Reborn Song Qingshu: Besieging Bright Peak at the Start

Wu Lie leaned against the broken stone steps, one hand covering his chest and the other supporting himself on the ground.

He witnessed this breathtaking battle firsthand, seeing the female demon who killed his daughter and slaughtered his entire family being repelled by this young man with a single palm strike and forced to flee in a sorry state. At this moment, he was still immersed in a huge shock and fear, unable to speak for a long time.

He watched as Song Qingshu walked towards him, his lips trembled twice, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he dared not speak for a moment.

Song Qingshu stopped three steps away from him, with his hands behind his back.

The twilight cast a long shadow of him across the scrambled bluestone ground.

He looked down at the Snowstorm Manor owner who had miraculously survived, his expression calm and composed, speaking slowly and deliberately as if he were discussing a trivial matter.

"Master Wu, now we can have a proper talk."

Wu Lie hurriedly struggled to cup his hands in greeting, his voice hoarse and trembling with the relief of surviving a disaster:

"Many thanks to Young Hero Song for saving my life... I could never repay such a debt even if I were to be shattered to pieces... cough cough..."

Song Qingshu looked down at him, making no attempt to help him up. His words were polite, but his tone was utterly devoid of warmth:

"Master Wu, you flatter me. There's no need for anything like being shattered to pieces—you only need to give me one thing."

Wu Lie was taken aback, his heart skipped a beat, but he forced a smile and quickly said:

"Young hero, whatever you command, I will obey without question! There are still savings in the manor for gold and silver; please take as much as you like, young hero. I only beg you to spare my life..."

"I want the secret manual of the One-Finger Divine Skill."

  

Song Qingshu's voice was very soft, as if he were just mentioning it casually.

But these six words, when they reached Wu Lie's ears, were no less powerful than a blow from Granny Jin Hua's golden staff.

The gratitude on Wu Lie's face froze instantly, and a flash of resentment and anger quickly crossed the depths of his eyes.

That old woman, Granny Jin Hua, came for the Dragon-Slaying Saber and slaughtered his entire family; she was a ruthless and brazen thug.

But this young hero Song from the Wudang Sect, after saving people, immediately turned around and demanded the secret techniques passed down in his Wu family. How is he any different from that old woman, Granny Jin Hua?

He suppressed the surging blood and anger in his throat, coughing up blood as he said:

"Young Master Song, you jest. The One-Finger Divine Skill is a closely guarded secret technique of the Duan family of Dali. Although my Wu family ancestors were related to the Duan family, that inner cultivation method was lost for generations during the wars. I am of dull talent and only know a few rudimentary acupoint striking techniques, which are utterly insignificant in your presence. Where would you find such a secret manual? You must have been misled by some rumors..."

"Lost in the art?" A mocking smile slowly crept onto Song Qingshu's lips.

"Wu Santong was one of the four great disciples of Emperor Duan Zhixing of the Southern Dynasty. His mastery of the One-Finger Divine Skill was unmatched outside the Duan family back then. Would his direct descendants have lost the One-Finger Divine Skill? Master Wu, do you think I would believe that?"

He paused, his tone growing colder, enunciating each word clearly:

"It seems you're in for a tough time."

Before he finished speaking, he took a half step forward to the right, lightly raised his right palm, and gently placed his hand on Wu Lie's shoulder.

The gesture was so casual, like patting an old friend on the shoulder.

Wu Lie's pupils suddenly contracted.

He felt a surge of scorching internal energy pour into his Jianjing acupoint from the edge of Song Qingshu's palm, and then flow down the meridians like magma.

That internal force was extremely masculine and pure, yet it was incomparably domineering. Wherever it passed, it felt as if a red-hot iron rod had been pierced into the meridians, and the eight extraordinary meridians seemed to be melted in that instant.

The internal energy he had cultivated for decades was like snow meeting boiling water in the face of this external true energy; it was instantly shattered and completely destroyed.

Wu Lie opened his mouth wide, wanting to scream, but found that no sound could come out of his throat at all—

That true energy had already sealed his speech acupoint.

He could only watch helplessly as the fiery true energy surged through his meridians, his muscles convulsing uncontrollably, his eyes bulging, veins popping on his forehead, and cold sweat pouring down his face like rain, soaking his clothes in no time.

"I only need to send my internal energy along the meridians, and in the time it takes to burn half an incense stick, I can evaporate all your essence and blood bit by bit."

By then, there won't be any visible external injuries, but the internal organs will be thoroughly cooked.

Song Qingshu's voice came down from above, his tone as calm as if he were explaining how to cook a dish, as if what was twitching under his palm was not a living person, but a piece of food to be processed.

"Master Wu, would you like to give it a try?"

Wu Lie could no longer hold on.

The excruciating pain of his meridians being burned far surpassed the sum of all the injuries he had ever suffered in his life. But even more terrifying than the pain was the utter indifference in Song Qingshu's tone—

This means that the person doesn't care whether he lives or dies, and if he says he'll steam him, he really will.

His psychological defenses completely collapsed at that moment, and he squeezed out a few indistinct sobs from deep in his throat, blinking desperately to signal.

Song Qingshu withdrew his hand, stood with his hands behind his back, and looked at him with a leisurely air.

The burning pain vanished instantly, as if it had never existed.

Wu Lie collapsed to the ground as if he had been pulled out of the water, panting heavily, his whole body still trembling uncontrollably.

He had lived most of his life and was considered a powerful figure in the southern foothills of Kunlun Mountain. He had never been treated like a fish on a chopping board.

But at this moment, besides fear, he couldn't even muster a thought of resistance. This young man in front of him, barely in his twenties, could be easily defeated by Granny Jin Hua with a single palm strike. Crushing him would be easier than Wu Lie crushing an ant.

Looking at Wu Lie's appearance, a thought flashed through Song Qingshu's mind:

Why do these villains have to suffer before they'll confess?

Why didn't you cooperate earlier? Why did you have to suffer a beating before you felt comfortable? Is this what they call "not shedding tears until you see the coffin"?

However, he glanced at the corpses scattered on the ground, then looked at Wu Lie, who was lying on the ground like a dead dog, and at his own words, "If you don't hand it over, I'll dry you up."

Suddenly, he felt that, according to the standards of the martial arts world's distinction between righteous and evil factions, his own style of doing things didn't seem like that of a young hero from a prestigious sect, but rather more like that of a ruthless villain.

So be it, he's a villain.

He doesn't care about being a hero or a villain; they're all just empty titles.

Moreover, when dealing with someone like Wu Lie, he felt no guilt whatsoever, no matter how ruthless he was.

He knew perfectly well how the two masters of Zhu Wu Lianhuan Manor had schemed against Zhang Wuji for the Dragon-Slaying Saber.

Using both honey traps and self-inflicted suffering on a teenager, trampling on his sincerity—this kind of scum doesn't deserve any pity.

He immediately suppressed these distracting thoughts and asked coldly, "Where is the secret manual hidden?"

"In...in the secret room of the ancestral hall behind the village..."

Wu Lie, panting heavily, laboriously raised one hand and pointed to the back of the main hall, his voice weak and feeble.

But a fleeting, almost imperceptible glint flashed in the depths of his eyes, vanishing in an instant.

"My leg is broken and I can't walk... Young Master Song, please help me... help me to get it..."

Song Qing remained outwardly calm, but inwardly he sneered.

The old man's eyes flashed quickly, but how could he escape his gaze?

After that exchange of blows, he had a clear understanding of Wu Lie's internal strength and the extent of his injuries.

This old man is definitely not so bad that he can't even walk.

His leg was broken? They were clearly trying to lure him into some kind of trap.

But he didn't care.

Faced with absolute overwhelming power, any conspiracy or trickery is nothing but a joke.

The old fox knows what kind of shit he's about to poop just by the way he wags his tail.

"A secret chamber in the ancestral hall?"

Song Qingshu looked at him with a half-smile.

"Since Master Wu has difficulty walking, then this junior will see you off."

As soon as he finished speaking, he reached out and grabbed Wu Lie by the back of his collar, lifting him up like a chick.

With a light tap of his foot, his figure floated several feet away like a wisp of smoke, and with a few leaps, he bypassed the main hall, passed through the corridor, and landed steadily in a secluded courtyard behind the manor.

In the courtyard stands a ancestral hall with blue bricks and gray tiles, and a plaque hangs in front of the door with the four characters "Wu Clan Ancestral Hall" written on it.

As the ancestral hall door was pushed open, a strong smell of incense ash wafted out.

The hall was dimly lit, with only a single lamp hanging from the beam, its dim light casting flickering shadows on the ancestral tablets covering the walls.

The ancestral tablets of the Wu family stood solemnly in rows, like silent eyes watching Song Qingshu, this uninvited guest, under the flickering lamplight.

Wu Lie, held in Song Qingshu's hand, pointed behind the offering table: "The secret room... is right behind the offering table..."

Song Qingshu put down Wu Lie and gestured for the other party to go and activate it.

Wu Lie staggered to the wall behind the offering table and pressed his hand into a blue brick.

With a click, the mechanism clicked and the wall slowly slid open to both sides, revealing a hidden door that could only accommodate one person at a time.

Beyond the hidden door was a dark stone staircase leading downwards.

"Master Wu, you go first."

Song Qingshu's tone left no room for doubt.

Wu Lie leaned against the wall and limped down the stone steps.

Song Qingshu followed three steps behind at a leisurely pace, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over each step and the stone walls on both sides.

His body was already filled with Nine Yang True Qi, and he could sense even the slightest mechanical sound.

At the end of the stone steps was a small, secret room with walls made of bluestone.

In the center was a stone table with a portrait of a monk on it, which Song Qingshu guessed should be Master Yideng.

The ashes in the incense burner had cooled, indicating that no one had offered sacrifices there for a long time.

Everything looked like an ordinary family secret room.

Wu Lie lowered his head, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes.

He crawled to the stone table, his hand trembling as he reached for the incense burner in front of the portrait, muttering, "The secret manual... is hidden under the incense burner... I will retrieve it for you, young hero..."

He touched the incense burner, but instead of picking it up directly, he gripped the base of the incense burner and twisted it forcefully to the left.

"Click".

The next instant, the stone slab beneath Song Qingshu's feet suddenly collapsed downwards, revealing a dark pit more than two zhang deep.

Dozens of sharpened iron spears were stuck upside down in the pit, their cold light gleaming. There were also hidden mechanisms on the stone walls. With three clangs, dozens of arrows were launched from the left and right sides of the stone walls and the ceiling above the trap.

This mechanism is extremely insidious in design.

Even if an ordinary expert reacts and leaps upwards the instant the stone slab collapses, he will be hit by arrows from both sides and above in mid-air, turning himself into a hedgehog.

The sound of arrows whistling through the air filled the secret chamber.

Wu Lie's face no longer showed any trace of the weakness he had just displayed.

His eyes gleamed, and a sinister, triumphant smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

That trembling, pathetic look he gave just now was all an act.

"You little bastard! You want the One-Finger Divine Skill?"

He spat fiercely into the pit, his voice filled with resentment and glee:

"This secret room is designed to kill fools like you who think they can do whatever they want just because they're good at martial arts!"

"What good is being a respectable person and having high martial arts skills? You still died at your grandfather's hands..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

A hand, with distinct knuckles, long and fair, silently reached out from below and clung to the edge of the pit.

Wu Lie froze, his pupils suddenly contracting.

The next moment, a green figure rose from the bottom of the pit, its clothes fluttering in the wind, and landed lightly on the edge of the pit.

He was completely unharmed, not even a single tear on the hem of his clothes.

He was speechless, thinking it was some kind of conspiracy or trickery. Why was it such an old and tired plot again?

Can't we try something new?

However, he quickly came to terms with it. After all, it was a traditional martial arts world, so what kind of tricks could the characters possibly pull?

Despite his precautions, his protective inner energy surged forth the instant the stone slab collapsed.

Just as he was about to fall into the pit, he drew his long sword from his waist and sliced ​​off the iron spear below. As for the arrows that were being shot at him, he didn't bother with them; they were stuck three inches away from him and could not go any further.

Anyone who designs a trap, especially if they're clever, will create something like the dungeon Zhao Min designed in Green Willow Manor.

After he fell into the trap, the area above was instantly sealed off, leaving him with no foothold below, which might have actually trapped him.

Since there was nothing there, he simply climbed up the stone wall.

"You...you..."

Wu Lie's eyes widened, and the sinister smile on his face froze into a deathly gray before he could even wipe it away. A gurgling sound came from his throat, and his whole body began to tremble uncontrollably.

Song Qingshu lowered his head and dusted off the dust on his clothes with a calm demeanor. He didn't even glance at Wu Lie, and his tone was as indifferent as if nothing had happened: "Master Wu, this trap is indeed more ingenious than I thought."

If it were an ordinary expert, they might actually have perished here.

He raised his eyes, his gaze falling on Wu Lie's pale face, and a slight smile curved his lips:

"But you saw with your own eyes that I shattered Granny Golden Flower's shower of flowers from afar, and you saw with your own eyes that I struck that old woman so hard she coughed up blood and fled. And you still think that a few iron rods and a few hidden arrows can take my life?"

The color drained completely from Wu Lie's face in an instant.

His legs went weak, and he collapsed to the ground, his teeth chattering, and his groin already wet.

"You've misunderstood me."

Song Qingshu leaned down slightly, his tone calm, "Or have I been too polite to you?"

Wu Lie finally realized what kind of person he was facing.

The young man before him was far more cunning and skilled in martial arts than he had ever imagined.

In the eyes of the other party, my little bit of cleverness is probably not even worth mentioning, let alone being a clown.

"Young Master Song... please spare my life..."

Wu Lie's voice was choked with sobs.

"I was bewitched... I will never dare to do it again... I will give you whatever you want, young hero..."

Song Qingshu looked down at him, his gaze as calm as a deep, still pool.

"I don't want to repeat myself a third time. Where's the secret manual?"

This time, Wu Lie dared not play any tricks. He scrambled to the stone table, fumbled behind the portrait for a while, and took out an object wrapped in layers of oilcloth. He held it above his head with trembling hands.

Song Qingshu took it and unwrapped the oilcloth layer by layer.

The outermost layer is waterproof tung oil cloth, the middle layer is wrapped with two layers of soft silk, and the innermost layer is a layer of fine parchment.

The thoughtfulness of wrapping it in layers shows how much the collector cherishes it.

Inside lay a yellowed ancient book, its cover bearing four characters written vertically: "The Manual of One-Finger Divine Skill".

Although the paper had turned yellow and brittle, the writing remained as clear as new.

Song Qingshu casually flipped through a few pages of fingering manual, and a surge of joy filled his heart.

This manual is not as mysterious as many secret manuals in the martial arts world. Instead, it clearly explains the cultivation methods, the route of internal energy circulation, the classification of grades, and even the key points of cultivation for each grade.

From the ninth rank to the first rank, the methods for advancing to each rank are accompanied by detailed illustrations and incantations.

It encompasses everything from how finger strength is condensed, how true energy travels along the arm and wrist, the angle and timing of finger strikes, and the generation and depletion of force.

After a cursory reading, Song Qingshu gained a clearer understanding of this finger technique.

The ranking of One-Finger Divine Skill is not based on the strength of the finger, but on the level of the method of applying force.

Those from the ninth to the seventh rank are considered beginners, capable only of injuring people with finger winds, possessing rudimentary finger strength and unable to control their movements freely.

Those who reach the sixth to fourth rank are considered to have entered the hall. Their finger strength gradually becomes more refined and pure, and they can control it at will. They can strike acupoints from a distance without damaging a person's meridians, and they can also open up major acupoints throughout a person's body and heal injuries with their finger strength.

Those at the third rank and above have entered the realm of perfection, their finger strength is concentrated and does not disperse, it is as fast as lightning, and they can attack multiple people at the same time, combining offense and defense.

The first-class finger strength has even reached the level of "splitting gold and shattering stones from a distance of several feet".

Emperor Duan Zhixing of the Southern Dynasty was a representative figure of the first-class mastery of the finger technique. He used this finger technique to compete with Ouyang Feng, Hong Qigong and others, and was not inferior in the slightest.

Song Qingshu closed the finger-reading score, feeling an indescribable sense of joy.

Zhang Wuji possessed the Great Shift of Heaven and Earth, while Song Qingshu now possessed the One-Finger Divine Skill.

The Nine Yang Divine Skill gave him a vast ocean of internal energy, while the One Yang Finger gave him a sophisticated channel to control this ocean.

The combination of these two is like adding wings to a tiger.

He wrapped the manual in oilcloth again and tucked it close to his body before turning his gaze back to Wu Lie, who was kneeling trembling in the corner.

When Wu Lie saw his gaze sweep over him, he shuddered again and kowtowed repeatedly, his forehead hitting the bluestone ground with a loud thud.

"Young Master Song... no, Great Master Song! The manual has already been given to you. Please, in your great mercy, spare my life... If you feel it's not enough, take all the gold and silver in the manor! I only beg you to show leniency..."

Song Qingshu remained silent for a moment.

He looked down at the Snowstorm Manor owner, who was kowtowing repeatedly, his eyes showing neither pity nor hatred, only a faint indifference.

The old man had just tried to kill him with a trapdoor, but if he hadn't mastered martial arts, he would have been riddled with holes by the iron spear at the bottom of the pit.

According to the rules of the martial arts world, it wouldn't be excessive to kill him on the spot with a single blow.

But he did not choose to act immediately.

It's a joke! The Wudang Sect is a prestigious and righteous sect, and Song Qingshu is the chief disciple of three generations. How could he do something so shameless?

"Master Wu."

He spoke, his tone still indifferent.

"We, the disciples of Wudang, have always been chivalrous and righteous. Today, we stepped in to repel the enemy and save your life. You have gifted us your family's martial arts skills, which is truly a wonderful story."

"Don't you dare say anything about taking your life or your money again. If word gets out, people will think I'm the kind of person who extorts and robs people when they're in trouble."

After saying that, she didn't look at him again and turned to climb the stone steps.

Wu Lie: "..."

He stared blankly at the figure in the blue robe disappearing step by step at the end of the stone steps, unable to come back to his senses for a long time. Could it be that this evil star has changed his nature?

When Song Qingshu walked out of the ancestral hall, dusk had completely sunk into the night.

The night sky over Kunlun Mountain was crystal clear, with countless stars densely covering the heavens.

The distant snow-capped peaks gleamed with a faint silvery white under the starlight. The mountain breeze swept in from the valley entrance, carrying the crisp scent of ice and snow, sweeping away the musty smell of incense ash from the ancestral hall.

He stood on the stone steps in front of the ancestral hall for a moment, taking a deep breath of the cold mountain wind.

The Nine Yang True Qi circulates on its own within the body, and the cold air is dissolved into nothingness before it even gets close.

He touched the stiff oilcloth bag in his arms, a smile appearing on his lips, which he then quickly suppressed.

This matter is settled; it's time to go.

He went into the ancestral hall, took an oil lamp, and found some kindling, then poured a layer of lamp oil inside and outside the hall.

In a short while, flames rose from the ancestral hall, and the raging fire quickly engulfed the entire hall.

Mars swirled and rose in the night breeze, merging into the sky full of stars.

If Wu Lie is lucky enough to crawl out, then his life is not meant to end; if he cannot crawl out, then this fire will be his final burial.

Dust to dust, ashes to ashes; this is the ultimate fate of those who wander the martial world.

Having done all this, Song Qingshu did not look back. He gathered his strength and leaped into the air, his green robe fluttering in the night wind, disappearing into the vast darkness of Kunlun Mountain in an instant.

The snow-capped mountains are silent, and the stars remain unchanged.

This once magnificent Snow Mountain Lodge, nestled on the southern slopes of the Kunlun Mountains for decades, was reduced to ashes and ruins inch by inch in the raging flames.

A young man is stepping through a sky full of stars, heading towards his own world.