Flower Stealing Master

Ren Yingying watched the scene unfold with a jolt of alarm. She couldn’t understand why Zhang Sanfeng would suddenly attack Song Qingshu. 

On any other day, she would have gladly seen Song Qingshu beaten to a pulp, left gravely injured, or even dead. That would avenge his previous insolence and render their marriage agreement void. However, she was now trapped in a dire situation, hoping Song Qingshu would notice something amiss. Yet the two of them had begun fighting, leaving her with no hope of escape.

She instinctively turned to glance at the hypocrite standing beside her, only to find that he had vanished without a trace.

On the other side, Xia Qingqing barely had time to register Zhang Sanfeng’s move before his palm strike was already upon her.

In her quest to avenge her husband, Yuan Chengzhi, Xia Qingqing had set aside her previous temperament to devote herself to martial arts. Since Yuan Chengzhi hadn’t held back any of his techniques, she mastered nearly 60% of his skills. Afterward, she followed Song Qingshu, who frequently guided her in martial arts. 

Occasionally, they even practiced a dual cultivation technique together using the Joyful Meditation Method. 

As a result, Xia Qingqing had become a first-rate expert in the martial world. Against most opponents, even if she couldn’t win, she could at least hold her own. Unfortunately, this time her adversary was the legendary Zhang Sanfeng, a half-immortal figure.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Nearby, Ah Jiu hadn’t expected Zhang Sanfeng to suddenly strike. Despite this, her cultivation level surpassed Xia Qingqing’s, so she reacted a fraction faster, drawing her sword to counterattack.

Zhang Sanfeng lightly flicked his hand, and Ah Jiu felt a soft force redirect her elsewhere. Alarmed, she realized she had no control over her body.

Seeing Xia Qingqing frozen in place, Zhang Sanfeng frowned slightly, hesitating for a moment mid-strike. This delay allowed Song Qingshu, who had launched himself like a cannonball from behind the rockery, to intervene.

Song Qingshu couldn’t fathom why Zhang Sanfeng had attacked out of the blue. Could it be that the matter of accidentally killing Mo Shenggu had yet to be resolved? Was he here to clean the house?

Song Qingshu, not being a native of this world, had no intention of adhering to any rules about juniors passively accepting punishment from their elders. Besides, Mo Shenggu’s death wasn’t his doing but rather the fault of the original, unfortunate Song Qingshu. Furthermore, the Wudang Sect had already crippled his meridians during the Lion-slaying Assembly, settling that debt.

Thanks to Ah Jiu’s intervention, Song Qingshu reached the scene just in time. Grabbing Xia Qingqing by the waist, he moved her a zhang away and then summoned all his energy to counter Zhang Sanfeng’s palm strike.

“Hm?” Zhang Sanfeng let out a soft sound of surprise. Sensing the surging power between Song Qingshu’s palms, he quickly changed tactics, his hands tracing an indistinct circular motion.

Song Qingshu immediately felt as if his palm energy had vanished into the sea. A powerful force seized him, pulling, bumping, and pushing him off balance. (G: reality check.)

Knowing that losing his footing would leave him vulnerable to a relentless barrage of attacks, Song Qingshu chose not to stabilize himself. Instead, he rolled to the ground, employing the Slithering Snake Jumping Raccoon Technique from the Nine Yin Scripture. Though the move appeared clumsy, like a child throwing a tantrum, it successfully allowed him to escape Zhang Sanfeng’s Taiji energy for the moment.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Song Qingshu summoned his rarely-used wooden sword. The weapon moved with uncanny precision, thrusting backward before bursting into a dazzling display of sword Qi that surrounded Zhang Sanfeng, attacking him from all directions.

A gust of wind scattered leaves between the two combatants, which were instantly reduced to powder.

Even before the sword Qi reached him, Zhang Sanfeng felt the air around him being drained. His expression grew solemn as he raised both hands, a faint Taiji diagram manifesting around him. The incoming sword Qi dissolved upon contact with the diagram.

Rather than relaxing, Zhang Sanfeng’s demeanor grew even graver. He began to move slowly. To Xia Qingqing and the others, his movements seemed sluggish, but each step allowed him to evade half of the incoming sword Qi, while the Taiji diagram neutralized the rest.

Ah Jiu gasped as she noticed Zhang Sanfeng’s footsteps. Though it seemed he had moved far, the footprints on the ground showed he hadn’t strayed more than three feet from his original position. What seemed like chaotic steps actually formed a perfect circle when viewed as a whole.

Seeing his Return of the Myriad Swords technique neutralized so effortlessly, Song Qingshu was stunned. Yet instead of attacking again, he positioned himself protectively in front of Xia Qingqing and Ah Jiu, warily addressing Zhang Sanfeng. “May I ask why you have attacked us, Grandmaster Zhang?”

Zhang Sanfeng glanced at the mask on Song Qingshu’s face and sighed. “So it really is you.”

Hiding behind the rockery, Ren Yingying’s mouth gaped in shock. Though the exchange had been brief, it was enough for her to realize that the cultivation levels of both men far exceeded her understanding. But what truly astonished her was the wooden sword in Song Qingshu’s hand—a weapon she remembered all too well as the hallmark of that scoundrel Song Qingshu.

“Frankly, I’ve always been puzzled,” Zhang Sanfeng began. “Though Linghu Chong inherited Feng Qingyang’s exquisite swordsmanship, I’ve never heard of him excelling in unarmed combat. Yet your skills far surpass even his, let alone Linghu Chong’s. And as for this young lady,” he added, looking at Xia Qingqing, “her martial arts, while impressive, are still far below the descriptions of my late disciple’s skills.”

Biting her lip, Xia Qingqing removed her human-skin mask and bowed respectfully. “Qingqing greets Grandmaster.”

Song Qingshu smiled bitterly and also removed his mask. “Grandmaster Zhang, I had no intention of deceiving you. After accidentally killing my seventh uncle, I couldn’t bring myself to face you.”

Seeing Song Qingshu’s face, Ren Yingying was utterly dumbfounded. ‘It’s him? Does that mean the man I married, is him?’

Recalling how she’d begged him to annul their marriage, Ren Yingying’s face turned a mix of red and green. Yet strangely, rather than feeling angry, she felt a sense of relief. 

‘If it has to be someone, better that scoundrel Song than a stranger,’ she thought, shocked at herself. ‘Could I actually like him?’ 

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