Wandering Swordsman |

The scene shifts, the daylight fades, and twilight sinks into the depths of Tianjian Ridge.

Inside the Heavenly Demon Palace, ten thousand eternal lamps were lit one after another, their flickering flames resembling an inverted sea of ​​stars, illuminating the entire palace with a golden splendor and a solemn atmosphere.

Shen Mo sat upright on the Heavenly Demon God Throne at the highest point of the hall.

At this moment, he was dressed in a long robe with a black background and red patterns, the lapels of which were embroidered with the nine luminaries and the blood moon totem. He wore a black flame-patterned cloak over his shoulders, his hair was tied with a silver crown, and his face was calm and deep.

The gentle husband of yesteryear, living amidst the misty rain of Jiangnan, has now transformed into the supreme being who rules the Heavenly Demon God Sect.

Below the palace steps, the four Demon Lords stood in the four cardinal directions, with twelve Venerable Ones kneeling before them. Behind them were hundreds of leaders, protectors, and elders, layer upon layer, all the way to the palace gate.

Everyone bowed their heads, their foreheads pressed against the cold blue stone ground, and placed their hands folded in front of their foreheads, performing the oldest and most supreme salute of the Heavenly Demon God Sect.

"Welcome back to the Heavenly Demon God!"

A long and solemn chant rang out from the old master of ceremonies beside the bronze bell at the corner of the hall, its sound reverberating through the beams and pillars, its echo lingering long afterward.

Immediately, the four demon lords were the first to kowtow.

After that, the twelve monks also kowtowed.

Shen Mo sat quietly, his gaze sweeping over the crawling figures below.

Many of these people were his colleagues who had high hopes for him when he first entered the sect, his enemies who wanted to kill him in the Demon Refining Mountain, and his old friends who had silently supported him, such as Juechenzi.

Now, all past grievances have been transformed into submission in this one kneel.

He felt no pride, only a heavy sense of responsibility.

He knew that this position was not an honor, but a shackle; not the end, but the beginning of a new journey.

After a long while, he slowly raised his hand.

With just one movement, even the candlelight seemed to hold its breath.

"Get up."

His voice was not loud, yet it resonated like a bell tolling through the heavens, clearly reaching everyone's ears, carrying an undeniable authority, yet retaining a gentle and warm tone.

The crowd slowly raised their heads, their backs slightly hunched, their eyes lowered, still not daring to look directly at the throne.

Only the Moon Demon Lord slightly raised her head, her gaze briefly meeting Shen Mo's—in that instant, there seemed to be relief in her eyes, but also a trace of worry, like a thin mist under the moon, which vanished in an instant.

An unspeakable worry surged within her: a hundred years ago, the previous Heavenly Demon God sat here just like this, laughing and chatting, before embarking alone on his westward journey, never to return. Without the Heavenly Demon God, the sect was embroiled in endless internal strife, the three Demon Lords locked in open and covert struggles. Had Shen Mo not emerged from nowhere at Demon Refining Mountain, becoming the new Heavenly Demon God, the Heavenly Demon God Sect would have long since crumbled due to the Flame Demon Lord's ambition. And now… the new Heavenly Demon God is also about to embark on that path of no return. If he too disappears without a trace like his predecessor, what will become of the sect's newly united spirit?

The candlelight inside the hall flickered slightly, making her white dress appear as white as snow, and also reflecting the turbulent waves in her heart.

Shen Mo withdrew his gaze and looked out at the deep night outside the palace.

In the distance, the peaks of Tianjian Ridge are as dark as ink, with swirling clouds and wind, as if the far west is beckoning.

He knew that tomorrow, he and Hua Tianyou would travel alone westward to the far west, a place not even recorded on any map—the place where the previous Heavenly Demon God went, and also the place where the previous Heavenly Demon God, Hua Shenyong, perished.

But tonight, he is the Heavenly Demon God—a deity in the hearts of everyone present, and also the husband that Murong Qing and Situ Meng, far away in the Central Plains, are waiting for to return to.

The throne is cold, but people's hearts are burning. And he must bear both.

He slowly stood up, his black robe fluttering even without wind, the gold patterns on his cuffs flowing like dragons. The hall fell instantly silent; even breathing seemed to freeze.

"I am about to embark on my journey westward," he said, his voice clear and distinct, like a cold spring striking a rock. "The date of my return is uncertain; it may take three months, three years, or... longer."

Upon hearing this, everyone was startled. Several of the twelve masters exchanged glances, their expressions subtly changing.

Shen Mo's gaze swept across the entire room, his tone calm yet brooking no argument: "On this journey, only Heavenly Demon Lord Hua Tianyou will accompany me. All affairs within and outside the sect will be jointly managed by Moon Demon Lord, Flame Demon Lord, and Blood Demon Lord. Major decisions must be made jointly by the three lords; no one may act unilaterally. Anyone who violates this will be—"

He paused, then suddenly raised his hand.

In an instant, a vast and powerful pressure erupted from his body!

That was no ordinary true energy, but a supreme power fused with the "Refined Demon Beast King Qi" and the "Heavenly Demon Qi"—the Refined Demon Beast King Qi roared like ten thousand beasts, tearing the sky apart; the Heavenly Demon Qi poured down like an abyss, devouring the light. The two intertwined, transforming into an invisible yet suffocating storm that swept across the entire Heavenly Demon Palace!

Most of the ever-burning lamps in the hall suddenly went out, and the remaining lamps flickered wildly, reflecting the horrified faces of the crowd.

Shen Mo stood before the divine throne, his robes fluttering, his hair flying, his eyes like abysses, and black flames faintly rising around him, as if possessed by a demon god from the Nine Netherworlds.

His voice was deep, yet it thundered through everyone's ears: "While I am away, if anyone attempts to split the sect, incite internal strife, or feign compliance while acting against my will—do not blame me for settling old scores when I return."

As soon as he finished speaking, the oppressive aura vanished.

The hall was deathly silent, like a tomb, with only heavy breathing rising and falling.

After a long silence, the three demon lords bowed in unison, their voices solemn as if swearing an oath: "We will obey the Heavenly Demon God's decree!"

......

After the meeting at the Heavenly Demon Palace ended, Shen Mo did not return to his palace. Instead, he walked alone under the moonlight to a quiet courtyard on the east side of Fallen Sword Valley.

Ancient pines twist and turn in the courtyard, bamboo shadows sway, a window is half open, and a solitary lamp illuminates a desk piled high with books.

This is Su Ming's residence. Before entering the Demon Refining Mountain, he was a subordinate of the Blood Demon Lord. After Shen Mo became the Heavenly Demon God, Su Ming left the Blood Demon Pavilion and transferred to the Heavenly Demon Palace.

As Shen Mo arrived at the courtyard gate, he was proofreading a tattered copy of the "Primordial Secret Records" when he suddenly heard footsteps as light as falling leaves. Looking up, he saw a figure in a black robe standing under the moon. His pupils contracted slightly, and the wolf-hair brush in his hand fell to the paper with a "thud," the ink spreading out like a fleeting glimpse of a startled swan.

"Heavenly Demon God!" Su Ming hurriedly stood up, his sleeves billowing, not even bothering to pick up the inkstone, and rushed forward to greet him. He knelt on both knees, performing the sect's most solemn "Three Kneels and Nine Bows Ceremony." His forehead touched the ground, his voice trembling slightly but extremely respectful: "Greetings, Lord!"

Shen Mo extended his hand in a gesture of support, his tone gentle: "No need for formalities. I am not here for clan matters, but to entrust you with a personal matter."

Su Ming then slowly rose, stood at attention with his hands at his sides, and said, "If the Heavenly Demon God commands me, I will gladly die for him."

Shen Mo nodded, walked slowly into the room, and sat down at the table.

The candlelight illuminated the calm and weariness between his brows, as if he had shed the majesty of his throne, leaving only a martial artist seeking knowledge.

"During my trip to the Central Plains, I saw a stone wall in the forbidden area of ​​Wudang Mountain with runes carved on it," he said in a low voice. "I copied it from memory and need your help to decipher and translate its meaning."

Having said that, he picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and slowly wrote on a blank sheet of paper.

The brush tip moves swiftly, like dragons and snakes coiling in the sky. Each stroke exudes an ancient and mysterious aura, as if carrying some kind of Taoist charm that transcends language.