Wandering Swordsman |

Shen Mo was taken aback by Murong Qing's suggestion, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside him. He recalled Liu Xiaorong's words of advice to leave Murong Qing not long ago; those words still echoed in his ears, as if reminding him of something. Those words still resonated in his mind, leaving him unsure how to respond.

The candlelight illuminated his face, revealing his inner struggle. He opened his mouth, hesitated several times, and ultimately found himself unable to give a clear answer. He could only silently gaze at Murong Qing, as if searching for a possible solution in this brief silence.

The room was so quiet that only their breathing and the occasional flickering candlelight could be heard; time seemed to stand still. Murong Qing stood there, her gaze softening from its initial resolve, but also tinged with an undisguised disappointment. She looked at Shen Mo, as if trying to find a sliver of certainty in his eyes, even just the slightest promise.

After a moment, Shen Mo finally sighed, his voice soft and tinged with helplessness: "Miss Murong, I understand your feelings, but I need more time to consider..." As he spoke, his gaze was somewhat unfocused, as if seeking understanding, or as if trying to buy himself more space to think.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Murong Qing's eyes, but she quickly suppressed the emotion, trying not to let it show. However, a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her true feelings. After a moment, she took a deep breath, straightened her back with feigned strength, and said with a hint of willfulness and capriciousness in her tone, "Huh? Shen Mo, I've extended an olive branch to you, and you actually need to consider it? I'll give you one more chance to answer."

Murong Qing's voice carried a playful lightness, but behind it lay a deep concern for Shen Mo and a hint of unease. Her hands unconsciously tightened around the hem of her dress, her eyes fixed on Shen Mo, awaiting his response.

Seeing Murong Qing still acting so unreasonably, Shen Mo felt a complex mix of emotions. He breathed a sigh of relief; this familiar feeling brought him some comfort. He knew Liu Xiaorong was right—there seemed to be an insurmountable chasm between his identity and Murong Qing's. He was just a wandering vagabond, an orphan new to the martial world, while Murong Qing was the daughter of the Murong family; their worlds were fundamentally different.

Yet, when Murong Qing stood before him, that familiar warmth and sense of security felt so real. He realized he had grown accustomed to having her by his side, accustomed to her capriciousness, her strength, and her intelligence. If Murong Qing were to suddenly leave, Shen Mo didn't know how he would react. Perhaps he would feel lost for a while, or perhaps not. What was all this? Was it gratitude? Dependence? Or something deeper?

He wasn't sure if this feeling was love. Love seemed too heavy, too unattainable for him. Shen Mo had never experienced true love, nor did he know how to define this emotion. He only knew that Murong Qing's existence had become a part of his life, and this feeling was both beautiful and bewildering.

Seeing Shen Mo deep in thought and remaining silent for a long time, Murong Qing seemed to sense something. Her brows furrowed slightly, her expression turned serious, and a hint of worry flashed in her eyes. She took a small step forward, her voice tinged with urgency: "Did my master say something to you?"

Shen Mo didn't answer immediately; his gaze shifted, as if searching for the right words. However, it was precisely this silence that confirmed Murong Qing's suspicions. She caught a hint of hesitation in Shen Mo's subtle change in expression—everything was indeed as she had expected.

Murong Qing's heart suddenly raced, and she pressed further, "Did my master tell you to leave me?"

Upon hearing this, Shen Mo's face immediately showed surprise, as if his inner secret had been exposed. He hadn't expected Murong Qing to be so perceptive, able to see through his inner turmoil at a glance. Her intelligence far exceeded his expectations, leaving him both admiring and somewhat at a loss.

Murong Qing gazed at Shen Mo's changing expression, and a sudden realization dawned on her. It turned out that Shen Mo hadn't intentionally avoided answering her question; rather, his master Liu Xiaorong's words had truly stirred something within him, altering his perspective on their relationship. A flicker of understanding, along with a touch of heartache, flashed in her eyes.

"Shen Mo," Murong Qing's voice was gentle yet firm, "No matter what Master said to you, I hope you understand that as long as I, Murong Qing, am alive, my feelings for you will never change."

After speaking, Murong Qing didn't wait for Shen Mo to reply, but instead turned and walked towards the door. She knew that at this moment, Shen Mo needed time and space to sort out his thoughts.

The moment she pushed open the door, a gentle night breeze caressed her face, bringing a touch of coolness that also calmed her heart. Murong Qing glanced back into the room, her gaze filled with tenderness and reluctance, but even more so with determination. She quietly closed the door, as if drawing a temporary end to her brief, heartfelt conversation.

......

As Jingtian Pavilion's appeal for help was delivered to the leaders of various sects like a flying goose, heroes from all walks of life in the martial world began their journeys, heading towards Yimen County in Yunnan. At this moment, the sky above Yimen County, Yunnan, was filled with swirling clouds, as if foreshadowing an impending storm.

Six days later, deep within the Black Wind Mountain in Yimen County, Yunnan, the Black Wind Gang headquarters resembled a fortress hidden in the dense forest. In stark contrast to the bustling and tranquil atmosphere of Jingtian Pavilion, a chilling aura permeated the air. While the buildings didn't appear shabby, they clearly lacked careful planning, appearing somewhat chaotic. The uneven expansion resulted in a diverse architectural style throughout the gang, lacking harmony and resembling a haphazard patchwork of different eras and craftsmen.

Following the winding path, we arrived at a grand hall. The hall's doors were tall and heavy, covered with ancient runes, exuding a mysterious power. Pushing open the doors, we found ourselves in a spacious area. Black silk hung on the walls, and in the center stood an exquisite black iron chair, its back carved with ferocious beast heads, radiating an awe-inspiring aura.

The leader of the Black Wind Gang sat as always in his chair, half his face covered by a strange mask, revealing only a deep-set eye that seemed to see right through people. His shadow cast a long shadow in the candlelight, adding to the eeriness. The atmosphere in the hall was heavy, and all was silent except for the occasional sound of wind and the howling of wolves in the distance.

Facing the three Holy Lords and Li Fanglin, who had just returned to the hall, the Black Wind Gang Leader's voice was deep and authoritative: "You have all done a good job bringing Situ Meng back this time."

The three Holy Lords and Li Fanglin knelt in unison on the ground, their figures appearing even smaller in the candlelight, seemingly overwhelmed by the gang leader's aura. Each of them wore a weary expression, but their eyes were filled with respect and loyalty. They knew what the gang leader's approval meant to them.