Flower Stealing Master

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Seeing his grave expression, the two women also fell silent and listened intently. Zhou Zhiruo had now achieved some success in cultivating the *Nine Yin Scripture*, and her internal strength had advanced by leaps and bounds. Unfortunately, the sound of the rain outside was too loud. She could only vaguely make out breathing within—as for how many people were inside, or even if there was anyone at all, she wasn’t entirely certain.

Lan Fenghuang fared even worse. Her skill was insufficient. She strained her ears for half the day but heard nothing beyond the pattering rain.

Though the two women couldn’t discern the situation inside, given Song Qingshu’s current level of cultivation, anyone he deemed a top-tier master was certainly no ordinary opponent. Zhou Zhiruo’s face showed concern. “We don’t know if those inside are friend or foe. Perhaps we should find somewhere else, to avoid conflict.”

Song Qingshu laughed. “I don’t mind either way. But with such heavy rain outside, if you two young ladies get your clothes soaked through, it’ll be almost as good as wearing nothing at all. Is that what you want?”

The two women’s cheeks flushed slightly. By now, their dresses were already somewhat damp. If Song Qingshu hadn’t used his exceptional Qinggong to swiftly bring them here, their clothes would likely already be clinging tightly to their skin.

Both women were martial artists, so they weren’t worried about catching a chill. Their greatest concern was inadvertently revealing too much. Though Lan Fenghuang was outgoing and bold, Song Qingshu was not her lover after all—how could she bare herself so unreservedly before him? Zhou Zhiruo, being quiet and shy by nature, naturally didn’t want to end up in such an embarrassing state either.

Seeing their predicament, Song Qingshu smiled. “Don’t worry. With me by your side, even a dragon’s den or tiger’s lair is worth entering.”

Only then did Zhou Zhiruo and Lan Fenghuang snap out of it. With Song Qingshu’s current martial prowess, others should be the ones giving him a wide berth—why should they retreat?

Song Qingshu led the two women toward the dilapidated temple. As he pushed open the door, he hesitated for a moment, then produced a silver-white iron mask to cover his face. When they had left the tea stall, he had already resumed his original appearance. But since they were still within Southern Song territory, if someone guessed he was Jia Baoyu, it would be troublesome indeed.

Once inside, all three halted involuntarily. A bonfire burned in the center of the ruined temple, and scattered around it were eighteen masked men in black. Noticing the commotion at the door, they all turned their sharp gazes in this direction.

Sensing the faint killing intent in their eyes, Zhou Zhiruo and Lan Fenghuang felt somewhat unsettled. They instinctively leaned closer to Song Qingshu, gradually calming down only after feeling his presence.

“We’re just here to take shelter from the rain. We’ll leave shortly,” Song Qingshu said with a casual smile, as if he had noticed nothing unusual. Then he took Zhou Zhiruo and Lan Fenghuang to a corner and sat down cross-legged.

The masked men inside exchanged glances. They had assumed that anyone entering the temple would take one look at the situation and wisely leave. They had important business and didn’t want to stir up trouble, so they would have let it slide.

But this man and two women had simply walked straight in—completely unexpected.

*Were they fearless because of their skill?*

That was the first thought that popped into every masked man’s mind, but it was quickly dismissed. Of the three, only one young woman had decent martial arts. The other woman’s skill wasn’t even worth their notice. As for the man, there was no trace of true qi fluctuation from his body—they dismissed him entirely.

The masked men exchanged glances through their eyes. In the end, no one spoke. They simply sent someone to close the temple door again, then each returned to their seated positions.

Apart from the crackling of wood in the fire, there was no sound inside the temple. The masked men’s eyes occasionally swept toward Song Qingshu and his companions, making the atmosphere extremely eerie.

Song Qingshu frowned inwardly. *These masked men all have long, steady breaths and restrained, refined auras. Their martial arts cultivation probably rivals Qiu Qianren’s. They should be renowned figures in the wulin. But no matter how hard I rack my brain, I can’t guess their identities.*

After all, Qiu Qianren’s martial arts were second only to the Five Ultimates. Yet here in this temple were eighteen masters of the same caliber as Qiu Qianren—two of them even faintly approaching the level of the Five Ultimates. What an incredibly powerful force this was. Why were they completely unknown in the wulin?

Uncomfortable from their rain-soaked clothes, Lan Fenghuang gathered some weeds and dry wood nearby and started another fire. With so many strange men in the temple, she and Zhou Zhiruo naturally couldn’t take off their outer garments to dry them by the fire. They could only sit as close to the flames as possible, trying to dry their clothes while still wearing them.

The heat of the fire gradually dispelled the chill from their bodies. Zhou Zhiruo’s gaze drifted unconsciously toward the shrine. When she made out several figures faintly visible behind the tattered cloth hanging there, her heart leaped with shock.

Song Qingshu was deep in thought when Zhou Zhiruo quietly poked him in the side. Her beautiful face was filled with astonishment.

Following her gaze, Song Qingshu froze as well. Bound in a distant corner were several people—none other than the Vajra Sect Master and the Xuanming Elders. Their hair was disheveled and their clothes stained with blood, clear signs of a fierce battle. Their eyes were tightly shut, their condition—alive or dead—unknown.

*If these people have been taken down, what about Zhao Min?* A surge of alarm rose in Song Qingshu’s heart. He quickly looked to the side and met the gaze of a young woman who had turned her head inquisitively at the noise. Who else could it be but Zhao Min!

Zhao Min was also bound with her hands behind her back to a pillar. Her hair was slightly disheveled, lacking its usual delicate elegance and noble air, but this lent her an added touch of pitiful vulnerability.

Her clothes were intact, and there was no blood on her, suggesting she wasn’t injured. But her eyes revealed that she had suffered quite a fright.

By now, Zhao Min had also recognized Zhou Zhiruo and Lan Fenghuang. As for Song Qingshu, she instinctively took him for Jia Baoyu, assuming that Zhou Zhiruo had put a mask on him to conceal his identity.

Seeing familiar faces, Zhao Min’s face first lit up with joy. But then, recalling something, she urgently signaled to Zhou Zhiruo, indicating that they should leave quickly.

Zhou Zhiruo’s heart tightened. Though she couldn’t sense the exact level of these masked men the way Song Qingshu could, she knew all too well the martial arts of the Xuanming Elders and the Vajra Sect Master. They were all top-tier masters. Add to that the many warriors of the Mongolian delegation—such a force had been completely overwhelmed and captured by these masked men. Their strength was truly terrifying.

The other Mongolian warriors were nowhere to be seen in the temple. They had likely been killed and their bodies discarded in the wilderness.

Song Qingshu and the two women exchanged glances, each seeing the gravity reflected in the others’ eyes.

*Who are these people, and why have they attacked the Mongolian delegation?* Song Qingshu’s heart was full of questions.

The Xuanming Elders, who had been sitting with their heads drooped listlessly, now noticed the commotion and looked up. When they recognized Zhou Zhiruo, delight appeared on their faces. They called out hoarsely, “Didn’t we just tell you that Jia Baoyu had already been taken away? You wouldn’t believe us. Well, look—the ones who took him are right before your eyes.” Their voices were raspy and strained, their breathing scattered and weak—clearly, they were severely injured.

When Zhao Min saw the Xuanming Elders looking in that direction, she knew trouble was coming. Before she could stop them, the words had already spilled out. She felt both angry and guilty.

Her relationship with Zhou Zhiruo had never been warm, nor did she harbor any particular fondness for her, but their rivalry had always been a contest between honorable opponents. She had never wished for Zhou Zhiruo’s death.

If the disparity in strength were small, Zhao Min might have exposed Zhou Zhiruo’s identity herself, employing a “drive the tiger to devour the wolf” strategy. But these masked men—where had such top-tier masters come from? Even the Vajra Sect Master and his group had been utterly defeated. Though Zhou Zhiruo’s martial arts were formidable, she was at best on par with the Xuanming Elders. If her identity were revealed now, it wouldn’t be driving a tiger to devour a wolf—it would be driving a tiger to devour a little white rabbit.

More importantly, as long as these masked men hadn’t found Jia Baoyu, she herself was safe. And as long as Zhou Zhiruo left this place, Zhao Min was confident that she would find a way to rescue her.

Zhao Min didn’t know why she was so confident. Logically, Zhou Zhiruo should hate her to the bone. Yet over the years of their covert struggle, a mutual respect had gradually developed between them. Zhao Min asked herself: if their positions were reversed, she would definitely try everything to rescue the other.

Of course, all of this depended on Zhou Zhiruo leaving safely. Now that she had unexpectedly encountered these masters, even if she wanted to help, she was powerless. Zhao Min knew that Zhou Zhiruo was intelligent enough to analyze from their dire state just how formidable these masked men were. She wouldn’t act rashly. Instead, she would leave and notify other experts—Ouyang Feng, for instance, or… Song Qingshu.

Unfortunately, those two fools, the Xuanming Elders, had ruined everything. Zhao Min’s face turned ashen. She hastily shouted, “Have you lost your minds? Why are you accusing random people like that?”

The Xuanming Elders were taken aback. Not grasping her implication at all, they blurted out, “Zhou Zhiruo is as beautiful as a goddess, and Lan Fenghuang is enchantingly seductive. How could we mistake them?”

Zhao Min closed her eyes, lamenting inwardly. *These two accomplish nothing but bungle everything!*

Zhou Zhiruo was quick-witted. She soon realized that Zhao Min was trying to protect her identity. The thought that Zhao Min, whose own life hung by a thread, was still trying to save her stirred a strange feeling in her heart.

The masked men, roused by the Xuanming Elders’ shouts, all rose to their feet. The leader chuckled darkly. “So it’s Emei Sect Leader Zhou and Five Poisons Sect Leader Lan. We truly failed to recognize such eminent figures.” Though his words were polite, his tone was thoroughly mocking, clearly dismissing the two women as insignificant.

Song Qingshu noticed that their gazes kept drifting toward him. His scalp tingled. *These people aren’t perverts, are they? They’ve got two exquisitely beautiful women right here, but they keep staring at me. What’s that about?*

Then it dawned on him: they were taking him for Jia Baoyu.

Remembering Jia Sidao’s parting words, Song Qingshu finally understood what arrangements he had made. He also guessed the identity of these masked men in black.

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