Wandering Swordsman |

Just as the lingering charm of the Sword Tomb had not yet dissipated, dark clouds suddenly swept across the sky above Jinling City—not a change in the celestial phenomena, but rather a sudden silence among the crowd, their gazes all fixed on the end of the long street.

A chilling and complex aura slowly pressed in.

There was no music, no celebratory banners, and no one even announced their arrival. But the sinister aura that had once struck fear into the hearts of the martial world, though extremely restrained, still lingered like an undercurrent, sending a chill down one's spine.

The leader was none other than Ding Chengfeng, the leader of the Black Wind Gang.

His right arm was fitted with an exquisite black iron prosthesis with gears and mechanisms embedded in the joints. Although he was not as agile as a normal person, he was already able to perform the proper etiquette of bowing.

Those once sinister and ruthless eyes are now lowered and gleaming, and a hint of humility and caution shines through their brows.

Behind him, only two Holy Lords remained—the Black Tortoise Holy Lord, his face ashen, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily; and the Vermilion Bird Holy Lord, dressed in a crimson outfit, his expression complex, showing both resentment and awe.

The Black Wind Gang's "Four Saints" were once renowned, but now half of them have perished in the bloodshed of the martial world. Only two remain to accompany their master to this celebratory banquet, like a lonely figure under the setting sun.

Shen Mo's pupils contracted slightly, a hint of surprise flashing through his mind. The Black Wind Gang... they've come too?

But in a flash, his expression returned to calm.

Yes. The Black Wind Gang has now submitted to the Martial Alliance, obeying the Alliance Leader's orders and upholding the righteous order. Today, heroes from all over the world have gathered; if the Black Wind Gang were to appear here, it would only create division. Their presence here is a declaration—to integrate into the new order of the Central Plains Martial Alliance.

Ding Chengfeng strode forward, bowing deeply even before he reached the other side, his posture extremely humble: "Sword God! Today is a joyous occasion! I, Ding, along with the remnants of the Black Wind Army, have come to offer my congratulations!" He deliberately softened his voice and gentle tone, as if afraid of disturbing this grand ceremony. "All that has happened in the past was due to my obsession with power, which led me astray. Fortunately, the Martial Alliance did not abandon us and tolerated our sins. Today, seeing you, young hero, achieve the title of Sword God and marry two peerless beauties, I feel only respect and admiration, and have no other thoughts."

After speaking, he waved his hand, and the attendant behind the Vermilion Bird Saint King presented a sandalwood sword case, carved with dragon and phoenix patterns, from which a cold light shone.

Ding Chengfeng opened the box himself, and an ancient sword lay quietly inside—the blade was long and slender, the edge was like autumn water, the spine was faintly covered with cloud and thunder patterns, and the guard was inscribed with two characters: Gongbu.

"This sword is named 'Gongbu,' and it is as famous as the Tai'a sword, a rare gem in the world." Ding Chengfeng solemnly presented the sword, holding the box with both hands. "Legend has it that only those with a 'benevolent heart and a sword spirit' can wield this sword. Today, I present it to the Sword God, truly returning it to its rightful owner. May you wield this sword, protect the Central Plains, bring peace to the martial world, and forever maintain tranquility in the Jianghu."

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

A glint flashed in Murong Liang's eyes, and he secretly praised Ding Chengfeng: "Well done! The Gongbu Sword is a rare and priceless sword, and what's even more precious is that it symbolizes 'the blade of benevolence and righteousness.' Presenting this sword not only elevates Shen Mo's status but also subtly expresses his own remorse. This gift is exquisite!"

Shen Mo stared at the sword box, his fingertips lightly stroking the scabbard, feeling the calm yet majestic sword intent.

He slowly raised his head, his gaze as calm and profound as the moon reflected in a deep pool: "Chief Ding, you are very kind. I accept this generous gift today not for the sharpness of the sword, but for your sincerity."

He paused, his voice low but firm: "Now that the Black Wind Gang has returned to the right path, past grievances are like smoke dissipating. Today, you are all guests, and therefore friends. Please—take your seats."

Having said that, he stepped aside to make way, his gesture dignified yet polite.

Ding Chengfeng was filled with reverence and bowed deeply again, almost at a ninety-degree angle. Xuanwu Saint Lord pursed his lips, ultimately remaining silent, and only silently followed Ding Chengfeng into the hall. As Zhuque Saint Lord entered, he turned back to glance at Shen Mo, his eyes no longer showing any hostility, only complex respect.

As the red carpet ended, the guests gradually thinned out, and the welcoming ceremony was nearing its end.

Just as Shen Mo was about to turn and enter the hall, he suddenly felt a stirring in his heart. It was as if a familiar aura was quietly surging from the corner of the long street—not murderous intent, nor hostility, but a long-lost, vigorous aura carrying the wind and sand of the northern desert and the afterglow of the setting sun.

He looked up and saw a person walking slowly towards him in the setting sun.

The man's ochre-colored outfit, though faded from washing, still exuded a chilling swordsmanship. His sword, sheathless and with a faint golden gleam at its blade, hung at his waist; he was none other than Yang Zhi, the renowned swordsman of the Sunset Swordsman, famous throughout the frontier.

Shen Mo's lips curled slightly, and he was about to step forward to greet him when his gaze suddenly froze—half a step behind Yang Zhi was a middle-aged scholar in a blue robe. He had a thin face and gentle features, and held a tattered book in his hand. He looked like an ordinary scholar, but deep in his eyes was a calm and insightful gaze as deep as an ancient, cold pool.

Shen Mo recognized the person at a glance—it was Juechenzi!

At this moment, Juechenzi's attire was exactly the same as it had been many years ago. In an instant, the image of Juechenzi bringing him to the Heavenly Demon God Sect in Qilin Village flooded back into his mind like a torrent...

Without Juechenzi, how could there be the Sword God today? And how could there be the Heavenly Demon God?

Shen Mo's heart trembled slightly, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes—he was now the master of the Heavenly Demon God Sect, and Juechenzi was nominally his subordinate. But in his heart, this man was always a benefactor who had guided him, not a subject.

Yang Zhi strode forward, first bowing to Situ Dengfeng and Murong Liang with a smile, saying, "Alliance Leader Situ, Patriarch Murong, I am far away in the northern desert. I heard that your daughters have returned home together, so I came to offer my congratulations! I have long admired your reputations, and it is an honor to meet you today!"

Although he lived beyond the Great Wall, his name, "Sunset Swordsman," had already spread throughout the Central Plains. Situ Dengfeng and Murong Liang had naturally heard of him and quickly returned the greeting, their attitude polite yet respectful: "Great Hero Yang's fame is widespread. As my master, it is truly my honor that you have graced us with your presence today!"

Then, Yang Zhi turned to Shen Mo, his smile unchanged, but his eyes held a hint of barely perceptible restraint.

Shen Mo took a deep breath, stepped forward, bowed solemnly, and said loudly, "Master."

This call of "Master" was sincere and heartfelt, yet no kneeling was performed—not out of disrespect, but because Shen Mo's identity as a "disciple" was merely a fabrication in name only, and how could he possibly perform a kneeling ceremony in order to return to the Central Plains with this false identity?

Sure enough, as soon as Yang Zhi heard the word "master," cold sweat instantly soaked his back!

He hurriedly reached out to support Shen Mo's arm, his voice trembling slightly: "No! No! Disciple... no, the Sword God is now renowned throughout the world, and I, Yang, am but a wandering swordsman from the borderlands, how dare I accept such a great gift!"

As he spoke, he subconsciously glanced quickly at Juechenzi behind him, his eyes filled with awe and unease.

After noticing Yang Zhi's subtle movements, Shen Mo realized: Could it be that Yang Zhi already knew his identity?

He straightened up and glanced at Juechenzi without making a sound.

Juechenzi remained calm, a smile playing on his lips, and nodded secretly.

As expected, Yang Zhiqiang suppressed his emotions and immediately spoke, trying his best to keep his tone steady, but a slight tension still showed. To cover his embarrassment, he quickly turned to the side, pointed to Juechenzi, and said in a relaxed manner, "Ahem... By the way, disciple."

"This is my friend of many years, surnamed Chen, given name Jue. He heard how remarkable my apprentice is and insisted on seeing it for himself, so I shamelessly brought him along. I hope you won't be offended!"

Juechenzi immediately stepped forward, cupped his hands and smiled, his demeanor as humble as a neighborly scholar: "My name is Chen Jue, a poor and uneducated scholar. I am honored by Brother Yang's kindness in allowing me to admire the Sword God's splendor. I have come today to witness this ceremony, and I hope you will not take offense."

His tone was calm, and his demeanor was natural, showing none of the arrogance of the Twelve Masters of the Heavenly Demon God Sect. Instead, he resembled a scholar traveling the martial world.

Situ Dengfeng's gaze fell on Juechenzi's face, his brows furrowing slightly. He felt that this person looked extremely familiar. After a moment's thought, he tentatively asked, "Brother Chen...have we met somewhere before? I seem to have some impression of your appearance."

—At the wedding banquet in Qilin Village, Fu Jiang, Situ Dengfeng did indeed catch a glimpse of a middle-aged scholar in the crowd. He had an extraordinary temperament and immediately felt that he was remarkable, but he did not have a chance to talk to him.