Reborn Song Qingshu: Besieging Bright Peak at the Start

Everyone looked in the direction of the voice and saw Song Qingshu gracefully stepping out from the crowd.

He had dropped his earlier awkward expression, a half-smile playing on his lips, his eyes filled with undisguised mockery as he stared intently at Zhao Min.

That expression clearly said, "Let's see how you answer."

The members of the Ming Cult, upon hearing this, suddenly realized what he meant:

Yes, she clearly knew the identities of Zhang Wuji and the Ming Cult heroes under the willow tree that day, so why did she pretend to be a complete stranger?

Everyone turned their attention to Zhao Min, waiting to hear her explanation.

Zhao Min got angry when she saw the guy's smirking face.

And wasn't he deliberately making things difficult for himself?

The Ming Cult members didn't say anything, but you jumped out and started asking a bunch of questions, deliberately trying to sabotage them.

However, she remained calm, slightly raising her chin, and answered unhurriedly:

  

"I did intend to befriend the heroes of the Ming Cult that day, but there was this annoying fellow standing around..."

She paused, then lowered her voice slightly, adding three words almost inaudibly.

"……lecher."

She pronounced those three words very softly and quickly, as if she were talking to herself, but which of the heroes present was not a person with profound inner strength?

Everyone heard it clearly.

Upon hearing the words "lecherous scoundrel," Zhou Dian burst out laughing on the spot, only managing to stop after Peng Yingyu kicked him from behind.

To the Ming Cult members, this gesture and tone sounded like a reproach.

Yes, she originally wanted to make friends with you, but you, Young Hero Song, went up to her without saying a word and started hugging and embracing her. She's a shy young lady, so she got angry and got on her horse and left.

Now they're turning around and blaming the other party, asking "why they don't acknowledge each other?"

The members of the Ming Cult looked at the two of them with maternal smiles.

To be honest, these two are quite a perfect match. One is handsome and upright, while the other is beautiful and elegant. When they bicker, one is quiet and the other is lively, one is angry and the other is smiling.

Zhang Wuji stood in the crowd and laughed along. As he laughed, he subconsciously scratched his head. For some reason, he felt a little itchy on his head.

That's strange.

Song Qingshu, however, refused to give up. With his arms crossed, he slowly continued to press for answers.

"When we first met, the girl didn't know me at all."

How come you know so much about my name after just one meeting today? Hmm?

His "hmm" ended with a rising tone, and his eyes were full of a smug smile, as if he were teasing a cat that was about to explode.

Zhao Min gritted her teeth secretly.

This person was truly relentless and unyielding, not only tearing her down in front of her, but also putting her on the hot seat to be roasted from both sides.

Her clear, black-and-white eyes glared hatefully at Song Qingshu, revealing both a hint of resentment and a touch of panic at having her thoughts exposed.

She took a deep breath, and a perfectly polite smile suddenly appeared on her face, but her tone was sarcastic and just right:

"The Master Zhang is a peerless martial artist, renowned throughout the martial world, and the heroes of the Ming Cult are famous throughout the martial arts world. I have long admired them."

As for Song Qingshu of Wudang…”

She deliberately dragged out the four characters "Song Qingshu of Wudang" for a long time, and then made a light, casual turn.

"Please forgive my ignorance, but I have never heard of it."

She hadn't finished speaking.

"Later, under the willow tree, I overheard some lecherous fellow calling Master Zhang 'Junior Brother'—oh dear, that's when I suddenly remembered that there really was such a person on Bright Peak that day, who arrogantly blocked the way of the six major sects, saying something like 'Whoever dares to make things difficult for him must first step over my dead body'—that person seemed to be... a third-generation disciple of the Wudang Sect surnamed Song?"

She tilted her head, feigning a struggle to recall, then looked at Song Qingshu with a radiant smile, enunciating each word clearly and sweetly, yet each syllable carried a sharp edge:

"Excuse me... is that you, Young Master Song?"

After saying that, he gave a light snort, ignoring Song Qingshu, and turned around with a warm, spring-like smile. He gestured for the Ming Cult members to enter and said loudly:

"Heroes, please come in."

After speaking, she led the way with a leisurely pace, as if the person who had just been teased until her face turned red and her teeth were clenched was not her at all.

The Ming Cult members filed in, but as each one passed Song Qingshu, they all reached out and patted him hard on the shoulder.

When Zhou Dian took the picture, he grinned. When Peng Yingyu took the picture, she shook her head and chanted "Amitabha." When Yang Xiao took the picture, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he gave him a meaningful look.

When Wei Yixiao was filming, he unusually didn't smirk; he simply said dryly, "Young Master Song, please accept my condolences."

Zhang Wuji walked last.

As he passed by his senior brother, he stopped, his face filled with sympathy, and let out a long sigh.

He also reached out and patted Song Qingshu on the shoulder. The force was very light, but the pat was very solemn. His sincere face clearly showed the words "Senior brother, I understand you." Then he didn't say anything and followed the others inside.

Song Qingshu: "..."

When did Wuji turn bad?

The group entered the hall under the personal guidance of Zhao Min.

A plaque hangs high in the hall, bearing the four large characters "Green Willow Villa," written in vigorous strokes and rich, deep ink.

Hanging in the central hall is a calligraphy scroll, a copy of the poem "On Swordsmanship," with bold and unrestrained strokes that also exude an undeniable charm.

Song Qingshu stared intently at the calligraphy for a while, thinking to himself:

The characters are strong and vigorous, yet the turns of the brush cannot conceal the air of a young lady, clearly written by a woman. In this hall, who else could it be but Zhao Min?

The poem ended with a line of small characters:

"At night, I tested the Heaven-Slaying Sword; it was truly a divine weapon. I have recorded this poem from 'On Swords' to praise it. — Zhao Min, Bianliang."

Most of the Ming Cult heroes were uneducated and not many could read, but they could still understand the meaning of the small print.

Zhou Dian slapped his thigh in realization and said, "So this Miss Zhao is from Bianliang, and her given name is Min. Zhao Min—a good name, a good name."

Peng Yingyu laughed and said, "Brother Zhou, you actually know so many characters today. It's truly as if the sun has risen in the west."

Zhou Dian angrily retorted, "I at least attended a private school for a few days!"

As the leader of the Ming Cult, Zhang Wuji naturally spoke on behalf of the heroes.

He bowed to Zhao Min, speaking earnestly: "Miss Zhao is a woman of both literary and martial talents, which I greatly admire. I didn't know you came from a prominent family in the old capital of Zhongzhou. My apologies for my rudeness."

Zhao Min smiled, pursing her lips, and gently shook her folding fan, saying:

"Master Zhang is too kind. Your esteemed father was once famous throughout the martial arts world for your calligraphy, which was described as 'silver hooks and iron strokes.' Even my father had heard of it."

Master Zhang comes from a family with a long tradition of learning, so his attainments in calligraphy must be extraordinary.

"This humble woman is not talented, but I will ask Master Zhang for a piece of calligraphy later, so that it may be hung in this hall to enhance its scholarly atmosphere."

She spoke politely and naturally, her gaze honestly fixed on Zhang Wuji's face.

Zhang Wuji blushed, embarrassed, and waved his hands repeatedly, his voice lowering several decibels:

"If the girl asks me to write, that would be the death of me."

Unfortunately, my father passed away at a young age, and I was unable to inherit his learning. My knowledge of literature is extremely shallow, and I fear that writing this would offend your eyes, young lady.

He spoke these words in a calm tone, even with a hint of self-deprecating laughter, but a trace of sadness still flashed in his eyes.

He thought of his father.

Upon hearing this, Zhao Min did not insist. She simply turned her eyes slightly and her gaze naturally passed over Zhang Wuji, landing on Song Qingshu, who was holding a teacup.

With just one glance, she couldn't help but want to grind her teeth again.