Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 1106: The Heavenly Devil Flower

Wan Gui paid Li Kexiu’s skepticism no mind. He pointed to the flower sealed within the glass vial and spoke with deliberate gravity: “This is no ordinary flower. This is the Heavenly Devil Flower.”

“The Heavenly Devil Flower?” Li Kexiu’s brow furrowed. He turned the name over in his mind and found nothing — he had never heard of it.

“The word Bodhipāśa comes from Sanskrit,” Wan Gui explained, “meaning ‘devil’ or ‘evil one.’ This poison flower was brought from Tianzhu — the people there call it the Demon Flower. Its toxicity is absolute and without remedy anywhere under heaven. Even inhaling its fragrance for a moment is enough to render a supreme martial artist unconscious.” [G: The Heavenly Devil Flower — 金波旬花 — is a deadly poison flower from Jin Yong’s novel The Blood Sword.]

Wan Zhenshan and his son had learned of the Heavenly Devil Flower from Ling Tuisi during their time in Jiangling. After Wan Qili was recalled to the chancellery and had the power of his office to draw on, father and son had used that leverage to obtain several specimens from Ling Tuisi directly.

“What!” Li Kexiu went pale. He stepped back instinctively.

Wan Gui closed the wooden box again and smiled reassuringly. “There is no cause for alarm, General. The flower is sealed by a special preservation method — the toxic vapors cannot escape.”

Wan Qili pressed the point home: “Place this flower in Song Qingshu’s room. No matter how high his martial arts stand, he will not escape it.”

A troubled look crossed Li Kexiu’s face. “This is… Song Qingshu once saved my life, after all. I wish to neutralize him — not take his life.”

Wan Qili concealed a cold sneer. You spent considerable effort plotting against the man, and now that you have the means you perform this pantomime of conscience. But he kept that thought to himself and said smoothly: “The General may set his mind at rest entirely. The flower’s vapors will render Song Qingshu unconscious after a few breaths — he will never come near enough to touch the petals themselves. Without skin contact, his life is not in danger.”

Wan Gui shot his grandfather a sideways look of surprise. The Heavenly Devil Flower was known as the king of all poisons — three breaths of its fragrance and there was no cure. Why was his grandfather deceiving Li Kexiu?

He caught himself almost immediately and understood. He smiled and echoed the assurance: “Quite so. Exactly as my grandfather says.”

Li Kexiu let out a slow breath. “Then I am satisfied.”

“The hour is late. Tomorrow, once daylight comes, draw Song Qingshu out of his room on some pretext — we will place the flower inside while he is away.” Wan Qili spoke with practiced ease, inwardly satisfied. Li Kexiu was still wavering between two paths — but once the deed was done and could not be undone, he would have no choice but to commit fully.

The three of them spent the rest of the night in that room, quietly working through the details of the following day’s action and mapping out how Li Kexiu would move his forces north the moment Song Qingshu was incapacitated, absorbing the Golden Serpent Camp’s territory as swiftly as possible. Without noticing it, they talked through until the sky outside turned pale — but with something this significant at hand, none of them felt the slightest fatigue.

At dawn, Wan Qili and Wan Gui remained in the room to refine the final details. 

Li Kexiu went out to attend to his guests.

After a night’s rest, Ruyang Palace’s fighters had recovered their full combat readiness. Wang Baobao surveyed the situation — the business here was concluded, his losses had been severe — and, brushing aside the halfhearted attempts to detain him, announced his departure. The mutual awkwardness between his group and the Southern Song delegation was real: an accommodation had been reached, but old wounds from captivity and humiliation do not simply dissolve in the warmth of a new agreement. Better to part while the goodwill was still fresh, before some friction eroded what had been built.

Wang Baobao was resolved. The Southern Song side, for their part, did not press very hard.

Li Kexiu offered an armed escort. Wang Baobao declined without a moment’s hesitation: “If this prince cannot protect himself, how does he intend to conquer the world?”

Song Qingshu nodded inwardly. With the strength that remained among Ruyang Palace’s fighters, even a fresh assault from the full Mount Song contingent lying in ambush would not be enough to hold them.

Li Kexiu did not insist — and was in fact quietly relieved to see them go. The last thing he needed was Ruyang Palace underfoot tonight. He offered a few perfunctory words of farewell and saw Wang Baobao’s party off.

“Listen here, you rascal — when you eventually make it to Mongolia, don’t forget to come find us at Ruyang Palace,” Wang Baobao murmured, pulling Song Qingshu aside just before he left. “You’ve gone and swept Minmin off her feet — you still owe the family an explanation.”

“Naturally. I will come to Ruyang Palace in person to formally propose when the time comes.” Song Qingshu smiled on the surface while inwardly cursing his own ingenuity. He had fabricated a private betrothal with Zhao Min to broker the peace talks — and now he was quietly terrified of what Zhao Min’s reaction might be if she ever found out.

Wang Baobao departed satisfied.

Li Kexiu then laid on a lavish banquet for the Southern Song delegation — ostensibly to welcome them back, in truth to help settle nerves after a harrowing ordeal. Wine flowed, toasts were exchanged, and the gathering achieved something approaching genuine warmth.

During the feast, Han Dingxiao expressed his gratitude to Song Qingshu with evident sincerity. Song Qingshu deflected the credit and drew Lu Guanying forward, recounting how Lu Guanying had remained unfailingly loyal throughout — working tirelessly behind the scenes to secure their rescue. Han Dingxiao was visibly moved and rose from his seat personally to toast Lu Guanying, leaving that young man thoroughly overwhelmed and deeply grateful that Song Qingshu had thought to do this for him.

Afterward Song Qingshu made a point of raising his cup with Lu You and Xin Qiji. In his previous life they had been among the figures he admired most — to be drinking at the same table with them was something he could not help but find quietly extraordinary.

Lu You and Xin Qiji were not entirely free of perplexity themselves — Song Qingshu’s reputation and standing in this world already exceeded theirs by a considerable margin, and they had not quite expected this. It was only when Song Qingshu mentioned his appreciation of their poetry that everyone relaxed and understood.

“Fanweng and Jiaxuan’s mastery of verse is truly without compare in our dynasty,” Han Dingxiao said expansively. “Aside from the late Master Dongpo in former times, I cannot think of who would stand beside them.” He was pleased enough to see his people growing closer to Song Qingshu — it would only smooth the path of future cooperation.

Among all those present, Cheng Yaojia alone was a storm of mixed feelings. Song Qingshu becoming friendly with Xin Qiji was one thing — but watching him toast Lu You with brotherly warmth, talking and laughing as though they were old friends — she thought darkly to herself: Call yourself an admirer of the man — and then go and bed his nephew’s wife…

Memories of a certain nature surfaced unbidden at that thought, and her cheeks went warm. She reached for her wine cup quickly to cover her expression.

Across the table, Ding had been watching her in quiet amusement — catching those soft, lingering glances that strayed to Song Qingshu when Cheng Yaojia thought no one was looking. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of Ding’s lips.

The banquet ran on for several hours. When at last the guests dispersed and the hall emptied, Song Qingshu finally found his moment to seek out Li Kexiu. He studied the man’s face with a look of mild, almost playful inquiry.

“Now then, Uncle Li — what exactly have you been scheming lately?”

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