Reborn Song Qingshu: Besieging Bright Peak at the Start

Thirty li west of Bright Summit.

An unnamed, desolate mountain.

As dusk settled, crows scattered and flew into the woods.

The jagged rocks revealed their menacing outlines in the last rays of sunlight.

The mountain wind whistled through the crevices of the rocks.

Beneath a weathered giant rock stands a solitary grave.

The stone tablet in front of the grave is covered with moss and has six characters engraved on it: "Tomb of my beloved wife, Liu Xinru".

A monk who looked remarkably like Zhang Guoli pressed his forehead against a stone tablet, trembling all over.

His face was contorted, his expression frantic, a mixture of crying and laughing, like a madman.

"Thirty years...a full thirty years!"

His voice was hoarse, as if it were being squeezed out little by little from deep in his throat.

"Junior sister, do you know how I've survived these past thirty years?"

His fingers dug deep into the cracks of the tombstone.

"I groveled and submitted to the Yuan court, letting those Tartars order me around! I schemed and plotted to infiltrate Shaolin Temple, shaved my head and took vows, kowtowing to those old bald monks countless times!"

He abruptly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot with madness, and his voice suddenly rose in pitch:

"I betrayed my conscience and framed my disciple Xie Xun! I murdered my master Kong Jian! I endured the condemnation and scorn of the world! I can bear all of this! Because Yang Dingtian ruined my life, I am merely repaying him in kind, what wrong have I done?!"

His voice echoed through the valley, startling several crows in the woods, which circled and cawed under the sky.

"With meticulous planning and step-by-step execution, success is within reach—success is almost within reach!"

He clenched his fists and slammed them into the soil in front of the grave, splattering dirt all over his face and body, but he seemed oblivious.

"The six major sects besieged Bright Peak, and they were just one step away from annihilation! Just one step away from the Ming Cult being wiped out!"

His voice suddenly turned weak, becoming as cold and sinister as a venomous snake.

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"But who could have imagined that an unknown nobody like Zeng Aniu would suddenly appear out of nowhere! Just one person, just one person, ruined thirty years of my hard work."

"Junior sister, don't you think this is divine punishment for me? I just wanted justice, is that not even allowed?"

He was silent for a moment, then suddenly burst into laughter, a chilling laugh.

"No! I'm not reconciled! I'm so unwilling to accept this!"

He reached out and gently stroked the six characters on the tombstone, his knuckles trembling slightly, but his voice gradually calmed down.

"Junior sister, I can endure another thirty years of hardship! I can persevere for another thirty years! I, Cheng Kun, swear I will not give up until the Ming Cult is destroyed!"

A sudden gust of mountain wind whipped his monk's robes into the wind.

The lonely grave remained silent.

……

……

"Drunk on the spring breeze~ I'm drunk on the spring breeze~ At our first meeting, our hearts fluttered at the same time..."

Inside a guest room at Bright Summit.

Xiao Zhao was keeping watch by Zhang Wuji's bedside, holding a handkerchief in her hand, wiping away the cold sweat from his forehead from time to time.

Her gaze should have been fixed on Zhang Wuji, but she couldn't help but steal glances again and again at the young hero Song humming a tune by the table in the corner of the room.

This young master Song is really strange.

While everyone else tending to the injured man had solemn expressions and rarely smiled, he sat there with his legs crossed, tapping the table lightly with his knuckles while humming a tune she had never heard before.

The tune was of unknown origin, strange yet strangely pleasant, carrying a lazy and carefree feel that clashed with the medicinal smell filling the room.

Xiao Zhao secretly sized him up.

To be honest, this young master Song is truly handsome—

She had sword-like eyebrows that reached her temples, a straight nose, and a jawline that was both sharp and soft. Her skin was even fairer than most girls'.

The candlelight illuminated his profile, making his already handsome face appear even more refined and gentle.

"Xiao Zhao".

Song Qingshu suddenly spoke.

Xiao Zhao trembled, and the handkerchief in her hand almost fell to the ground.

"Ah! Young Master Song... I didn't peek... No... I mean... Young Master Song, you sing so beautifully... No, it's not that..."

She tried to explain in a flustered manner, but her face turned redder and redder, and her tongue seemed to be tied in knots. In the end, she didn't even know what she was saying.

Song Qingshu originally wanted to ask her if she was tired from standing for so long, and if she wanted to come over for a cup of tea, but his words startled her so much that she became incoherent.

Seeing the girl's helpless expression, he found it quite amusing.

To be honest, Xiao Zhao is indeed beautiful.

Unlike women from the Central Plains, she had a high nose bridge, slightly sunken eye sockets, and a pair of large, clear eyes, giving her a unique exotic charm.

Song Qingshu naturally knew the origin of this exotic atmosphere—

Her mother was Dai Qisi, the Purple-Robed Dragon King, one of the four great protectors of the Ming Cult, who was of mixed Chinese and Persian descent.

No wonder this girl looks different from ordinary women.

Seeing Xiao Zhao's embarrassed appearance, Song Qingshu suddenly felt like teasing her.

"Xiao Zhao, come here."

He beckoned.

Xiao Zhao hesitated for a moment, then lowered her head and slowly moved towards Song Qingshu.

As she moved, the iron chain on her ankle struck the stone ground, producing a crisp yet heavy scraping sound.

The sound was particularly jarring in the quiet guest room.

As she approached, Xiao Zhao lowered her head and spoke in a voice as soft as a mosquito's hum: "Young Master Song, what...what are your orders?"

Song Qingshu took a sip of tea, a half-smile on his face, and asked slowly:

"Xiao Zhao, I have a question for you, and you must answer truthfully."

Xiao Zhao raised her head, her big eyes filled with unease.

"Who do you think is more handsome, me or your young master Zhang?"

He pointed to Zhang Wuji, who was lying unconscious on the bed, his smile unchanged.

Xiao Zhao never expected Young Master Song to ask such a question. Her mind went blank for a moment, and all the blood rushed to her face.

She instinctively tried to step back, but her foot tripped on the iron chain and she almost fell.

"Naturally... naturally, Young Master Song is more handsome..."

She answered haltingly, then quickly added as if she had remembered something.

"However... however..."

"Oh?"

Song Qingshu put down his teacup and looked at her with great interest.

"But what?"

Xiao Zhao lowered her eyes, her cheeks slightly flushed, and secretly glanced in Zhang Wuji's direction.

There was something extremely gentle in that gaze, as if afraid of disturbing something, it fell very, very lightly on that pale face.

"However, Young Master Zhang is a very kind person, and I...I am very happy to be with him."

After saying that, her ears turned bright red.

Looking at her like this, Song Qingshu thought to himself that the original work was right; this girl had indeed fallen in love with Zhang Wuji.

Although her words, "I'm very happy with him," were spoken haltingly, they were truly heartfelt.

In the later stages of this relationship, the couple willingly went to Persia for the greater good, which is quite poignant.

But that's a story for later. Right now—

"Xiao Zhao,"

He leaned forward, lowered his voice, and a mischievous glint appeared in his smile.

"So, do you like Young Master Zhang? If you do, I can play matchmaker for you two once Wuji wakes up, how about that?"

"I...I..."

Xiao Zhao's face instantly turned red to her ears, and even her neck was tinged with a light pink. She looked like a boiled shrimp, wishing she could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.

She opened her mouth, but couldn't utter a single word; she could only shake her head like a rattle.

Seeing her like this, Song Qingshu laughed heartily and decided to stop while he was ahead.

"Alright, alright, I'm not teasing you anymore. I'm going to check on Junior Brother Wuji."

He stood up and walked towards the bedside, leaving Xiao Zhao standing there alone, her heart pounding wildly.

She quietly raised her head, watching Song Qingshu's retreating figure, secretly relieved, yet also feeling a vague, inexplicable sense of loss—

Was what Young Master Song just said a joke, or did he really mean it?

Thinking of this, she quickly shook her head to banish these chaotic thoughts and hurried after him.

Song Qingshu walked to the bedside and bent down to check on Zhang Wuji's condition.

To be honest, the reason Zhang Wuji fell into a coma was both funny and sad.

After the six major sects left, Yin Tianzheng and Yang Xiao exchanged a glance.

The two, without prior agreement, led the remaining followers of the Ming Cult to kneel down on Bright Peak.

In an instant, hundreds of people—some with missing arms, some with injured legs, and some with their bodies wrapped in bandages—knelt down in a dark mass.

Yin Tianzheng led the shouts: "We are deeply grateful to Young Hero Zhang for protecting our sect and saving our lives!"

The sheer force and the deafening roar caused the snow on the mountaintop to fall in a soft patter.

Zhang Wuji couldn't stand such a scene.

Especially since the person kneeling at the very front was his maternal grandfather, Yin Tianzheng.

The simple-minded child panicked on the spot and rushed forward to help, calling out, "Grandpa, get up quickly," "Uncle Yang, you mustn't do this," and "You elders are too kind to me." He helped this person and that person, but the more he helped, the more flustered he became. As a result, his wound was torn open, and he suffered a sudden attack of internal heat, causing his vision to go black and him to faint.

Song Qingshu was standing right next to him and witnessed the whole thing. He had only one thought in his mind: This child is really so simple and honest. No wonder Zhao Min, who is full of cunning, could fall for him.

Fortunately, after examination, there was no serious problem.

Zhang Wuji possessed the Nine Yang Divine Skill, with profound internal strength and a recovery ability far exceeding that of ordinary people. He could recover from minor external injuries and sudden internal heat with just one day of rest.

Seeing Zhang Wuji's breathing gradually become even, Song Qingshu estimated that he would wake up soon.

Just then, a series of urgent bugle calls came from down the mountain.

Woo-woo-woo-woo

Three shots rang out in quick succession, each one more urgent than the last.

That was a warning signal from the Ming Cult.

The summit of Bright Peak instantly became noisy.

Footsteps, shouts, and the sound of weapons being drawn mingled together.

Someone was shouting, "Who dares to invade my Bright Peak?" and someone was already organizing a defense.

Song Qingshu walked to the window, pushed open the wooden window, and saw smoke and dust billowing down the mountain, with a large group of people vaguely gathering.

Of course he knew who was coming.

After the six major sects retreated, the Giant Whale Gang, the Sea Sand Gang, and the Divine Fist Sect, which were usually suppressed by the Ming Cult, saw that the Ming Cult and the six major sects were both injured. So they gathered their forces and wanted to take advantage of the situation and pick up the spoils.

Normally, these gangs wouldn't even be able to reach the foot of Bright Peak.

Any one of the four great protectors, the five wandering monks, or the five elemental flags of the Ming Cult could wipe them out completely.

But at this critical juncture, all the Ming Cult's experts are injured, and Yin Tianzheng has been fighting against the experts of the five factions for a long time, exhausting his internal energy.

Yang Xiao suffered internal injuries from Cheng Kun's sneak attack, Wei Yixiao's cold poison had not yet healed, and the Five Wanderers were also exhausted from their injuries.

The once mighty Ming Cult is now truly like a dragon swimming in shallow waters or a tiger fallen into the plains.

However, Song Qingshu was not flustered at all.

He knew all too well what would happen next—it was precisely this farce of taking advantage of someone's misfortune that propelled Zhang Wuji to the position of leader of the Ming Cult.

Fate is sometimes a very interesting thing; a crisis can turn into an opportunity for a person.

He was pondering how to take advantage of the situation when a slight noise came from the bed.

"Senior Brother Song..."

Zhang Wuji slowly opened his eyes.

Song Qingshu immediately composed himself, put on a perfectly appropriate expression of concern, and quickly walked to the bedside.

In his hazy state, Zhang Wuji saw a handsome face looking down at him, eyes full of concern, the candlelight reflected in his pupils like shattered starlight.

When he fully regained his senses and recognized the person in front of him as Senior Brother Song, his heart was filled with another surge of warmth.

He had lost count of how many times he had been moved by Senior Brother Song today.

On Bright Peak, he publicly recognized his relatives, and the six major sects stood guard with swords drawn in front of him. When he woke up from his coma, the first person he saw was this senior brother—what does this mean?

This shows that Senior Brother Song stayed by the bedside the whole time, never leaving for a moment.

How could Zhang Wuji ever repay such a debt of gratitude?

"Senior brother..." Zhang Wuji's throat tightened.

Song Qingshu didn't ask any further questions, but simply turned around and called out, "Xiao Zhao, pour me a cup of hot tea."

Xiao Zhao responded and brought over a cup of hot tea. Song Qingshu took it, helped Zhang Wuji lean on his shoulder with one hand, and held the tea to his lips with the other.

"Junior brother, you don't need to say anything, I understand. Here, have some water to moisten your throat."

His tone was gentle and steady, like that of an elder brother or a friend you could trust.

Zhang Wuji took the teacup, drank a sip of the warm tea, and felt the tightness in his chest ease a little.

But the noise outside was getting louder and louder. He frowned and asked urgently, "Senior brother, what's going on outside? Why is it so noisy?"

Knowing he couldn't hide it any longer, Song Qingshu told the truth: "Just now, the Ming Cult's warning horn sounded down the mountain, indicating that there must be an enemy attacking."

"What?"

Zhang Wuji suddenly sat up straight, but the movement aggravated the sword wound on his shoulder, causing him to gasp in pain.

He disregarded his pain and urgently asked, "Could it be that the six major sects went and returned? Where are my grandfather and Uncle Yang?"

"Yang Zuo and his comrades should all be in the main hall discussing matters at this moment."

Song Qingshu shook his head, reached out and pressed his shoulder, signaling him not to move.

"Don't worry, I don't know the specifics either."

"Senior brother, take me to the main hall quickly!" Zhang Wuji threw off the covers and was about to get out of bed.

Song Qingshu glanced at him.

He knew that with Zhang Wuji's temperament, not even ten oxen could pull him back, so there was no point in saying anything more.

She didn't stop him at the moment, but simply reached out and took his arm, supporting most of his weight.

"Come on. I'll help you across."

……

……

Inside the main hall, the Ming Cult heroes were arguing fiercely.

"Damn it! These scum like the Giant Whale Gang dare to invade my Bright Peak? Even if I only have one hand left, I can still twist the Giant Whale's head off and use it as a football!"

Zhou Dian, who was always polite, bulged the veins on his forehead and slammed his hand on the armrest of the seat, shattering it with a crack.

"Well said!"

Monk Peng Yingyu was also filled with enthusiasm.

"When has our Ming Cult ever been bullied by such filthy scum? We'll fight them to the death! Killing one is enough, killing two is a bonus!"

Wu Jingcao, the flag bearer of the Ruijin Banner, gritted his teeth and said, "The brothers of the Five Elements Banner can still fight! Please give the order, Left Envoy Yang, and I will lead my men down the mountain and slaughter those bastards without leaving a single one alive!"

In an instant, the crowd inside the hall was filled with righteous indignation, shouting that they wanted to go down the mountain and fight to the death.

"That's enough!"

Yang Xiao's voice wasn't loud, but it resonated throughout the hall, causing everyone to fall silent.

He stood with his hands behind his back, his expression unchanged, his gaze slowly sweeping over everyone present.

"I understand your feelings, but look at your own injuries—"

He pointed to the Cloth Bag Monk, whose arm was still in a sling; then he pointed to the Iron Crown Taoist Zhang Zhong, whose chest was wrapped in blood-soaked gauze.

"Take a look at the people around you."

The group exchanged glances and gradually calmed down.

Yang Xiao spoke slowly and deliberately, each word carrying weight:

"Right now, every expert in the sect is injured, the Five Wanderers are only at 30% of their fighting strength, and the Five Elements Flag has been lost by more than half. Is it brave to go down the mountain to fight to the death now? It's foolish! The six major sects failed to destroy the Ming Cult, are we to die at the hands of a bunch of opportunistic villains?"

His words were like a bucket of cold water, leaving everyone speechless.

"Then, in Yang Zuoshi's opinion, what should we do?"

Yin Tianzheng said in a deep voice.

He was the most seriously injured of all, having fought fiercely against the masters of the five sects. His internal energy was almost exhausted, and he was so weak that he could barely sit up in his chair. Only his old eyes remained sharp.

Yang Xiao pondered for a moment, then slowly said, "Avoid their sharp edge, preserve our strength, and as long as we have our strength, we can always rebuild."

"avoid?"

Zhou Dian smiled wryly.

"With so many of us, where can we hide? Bright Peak is only so big; are we supposed to burrow underground?"

Before the words were finished, a weak but urgent voice came from the entrance of the main hall.

"Sure! The Ming Cult has a secret passage where we can hide!"

Everyone turned around and saw Song Qingshu supporting Zhang Wuji, with Xiao Zhao following behind. The three of them quickly walked into the hall.

"Wuji!"

When Yin Tianzheng saw that his grandson had woken up, he felt relieved and got up to greet him.

"Young Master Zhang!"

"Young Master Zhang is awake!"

A stir went up among the crowd, who rushed forward to offer their concern and care.

Zhang Wuji responded to each question one by one, and after finally calming everyone down, he revealed the plan that he had discussed with Song Qingshu on the way.

"A secret passage?" Yang Xiao frowned.

Zhang Wuji nodded, his gaze sincere and open:

"To be honest, I have inadvertently discovered the location of your sect's secret passage. The entrance is well-hidden, and the interior is spacious enough to accommodate all members of the Ming Cult. If we take refuge there temporarily, we can preserve our strength once the external enemies retreat."

He thought the suggestion was reasonable, but as soon as he said it, the hall suddenly fell silent.

The group of experts who had been so passionate just moments before now had different expressions; some lowered their heads and remained silent, some had shifty eyes, and some hesitated to speak.

Even the usually straightforward Zhou Dian turned his head away, pretending to study the carvings on the palace pillars.

Zhang Wuji grew anxious: "Grandpa, Uncle Yang, please say something!"

Yang Xiao and Yin Tianzheng exchanged a glance, both of them looking somewhat helpless and embarrassed.

Finally, Yang Xiao sighed softly and spoke:

"Young Master Zhang, what you say is absolutely right. However... that secret passage is where the leaders of my Ming Cult have secluded themselves for cultivation. According to the rules of the cult, no member other than the leader is allowed to enter."

This is an ironclad rule that the Ming Cult has upheld for hundreds of years. As core members of the cult, how can we expect to command respect if we lead the way in breaking these rules?

Yin Tianzheng also said in a deep voice:

"Wuji, you and Young Hero Song are not members of the Ming Cult, so you are not bound by its rules."

You should take the unrepentant and the seriously wounded and seek refuge there temporarily; you need not worry about us.

As for those clowns jumping around outside, this old man's bones can still kill them dozens of times over.

"Yes! Young Master Zhang, you should go quickly!"

"Leave this to us!"

Everyone echoed their agreement, clearly indicating that they were prepared for a fight to the death.

Zhang Wuji was both moved and anxious:

"Grandpa! Uncle Yang! What time is it? Rules are rules, but people are flexible! Are you really going to sacrifice hundreds of lives for this one rigid rule?"

Everyone fell silent.

It's not that they don't want to live, but that these rules are too deeply ingrained in their minds.

The Ming Cult was able to stand for hundreds of years because of its ironclad rule of unity from top to bottom and strict obedience to orders.

If you lead the way in breaking the rules today, how will you control your followers in the future?

Moreover, all the previous leaders of the sect had secluded themselves in the secret passage to comprehend the Great Shift of Heaven and Earth. That place was almost a sacred place in their hearts, so how could they easily set foot there?

An impasse fell in the main hall, the air so heavy it was hard to breathe.

Just then, a steady, unhurried footstep sounded.

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw Song Qingshu, who had been supporting Zhang Wuji, let go and calmly walk towards the leader's throne at the front of the main hall.

The throne had been empty for a long time, its light dimmed, yet it still possessed an air of majesty.

On the stone wall behind the throne, a totem of a blazing sacred fire is engraved.

Song Qingshu stood before the throne but did not sit down.

He turned around, his moon-white Taoist robe billowing slightly in the firelight, a calm smile on his handsome face, his gaze slowly sweeping over everyone present.

Zhou Dian, being impatient, couldn't help but ask, "Young Master Song, what are you doing?"

Yang Xiao didn't speak, but simply narrowed his eyes slightly.

He could tell that this young man from Wudang was clearly prepared.

From the position he took to the way he looked around the room, to the faint smile on his lips, everything seemed meticulously planned.

What this person is about to say is probably not simple.

Sure enough, Song Qingshu cleared his throat.

"Ahem! Ladies and gentlemen! I have a plan, but I'm not sure if I should share it?"