Wandering Swordsman |

The setting sun, like blood, dyed the layered mountains crimson. Mount Qingcheng stood majestically, shrouded in mist, ancient trees reaching for the sky, Taoist temples hidden deep within the forests, their eaves appearing and disappearing, like a fairyland. The mountain wind howled, the pines whispering secrets of a thousand years.

Shen Mo reined in his horse and stopped, looking up at the mountain peak.

Li Fanglin stopped, his black robe billowing in the wind like a night owl about to take flight. He slowly raised his head, his gaze piercing through the clouds and landing on the Qingcheng Sect, hidden halfway up the mountain.

Shen Mo dismounted and said in a low voice, "We've arrived."

Li Fanglin did not respond, but silently dismounted, his movements stiff as a puppet. He stood at the foot of the mountain, looking up at the summit, and a barely perceptible ripple finally appeared on his withered face—it was not fear, nor hesitation, but a kind of detached acceptance.

......

As the sun sets, its afterglow falls like a golden veil over Tai'an Town at the foot of Mount Qingcheng.

The town is small, nestled against the mountains and beside the water, with cobblestone streets that meander like snakes. The houses on both sides are mostly wooden structures with white walls and gray tiles, slightly upturned eaves, and red lanterns hanging from them, swaying gently in the wind and casting a warm glow.

The stream flows gently down from the mountains, passing through the town. It is crystal clear, and a few red carp swim leisurely.

Children play by the stream, their laughter ringing out. An old man sits in a bamboo chair in front of his door, fanning himself and sipping tea. A dog lies on the steps, and a rooster crows at the end of the alley.

Smoke curls up from the chimneys, mingling with the aroma of food, drifting in the evening breeze, creating a peaceful and serene atmosphere, as if the turmoil of the martial world had never set foot here.

Shen Mo and Li Fanglin led their horses in, their black robes stained with dust, looking travel-worn.

Seeing the two men's extraordinary bearing, the townspeople, though wary, still clasped their hands in greeting.

"This place... seems like a corner forgotten by time," Shen Mo murmured to himself, his gaze sweeping over every detail of the town.

Li Fanglin, however, remained cold and stern, his face as frosty as he said indifferently, "The calmer the scene, the more murderous intent it conceals."

The two found the town's only tavern, "Songfenglou," and chose a seat by the window. A waiter attentively served tea, and Shen Mo asked, "Waiter, why haven't we seen any Qingcheng Sect disciples in town?"

The waiter lowered his voice, his expression mysterious: "Sir, you may not know this, but not long ago, the Qingcheng Sect suddenly closed its doors to all visitors. The mountain gates were tightly shut, and even pilgrims were not allowed to go up the mountain. I wonder if this is related to the ghost stories that were circulating before."

"Haunted?" Shen Mo raised an eyebrow.

"That's right!" The waiter's words became increasingly mysterious. "At night, white shadows often drift among the mountains, the bell tower rings without wind, the eaves bells of the Taoist temple ring erratically, and some people have even heard a woman crying, a very mournful sound! But the strange thing is—" He paused, looking around, "no one has died or been injured, but strange things keep happening, causing panic among the disciples of the Qingcheng Sect."

Shen Mo's heart skipped a beat. He had learned from the Wudang classics that occasionally spiritual objects would appear in the world, and if martial artists consumed them, they would either be reborn, have their lifespan extended, or have their martial arts skills enhanced. The classics recorded things like thousand-year-old jade marrow and the essence of the earth's veins, whose auras disturbed yin and yang and could attract extraordinary phenomena. If this was true, perhaps a spiritual object had appeared in Qingcheng Mountain.

"What about Situ Meng? Has anyone seen her?" Shen Mo pressed.

The waiter immediately replied, "The four beauties renowned throughout the martial arts world? I was fortunate enough to see her before she closed the mountain, but since she went up Qingcheng Mountain, I haven't seen her come down the mountain until today..."

At this moment, Xiao Er suddenly lowered his voice and said, "Recently, some outsiders have come to the town, and they seem to be here for the Qingcheng Sect."

Shen Mo's heart tightened.

He looked around and sure enough, he saw more than ten unfamiliar martial artists sitting scattered around the corner of the tavern, on the stone steps outside the door, and next to the tea stall.

They were dressed in different clothes, some wearing gray robes and others wearing tight-fitting clothes, but all of them had a calm demeanor and subtle fluctuations of internal energy.

Even more bizarrely, the moment Shen Mo and Li Fanglin stepped into the tavern, the gazes of several people there suddenly sharpened, as if surprised or certain, and then they quickly lowered their heads, as if deliberately avoiding them.

Upon hearing the waiter's words, a thought instinctively popped into Shen Mo's head: "Do they know me, or do they know Li Fanglin?"

Shen Mo's fingertips twitched slightly, and power quietly gathered in his palm. These people were no ordinary wandering martial artists. They appeared after the Qingcheng Sect closed its gates, and they reacted strangely to him or Li Fanglin... Could it be that these people were connected to the Righteous Alliance?

"We shouldn't delay, let's get up the mountain as soon as possible." Shen Mo stood up, his voice deep and resonant, like the sound of pine trees pressing down.

Li Fanglin slowly stood up. Although he didn't speak, he had already sensed something unusual about his surroundings—were those unfamiliar martial artists secretly watching him? This set off alarm bells in his mind, so he simply nodded silently and followed behind Shen Mo.

......

The night was as dark as ink, so thick it seemed impossible to see through. The stone steps at the foot of Qingcheng Mountain gleamed coldly white in the moonlight, like a jade ribbon leading to the underworld.

The disciples guarding the mountain stood in pairs, dressed in blue Taoist robes, with long swords at their waists and pine torches in their hands, their eyes scanning the surroundings like eagles.

The flickering firelight cast their shadows long and distorted, projecting them onto the stone wall like ghostly dances.

The two stepped forward slowly. Shen Mo clasped his hands in a fist salute and said in a clear voice, "I am Shen Mo, a disciple of the Elite Academy of the Martial Arts Alliance. I have been ordered to come to Qingcheng Sect to bring back Miss Situ Meng."

The disciple guarding the mountain frowned and held his sword horizontally in front of him: "The mountain gate is sealed. No one, regardless of who they are, is allowed to enter. Please return."

"Situ Meng is the daughter of the leader of the martial arts alliance. She should be brought back to the martial arts alliance by us. If something happens to her in your sect, it will be difficult to explain." Shen Mo's tone remained calm, but it contained a sharp edge.

"I'm sorry," the disciple said coldly, "the sect leader has ordered that during the mountain closure period, not even the Heavenly King himself can pass through."

A flash of malice suddenly appeared in Li Fanglin's eyes. He was inherently arrogant and proud, and although he had submitted to the Martial Alliance, he had never taken these prestigious sects seriously. Now, being blocked at the foot of the mountain by an unknown disciple, he was burning with rage.

He suddenly took a step forward, his black robe billowing, his inner strength surging like a tide, and his right palm slowly rose, preparing to gather palm power and forcefully break through.

Before the palm strike was even unleashed, the killing intent was already overwhelming, and the torches flickered, threatening to go out.

"Brother Li!" Shen Mo suddenly called out in a low voice.

Without turning around, he simply raised his hand and pressed down, his five fingers like hooks, grasping at the air. In an instant, an invisible, immense force, like a mountain crashing down, slammed down on Li Fanglin's shoulder!

Li Fanglin's body sank, realizing that he was now being forcefully controlled by Shen Mo. His whole body trembled violently, his meridians felt as if they had been struck by lightning, and his internal energy was instantly disordered, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

He turned his head abruptly, his eyes filled with shock and horror. "Shen Mo could actually suppress me with just one hand!"

As one of the Four Saints of the Black Wind Gang, his skill was already among the top in the martial arts world. Even before the gang leader Ding Chengfeng lost his arm, he couldn't possibly have suppressed him with one hand. Yet, Shen Mo's press left him utterly powerless to resist—it wasn't just a matter of superior internal strength, but an absolute suppression in terms of martial arts realm!

"You..." Li Fanglin breathed heavily, his voice hoarse, his eyes filled with deep fear.

Shen Mo did not respond to his surprise, but withdrew his hand, his expression as usual, as if he had merely brushed away a speck of dust: "Let's go."