Wandering Swordsman |

It wasn't a leap, nor a dash; rather, it vanished into thin air as if it had never existed. There was no afterimage, no fluctuation of energy, not even a speck of dust was stirred up beneath its feet.

It was as if he was part of nothingness.

Oda suddenly looked up, his pupils shrinking – there was no one in front of him, only a few wisps of white sand being swept up by the sea breeze, swirling in the air for a moment before slowly falling down.

Toyotomi and Tokugawa were also frozen in place, their eyes filled with horror. As top experts from overseas, they prided themselves on their unparalleled lightness skills, yet the Emperor's movements were so swift that they couldn't even see "how he disappeared!"

Reaching the pinnacle... it transcends human martial arts...

Oda slowly lowered his head, his knees pounding the ground again, his forehead touching the sand, his voice trembling, yet carrying an almost devout reverence: "The might of the Divine Emperor is like the sun at its zenith, unmatched by anyone... The Righteous Alliance shall humbly obey the Divine Emperor's decree."

He spoke very softly, as if afraid of disturbing something, or as if he firmly believed that the vanished God-Emperor could still hear him.

His voice drifted across the desolate shore, like a speck of dust falling into an abyss, instantly swallowed by the boundless silence. Yet he spoke with solemnity, each word like a vow etched into his soul.

Toyotomi took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, and placed his right hand on his chest, performing the highest form of Japanese etiquette: "Kamikaze Battalion, as you command."

Tokugawa also knelt on the ground with both hands, his voice low and deep like muffled thunder from the earth: "Night Parade of One Hundred Demons, as you command."

The three slowly rose, the slight rustling of their armor sounding like thunder in the deathly silence. They exchanged a glance, each seeing undisguised shock and...fear in the other's eyes.

Tokugawa stared at the spot where the Emperor had disappeared, a sinister glint in his eyes: Shaolin Temple... Could it be hiding some secret?

No matter how turbulent their hearts were, they dared not disobey. For the existence of the God Emperor was beyond question in the hearts of all overseas martial artists.

......

A day later, outside Nanjing, a morning mist, like a veil, gently shrouded the distant mountains and the nearby city walls. The first light of dawn broke in the east, but it couldn't penetrate this thin veil, leaving only a pale grayish-blue hue. A cool morning breeze rustled through the treetops, whispering unease like a secret lament.

Inside the Hall of the Martial Arts Alliance Leader, Situ Dengfeng stood before the sand table, his figure appearing exceptionally tall in the dim light. His brows were furrowed, as if a thousand-pound burden weighed on his heart.

On the sand table, the black flag representing overseas evil cultivators has snaked its way to the Central Plains like a venomous snake: the Divine Wind Camp occupies Fengcheng, the Hundred Ghosts Night Parade is entrenched in Huating, and the Righteous Alliance is eyeing Yunnan covetously, like three sharp blades pointing directly at the heart of the Central Plains.

"Alliance Leader!" A hurried call broke the silence in the hall. A messenger rushed in, his robes billowing in the wind, his face filled with barely concealed excitement, and fine beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. "We've just received news that all the overseas evil cultivators who instigated trouble in various places have withdrawn to the East China Sea coast! The Righteous Alliance in the Southwest has also made no move!"

Situ Dengfeng's brows relaxed slightly, but he did not speak immediately. He slowly turned around, his gaze sharp as he swept over everyone in the hall.

The hall was silent, save for the crackling of the candlelight, which illuminated the solemn faces of the elders.

He took a deep breath, as if trying to inhale the chill of the morning mist into his lungs to calm the turbulent thoughts in his heart.

"The previous offensive was like a raging tide, how could it... suddenly stop?" An elderly man with white hair and beard spoke first, his voice filled with deep doubt. His fingers unconsciously tapped the table, making a soft "tap-tap" sound. "Could it be a trap to lure the enemy?"

"These overseas heretical cultivators are always ruthless; this unusual action must be part of a scheme," another middle-aged elder added, his eyes flashing with vigilance. "We must not underestimate them."

"Alliance Leader, shouldn't we proceed with caution?" a younger elder asked worriedly, his voice trembling slightly. "If we fall into their trap, the consequences will be unimaginable."

Inside the hall, there was much discussion, with everyone holding their own opinion, as if they were discussing an impending storm.

Situ Dengfeng did not respond immediately. He gazed at the crowd, as if deep in thought.

After a long while, a relieved smile appeared on his face, as if a huge weight had finally been lifted from his heart.

"Whatever their intentions..." His voice was steady, echoing like a bell in the hall, carrying an undeniable power, "This sudden ceasefire is a godsend."

He strode back to the sand table, slammed his palm on the "Central Plains Defense Line," causing the small flag on the sand table to tremble slightly and make a crisp sound. This palm strike seemed to transform all his inner hesitation and unease into strength.

"Take advantage of this time to immediately gather the disciples of all factions fighting against the evil cultivators overseas and regroup!" His voice was loud and clear, carrying an unquestionable authority, and his gaze swept across the faces of every elder like lightning.

"Yes!" the elders responded in unison, their faces beaming with excitement.

The tense atmosphere inside the hall vanished, replaced by hope and fighting spirit for the future.

......

In Dali's Cangshan Mountain, the night is as dark as ink, so thick it seems to drip down. Mist swirls through the mountains, wandering like ghosts through the pine forests, entwining the ancient, gnarled branches, enveloping the entire mountain in a silent dream.

The moonlight was suppressed by thick clouds, with only a few pale rays occasionally letting through, like the last breaths of a dying person, casting mottled shadows on the bluestone steps.

The wind whistled through the pine forest, like countless wronged souls whispering in the shadows, recounting the long-buried killings and betrayals.

At the summit of Cangshan Mountain, the Yiqi Alliance mansion had long since turned off its lights, with only a few solitary lamps hanging in the corners of the corridors. Their dim yellow glow spread through the thick fog like will-o'-the-wisps, illuminating a deathly and eerie stillness.

Situ Changkong crouched in the shadow of the roof ridge, his clothes clinging to his back, his movements as light as a withered leaf drifting in the wind.

He stepped carefully on the gaps between the roof tiles, his toes barely touching the ground, without stirring up a speck of dust. His heart pounded like a drum, crashing violently in his chest, almost bursting out—Oda's solo journey to the East Sea was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!

He had to find the secret manuals obtained by the overseas heretical cultivators in the tomb of the God of War before Oda returned and memorize them all.

Only in this way can he break free from this body bound by "loyalty" and become stronger!

Oda's residence was located at the deepest part of the Righteous Alliance. Situ Changkong held his breath and came to the door. He lightly touched the door lock with his finger and quietly injected a wisp of true energy. The door lock made a slight "click" sound.

He pushed open the door and strode quickly to the sandalwood table in the center of the secret room, his fingers trembling as he turned the scroll on the table.

"Who?" A cold shout pierced the silence like ice.

Situ Changkong turned around abruptly and saw a red figure slowly emerge from the shadows. The figure's robes fluttered, and the face was hidden behind a black veil, except for the blood-red eyes that shone with an ominous light.