Flower Stealing Master

“Yes, so what?” Song Qingshu replied with a faint smile.

The leader of the black-clad group remained silent, but his subordinates instantly erupted: “Such arrogance!”

“Boss, stop wasting words on him. Let’s gang up and cripple him!”

“I refuse to believe he can take on so many of us by himself!”

Ren Yingying felt a chill in her heart. She had previously crossed paths with these black-clad men and knew their combat strength was not inferior to the Ten Elders of the Sun Moon Holy Cult. The leader, in particular, concealed his true power, giving her a sense of oppression that nearly rivaled her father’s.

‘Why is this man so confident?’ 

For a moment, Ren Yingying found herself in a daze. The figure before her, standing tall with his back turned, suddenly seemed even more mysterious and imposing.

Wu Yunzhu, meanwhile, was overcome with emotion. In her mind, everything the man did was for her. After all, he didn’t know her father, and the beautiful sister beside him didn’t seem to know him either. If not to avenge her, then what other reason could there be?

At this moment, in her eyes, this big brother had unknowingly replaced the Golden Serpent King, Song Qingshu. After all, the Golden Serpent King was just a fictional figure from stories, nothing as real as the man before her.

The leader of the black-clad group raised his hand, signaling for silence, and then addressed Song Qingshu: “We’ve always adhered to the rules of the martial world and dislike taking advantage of others’ smaller numbers. Since there are three of you, we’ll each send out three people to compete in three rounds. If you win, we won’t say a word and will surrender our lives. But if you lose, today’s matter will be settled right here. What do you say?”

As soon as he finished, the others began clamoring: “Boss, why follow the rules with them? Let’s just rush in and overwhelm him! I don’t believe he’s invincible!”

“My decision is made. No need to argue.” The leader snorted coldly. His authority was so high that, despite their reluctance, the others fell silent.

In truth, he had no choice. With the Qinggong Song Qingshu had displayed earlier, swarming him would only lead to chaos, with their own people likely getting injured. A one-on-one match offered a better chance to exploit any weaknesses. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Song Qingshu chuckled. “You’ve planned this well—three people on each side, but we only have two women here. One of them doesn’t know martial arts and is as defenseless as a noble lady who can’t even catch a chicken.”

Wu Yunzhu immediately protested internally. She thought to herself, ‘When I was little, I used to catch chickens in the garden. How can you say I’m defenseless?’

The leader responded in a deep voice, “If you’re not confident, you can take all three matches yourself.”

“Fine, as you wish. Tell me how you want to compete,” Song Qingshu replied. He was mindful of the large number of opponents. While he wasn’t worried about himself, a chaotic fight could endanger Suo Etu, Wu Yunzhu, or even Ren Yingying. Knowing the leader’s intentions were less than honorable, he agreed nonetheless.

“Three matches: fists, sword techniques, and internal strength,” the leader said gravely. He had carefully considered the situation. Song Qingshu’s earlier display was largely due to his Qinggong. When it came to actual combat skills, his group might not be weaker. ᚱ

“Very well. Who’s first?” Song Qingshu stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, clearly intending to take on all three matches.

Ren Yingying grew anxious and quickly interjected, “Senior, let me take one match for you.” She thought to herself, ‘Although this senior is highly skilled, fighting three matches in a row might be risky. If I take one match, it could relieve some pressure. As long as I don’t face the leader, I won’t lose too easily.’

The leader gestured to one of his men. “You go.”

The man nodded and stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. Among their group, known for their skills across Three Mountains and Five Peaks, he was recognized as the strongest in palm techniques. Years ago, he had killed a sect leader with a single palm strike, shocking the martial world.

As the man approached, Song Qingshu appeared distracted. Inwardly, he lamented his limited martial knowledge outside of swordsmanship. If Dongfang Muxue were here, she would have already deduced these people’s origins, even if they were hiding their true skills. But he had to rely on these matches to uncover their martial roots.

Seeing Song Qingshu distracted, the man grinned viciously and struck toward his chest. The force of the palm created a terrifying whistling sound.

Ren Yingying’s expression changed drastically. She cried out, “The Pagoda-Bearing Palm! Be careful, Senior!”

Ding Mian, the leader of the Thirteen Protectors of the Mount Song Sect, had unparalleled palm strength. In a battle at Hengyang City, he had killed Liu Zhengfeng with a single palm strike and injured Master Ding Yi, forcing her back with bl0od spewing from her mouth. His palm technique ranked among the best in the Five Sacred Mountain Sword Sects Alliance.

“Looks like they are indeed from the Mount Song Sect,” Song Qingshu muttered, standing his ground and meeting the palm with his own.

Ding Mian was overjoyed. ‘If you were fully focused, I’d be cautious, but your carelessness means death!’ He added more strength to his strike, intending to severely injure Song Qingshu.

The leader initially smiled at Song Qingshu’s apparent recklessness but suddenly noticed a faint crystalline sheen on the edge of Song Qingshu’s palm. The surrounding light seemed to blur and distort. Alarmed, he shouted, “Junior Brother, be careful!”

Ding Mian dismissed the warning. ‘The leader is being overly cautious. This is a golden opportunity to strike him down!’

When their palms met, Ding Mian’s smug expression froze. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he staggered back, biting his lip in shock.

“What’s wrong?” The others noticed his unusual state and gathered around. One accidentally touched his arm and cried out, “It’s broken?”

The leader rushed to check Ding Mian’s pulse and found his arm completely limp, without a trace of strength. His heart sank. Ding Mian’s arm wasn’t just broken; it had been shattered inch by inch. He would likely never use it again.

Glaring at Song Qingshu, the leader said furiously, “You went too far!”

Song Qingshu replied indifferently, “If he had shown restraint, he wouldn’t be so severely injured. Blame him for his own malice.”

The leader’s face darkened, his expression fluctuating. After a long pause, he finally said, “Fine. I’ll face you in the second match—let’s compete in internal strength!” 

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