Wandering Swordsman |

Hua Tianyou stood frozen in place, his legs feeling as if they were stuck in mud, unable to move. He looked up at the sandstorm dragon that blotted out the sky, his heart filled with a deathly silence.

"It's over... Such a sandstorm is far beyond what human power can withstand." This thought pierced my bones like an ice pick.

Faced with this world-destroying phenomenon formed by the will of nature, he finally understood: the so-called pinnacle of martial arts is nothing more than a speck of dust or a wisp of smoke in the face of the true power of heaven and earth.

He didn't even have the thought of running away; he felt as insignificant as an ant, not even worthy of becoming a speck of dust in the mouth of this sandstorm.

However—just as the dragon swooped down, a figure was nailed to the edge of the storm.

Heavenly Demon God - Shen Mo.

His black robes fluttered in the wind, his black hair flew wildly, and he stood before the deathly waves stirred up by the sandstorm, his slender figure as immovable as a mountain.

His face showed no surprise, no fear, no joy, no sorrow; only his eyes, as deep as the abyss, reflected the colossal yellow sand dragon that was about to devour everything.

He slowly raised his hand and grasped the hilt of the Green Ox Sword at his waist.

"Clang—"

Before the sword was even drawn three inches from its sheath, the world had already changed color!

A jet-black sword aura burst forth from its sheath, silent and still, yet like the opening of the eyes of an ancient demon god. The air was torn apart, emitting a sharp, mournful cry.

Shen Mo pressed down with his wrist, and the sword finally left its sheath by half a foot.

"cut!"

The single word uttered was like thunderclap shattering the heavens.

The next instant, a jet-black sword aura slashed out! It was not light, nor wind, but the purest and ultimate meaning of "annihilation"—like the Milky Way flowing backward, like the beginning of chaos, like the Heavenly Dao wielding its pen, writing an insurmountable law on this desolate land!

"boom--!!!"

The sandstorm dragon was split in two!

The yellow sand on both sides receded like a tide meeting a dam, creating a straight, narrow, vacuum-like passage that could only allow two people to pass side by side. The passage was completely still; not even a speck of dust dared to drift in, as if even the air itself held its breath, waiting to witness the power of this sword strike.

Hua Tianyou stood frozen in place, his pupils contracting violently, almost bursting open.

The trajectory of that sword strike—sharp, solitary, and unstoppable; the aftershocks of that sword strike—vibrated through space, distorted light and shadow, and lingered for a long time; the aura of that sword strike—more like the pinnacle of martial arts than the sword energy itself!

In an instant, a scene exploded in his mind—Heavenly Sword Ridge, Fallen Sword Valley.

The landscape of Fallen Sword Valley is definitely not naturally formed, but rather a sword. It must be a peerless expert like our lord who once wielded the exact same sword as our lord today at Heavenly Sword Ridge!

That sword cleaved the mountains, severed the earth's veins, and carved an eternal scar between the peaks—Fallen Sword Valley!

He abruptly turned to look at Shen Mo, his eyes filled with shock and sudden realization: "If my lord's sword were to fall upon Heavenly Sword Ridge..."

His throat bobbed, his voice almost trembling, "...It's the second Fallen Sword Valley! No, perhaps...the first Fallen Sword Valley was left behind by some peerless expert of the past!"

The wind and sand howled outside the passage, but dared not cross the line.

Shen Mo sheathed his sword with unhurried ease, as if he had just cleaved a wisp of smoke rather than an apocalyptic sandstorm. He said calmly, "Let's go."

He finally understood: Nature, though powerful, still has form; while Shen Mo's sword is formless and shapeless, capable of cleaving heaven and earth and shaping mountains and rivers.

This is not martial arts; it is the power between creation and destruction. Before such a being, so-called "desperate situations" are merely paths to be traversed.

The two hurried along the vacuum passage cleaved by sword energy. The sand beneath their feet was as solid as iron, and the sandstorm above them swirled like angry dragons but dared not invade them in the slightest.

Behind them, the sandstorm dragon, cleaved open by a single sword strike, roared in resentment. Yellow sand surged back like millions of ferocious beasts, crashing shut—as if a giant maw that had swallowed the heavens and earth had closed again, leaving not even a crack.

"Crack... Boom—!"

The final, muffled impact echoed across the wasteland, and the sandstorm returned to complete chaos, churning and boiling as if no one had ever ventured into the heart of this sea of ​​death.

The world returned to deathly silence, with only the wind whispering, as if erasing all traces of their existence.

Ahead lies an endless sea of ​​sand, stretching to the horizon and merging with the azure sky.

Hua Tianyou stopped, his chest heaving, sweat mingling with sand as it slid down his face. He gazed into the distance, feeling no relief, but rather a heavy weight in his heart—this was only the beginning of the central area. A full month's journey through the desert was still ahead before he could completely traverse this vast expanse of yellow sand.

He slowly turned around, looking back at the still turbulent and chaotic desolate land behind him.

There were no tombstones, no skeletons, and even the cries of anguish were swallowed up by the wind and sand.

They successfully traversed the central area and survived.

It's not about luck—many people have stumbled in by chance, but never came out.

It's not about willpower—no matter how strong your willpower is, it can't withstand the Twin Suns Illusionary Calamity and the Quicksand Soul Devouring;

It was Shen Mo's sword strike that was powerful enough to rewrite the laws of heaven and earth!

At this moment, Shen Mo had already sheathed his sword. His black robe fluttered in the wind, yet remained untouched by a speck of dust.

His gaze swept across the sea of ​​sand, reaching the distant wilderness to the west, his voice calm as still water: "Do you have any intelligence on the central areas of the remaining two perilous places—the snowfield and the canyon?"

Upon hearing this, Hua Tianyou's expression immediately darkened, as if those two words had stirred up a nightmare buried deep in his heart.

He lowered his head for a long time, his fingertips unconsciously digging into his palms, leaving several white marks, before slowly speaking, his voice hoarse and heavy, like a skeleton dug out of cracked sand: "My lord... to tell you the truth, when my father left the Heavenly Demon God Sect to travel west, he only crossed the central area of ​​this vast desert. As for the snowfields and canyons that followed... he, like me, went around them."

He raised his head, a deep-seated fear flashing in his eyes—not the fear of death, but an instinctive tremor at some incomprehensible and irresistible existence.

"And when I returned to the sect from the far west, it took me four whole years, traveling day and night, deliberately traversing the outer edges of three forbidden zones, not daring to approach even a hundred miles from the central area. Even so—"

He took a deep breath, the cold wind filling his lungs, but it couldn't suppress the biting chill brought on by the memories.

He gave a bitter smile, his eyes filled with lingering fear after surviving the ordeal: "Those snowfields and canyons, even just walking on the outer edges, is like walking on thin ice. Even highly skilled masters like the Twelve Masters of the sect might not be able to cross them. Perhaps that's why... the far west has truly become a 'desolate region'—separated from the Central Plains by three great perilous realms, where no one can travel safely."

The wind and sand howled, and the heavens and earth were silent, as if even the desert was keeping silent for those two desperate situations.

Shen Mo listened quietly, his eyes flickering slightly, but he showed no sign of backing down.

He looked westward, his gaze piercing through the vast wilderness, as if he could see the boundless snowfield frozen for thousands of years—white snow, unchanging through the ages, with peaks like swords piercing the sky; and as if he could see the deep canyon that stretches across the land—shrouded in black mist, bottomless, where even birds flying by would fall silently, their souls forever imprisoned at the bottom of the valley.

There were no roads, no signs, no legends, and even the word "danger" seemed frivolous.

After a long silence, he spoke calmly, his tone as even as if he were describing the weather:

"Since no one has crossed the central area of ​​those two perilous places... then we will be the first to attempt it."

Hua Tianyou's heart trembled violently. Gazing at the dark figure standing amidst the wind and sand, he suddenly understood: true isolation is never geographical distance, but rather the fear in people's hearts of the power of nature. And Shen Mo was single-handedly tearing that fear apart.