Flower Stealing Master

“Why waste words? Take this!” Linghu Chong had no patience for further conversation. Pushing off the ground with his feet, he thrust his sword directly at Song Qingshu. The long sword let out a dragon’s cry as its sword energy seemed to merge with the moonlight, enveloping the area roughly ten feet around Song Qingshu from afar.

Given Linghu Chong’s temperament, he would not normally take the initiative to attack first. However, he knew that Song Qingshu’s martial arts were unfathomably deep, so he could not afford the slightest carelessness.

That said, he was always an upright man. Even when striking first, he had given fair warning and did not resort to a sneak attack.

If a third party had been watching, they would have been horrified to see Linghu Chong seemingly transform into several figures at once—sometimes in front, sometimes behind, sometimes above, sometimes below. The tip of his sword flickered unpredictably as he drew closer to Song Qingshu along an incredibly arcane trajectory.

“The Nine Swords of Dugu truly live up to their reputation.” Song Qingshu clicked his tongue in admiration. Finally, his body moved. He took a single step forward, and in an instant, the brilliant, overwhelming storm of sword shadows vanished without a trace. The courtyard fell into an eerie silence.

Staring at the tip of his sword, now firmly trapped between two of Song Qingshu’s fingers, Linghu Chong’s face flushed crimson.

“Impossible!”

That was the only thought in his mind right now. In his life, the most perilous battle he had ever fought was when he and Ren Woxing had faced off against Dongfang Bubai. Back then, Dongfang Bubai could eliminate a top expert with a single move of his body. Despite that terrifying speed, Linghu Chong had still found the ability to counterattack, using the subtlety of the Nine Swords of Dugu combined with a mutually destructive fighting style. Even Dongfang Bubai had been unable to overcome him for a time.

But now, Linghu Chong felt that both his internal energy and swordsmanship had reached a new level compared to his time on Blackwood Cliff. Yet the sword strike he had been so confident in had been deflected with such casual ease.

The greatest characteristic of the Nine Swords of Dugu was to spot a flaw in the opponent’s technique, then exploit it—striking after the opponent but landing first, winning in a single move. Previously, although Dongfang Bubai had been fast, his moves still had flaws—it was just that those flaws appeared and vanished in a flash, making them difficult to grasp. But facing Song Qingshu, Linghu Chong hadn’t even seen his opponent’s move before he was already at a disadvantage.

He had a strange sensation, as if he had lost memory for a few breaths. He had no idea what had happened in the interim. When his memory returned, his sword tip was already caught between the other man’s fingers.

Yet he was also acutely aware that he had been fully conscious the entire time. And yet, his sword tip had been caught in that inexplicable fashion.

Song Qingshu smiled faintly. “Brother Linghu, you are no match for me. Why be so stubborn?”

Although the Nine Swords of Dugu were practically a rule-based martial art, they still existed within the confines of the painting, so to speak. His own “Distance as Close as the Ends of the Earth” had subtly broken through the constraints of space. In that instant, the two of them had not even been in the same dimension. Naturally, Linghu Chong could not see his strike.

Hearing these words, Linghu Chong’s expression turned extremely ugly. He had always been fearless by nature. With a cold snort, he channeled his internal energy through the sword tip to attack his opponent’s body.

He thought to himself, *I may not be able to see your techniques, but a contest of internal energy is a real, undeniable matter. I refuse to believe you can handle this as easily!*

“A contest of internal energy?” Song Qingshu immediately understood his intention and said wryly, “Brother Linghu, the foundation of your Cosmic Absorption Technique is unstable. If you face a true master, it will end up harming you instead… Hmm?” He suddenly looked surprised, realizing that Linghu Chong was not trying to absorb his energy with the Cosmic Absorption Technique. Instead, a vast, powerful stream of internal energy was surging through the sword tip toward him.

It turned out that Linghu Chong was wary of Song Qingshu’s immense internal power. Fearing he might invite a wolf into his home and damage his own meridians, he had not used the Cosmic Absorption Technique from the start. Instead, he was engaging in a straightforward, disciplined contest of internal energy.

Linghu Chong’s expression was grave, nowhere near as relaxed as his opponent’s. At this critical moment of the energy contest, how could he dare to speak and leak his true qi? At the same time, he was filled with horror. His opponent was casually chatting while matching him in internal energy. How many levels higher was his skill?

“This internal energy…” Song Qingshu frowned slightly. He felt a familiar quality and, after a moment’s thought, understood. “So it’s Shaolin Temple’s Marrow Cleansing Scripture. Congratulations, Brother Linghu, on learning Shaolin’s supreme scripture. If I’m not mistaken, Abbot Fangzheng taught it to you, didn’t he?”

Linghu Chong was even more shocked. How did it feel like nothing could escape this man’s notice?

Song Qingshu was similarly full of complex emotion, a mix of reflection and resignation. It seemed that this world would correct the storyline to some extent, nudging it toward the original plot. Linghu Chong had indeed learned the Marrow Cleansing Scripture.

At the same time, Song Qingshu felt a sense of caution. Abbot Fangzheng would not have taught Linghu Chong the Marrow Cleansing Scripture without reason. Shaolin must have had a hand in it. Over the years, he had made no small number of enemies in Shaolin. When they learned of the grudge between Linghu Chong and him, they used Linghu Chong to check him. What a clever calculation.

“Those lingering ghosts,” Song Qingshu muttered with rising irritation. He thought to himself that one day he would make all those bald monks return to lay life to quell his anger. But he quickly abandoned the thought. Shaolin had a thousand years of heritage, after all. Moreover, there were many good monks in Shaolin. It would be rash to condemn them all.

“Come to think of it, the Sanskrit version of the Marrow Cleansing Scripture is still in my possession. But with no one who understands Sanskrit, I haven’t been able to unlock its secrets.” Song Qingshu frowned inwardly. In this world, those who understood Sanskrit were rarer than the Crested Ibis in later generations. After some thought, the only people in the Jin-Yong universe who knew Sanskrit were Huang Shang, Reverend Yideng, Yideng’s junior disciple brother, Jiumozhi, and a few senior monks at Shaolin.

He was enemies with Shaolin, not friends, and the Marrow Cleansing Scripture originally belonged to Shaolin, so naturally he could not seek help from them. First candidate eliminated. Although Jiumozhi had a good personal relationship with him, his character was unscrupulous. Song Qingshu worried that if Jiumozhi learned the Marrow Cleansing Scripture, the harm he could cause would know no bounds. He also feared that Jiumozhi might deliberately mistranslate it out of mischief. Huang Shang was a scholar of heaven-reaching erudition. He had written the General Outline of the Nine Yin Manual in Sanskrit, so he clearly understood it. But unfortunately, he had likely already passed away. After thinking it over, Yideng and his martial brother were the most suitable candidates. However, Song Qingshu had been running east and west recently and hadn’t yet found the opportunity to visit them.

And even if he found them, getting them to translate it was a major problem. Song Qingshu was no saint and did not want to share divine arts with outsiders. Moreover, he had obtained the Marrow Cleansing Scripture from Shaolin through deception. If news leaked out, it would inevitably cause another huge uproar.

As for the diagrams that You Tanzhi had fortuitously discovered on the Sanskrit Marrow Cleansing Scripture, they had been painted with a medicinal herb from Tianzhu. They appeared when wet and vanished when dry. The postures and energy flow pathways in those diagrams were no longer the original Marrow Cleansing Scripture but a very mystical yogic art from Tianzhu, transmitted from Magadha. It was called the *Yogacara of the Desires, Samadhi, Severance of Practice, and Accomplishment of the Divine Foot Sutra*—completely unrelated to the Marrow Cleansing Scripture. [G: Tianzhu is Ancient China’s name for India]

The Divine Foot Sutra was a wondrous technique for dispelling internal demons during cultivation, a yogic secret art created by ancient sages of Tianzhu. Thus, the figures depicted were also Tianzhu monks.

On second thought, Song Qingshu realized that the *Yogacara of the Desires, Samadhi, Severance of Practice, and Accomplishment of the Divine Foot Sutra* might be even more beneficial to him than the Marrow Cleansing Scripture. He practiced the Tantric *Joyful Meditation Method*, which was most vulnerable to the invasion of inner demons. And the greatest efficacy of the Divine Foot Sutra was precisely to dispel the inner demons that arose during practice.

Noticing that Song Qingshu alternated between frowning and smiling, Linghu Chong thought he might be suffering from some deviation. Overjoyed, he poured even more internal energy toward him. But no matter how much energy he sent to attack, it was like throwing mud into the ocean—not a single ripple of response.

Lost in thought, Song Qingshu did not notice the anomaly. He merely neutralized the attacks instinctively. No one knew how long passed, but Linghu Chong felt his internal energy nearly exhausted, at the point of utter depletion. All he could do was grit his teeth and endure.

Finally, at the last moment, Song Qingshu snapped out of his reverie and gradually withdrew his energy. Linghu Chong could no longer hold on. He collapsed to one knee on the ground, drenched as if he had just been pulled out of water.

Song Qingshu sighed. “Brother Linghu, I have always truly respected your character and your broad-mindedness. But now that Yingying and I are happily married, why do you still press so hard? For the sake of the help you gave me last time in Yangzhou, I will not make things difficult for you this time. You may go.”

In his heart, he knew full well that repeatedly letting Linghu Chong go was like raising a tiger to bring disaster. Perhaps one day he would pay the price for his arrogance. But in his previous life, he had always admired Linghu Chong’s free-spirited, carefree, open-minded nature, as well as his pure, jade-like character. Moreover, he had used some dishonorable means to take Ren Yingying away, and a part of him always felt indebted.

Having come to this chaotic world and undergone all kinds of trials, the surface of Song Qingshu’s heart had grown harder. But deep down, he was still a kind person, clinging to some ridiculous principles. It was precisely that trace of kindness and principle that had kept him from undergoing a drastic personality change as his martial arts advanced by leaps and bounds, sending him down the demonic path.

After a long time, Linghu Chong struggled back to his feet. He looked at Song Qingshu with complicated eyes. “Even if you let me go this time, the next time I have an opportunity, I won’t show mercy.”

Song Qingshu smiled faintly. “I already said, this time I’m repaying the favor from your last assistance. Don’t take it to heart. One last piece of advice: instead of wasting time on me, you’d be better off spending your energy winning back your junior sister’s heart.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.” Linghu Chong snorted, then turned and staggered away. Perhaps because he had been so thoroughly defeated, his figure was filled with loneliness.

Song Qingshu shook his head and was about to go back to rest when something occurred to him. “Oh, right. Lu Wushuang’s injured leg needs a change of medicine every few days. I didn’t expect to leave first thing tomorrow morning, so I haven’t given her the remaining Black Jade Interruptus Ointment yet.”

He was about to call a maidservant and have her pass along the medicine, but then he thought of how precious the Black Jade Interruptus Ointment was. If anything went wrong in the process, Lu Wushuang’s leg injury might never heal. After some hesitation, he decided to personally place it in her hands. So he made his way under the cover of night toward Lu Wushuang’s pavilion.

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