Wandering Swordsman |

Huangfu Feilong's test has begun.

Huangfu Feilong did not use his usual sword as a weapon, but instead clenched his fist.

His movements seemed simple, yet they contained boundless power. With a deep roar, Huangfu Feilong suddenly threw a punch, as if a rift had been torn open in the air, emitting a sharp whistling sound.

That punch was like a thunderbolt, striking the core of the iron plate. With a loud "boom," the iron plate was pierced through by his punch, leaving a clear, round hole.

The surrounding air seemed to tremble slightly from the impact of the punch, and the edges of the hole in the iron plate were neat and smooth, as if it had been cut with the sharpest knife.

A martial artist nearby announced loudly, "Number 0012, qualified! Please continue inside!" His voice echoed throughout the plaza, seemingly the best proof of Huangfu Feilong's strength. The surrounding examinees cast envious and awe-inspiring glances, many whispering amongst themselves about this martial arts prodigy from the Huangfu family.

As Huangfu Feilong left, he didn't forget to give Shen Mo a provocative look. That look contained not only contempt but also an undisguised hostility, as if silently declaring: In this martial world, only the strongest can stand, and you are not qualified.

However, Shen Mo was not swayed by these provocations. He took a deep breath, quickly adjusted his mindset, and prepared to begin his test. He stood in front of the iron plate, pretending to exert all his strength, gathering all his internal energy at his fingertips.

His movements were fluid and natural, as if he were one with heaven and earth, every bit of power concentrated at his fingertips. Then, Shen Mo suddenly thrust his finger towards the iron plate with lightning speed.

With a soft "hiss," a deep finger mark instantly appeared on the iron plate. The mark was clearly visible, as if an eternal memory had been etched into the hard, cold iron. The martial artist beside him announced loudly again, "Number 0174, qualified! Please continue inside!"

Shen Mo retracted his fingers, a faint smile appearing on his face. He then continued walking into the 'Elite Academy'.

......

Shen Mo slowly walked into the hall with the flow of people. This place should have been a spacious, bright, and elegantly decorated space, but now it was mostly occupied by temporary partitions.

The thirty cubicles were hastily assembled from simple wooden planks, and above the entrance to each cubicle hung a small wooden sign with the numbers 1 to 30 written in large vermilion characters.

The air was filled with the scent of fresh wood, a stark contrast to the crisp air outside.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting dappled shadows on the ground and adding a touch of mystery to the somewhat rudimentary testing ground.

As soon as Shen Mo stepped into the hall, he noticed a martial artist wearing the academy's uniform dark blue robe standing in front of him.

The martial artist's gaze was as sharp as a blade; he seemed to be searching for the next examinee who needed guidance. Shen Mo's heart stirred slightly, and just as he was about to step forward to inquire about his testing room, he suddenly heard a commotion behind him.

Huangfu Feilong was seen walking in surrounded by a group of people, his arrival immediately drawing everyone's attention. The martial artist, who had previously been expressionless, immediately put on a fawning smile and quickly stepped forward to greet him. "Young Master Huangfu, this way please," he said respectfully, bowing deeply, his tone full of reverence.

As he spoke, he personally led Huangfu Feilong to room number 1, carefully guiding him inside and politely drawing back the curtain to invite him in. Huangfu Feilong simply nodded slightly, then gracefully entered his private room. Those around him cast envious glances, clearly admiring Huangfu Feilong's status as the eldest son of one of the eight great aristocratic families.

Witnessing all this, Shen Mo couldn't help but feel a surge of dissatisfaction. He had thought the Martial Alliance was a fair and just place, but he hadn't expected to find such sycophants among them.

Just as he was lost in thought, the martial artist had already walked up to him. He glanced at Shen Mo expressionlessly, then coldly pointed towards room number 9: "Go there."

Shen Mo was stunned for a moment, but quickly regained his composure.

He silently walked towards the designated cubicle, his heart filled with mixed emotions. Although he was disappointed by the martial artist's differential treatment, he knew that in the martial world, strength was the most important thing. No matter how others treated him, as long as he was strong enough, he didn't need to care about such trivial matters.

Shen Mo gently pushed open the door to room number 9. The room was small and simply furnished, with only a wooden table and two chairs.

However, what truly surprised Shen Mo was the person sitting at the table—a disheveled man with messy hair. If it weren't for the uniform he was wearing, anyone would have mistaken him for a beggar who had sneaked in.

Despite his surprise, Shen Mo's expression remained as calm as a still lake.

He knew that appearances could be deceiving in the martial arts world, and that the seemingly disheveled man before him was very likely a member of the Beggars' Sect. Therefore, he respectfully bowed to the man, his demeanor filled with reverence.

The man, who had been looking down, slightly lifted his eyelids. Seeing that Shen Mo did not show the slightest disgust or contempt, a barely perceptible hint of satisfaction flashed in his eyes. Those young people who considered themselves from prestigious and righteous families would usually frown and avoid him like the plague when they saw him like this, but Shen Mo's behavior was clearly different.

"Sit down." The man gestured to the chair opposite him, his voice not loud, but carrying an undeniable authority. Shen Mo sat down as instructed, his gaze calmly fixed on the other man.

"Kid, my test is very simple," the man said slowly, a deep look in his eyes. "You only need to answer one question."

Shen Mo nodded, waiting for what was to come.

"What is the Jianghu in your eyes?" The man's question struck the depths of the soul like a bolt of lightning across the night sky.

Shen Mo pondered for a moment, and countless images floated through his mind: the battles amidst the flashing swords, the assassinations in the streets and alleys, the open and covert struggles between sects, and the figures who had to struggle to survive... His thoughts gradually became clear and finally condensed into a single sentence.

"In my view, wherever there is struggle, that is the Jianghu (martial arts world)." Shen Mo's voice was firm and powerful. "Whether it is the struggle for power or the resolution of personal grudges, as long as people have their own aspirations, there will be conflict. And this place of conflict is what I understand as the Jianghu."

"It exists not only in the martial arts world, but also in the lives of ordinary people; it is not only reflected in the duels between highly skilled martial artists, but also in the lives of every ordinary person. The martial arts world is a vast realm where everyone plays their own role and writes their own story."