Wandering Swordsman |

The night wind was sharp as a blade, slicing through the silence.

Shen Mo followed the curator through layers of corridors, the bluestone under his feet gleaming coldly, as if laid on ice.

The dim lights along the way made the dragon patterns on the pillars appear and disappear, as if they were roaring or sleeping.

The silhouette of the Wulin Alliance's main hall stood majestically in the moonlight, its nine-tiered eaves like wings pointing straight to the sky. The copper bells on the eaves tinkled softly, their sounds reaching the ears, as if the heavens and earth were holding their breath, awaiting the arrival of a storm.

The lobby was brightly lit.

Dozens of ancient bronze lamps hang from the dome, their flickering flames illuminating the golden dragons coiled on the beams, making them appear lifelike as if they might take flight at any moment.

In the center of the hall, Situ Dengfeng sat in the main seat, wearing a black robe with gold dragons, and the words "Martial World" were embroidered on the cuffs, the strokes as sharp as swords, revealing his sharp edge.

At the lower end, a man stood in the center of the hall, draped in a black robe, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light. His face was young, but bore the marks of time, as if he had experienced great ups and downs, his eyes revealing a serene composure.

He held a sealed letter in his hands, the envelope bearing the unique pattern of the Black Wind Gang.

The curator stepped into the hall, his plain robe fluttering slightly, as if wind and thunder were hidden within his sleeves.

Shen Mo followed closely behind, his eyes sharp. He recognized Li Fanglin—the Black Wind Gang's Xuanwu Saint Lord.

"Mr. Wang." Upon seeing the curator arrive, Situ Dengfeng immediately rose to greet him, his tone respectful as if addressing a teacher. His black robe was embroidered with gold dragons, and the two characters "Martial World" on his sleeves were written with sword-like strokes, their sharpness fully revealed, yet he concealed all his imposing manner in front of the curator.

The curator nodded slightly, but his gaze was as deep and cold as a still pool, fixed on Li Fanglin. He didn't speak, but with just a glance, Li Fanglin's back stiffened slightly, as if he had been pierced by an invisible icy needle.

"What important matter does the Alliance Leader have to summon me so late at night?" The curator's voice was not loud, but it was like the tolling of an ancient bell, each word resonating in the ears, making the lights in the hall seem to sway.

Situ Dengfeng turned around, his gaze sharp as lightning, and landed on Li Fanglin: "Xuanwu Saint Lord, you may now explain the reason for your trip to the public."

Li Fanglin took a deep breath, and to everyone's surprise, he immediately knelt down.

"Alliance Leader Situ," his voice was low and trembling, as if it came from the depths of the earth, suppressing endless regret, "I, Li Fanglin, have come to plead guilty to the abduction of Miss Situ Meng from Changbai Mountain years ago, on the orders of the Gang Leader. I am at your mercy!"

After saying this, he kowtowed heavily, his forehead hitting the ground with a muffled "thud." Blood was already seeping from his temple, winding down his brow bone like a scarlet tear stain.

Shen Mo's pupils contracted slightly.

He's acting.

The performance was so realistic—the trembling fingers, the choked voice, the blood seeping from the forehead—it seemed as if the soul was truly being torn apart by regret.

Situ Dengfeng stared intently at Li Fanglin with piercing eyes, remaining silent for a long time. Inside the hall, only the soft ringing of copper bells and the flickering candlelight made the golden dragons on the beams seem to roar.

Finally, he let out a long sigh, his voice like the sound of pine trees rolling with snow, heavy and profound: "The past is past... let it be."

Upon hearing this, Shen Mo was taken aback. As expected of the leader of the martial arts alliance, as expected of the renowned Situ Dengfeng. He had so casually forgiven his old enemy.

Even the curator glanced sideways, his eyes flashing with a meaningful light.

Li Fanglin did not rise; instead, he prostrated himself even lower, his forehead pressed against the cold stone bricks, his voice choked with emotion, like a cold spring dripping onto stone: "Thank you for your magnanimity, Alliance Leader! But I have come today not only to atone for my personal sins, but also for the survival of the Central Plains martial arts world!"

He suddenly looked up, his eyes glistening with tears, as clear as dew, but behind those tears burned a raging fire, as if it would burn the heavens to ashes.

"The Black Wind Gang was deceived by the evil cultivators from overseas! The leader of the evil cultivators, Oda, used the promise of 'exploring the tomb of the God of War' as bait to lure and kill our Azure Dragon Saint Lord and White Tiger Saint Lord!" His voice was filled with grief and indignation, as if he were weeping and lamenting, and his hands trembled as if he were recalling the deep-seated hatred.

Then, Li Fanglin slowly rose, still kneeling, but with his head held high and chest out, his voice like thunder: "Officially, the Martial God's Tomb is the root of the martial lineage of our Central Plains, and its inheritance must not be allowed to be tainted by evil cultivators from overseas! Personally, the two Holy Lords, Azure Dragon and White Tiger, are my brothers, and this enmity is irreconcilable!"

He slammed his knees together, his voice echoing throughout the hall: "Therefore, our leader, in his own blood, hereby declares his willingness to lead the entire gang to submit to the Martial Alliance! From this day forward, the Black Wind Gang will cease to be a gang; we will follow only the Martial Alliance's lead! We are willing to stand with the righteous path of the world to resist the 'Righteous Alliance,' reclaim the Martial God's legacy, and slaughter all the evil cultivators overseas!"

The words fell silent.

Only the flickering candlelight made the bloodstains on his face appear even more glaring, like a scarlet brand etched on his soul.

The battle at the Tomb of the Martial God was not only a defeat for the Black Wind Gang, but also a disgrace. The once invincible Black Wind Gang, with its leader losing an arm and its Holy Lord killed in battle, is now like a broken-winged eagle, cowering within its mountain gate, listening to the evil cultivators from overseas slaughtering wantonly on the Central Plains.

Shen Mo stood at the corner of the hall, his black robe motionless, his cold eyes fixed on the scene.

The ways of Heaven are unpredictable! In just a few short years, Li Fanglin abducted Situ Mengshi from Jingtian Pavilion. Could he have imagined that today he would kneel before Situ Dengfeng, signing a blood oath and begging to submit?

At this moment, he suddenly remembered a saying his master, Luo Wangchen, once said: "The world of martial arts is like a game of chess. Today's opponent may be tomorrow's ally; today's ally may be tomorrow's mortal enemy."

At this moment, he finally understood. He remained expressionless, but his fingers subtly tightened. Shen Mo simply couldn't understand: was this allegiance genuine, or was there another motive?

Behind that oath of "fighting together against righteousness," is there a deeper scheme at play? He didn't believe the Black Wind Gang would bow down so easily, unless—the Black Wind Gang had no other choice.

In the deathly silence, Situ Dengfeng slowly turned around, his gaze falling on the secret letter written in blood. After a long while, he finally spoke, his voice as steady as a mountain: "Good!" The single word seemed to freeze the world in place.

"Now, the Righteous Alliance has colluded with villains in the Central Plains, stirring up bloodshed in the southwest. Furthermore, a steady stream of overseas martial artists are landing in the East China Sea, intending to seize control of the Central Plains martial arts world. At this critical moment, if the Central Plains martial arts world cannot unite as one, it will only allow foreign enemies to reap the benefits." He said firmly, "Although the Black Wind Gang has committed past sins, if they sincerely repent and are willing to fight against foreign enemies together, that would be the best outcome."

Upon hearing this, Shen Mo understood that having one more ally was far better than having one less enemy.

Situ Dengfeng slowly accepted the letter from Li Fanglin and firmly stated, "From this day forward, the Black Wind Gang officially becomes a member of the Martial Arts Alliance, awaiting orders. Those who harbor disloyalty will be punished by the entire Central Plains martial arts world!"

Li Fanglin slowly stood up, a barely perceptible hint of relaxation flashing in his eyes. He then bowed his head and replied, "I accept the order on behalf of the Black Wind Gang."

Just then, the curator suddenly spoke up, his voice clear and cold as a spring: "Alliance Leader, now that the Black Wind Gang has joined the alliance, why not have Xuanwu Saint Lord and Shen Mo go to Qingcheng Mountain together?"