Wandering Swordsman |

Shen Mo did not knock on the door. He simply raised his hand slightly, his palm hovering three inches above the door.

Without being touched, an invisible yet vast aura, powerful enough to freeze the air, poured out like moonlight and quietly seeped into the doorway.

In an instant, a suppressed, almost beast-like growl came from inside the door!

"Boom!"

The rosewood door was smashed open from the inside by an overwhelming force! Wood chips flew like snowflakes, and the bronze animal head inlaid on the door frame cracked inch by inch without a sound!

Inside the door, candlelight danced wildly.

An old man stood in the center of the hall. He was not tall and strong, but rather thin, wearing a plain black casual robe with cuffs worn shiny.

He is Odin, the pillar of the Tsarist Empire, the "Invincible Duke" whom even the Pope must be wary of.

But just as his gaze fell upon the pale yet familiar face nestled in Shen Mo's arms—

Those starry eyes that once made heroes of the world bow down suddenly burst forth with intense light, as if to ignite the air.

"Alice?!"

The roar did not come from the throat, but from the resonance of the bones deep in the chest cavity.

The sound ripped through the silence of the night, causing dust to fall from the beams. He moved like an arrow, instantly covering several meters in an instant. His withered hand, with an almost trembling devotion, stretched forward abruptly, his fingertips just half an inch from Alice's cheek, yet he froze in mid-air, as if afraid to disturb a once-in-a-century dream.

Shen Mo then put Alice down.

Her legs were weak and could barely support her body. She could only stand up with the slight strength of Shen Mo's arm.

She dragged her weary body, drained of the last bit of strength from the long journey, and slowly, very slowly, bowed deeply in the direction of her father.

That was not a subject's greeting to his king, but a daughter who had survived a life-or-death ordeal offering the most humble yet most fervent respect to the source of life.

"Father..." Her voice was hoarse, yet it was like a rusty knife scraping across Odin's heart.

Odin, the invincible lord, this legendary figure who stood tall in the far west, now resembled a mortal whose backbone had been stripped away.

His Adam's apple bobbed violently as he stared intently at his daughter's face, his gaze greedily sweeping over every inch of her features, over her skin that had been disfigured but was now breathtakingly beautiful, and over the certainty in her eyes about her identity.

"You...you found out?" His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping, filled with worry for his daughter. "The truth behind...that 'accident' back then?!"

Alice raised her head, her eyes brimming with tears, but no longer fragile. She looked directly into her father's eyes, which were swirling with worry, and spoke each word clearly, like a blade being drawn from its sheath: "It's the Pope."

Just three words, yet they are more terrifying than the charge of a thousand troops.

Invincible Duke's body swayed violently, as if struck in the chest by an invisible giant hammer.

He staggered, the deep wrinkles on his face instantly tightening like knife cuts, his jaw muscles twitching wildly, and his once kind eyes suddenly filled with bloodshot veins!

"The Pope?!" he murmured repeatedly, his voice devoid of questioning, only conveying a profound sense of absurdity and agony born from the utter betrayal of faith.

The image of the benevolent and compassionate representative of God, seated atop the sacred mountain, bestowing blessings upon all people, crumbled in his mind, shattering into dust. In its place stood a cold-blooded and calculating politician cloaked in divine authority!

It was him who orchestrated his daughter's disappearance; it was him who forged an innocent little girl into a weapon of the Holy See!

This thought, like a poisonous vine, coiled around his heart, tightening more and more, almost crushing his strong, weathered heart to pieces!

In the suffocating silence, Alice's voice rang out again, eerily calm: "After I discovered the truth, the Pope summoned us. If it weren't for the Heavenly Demon God accompanying me..." She turned to Shen Mo, her gaze devoid of gratitude, only an almost religious, rock-solid certainty, "...I could not have escaped unscathed before the Pope."

The moment the words fell, Odin, the invincible king—the head of the seven stars and the uncrowned king of the Tsarist Empire—slammed his knees onto the cold, hard blue bricks!

"Thump!"

A muffled thud startled the candle flames, causing them to jump.

He didn't look at Shen Mo; his gaze remained fixed on his daughter's face, as if he wanted to etch this regained beauty into the deepest part of his soul.

Then, slowly and solemnly, he prostrated himself before Shen Mo. His forehead touched the ground with a deep, resolute sound.

"By the Heavenly Demon God!" His voice was no longer that of an emperor, but a most sincere submission, a surrender of all armor, of life and dignity. "Odin, from this day forth, I shall be your supreme ruler! My heart and body are utterly devoted! If I disobey, may I be condemned by heaven and earth, my soul scattered to the winds!"

That was not a stopgap measure, nor was it an exchange of benefits.

That was the most fervent and unquestionable vow that a father, a lord, and a martial arts master could offer after learning how Shen Mo single-handedly trampled the Pope's arrogant majesty under his feet atop the Holy Mountain; after learning how his daughter, under his protection, broke free from the shackles of the "Faceless" and was reborn.

Shen Mo stood still, his black robe as dark as ink, his face calm and unfathomable.

He did not enjoy the kneeling worship, but stepped forward and held the Invincible King's arms firmly with his hands as if supporting a mountain.

His power was gentle yet irresistible, as if he were not supporting a falling star, but rather readjusting its orbit.

"Your Grace, please rise." His voice was not loud, but it carried a strange power that could calm any storm. "The Papacy's war could come at any time. We must prepare early."

The Invincible Duke was helped up, his back straight, replaced by a molten, fiery heat that burned away all hesitation.

He looked around the mansion where he had lived for most of his life, his gaze seemingly penetrating the walls to see the vast territory outside the Northern Palace City and the starry sky that millions of people in the Tsarist Empire looked up at.

"Rest assured, Heavenly Demon God!" His voice suddenly rose, like the clang of metal on metal, each word ringing out with a resounding, earth-shattering pride and determination. "Now that I belong to the Heavenly Demon God Sect, Odin's remaining life will be the sect's spear! I have long secretly cultivated a 'Secret Army,' whose elite strength far surpasses ordinary people's imagination, and whose loyalty is solely bound to me and the Heavenly Demon God! The Secret Army's initial mission was to plant the flag of the Tsarist Empire in every town and town of the far west! Now, a divinely granted opportunity has presented itself in war with the Holy See, which is my first pledge of allegiance to the Heavenly Demon God Sect!"

He paused, his gaze blazing as he stared directly at Shen Mo. There was no reservation in his eyes, only a fierce light that burned away all ambition, all loyalty, and all of life—a light that consumed everything: "Heavenly Demon God, just wait and see!"

At that moment, the candlelight silently swelled by an inch.