family's century-old foundation will collapse in an instant!

"What's the use of saying all this now?" Huangfu Feilong closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, there was no anger in his eyes, only cold calculation. "Shen Mo... is not what he used to be. Now, he wants money—the Murong family is one of the wealthiest families in the Central Plains; he wants power—the Martial Alliance is the representative of the righteous faction in the Central Plains. We... no longer have the power to contend with him."

After a long silence, Huangfu Haotian slowly rose, his voice low but resolute: "Pass on my order—prepare a generous gift. Ten bushels of pearls from the East Sea, five thousand-year-old snow ginseng roots, one hundred bolts of special tribute brocade, and a handwritten congratulatory letter in the form of a humble greeting."

"Patriarch?!" Everyone was astonished.

"What? You're not reconciled?" Huangfu Haotian sneered. "Even if you're not reconciled, you have to bow your head! If we don't show up on Shen Mo's wedding day, it will be considered an admission of hostility; if we show up but don't offer generous gifts, it will be considered harboring resentment. Only by presenting the most solemn ceremony and the most humble attitude can we temporarily preserve a glimmer of hope for the Huangfu family."

Outside the window, the autumn wind whips up withered leaves, pattering against the windowpane as if weeping and lamenting.

The Huangfu Mansion still stands majestically, but within those high walls, the former arrogance has long since vanished, replaced only by a sense of resentment and fear.

All of this is because of one person—Shen Mo.

That boy, whom they once regarded as having no background, now stands at the pinnacle of the martial arts world. Even a century-old clan like the Huangfu family has to grovel before his wedding and offer the most humble congratulatory gifts.

This is strength.

This is deterrence.

The martial arts world has never been a place for reason.

Rather, it is whoever wields the sharpest sword and possesses the greatest power that will make their enemy bow down in tears.