Reborn Song Qingshu: Besieging Bright Peak at the Start

Along the Ganliang Road, yellow dust filled the sky.

After leaving Kunlun Mountain, Song Qingshu traveled day and night for six days, finally embarking on this essential route to the Central Plains.

He mentally calculated the itinerary of the Ming Cult members—

Zhang Wuji and his group descended from Bright Peak, encountering clues about the ambush of the six major sects along the way. They had to stop frequently, and Yin Liting's joints were crushed by the Shaolin's Vajra Finger, leaving him severely injured and requiring him to be carried on a stretcher, so their journey was definitely slow.

Starting from Bright Summit, it would be considered fast if one could reach the Ganliang Road area within twenty days.

Adding in the time they spent recuperating in the secret passage and the time spent cleaning up the mess at Bright Peak, all these factors combined should roughly match their own itinerary.

It was high noon, and the sun was blazing.

Song Qingshu, riding a yellow horse he had bought from a market along the way, was parched from the sun and was thinking of finding a shady spot to rest when he saw a row of about twenty old willow trees not far ahead. The willow branches hung down in dense layers, creating a green canopy beside the dirt road.

He was overjoyed, and gently spurred his horse to gallop towards the shade of the willows.

As he approached, he slowed his horse down.

There are already people under the willow tree.

He remained outwardly calm, but inwardly he was utterly astonished: "Could it be such a coincidence?"

Nine people.

Eight burly men sat on either side, all dressed as hunters, with knives at their waists and bows on their backs. Each of them was imposing, with sharp eyes, and their every move exuded the competence and ruthlessness of someone in the military.

Beside them crouched six falcons, their black feathers and sharp talons, their eyes as sharp as lightning. Occasionally, they would shake their wings, their iron beaks gleaming darkly in the sunlight, making them look quite majestic.

The other person was a young gentleman, who was sitting on a blue stone in the densest shade of the willows.

He was dressed in a royal blue silk robe with a white jade belt around his waist, and he held a folding fan in his hand. The fan was painted with distant mountains and clear waters, and it was obviously not an ordinary item.

This man exuded an air of elegance and nobility, which was completely out of place on this desolate official road covered in yellow dust. He seemed more like a prince or nobleman enjoying the cool air in an imperial garden.

Looking closer at that face—this young man was exceptionally handsome, with eyebrows like distant mountains and eyes like bright stars. His clear black and white eyes, when turned, revealed a lively spirit in a half-smile.

Her skin was incredibly white, even more delicate than that of an ordinary woman.

A long sword hung at his waist, hooked with gold and bound with a precious belt; one could tell it was no ordinary weapon without even drawing it.

Two seal characters were engraved on the sword hilt. Although they were not clearly visible from a distance of about ten paces, the strokes and the outline inlaid with gold wire—

Song Qingshu recognized those two characters without even looking at them.

Yitian.

He knew exactly who these nine people were.

The eight burly men dressed as hunters were naturally Zhao Min's Eight Archery Heroes—Zhao Yishang, Qian Erbai, Sun Sanhui, Li Sicui, Zhou Wushu, Wu Liupo, Zheng Qinie, and Wang Bashuai. Their names were all unlucky, but their archery skills were all domineering.

As for this handsome young man in the sapphire blue silk robe, who else could it be but Princess Shaomin Zhao Min, who is disguised as a man?

Song Qingshu led his horse to the other end of the willow tree, about five or six zhang away from the nine people, tied the reins to an old willow tree, and sat down by himself.

He took out a water pouch from his bag, unscrewed the stopper and took a couple of sips. Then he took out a dry biscuit and chewed it slowly, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over the people opposite him, while secretly making plans in his mind.

  

Since they encountered Zhao Min here, Zhang Wuji and his group must not be far from here.

In the original novel, Zhao Min pretended to rest on the Ganliang Road, using the Yitian Sword at her waist to attract the attention of the Ming Cult members and lead them into Green Willow Manor.

It seems this plot is about to unfold.

Song Qingshu chewed on a dry biscuit, his gaze unconsciously sweeping over Zhao Min's excessively handsome face, and a thought suddenly popped into his mind:

"Since we've run into each other, why not tease this proud and arrogant Princess Shao Min to pass the time? It would be quite amusing."

What Song Qingshu didn't know was that Zhao Min was just as surprised as he was when she saw him.

On that day at Bright Peak, it was this man who publicly recognized Zhang Wuji, who was using the alias "Zeng Aniu," and righteously and sternly proclaimed their kinship, thus disrupting the siege of Bright Peak by the six major sects.

Afterwards, reflecting on the incident, she became increasingly convinced that this young hero Song was no ordinary person.

Those rhetoric, the timing of the family reunion, the sense of propriety in advancing and retreating—none of these things seemed like something a third-generation Wudang disciple in his early twenties could do.

What bothered her even more was that after the six major sects descended from Bright Peak, they all fell into the ambush she had set up, but Song Qingshu was nowhere to be found.

She searched through all the prisoner rosters but couldn't find his name. At the time, she thought he had been captured along with the Wudang Sect and escaped in the chaos—now it seems he never left with the Wudang Sect at all.

Where did he go during the month he disappeared? And why is he here and now?

Coincidence? She never believed in coincidences.

As she was pondering this, Zhao Min noticed that the young hero Song stood up, brushed the crumbs off his hand, straightened his clothes, and walked towards her.

Almost the instant Song Qingshu stood up, the eight archers locked their gazes on him.

Eight gazes conveyed a silent warning and scrutiny, and Zhao Yishang's hand had already silently rested on the hilt of the knife at his waist.

Song Qingshu ignored her and walked to a distance of about ten feet from Zhao Min, where he sat down casually on a rock.

The distance was just right—any closer and it would be offensive, any further and it would seem distant.

Zhao Min, fanning herself with a folding fan, paused slightly when she saw him sit down so casually. Her clear black and white eyes scanned Song Qingshu up and down.

Upon closer inspection, one can see even more clearly that this young Wudang hero has a handsome face and a composed demeanor.

He showed no fear despite being stared at by his eight guards; it's unclear where he got his confidence from.

She closed her folding fan, tapped it lightly in her palm, and a half-smile curved her lips. She decided to pretend she didn't know the other person's identity.

"Brother, aren't there willow trees over there too? Why do you insist on coming over here?"

Song Qingshu did not reply immediately, his gaze calmly fixed on Zhao Min's face.

Upon closer inspection, this face is even more exquisite—long, slightly upturned eyelashes, a straight and elegant nose, and lips that are naturally red without any makeup, making it impossible to look away.

When Zhao Min saw that he didn't answer her question, but just kept staring at her, his gaze traveling from her eyebrows to her chin and back to her eyelashes, neither concealing nor slowing down, as if he were admiring a rare treasure.

She had been used to her subordinates bowing their heads in front of her since childhood, and being scrutinized so closely by a young man still made her feel a little uncomfortable.

His gaze was clear and open, without any lewd intent, yet it was precisely because of its excessive openness that it revealed a hint of self-righteous offense.

Zhao Min's smile froze slightly, and a faint blush rose imperceptibly behind her ears. She gritted her teeth inwardly: "This man is extremely rude. How could such a scoundrel emerge from the prestigious Wudang Sect? I saw him protecting his junior brother with his sword on Bright Peak that day, and he did have a bit of chivalrous spirit. I never imagined he would be like this in private."

One of the guards beside him coughed lightly.

Song Qingshu then looked away as if waking from a dream, but his face showed no embarrassment. Instead, he looked at her face again with lingering interest before cupping his hands in a gesture of respect.

His expression was impeccably sincere, but the words he uttered only angered Zhao Min once again.

"While the willows over there are lovely, they cannot compare to the 'pleasant scenery' here. I have been traveling alone for many days and it is rare to encounter such a view. It truly adds some color to this otherwise dull journey. I hope you will forgive my intrusion."

Upon hearing this, one of the Eight Heroes of the Divine Arrow frowned deeply.

These words sounded polite at first glance, but upon closer inspection, something felt off. When the young hero Song uttered the words "pleasant scenery," his eyes weren't looking at anyone else, but rather fixed squarely on his own princess's face.

What's even more infuriating is that the phrase "add a few points of color" was spoken with a deliberate pause on the word "color," as if the speaker was savoring something.

What else could this be but flirting?

But these words were so perfectly worded.

On the surface, every sentence was about the scenery and the journey, without mentioning the other person's appearance or identity. To anyone listening, it would just be a perfectly normal polite conversation.

Even if you understand the underlying meaning, it's not appropriate to react—they're praising the "scenery," so why are you in such a hurry?

How could Zhao Min not understand the hidden meaning in those words?

Although she was annoyed, she was no ordinary woman, and quickly regained her composure and elegance with a smile. She lightly waved her folding fan and spoke in a calm and unhurried tone:

"Pleasant scenery? There are no green mountains or clear waters along this Gan-Liang Road, only yellow earth and sandstorms. Brother, you don't mean these crooked willow trees by the roadside with your word 'scenery,' do you? That would be a compliment."

She seemed not to understand the other person's implied meaning at all, and discussed the scenery objectively.

Song Qingshu didn't care whether she truly didn't understand or not; his expression remained calm and composed as he continued Zhao Min's words:

"Young master, you are mistaken. The beauty of the mountains and rivers is certainly pleasing to the eye, but even the most beautiful scenery will become tiresome after three days. It is the people we rarely meet along the way who are the real scenery."

Zhao Min paused, fanning herself.

This guy has incredibly thick skin. Not only does he not restrain himself, but he also talks about "real scenery"—he's clearly just repeating that frivolous remark he made earlier right in front of her.

She closed her folding fan, already having made up her mind.

Since you want to play, then this princess will play along with you to the very end.

We'll see if you, young Wudang hero, have any ulterior motives or are just being a smart aleck.

He spoke up, his tone neither warm nor cold: "Judging from your dignified appearance, you must come from an extraordinary background. May I ask your honorable name?"

Song Qingshu casually made up a story:

"Young master has a good eye. My surname is Su, and my given name is Youpeng. I belong to no sect or school; I am merely a wandering hermit who roams the world. But you, young master, are accompanied by eight hunter brothers and six falcons. Quite a grand entourage. You must be some important figure, right?"

Zhao Min rolled her eyes so hard she felt like she was going to jump to the sky when she heard him make up such a fluent story without even a stutter.

Su Youpeng? No affiliation or sect?

The young swordsman Song from Wudang who protected his junior brother with his sword on Bright Peak that day has transformed into a wandering hermit. He told this lie without batting an eye.

"So it's Brother Su."

She didn't expose him, but continued the conversation, gently waving her folding fan with a smile.

"I am no important person at all. I just run a small business and am on my way to the Western Regions to buy a batch of medicinal herbs."

Song Qingshu feigned a look of sudden realization.

"So you come from a merchant family. But to be honest, when I first met you, I thought you were a rich young lady disguised as a man traveling around."

He said it casually, as if he were just joking.

Zhao Min's smile froze.

She suppressed the impatience she felt from being repeatedly tormented, and her tone turned colder:

"Brother Su, you flatter me. It is your handsome appearance, fair and clean, that truly makes you resemble a young lady."

Song Qingshu laughed heartily, completely unconcerned:

"Brother, you flatter me. People often say that my face is fair, but for a man, being fair-skinned is fine and it doesn't hinder my travels."

But you, brother—forgive my bluntness, but if you truly looked like a girl, you would be the bane of countless young heroes in the martial world.

As he spoke, he clicked his tongue and shook his head, his tone full of regret. His gaze swept over Zhao Min's face again, his eyes so open and almost unrestrained.

Zhao Min's fingers tightened slightly as she gripped the folding fan.

She gritted her teeth inwardly: This person is truly reckless.

Each of those words seemed unintentional, but when put together, they all struck at her bottom line.

But he didn't say it explicitly, leaving room for maneuver in every sentence, so that she couldn't find a reason to lash out.

She felt extremely uncomfortable with the feeling of being manipulated and teased.

Zhao Min stared at his flawless smile and became certain of one thing.

This guy has a sharp tongue and came here specifically to flirt with her.

What Wudang Young Hero Song, what "Jade-faced Mengchang"? It's all just a facade.

Peel away that layer, and you'll find nothing but a lecherous scoundrel.

She took a deep breath, her smile already thin as paper, and was about to teach this guy a lesson when she suddenly caught something out of the corner of her eye.

In the distance, a group of people was slowly approaching.

Some rode horses, some walked, and in between were two donkey carts piled high with sacks and wooden crates.

They looked like ordinary merchants coming and going.

However, Zhao Min knew that this group of people was the Ming Cult she was waiting for.

Zhao Min thought to herself that compared to the big fish in front of her, this lecherous Wudang scoundrel next to her was not even worth a shrimp.

He immediately pointed his folding fan in Song Qingshu's direction, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable air of authority:

"Young Master Su is truly a witty person. If you've rested enough, please make yourselves at home."

This is clearly a formal order to leave.

As Zhao Min finished speaking, the Eight Heroes of the Divine Arrows stood up in unison, their eight gazes like eight fully drawn iron bows, ready to be unleashed, clearly indicating that they did not intend to give Song Qingshu any further room to entangle them.

Song Qingshu was not annoyed.

His gaze had already fallen upon the Ming Cult group. He slowly stood up, dusted off his clothes, cupped his hands in a respectful gesture towards Zhao Min, and smiled with an innocent and harmless expression.

"Since that's the case, I won't bother you any longer. However, there's something I'd like to say to you beforehand."

Zhao Min raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

Song Qingshu had already turned and walked towards his yellow horse. After taking two steps, he turned back, his gaze lingering on Zhao Min's face for a moment, a faint smile curving his lips.

"What I just said was the truth. Brother, you are so handsome. If you were to dress as a woman in the future, you would surely be even more stunning."

Having traveled far and wide, I may lack other skills, but I do have a keen eye for people—brother, you have pierced earlobes and slender fingers. While your sapphire blue silk robe is well-tailored, the waist is a little too narrow. Such a graceful figure is a rare sight on my journey; truly a sight to behold!

His tone grew increasingly nonchalant, but the corners of his eyes curved slightly, revealing a hint of mischief: "If you would be willing to change into women's clothing and reunite with me then, that would be an even more breathtaking sight."

After saying that, he didn't even look at Zhao Min's expression and leisurely returned to his own place.

Zhao Min stood still, her folding fan creaking softly in her hand.

The barely noticeable blush behind her ears finally spread to her cheeks—not from embarrassment, but purely from anger.

This person is more than just a smart aleck.

He has ten mouths on his lips, and every single one of them is in debt.

What's most infuriating is that he critiqued her from head to toe, and then threw out the line, "Reunite with me in women's clothing"—clearly telling her that he had seen through her all along and was just teasing her with this as a joke.

She took a deep breath and forced down her anger.

No problem.

We'll settle this score later.

She has bigger fish to catch right now and doesn't have time to argue with a lecherous man.

She composed herself, gently waved her folding fan, and once again adopted the elegant and composed demeanor of a noble young master. At her silent signal, the Eight Heroes of the Divine Archery took their seats again.

In the distance, some members of the caravan looked up at the sky, while others pointed to the shade of the willows, clearly intending to rest there and escape the sun.

They're already heading this way.