Wandering Swordsman |

Mengzhou City is not large, but because it is located at a strategic crossroads between the north and south, it has frequent trade and travel and a strong local atmosphere.

Shops lined both sides of the street, their wine flags fluttering, and the sounds of vendors hawking their wares, chatting, and children playing blended together to create a bustling marketplace. However, when the three riders rode in side by side, the noisy street fell eerily silent for a moment.

Everyone's attention was involuntarily drawn to it.

The leader, dressed in black, had a handsome face and an air of profound composure, as if the clamor of the world had nothing to do with him. The two women behind him made the entire street hold its breath.

The woman on the left, with a long sword at her waist, is heroic and spirited. Her gaze exudes a heroic air that rivals any man, yet when she looks at the man beside her, she reveals the tenderness and affection of a young woman.

The woman on the right is exceptionally beautiful, like a fairy untouched by worldly affairs. She simply rides quietly on her horse, yet she makes the surrounding flowers and trees pale in comparison, even the most vibrant peonies seem to lose their luster.

"Heavens...whose young master is that? How can he be accompanied by two such stunning beauties?"

"Could it be some noble family on an outing? But I've never heard of such a person before..."

Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd. Some were filled with awe, some with envy, and many more with sheer shock. In this small town, had they ever seen such a divine couple? The two women were stunningly beautiful, always the center of attention, let alone when they were both by one person's side!

Facing the gazes from all around, Murong Qing merely raised her chin slightly, her expression composed, as if she were already accustomed to such attention. Situ Meng, on the other hand, appeared slightly shy, lowering her head slightly, a faint blush rising on her cheeks, which only added to her captivating beauty. Only Shen Mo remained composed, his gaze calmly sweeping across the street, searching for someone to ask for directions.

He asked an old man selling steamed buns, "Sir, is there a martial arts school in this town run by a swordsman surnamed Luo?"

The old man, who was engrossed in his reading, snapped out of his reverie upon hearing this and nodded repeatedly: "There's only one 'Wangchen Martial Arts School' in the city! It's at the end of Wutong Lane in the east of the city, that big courtyard with green tiles and white walls! Master Luo's martial arts school is known to everyone in Mengzhou!"

"Thank you." Shen Mo clasped his hands in thanks, and then the three of them rode their horses eastward.

Along the way, people stopped and stared at the three figures, unable to look away for a long time.

Before long, they arrived at Wutong Lane.

The alley was narrow, lined with tall sycamore trees whose lush foliage blocked out the sun, casting dappled shadows. At the end of the alley stood a courtyard with green tiles and white walls, its vermilion gate wide open, above which hung a black plaque with gold lettering that read "Wangchen Martial Arts School".

The handwriting was simple and unadorned, yet it possessed an upright and unyielding spirit, just like the character of Luo Wangchen in Shen Mo's memory.

Standing at the entrance and looking inside, one can see a wide, blue stone martial arts arena spread out before one's eyes.

In the arena, a dozen young disciples were meticulously practicing a set of basic sword techniques.

Their movements might still seem a bit clumsy, and their swordplay not exactly exquisite, but each of them was focused, sweating profusely yet showing no sign of slackening. Sunlight shone on them, reflecting their vibrant energy and their purest yearning for martial arts.

In a corner of the courtyard, several old plum trees with gnarled branches, though not in bloom, still exude a cool and resilient spirit. Wooden dummy and stone weights, among other training equipment, are piled up against the wall. All the furnishings are simple and practical, without a trace of luxury, yet they all convey a sense of steadfastness and seriousness.

Here, there is neither the grandeur of the Martial Alliance nor the imposing authority of the Heavenly Demon Sect; there is only a tranquil simplicity and a steadfast commitment to passing on the torch.

Shen Mo dismounted gracefully and silently.

He straightened his robes, took a deep breath, and the scent of grass, sweat, and a faint wood instantly transported him back to his youth when he first entered the martial world.

"Let's go." He turned around, extending his hands to his two wives behind him, his eyes full of tenderness and expectation. "Let's go see one of the most important people in my life."

Shen Mo led his two wives into the martial arts school, his steps light and slow, yet seemingly treading on people's hearts.

A long black robe swept across the threshold, as if bringing up an invisible wind, causing the previously noisy sounds of sword practice in the courtyard to suddenly stop.

The dozen or so young disciples were practicing a basic sword technique called "White Rainbow Piercing the Sun" with sweat pouring down their faces. Although their movements were still immature, they were all focused, with sweat beading on their foreheads and their clothes slightly damp.

However, not long after Shen Mo and his two companions stepped into the courtyard, everyone froze, as if a painting had been frozen in time.

Their gazes first fell on Shen Mo—his figure was as upright as a pine tree, his brows and eyes as cold as snow, and his aura was imposing without anger, as if all the spiritual energy of heaven and earth had gathered around him. He did not display any internal force, but everyone clearly felt a sharp sword intent emanating from the depths of his bones, pressing down on them so that they dared not look directly at him. But what was even more suffocating were the two women who followed closely behind him.

The woman on the left, dressed in a deep purple outfit that accentuated her slender figure, exuded both heroic spirit and gentle grace. She slightly tilted her head, her gaze shifting as if stars were falling, causing the hearts of the young men who had never left Mengzhou to pound wildly, forgetting even to breathe.

The woman on the right was like a fragrant orchid under the moon, her pure white robes spotless, her skin as white as snow, and her eyes like autumn water. Her mere presence softened the sunlight in the entire martial arts arena. Several young disciples even subconsciously rubbed their eyes, wondering if they were still practicing or had stumbled into a dreamlike celestial realm.

"Heavens...who is that?" a boy murmured, the wooden sword in his hand falling to the ground with a "clatter".

"I've never seen such a beautiful person..." another person said blankly, their cheeks flushed red.

These young men from a small town had never seen more beautiful women than the flower girls from the east side of town or the daughters of tavern owners. They never imagined that such breathtaking beauty existed in the world. Even more unbelievable was that these two celestial women stood side-by-side with that extraordinary man, their expressions intimate, clearly indicating a relationship far from ordinary!

As the courtyard fell silent and everyone was in a daze, a slightly older disciple, appearing to be in his early twenties, was the first to regain his senses. He was Chen Yan, the eldest disciple of the martial arts school, a composed man who, suppressing his shock, stepped forward, clasped his hands in a respectful greeting, and asked in a slightly trembling voice, "The three of you...who are you looking for?"

Shen Mo smiled slightly, a smile as gentle as a spring breeze melting snow, instantly dispelling the oppressive feeling from before.

His tone was gentle yet respectful: "We've come to find your master."

"Master Luo?" Chen Yan was taken aback, then nodded. "Please wait a moment, I'll go and inform him." He turned and hurried towards the inner courtyard, his steps quick and his heart pounding like a drum—although he didn't know who the person in front of him was, he knew from that aura that he was no ordinary visitor.