Wandering Swordsman |

Shen Mo's heart skipped a beat, but he remained calm and simply nodded: "The curator has keen insight."

The curator paused for a moment, then sighed softly and said, "No wonder you have achieved so much at such a young age; it turns out you have the Heavenly Martial Body. That explains it."

He paused, his gaze growing even more profound: "However... this kind of physique is too conspicuous. If it were to come to the attention of certain people with ulterior motives, it could very well lead to their death."

Upon hearing this, Shen Mo felt a slight chill. He keenly sensed that the curator's words were not merely a reminder, but rather a kind of test and warning.

However, at that moment, a barely perceptible smile flashed in the curator's eyes, quickly concealed by a deep expression. He lowered his head and pondered for a moment, as if weighing something, before slowly saying, "Now that you've joined my academy, you're part of my elite institution. I will keep this secret for you, and I hope you'll be careful not to reveal it easily."

Shen Mo bowed respectfully, his tone sincere: "Thank you for your kindness, Curator."

"No need to thank me," the curator said slowly, his voice gentle yet carrying an undeniable authority. "I simply admire your talent and believe you can go even further."

He spoke casually, but there was a barely perceptible expectation hidden in his eyes.

However, in an instant, the curator's originally kind eyes became as sharp as blades, as if they could see right through people's hearts.

"Shen Mo, the reason I'm looking for you is because I have an important task for you." The curator's voice was deep and firm, each word like a resounding, heavy chime. "This matter is of utmost importance, and you must keep it absolutely secret."

Shen Mo was slightly taken aback, and his brows furrowed involuntarily.

Though he appeared calm on the surface, his heart was in turmoil. He had a vague feeling that the mission the curator spoke of was far more complex than a simple training exercise.

"Please speak." Shen Mo cupped his hands in greeting, his expression focused, a mixture of curiosity and wariness flashing in his eyes.

The curator nodded and lowered his voice: "According to the intelligence obtained by the Alliance Leader, the Diancang Sect has been increasingly close to the Black Wind Gang in recent years, but we don't know what kind of agreement they have reached." He paused, his eyes sharp, "We need you to go to the Diancang Sect in the name of the Martial Alliance to find out the truth behind all this."

Upon hearing this, Shen Mo's expression changed slightly, and his brows furrowed even deeper. He didn't answer immediately, but lowered his head to ponder for a moment before slowly raising his head to ask, "Director, why me for such an important task? Isn't there a more suitable candidate?"

The instructor looked at him, a meaningful smile playing on his lips, as if he had anticipated this question. "I observed your performance at the academy and investigated your background, discovering that you have no connection whatsoever with the Nine Schools." He paused, his tone becoming more serious. "Most importantly, your martial arts skills are exceptional, sufficient to handle any unexpected situation."

Shen Mo remained silent, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the hilt of his sword. A sudden thought flashed through his mind: the secret Yang Min, the Diancang Sect disciple, had whispered when he killed him—about the Diancang Sect leader and the Black Wind Gang searching for some kind of relic deep within the Cangshan Mountains. At the time, he hadn't given it much thought, but now it seemed the curator's request might be related to this.

Having thought this through, he had already made up his mind.

"When do we set off?" Shen Mo raised his head, his gaze as firm as iron.

A hint of approval flashed in the curator's eyes, and he nodded in satisfaction. "We'll depart tomorrow," he said slowly. "I'll send you to Dali under the pretext of training at the academy. Ostensibly, you'll be going to the southwest to pursue a fugitive wanted by the Martial Arts Alliance, but in reality, you'll be secretly investigating the collusion between the Diancang Sect and the Black Wind Gang."

A gentle night breeze stirred the wind chimes under the eaves, producing a clear, melodious sound. Shen Mo stood up, his shadow stretched long in the moonlight. He slowly clasped his hands in a salute, his voice low yet firm: "This disciple will certainly not fail your trust."

The curator looked at the young man before him, a hint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes. In fact, sending Shen Mo to investigate this matter was Situ Dengfeng's suggestion. Now, after this encounter with Shen Mo, the curator was even more certain that Situ Dengfeng's suggestion was absolutely correct.

......

The following morning, representatives from the nine sects, eight great families, and four academies gathered in the Wulin Alliance meeting hall. The atmosphere was as heavy as the calm before an impending storm.

In the center of the conference hall stood a huge round table covered with brocade embroidered with dragon and phoenix patterns, symbolizing the highest power and glory in the martial arts world.

The curator, who had been appointed as the proxy by the leader of the martial arts alliance before his departure, stood up at this moment.

"Gentlemen," he cleared his throat, his voice deep and powerful, like the echo of an ancient bell, piercing through the clamor of the hall, "I have gathered you all here today mainly to discuss four important matters."

As soon as the words were spoken, the entire hall fell into a deathly silence. The representatives of the nine sects, the eight great families, and the four academies were all renowned figures in the martial arts world, yet no one uttered a sound. Only the sound of the wind rustling through the eaves and the soft tinkling of copper bells could be heard outside the window, as if even the air itself had frozen.

The curator's gaze slowly swept over the crowd, his tone growing increasingly heavy: "Firstly, in recent years, several martial arts masters of unknown origin have appeared in the martial world—the Red Lotus Demon, the Blood Hand Judge, the White Bone Granny… They have committed numerous evil deeds and serious crimes. According to reliable intelligence, these people are not from the Central Plains, but from overseas."

He paused, his voice suddenly lowering as if afraid of disturbing something that shouldn't be awakened: "Their martial arts are unpredictable, ruthless, and far surpass those of the demonic sect. Currently, these overseas evil cultivators have been listed as top-priority targets by the Martial Alliance. Does anyone have any opinions on the matter of these overseas evil cultivators?"

As soon as he finished speaking, a murmur of discussion arose in the hall, interspersed with a few gasps of surprise.

Zhang Zixuan, the representative of Wudang, stood up, his beard and hair slightly ruffled, his eyes blazing. Although he was over seventy years old, he was still full of vigor, his tone low but his words like hammer blows: "The martial arts these people practice are not only bizarre and unpredictable, but also extremely cruel. If we do not take precautions, they may bring great disaster to the martial arts world of the Central Plains."

He surveyed his surroundings, his gaze sharp as lightning: "I suggest that a 'Heretical Cultivation Defense Department' be established immediately, with elite disciples from each sect dispatched to handle this matter specifically."

Abbot Huiming of Shaolin Temple nodded with his palms together, his face compassionate yet his expression resolute: "I also believe that the martial arts alliance should issue invitations to heroes, calling on independent cultivators to discuss countermeasures. With foreign enemies at hand, we must not fight alone. Only by uniting against a common enemy can we ensure the peace of our Central Plains."

After he finished speaking, he put his hands together and chanted a Buddhist mantra. The lingering sound seemed to strike a warning bell in everyone's hearts.

The representatives nodded in agreement. Some whispered their support, and although the atmosphere remained tense, it was filled with a sense of unity and determination.

Seeing that everyone's emotions were gradually calming down, the curator slowly raised his hand to signal for quiet and continued, "Secondly, regarding the Demonic Sect."

As soon as he said that, the once lively hall fell silent again, as if even breathing was suppressed.