Wandering Swordsman |

Shen Mo deliberately took a few steps, distancing himself slightly from Murong Qing. His expression remained unchanged, a faint smile even playing on his lips. He slowly opened his baggage, rummaging through it for food, his movements somewhat sluggish, as if he truly couldn't find any dry rations.

In that instant, something unexpected happened!

"Swish!", "Swish!", "Swish!"

Almost simultaneously, a dozen or so "refugees" suddenly ripped off their tattered clothes, revealing poisoned daggers and short swords hidden beneath. A flash of cold light, and several sharp blades were already aimed at Shen Mo's vitals!

"Watch out!" Murong Qing cried out in alarm upon seeing this turn of events, drawing her sword and rushing toward Shen Mo.

However, just as everyone was shocked, Shen Mo's figure suddenly disappeared from the spot like a phantom!

He swept past like a gentle breeze, or vanished in the night like a ghost. The next moment, he appeared behind the group of assassins, his feet lightly touching the ground, his figure as ethereal as a phantom. He struck out with his backhand, hitting one of the assassins squarely on the back of the neck. The man groaned, his body convulsing as he collapsed to the ground, black blood spilling from his mouth.

"Ah!" The other assassin had just turned around when Shen Mo kicked him in the chest. The crisp sound of breaking bones was clearly audible. He flew several meters away like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily to the ground, his life hanging in the balance. The air was thick with the stench of blood and death, sending chills down everyone's spine.

"This...how is this possible?" The assassin disguised as an old woman stared wide-eyed. Before she could even retract the dagger in her hand, Shen Mo snatched it away with lightning speed. With a twist of his wrist, a "crack" was heard, and the bone broke. Her face instantly drained of color, and her eyes were filled with fear and despair.

"You're too slow," Shen Mo said coldly, his eyes devoid of any emotion, as if what had just happened was merely brushing away a mosquito. Every movement he made was incredibly precise, and every strike carried deadly power, leaving his enemies utterly defenseless.

The other assassins, seeing this, turned pale, finally realizing the terrifying existence they were facing. The "vagrant" assassins felt a chill run down their spines, and the old man in charge shouted, "Mission failed! Run!"

But how could Shen Mo let them escape so easily? With lightning speed, he grabbed the wrists of the two assassins, twisting them forcefully. Several crisp "crack" sounds rang out as their wrists snapped, followed by screams of agony. Seeing the situation was dire, the remaining assassins turned tail and ran, attempting to flee the scene.

"You can't escape!" Shen Mo shouted coldly, his figure flashing as he reappeared in front of one of the fleeing assassins. He kicked out, striking the man squarely in the abdomen, sending him flying backward and crashing heavily to the ground, unable to get up again. Seeing the situation was dire, the other assassins dropped their weapons and knelt down, begging for mercy: "Young hero, spare our lives! We were forced into this situation!"

Murong Qing and the other members of the Murong family were all amazed by Shen Mo's superb martial arts skills when they saw what was happening before them.

Murong Qing, in particular, had a look of admiration mixed with complex emotions in her eyes. She knew that although her martial arts skills were already quite strong, Shen Mo's lightness skill had reached a level that even the gaze could not keep up with, and she still had a considerable gap to close compared to Shen Mo.

Unexpectedly, when faced with the assassins' pleas for mercy, Shen Mo, who was always decisive in killing, said, "I can let you go, as long as you tell me about the organization behind you."

Upon hearing the question, the assassins exchanged glances after a brief moment of thought, and then, through a simple exchange of glances, seemed to have arrived at an answer.

Since revealing the Blood Shadow Tower meant certain death, and being killed by Shen Mo meant certain death either, why not take a gamble and fight for a chance to survive? So the assassins suddenly stood up, gripped their weapons tightly again, and launched a final attack on Shen Mo.

However, Shen Mo did not give them any chance. He suddenly unleashed the powerful aura of the Demon-Refining Beast King from within his body, an aura that swept over like a tangible force, enveloping the hearts of every assassin.

The assassins froze, a fear unlike anything they had ever felt welling up from the depths of their hearts. They couldn't even utter a plea for mercy; their legs trembled, and their eyes were filled with despair.

Shen Mo moved with lightning speed, arriving in front of an assassin in the blink of an eye. His longsword flashed like lightning, aiming straight for the assassin's throat. The man didn't even have time to react before his throat was slit, blood gushing out as he collapsed to the ground.

Immediately afterward, Shen Mo moved like a whirlwind among the enemies, each sword strike precise and each blow sending sprays of blood flying. The assassins didn't even have a chance to struggle before they fell one by one, never to rise again.

A moment later, silence returned, leaving only Shen Mo standing in the center, the Tai'a sword in his hand gleaming coldly. His eyes remained calm as ice, as if everything that had just happened was nothing more than a casual gust of wind. The surrounding air seemed to freeze, with only the rustling of leaves in the wind, as if drawing a conclusion to this brief but intense duel.

The members of the Murong family witnessed the assassins' corpses. They hadn't expected Shen Mo to be so ruthless, even when facing assassins disguised as old men and children. The fallen figures included white-haired elders and children who appeared to be only eight or nine years old, all of which deeply shocked these young minds.

"This...this is too cruel," a young member of the Murong family said in a low voice, his voice trembling slightly. "Even assassins shouldn't target the elderly and children."

Another young man gritted his teeth, a complex look flashing in his eyes: "It seems we can't easily provoke Shen Mo in the future. His strength far exceeds our imagination, and his methods are decisive and leave no room for compromise."

A strange pressure welled up in everyone's heart, as if the scene before them made them truly realize the cruelty and ruthlessness of the martial arts world for the first time.

At the same time, Murong Qing's gaze fell upon the corpses lying on the ground, and an uncontrollable rage surged within her. The old man was over seventy years old, his face etched with the marks of time, while the youngest child looked no more than eight or nine years old, his eyes still holding the last trace of fear and confusion. Her hands involuntarily tightened around the hilt of her sword, her knuckles turning white from the force, and her grief and indignation surged like a tidal wave.

"These people..." she whispered, her voice filled with barely suppressed anger, "to use such a vulnerable group to carry out assassinations, how utterly cruel!"

Shen Mo naturally sensed Murong Qing's grief and indignation. He sighed softly and said slowly, "That's how assassin organizations are. They'll stop at nothing to achieve their goals. Only by disguising themselves and exploiting the identities of these vulnerable groups, lowering the psychological defenses of their targets, can they increase the success rate of assassinations."

Hearing Shen Mo's words, Murong Qing's eyes welled up slightly, but she quickly wiped away the tears and tried her best to remain calm. She knew that the darkness in the martial world was far greater than this; what she had seen today was just the tip of the iceberg. She looked up at Shen Mo, her eyes filled with admiration and understanding: "You're right, the martial world is indeed cruel. To achieve their goals, some people will stop at nothing."