Wandering Swordsman |

Time flies like an arrow; two days passed in the blink of an eye.

On the morning of the third day, just as the sky was beginning to lighten, the area in front of the martial arts school was already packed with people.

The dozen or so disciples, along with their parents, neighbors, and even fellow villagers who rushed over upon hearing the news, all gathered silently here.

There was no noise, only the soft rustling of the morning breeze through clothes and the occasional suppressed sobs.

Shen Mo and his two companions led their horses out, but upon seeing this scene, they paused slightly.

"Senior brother!" Chen Yan knelt down first, his voice choked with emotion, "Take care on your journey!"

The other disciples all knelt down and said in unison, "Please take care, Senior Brother! We will certainly live up to your teachings!"

Luo Wangchen stood inside the door, hands behind his back, barely suppressing the reluctance in his eyes. He knew that this parting might last for several years. But he couldn't stop him—his disciple, Shen Mo, belonged to a wider world.

Shen Mo stepped forward and helped everyone up one by one, his tone gentle yet firm: "A man's knees are worth gold; do not kneel lightly. Remember, you are not my followers, but the inheritors of Master's chivalrous spirit. If we meet again in the martial world someday, I wish to see you uphold chivalry and act with righteousness."

He mounted his horse, and Situ Meng and Murong Qing followed suit. The three of them looked back at the small courtyard with its green tiles and white walls, their eyes filled with reluctance.

"Let's go," Shen Mo said softly.

The sound of horses' hooves rose, crushing the morning dew. But the disciples refused to leave, seeing them off all the way from Wutong Lane to the main street, and from the main street to the city gate. They followed silently, their eyes always following the three figures that were gradually disappearing into the distance, as if they wanted to etch this moment into their very bones.

At the gate of Mengzhou City, ancient locust trees reach for the sky, and the boundary marker remains.

Shen Mo reined in his horse, turned around, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and said loudly, "Gentlemen, halt here! The journey of the martial world is long; we shall meet again!"

Before he could finish speaking, a unified shout came from behind: "Respectfully bidding farewell to our senior brother!"

The sound reverberated through the sky, startling countless birds into flight. Even the soldiers guarding the city stood at attention, not daring to be negligent.

Shen Mo smiled slightly, turned around, and rode away. His black robes fluttered like ink clouds sweeping across the sky; two beautiful women followed closely behind him, dressed in white and purple, like celestial couples traveling to the ends of the earth together.

What remained were a group of tearful teenagers and a martial arts school that would never be the same again.

Years later, when the martial arts world was in turmoil again, someone asked why the "Wangchen Martial Arts School" was able to cultivate more than a dozen famous heroes. Those heroes all answered in unison: "Because our senior brother taught us what 'heroism' is."

......

The three bid farewell to Mengzhou, and along the way, they saw verdant mountains and flowing streams. The hustle and bustle of the martial world seemed to be left behind, leaving only the purest tranquility between heaven and earth.

Before we knew it, we had arrived at Wudang Mountain.

Looking up, one sees a sea of ​​clouds churning like snow waves, with mountain peaks appearing and disappearing, like a fairyland.

The mountains are covered with lush pines and cypresses, ancient trees reaching for the sky, clear springs gurgling, and birds singing melodiously, creating a scene of ethereal beauty.

"My lord, the sea of ​​clouds at Wudang Mountain is even more beautiful than what I saw at Erhai Lake," Murong Qing exclaimed softly, her eyes filled with amazement. She wore a plain white dress, her long hair fluttering in the wind, perfectly complementing the misty, ethereal landscape.

Situ Meng nodded slightly, her gaze drawn to the snow-white sea of ​​clouds in the mountains: "The clouds roll and unroll, the mountain peaks appear and disappear, it's truly like a fairyland."

Shen Mo smiled slightly, took their hands, and slowly stepped onto the bluestone steps. The mountain path meandered, with ancient pines on both sides, their branches and leaves dappled with sunlight like scattered gold.

In the distance, Taoist temples appear and disappear in the clouds and mist, their red walls and green tiles exuding a simple and elegant charm, blending seamlessly with the mountain scenery.

"This Wudang Mountain not only has a sea of ​​clouds, but also the artistic conception of following the natural way of Taoism," Shen Mo said softly, his gaze sweeping over every blade of grass and every tree in the mountain, as if he were conversing with the mountains and rivers.

The three continued on their way, passing through a bamboo forest. The bamboo leaves rustled, as if whispering ancient Taoist teachings. A stream flowed gently through the forest, its water crystal clear, and several small fish darted among the rocks, lively and adorable.

"Look at that mountaintop!" Murong Qing pointed into the distance, her voice filled with surprise. There, a sea of ​​clouds surged, like ten thousand horses galloping, sometimes gathering, sometimes dispersing, as if performing the breath of heaven and earth.

Shen Mo looked up and saw golden-roofed palaces appearing and disappearing above the sea of ​​clouds, like a celestial palace. Sunlight pierced through the clouds, shining brightly on the golden roofs. That light seemed to be the purest hope in the world, illuminating people's hearts.

"Wudang Mountain truly lives up to its reputation as a sacred Taoist site," Shen Mo murmured with admiration. "The mountains embody the Tao, the clouds reflect the heart, and every blade of grass and every tree carries the Tao."

The three continued on their journey and arrived at a viewing platform. From here, they could take in the entire sea of ​​clouds over Wudang Mountain. The clouds surged and rolled, the mountain peaks appearing and disappearing, like a flowing ink painting. In the distance, Taoist temples were faintly visible in the mist, like a fairyland.

He took their hands, and the three of them stood side by side, gazing at the surging sea of ​​clouds in this fairyland, as if time had stood still at that moment.

The three arrived at Wudang Mountain, where the disciples immediately recognized the man who had been appointed a guest elder by the sect leader. In an instant, the Wudang disciples spread the news: "Sword God" Shen Mo has returned!

"Uncle-Master Shen, you're finally back!" Zhang Ye, the eldest disciple of Wudang, strode forward, his eyes filled with reverence. He had once been taught by Shen Mo and had always been grateful to his former teacher.

Shen Mo nodded slightly, his gaze gentle: "Junior Nephew Zhang, it's been a long time."

"The sect leader has learned of your return and is waiting for you in the reception hall," Zhang Ye said respectfully.

Shen Mo nodded and, with his two wives, followed Li Ming to the welcoming hall. The disciples of Wudang Mountain made way for them, their eyes filled with respect and curiosity.

Upon entering the welcoming hall, one would find Master Zhang and the Wudang Sect Leader already waiting inside. They were dressed in Taoist robes, their faces kind and their eyes full of satisfaction.

"Young friend Shen, you're finally back," the Wudang Sect Leader said with a smile, his voice tinged with emotion.

Shen Mo stepped forward, clasped his hands in a respectful greeting, and said, "Shen Mo greets the Sect Leader."

The Wudang sect leader waved his hand, indicating that formalities were unnecessary, his gaze gentle: "Between us, there's no need for such formalities."

The two sat down and began their discussion. Shen Mo and Master Zhang talked about everything under the sun, from Taoist principles to martial arts, from the universe to life, until late into the night. Murong Qing and Situ Meng listened quietly, sometimes exchanging smiles, sometimes nodding in agreement.

Two days later, Shen Mo bid farewell to Master Zhang, who personally saw him off at the mountain gate. Shen Mo and his two wives continued their journey, the sea of ​​clouds and Taoist magic of Wudang Mountain already deeply ingrained in their hearts.

After leaving Wudang Mountain, the three continued their journey and arrived at Simian Mountain in Sichuan.

Simian Mountain, named for its surrounding mountains on all four sides, boasts stunningly beautiful scenery. Clouds and mist swirl around it, creating a scene reminiscent of a fairyland. Its peaks, like swords, pierce the sky, while crystal-clear streams flow gently through its valleys.

"What a magnificent mountain!" Murong Qing exclaimed softly, her eyes filled with delight.

Situ Meng nodded, "This mountain is even more precipitous than Wudang Mountain, yet it possesses an added beauty."

Shen Mo smiled slightly, took their hands, and walked slowly forward. The mountain path meandered, with exotic flowers and herbs on both sides, their fragrance filling the air. The distant peaks appeared and disappeared, shrouded in mist, like a fairyland.

"Look at that mountain stream!" Situ Meng pointed into the distance, her voice filled with surprise. There, a crystal-clear stream meandered down from the mountainside, its water so clear that several small fish darted among the rocks, lively and adorable.

"This stream, like the lifeblood of the mountains, nourishes this land," Shen Mo said softly, his eyes filled with appreciation.

The three continued on their way. Following the route Luo Wangchen had given them not long ago, Shen Mo soon arrived at Tianzhu Peak of Simian Mountain. Atop the mountain stood a group of small buildings, with the words "Sword Tomb" clearly inscribed on their gates, solemn and ancient.