Reborn Song Qingshu: Besieging Bright Peak at the Start

The main hall was spacious, with a large sandalwood table in the center.

Zhao Min sat in the main seat, her pale purple dress highlighting her beautiful face. She rested her chin on her hand on the table, her gaze wandering as if she were lost in thought.

To her left stood an ugly-looking ascetic monk, and to her right stood Deer Staff Guest and Crane Pen Elder, both with their eyelids half-raised.

On the left side of the hall sat twelve Tibetan monks dressed in bright red robes, each with high cheekbones, deep-set eyes and noses, clearly skilled in Tantric Buddhism.

Most of them lowered their brows and closed their eyes, their aura deep and still as an abyss.

Standing to the right of the hall were more than twenty black-clad warriors, each with a tall and straight figure, all of whom were top-notch martial arts experts.

The four people outside the window all felt a chill run down their spines.

On that day at Wudang Mountain, the number of experts Zhao Min brought was already astonishing, but no one expected that so many experts were hidden in Wan'an Temple.

Just who is this Miss Zhao?

With so many masters, it's no wonder that Shaolin fell into her hands.

With such a commotion, let alone rescuing anyone, even if the four of them revealed their whereabouts, they probably wouldn't be able to escape.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it a den of dragons and tigers.

Just then, a man dressed in black, who appeared to be a commander, stepped forward and spoke in a cold voice:

"He Taichong, my master is a man of high moral character and respect for talent. I'll ask you one more time: are you willing to submit and serve him?"

He Taichong, with two warriors holding his shoulders, opened his eyes wide upon hearing this, his expression turning furious:

"Bah! How could I, He Taichong, the dignified leader of the Kunlun Sect, become a lackey of the imperial court?"

Now that I've fallen into your trap and are in your hands, you can do whatever you want with me—kill me or torture me. To expect me to kneel and surrender is wishful thinking!

After saying that, he spat again, his arrogance undiminished.

Outside the window, Zhang Wuji and the others nodded to each other. They had always heard that Mr. Tieqin was smooth-talking, but they did not expect him to be so tough while imprisoned.

The commander wasn't angry. He coldly replied, "Since you refuse to surrender, you know the rules of Wan'an Temple, don't you?"

He Taichong proudly raised his head: "A true man dies when he dies; even if all ten fingers are severed, I, He, will not even flinch!"

"it is good."

The commander pointed to the three sword-wielding warriors below the steps.

"Same rules as always. If you defeat three people in a row, I'll let you go. If you lose, I'll cripple one of your fingers according to the rules. Here's your sword."

A samurai tossed a wooden sword with a clang; the tip of the sword was still wrapped in a thick layer of coarse cloth.

Looking at the three opponents, each of them held a gleaming steel knife with a sharp edge. Where was there any fairness to speak of?

The people outside the window could clearly see that these three were not top-notch fighters, judging from their aura.

  

They barely managed to encounter some second-rate opponents, but as the leader of the Kunlun Sect, He Taichong could easily defeat them.

But they could all see that He Taichong was indeed poisoned; his steps were unsteady, and he didn't seem to have any internal strength at all.

Therefore, it would be wishful thinking to try and defeat all three of them in succession.

The players have already started to make their moves.

He Taichong held a wooden sword and unleashed his sword techniques, which were the Kunlun School's signature Two Elements Swordplay. The rules were strict, the moves were exquisite, and the changes showed the style of a master.

The samurai's swordsmanship was fierce, but far less agile than He Taichong's. He struck the samurai's wrist and shoulder several times with his wooden sword. After fifty moves, He Taichong knocked the samurai's weapon off his wrist with the back of his sword, and the samurai staggered back two steps, losing the fight.

During the fight between the two.

The monk beside Zhao Min kept gesturing to her with his hands, and Zhao Min watched attentively and followed suit.

This is learning sword techniques through combat; no wonder they didn't arrange for top-tier fighters, as only through such close combat can the sword techniques be broken down.

After a while, He Taichong was panting heavily, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his hand holding the sword trembled slightly.

The second samurai gave him no chance to catch his breath, immediately following up with a powerful lunge, his blade even heavier.

He Taichong gritted his teeth and dismantled the swordplay, but his sword techniques gradually slowed down. Every time he reached a crucial point, he ran out of strength, and his attacks, which should have defeated the enemy in one move, were always lacking in power.

After exchanging more than eighty moves, he took advantage of a moment when he dodged to the side and used his wooden sword to slash diagonally, striking the warrior in the back of the knee, causing him to fall to his knees with a thud. Only then did he narrowly win the second round.

When the third person came on stage, He Taichong's steps were unsteady and his breathing was heavy, like a bellows.

After exchanging only seven or eight blows, his wooden sword was deflected by his opponent's blade, and he was kicked in the shoulder, staggering and falling to the ground, unable to get up again.

"He Taichong".

The commander's voice was completely flat.

"I'm asking you one last time: lower the price, or not?"

He Taichong, supporting himself on the ground, gasped for breath, but his neck remained stiff.

"I will not surrender... nor will I submit!"

What kind of heroes are you, resorting to poison and ambush?

"In that case, proceed according to the rules."

The commander waved his hand, and two warriors immediately stepped forward and pressed down on He Taichong's hands.

Another man drew a short knife, its cold light flashing, and was about to chop off his finger.

Seeing this, Zhang Wuji was startled, but Yang Xiao pressed his shoulder down firmly.

In that instant he moved, his breathing became slightly disordered.

The old monk on the far left of the twelve monks suddenly opened his eyes, which had been closed, and a glint of light flashed in them. Then he slowly closed them again, as if nothing had happened.

Inside the hall, He Taichong's fingers had been cut off. The warriors applied medicine to his wounds and quickly bandaged him, the whole process flowing smoothly, clearly having done it countless times before.

Two warriors carried the pale-faced He Taichong back to the tower.

Zhao Min picked up her teacup, gently blew away the foam, and casually asked, "Which faction is next?"

The commander bowed and replied, "Reporting to Master, according to the order, it is the turn of the Wudang Sect members."

Zhao Min paused slightly, her fingers lightly tapping the edge of the table. After a moment of silence, she said softly:

"The heroes of Wudang are all unwell, so there's no need to mention them today."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Wuji, Yang Xiao, and Wei Yixiao outside the window couldn't help but glance at Song Qingshu, as if to say, "This girl really can't forget you."

Song Qingshu remained calm and composed.

But then Zhao Min said, "Bring up the old nun Miejue from the Emei Sect."

The commander was clearly used to this arrangement, and without asking any further questions, he continued:

"Master, Abbess Miejue of the Emei Sect has been on a hunger strike for five days and remains stubbornly unwilling to obey orders."

Zhao Min scoffed, her tone tinged with disdain:

"The old nun Miejue was stubborn and unyielding. It would be better if she starved to death, saving us the trouble."

"Fine, bring Zhou Zhiruo from the Emei Sect over here."

"Yes."

When Zhang Wuji heard the name "Zhou Zhiruo," his heart skipped a beat.

A moment later, a woman was brought in under guard.

The woman was dressed in a light blue Emei disciple's robe. She was slender and her face, though somewhat haggard and pale, could not conceal her exquisite and otherworldly beauty.

She stood in the hall with her head bowed and her back straight, looking pitiful yet stubborn.

Lu Zhangke, whose eyes had been half-closed, slowly raised his eyelids.

His cloudy old eyes fell on Zhou Zhiruo, his gaze sticky and filled with undisguised lust. He looked her up and down, his expression one of unbearable itch.

As usual, the commander stepped forward and asked in a cold voice:

"Zhou Zhiruo, surrender to the court and we will release you. Will you surrender or not?"

Zhou Zhiruo kept her lips tightly closed, gently shook her head, and refused to speak.

Without further ado, the commander summoned the warriors to arrange a duel.

Zhao Min waved her hand, chuckled softly, rose from her seat, and slowly walked down.

"I heard that Miss Zhou once severely injured Zhang Wuji with a single sword strike on Bright Peak. Her swordsmanship must be exquisite and unparalleled, and she must have mastered the essence of Emei sword techniques."

Upon hearing the name "Zhang Wuji," Zhou Zhiruo's long eyelashes fluttered, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes. She looked up and said:

"The Emei sword technique is profound and extensive, and I, a young woman, have only a shallow understanding of it, so how can I speak of its exquisiteness?"

But it's more than enough to deal with a despicable person like you who uses poison to harm others.

Zhao Min wasn't angry when she heard the insults; instead, she smiled even more sweetly.

With a clear clang, she drew the Heaven-Slaying Sword from her waist.

She walked slowly to Zhou Zhiruo, raising the tip of her sword slightly, just inches from her cheek.

"My swordsmanship is naturally inferior to that of the Emei swordsmanship," Zhao Min said with a smile.

"But you don't need any profound swordsmanship. Just a few random slashes and your pretty face will be covered in beehives."

Zhou Zhiruo trembled, her eyelashes shaking violently.

She wasn't afraid of death, but in the prime of her youth, her appearance was her second life. If this vixen ruined her face, it would be worse than death.

She bit her lower lip, her eyes slightly reddening.

"Miss Zhou, are you afraid?"

Zhao Min tilted her head, and the tip of the sword drew even closer.

Zhou Zhiruo could no longer hold back and nodded gently, tears welling up in her eyes.

"So, are you going to surrender or not?"

Zhou Zhiruo shouted angrily, "I will not surrender! You...you might as well kill me!"

"I never kill anyone."

Zhao Min smiled and slightly lowered her wrist.

"It'll only scratch your skin a little, it won't hurt."

A flash of cold light, and the tip of the sword was about to slash at her cheek.

Seeing the cold light approaching, how could Zhang Wuji possibly hold back any longer?

He shouted, "Stop!"

He exerted force in his left arm, shattering the window frame with a bang, and leaped inside like a large bird.

Yang Xiao and Wei Yixiao exchanged a glance, knowing that their plan had been exposed. Without further hesitation, they followed closely behind and broke through the window.

Song Qingshu cursed inwardly: Damn it! I knew Zhang Wuji would lose his composure when he saw Zhou Zhiruo!

But his feet didn't slow down at all; he lightly touched the ground with his toes and darted into the hall.

The sudden change in the situation startled everyone in the hall.

The two elders of Xuanming reacted the fastest. In a flash, they blocked Zhang Wuji's path, their two icy palm forces merging together and heading straight for Zhang Wuji's face.

Zhang Wuji activated his Nine Yang Divine Skill, unleashing both palms simultaneously. With a bang, he caught the combined force of the two men, his body swaying slightly before regaining his balance.

As soon as Yang Xiao landed, two skilled fighters rushed over and engaged him in combat.

Wei Yixiao was in the same situation, being entangled by others.

Zhao Min had already been escorted aside by a group of experts.

Song Qingshu's goal was clear: not to get entangled with others, but to rush straight at Zhou Zhiruo. If Zhou Zhiruo were captured, she could be used to threaten Zhang Wuji, and there would be no need to fight at all.

His eyes turned cold, and he stretched out his right index finger. With two hissing sounds, two invisible finger forces shot out from the air, which was the One-Finger Divine Skill.

Before the two guards protecting Zhou Zhiruo could react, they had already fallen to the ground.

The experts who were originally going to stop Song Qingshu were shocked and their momentum faltered.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Song Qingshu flashed past like a ghost and landed in front of Zhou Zhiruo, shielding her behind him.

Zhou Zhiruo thought she was in deep trouble, but unexpectedly someone came to her rescue.

Seeing Zhang Wuji descend like a divine warrior, she was overjoyed.

The person she had been longing for suddenly appeared before her, and in this way no less. She felt both happy and worried.

Happiness comes from his willingness to stand up for you even when surrounded by wolves and tigers, and worry comes from the fear that he might get hurt while being entangled in a battle with the enemy.

Just as he was staring intently at that figure, another figure blocked his view.

This is a figure in a green robe, standing tall and straight like a pine tree.

He came up in a very domineering manner, reaching out to protect her without saying a word, but simply repelling the enemies one by one.

She recognized the figure from behind; it was Senior Brother Song from Wudang.

Thinking back to the day I accompanied my master on the expedition to Bright Peak, I first met this Senior Brother Song.

At that time, this senior brother Song always stared at her without blinking, and she knew that this senior brother Song was probably interested in her.

Sure enough, during the rest of the journey, this senior brother Song always found opportunities to get close to him, offering him water and asking about his well-being.

Her senior female classmates would always tell her that this young hero Song from Wudang was not only handsome, but also the chief disciple of Wudang, with a bright future ahead of him.

But she really wasn't interested. So what if he was handsome? So what if he was the chief disciple of Wudang?

She simply didn't like what she didn't like. She neither became close to nor rejected Song Qingshu's attentiveness, as her heart was filled with thoughts of her reunited Zhang Wuji.

Until they reached the summit, for some reason, Senior Brother Song seemed to have become a different person. She could sense that at a certain moment, Senior Brother Song no longer looked at her; his gaze was no longer fiery, but rather somewhat indifferent.

Human nature is strange; he stopped looking, but she secretly began to observe him.

As the event at Bright Summit came to a close, she deliberately looked at Song Qingshu before leaving, hoping to see concern in his eyes, but his expression remained indifferent, which stirred up that strange feeling within her once again.

Looking at this figure protecting her, she felt a little smug.

See? He still cares about me. His previous deliberate coldness was just a ploy to get me.

Thinking of this, that proud feeling inevitably took hold of me again.

She spoke softly, "Thank you so much for saving me, Senior Brother Song. I am deeply grateful."

However, the expected enthusiastic response did not materialize. The figure in the blue robe did not even turn his head, but simply replied with a faint "Hmm."

Zhou Zhiruo frowned.

Meanwhile, a fierce battle was raging in the main hall, with Zhao Min's side seemingly numbering no less than four.

In reality, they all knew that the other side hadn't used their full strength yet.

Seeing that the twelve monks and a group of experts were about to join the melee, the hearts of the group sank.

Meanwhile, footsteps could be heard outside the main hall, indicating that a large number of soldiers had surrounded the area.

Song Qingshu cursed inwardly, "What's the point of fighting now?!"

Just then, a clear, cold voice rang out throughout the hall: "Everyone, stop!"

Both sides tacitly withdrew their palms and retreated. Zhang Wuji and the other two retreated to Song Qingshu's side, and the four of them huddled together, focused on guard, their eyes sweeping over the countless masters in the hall.

Zhao Min had already sheathed her sword, and her gaze slowly swept over the four people before finally settling on Song Qingshu.

Actually, when Zhang Wuji suddenly rushed out, Zhao Min was startled.

But when he saw that it was Zhang Wuji, he was overjoyed. He was not afraid of Zhang Wuji coming, but he was afraid that he would not come, so that he could take down the Ming Cult.

When she saw that there were not only three members of the Ming Cult, but also another figure, she was even more delighted, unlike the joy of the three members of the Ming Cult walking into her trap.

The sudden appearance of the person she had been longing for was a delightful surprise. Her gaze shifted away from the three Ming Cult members and fixed on the figure in green. To her utter rage, the man headed straight for the beautiful Zhou Zhiruo from Emei and stood protectively in front of her.

But just as she was about to unleash her full power, she shouted for a halt.

She stared blankly at Song Qingshu for a long while before asking, "What is your relationship with Miss Zhou behind you?"

Her tone was so resentful that it sounded utterly heartbreaking. After a moment's thought, Song Qingshu knew that she must have misunderstood.

Seeing her like this, he said softly:

"Um... we've only met a few times. Wudang and Emei have always been on good terms, so don't overthink it."

Hearing his gentle tone, as if afraid she might misunderstand, Zhao Min's mood instantly brightened, and she said:

"I didn't know that Emei and your Wudang had such a connection, otherwise I wouldn't have treated her like this..."

He then turned his head away.

The experts in the hall pretended not to see or hear anything, letting the two of them talk.

Zhou Zhiruo noticed that Song Qingshu was cold and indifferent to her, but he was very gentle and understanding towards this female demon, as if he was afraid that the female demon would misunderstand that she was related to him.

A strange and complicated feeling welled up in her heart. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Was it her competitive spirit?

Seeing that her expression had softened, Song Qingshu tentatively asked:

"Um... Miss Zhao, how have you been? It's been so long since we last met, and you started fighting as soon as you saw each other. It's inevitable that this will damage our relationship."

How about this, I'll treat you to dinner another day. As for today... it's getting late, so I'll take my leave now. Take good care of yourself.

Seeing his stammering, Zhao Min couldn't help but smile: "Really? You're going to treat me to dinner? Then you can go now!"

Song Qingshu breathed a sigh of relief and said with a smile, "If that's the case, then I'll take my leave."

As he spoke, he tried to pull Zhang Wuji and the other two away together.

But Zhao Min said coldly, "If you want to leave, I won't stop you. But you want to take other people with you without even telling me. What do you take me for?"

His subordinates, hearing Zhao Min's words, immediately understood her meaning, and Lu Zhangke spoke up:

"You all come and go as you please, where do we brothers put our faces then!"

Before Song Qingshu could speak, Zhang Wuji angrily rebuked:

"Senior brother! No need to waste words with them. With us brothers joining forces, what are we afraid of?"

Song Qingshu cursed inwardly: Damn it! You're just bragging, don't drag me into it!

Just as he was about to say something, Zhang Wuji unleashed his Nine Yang Divine Skill and charged forward!

Yang Xiao and Wei Yixiao rushed forward without hesitation.

Song Qingshu looked up at the ceiling. "So what if they're a few dozen experts? Fine! Let's give them a good beating!"

His eyes narrowed, and he charged forward.

The camera pans, and the scene flashes!

The gates of Wan'an Temple opened, and a person was thrown out. Someone shouted:

"roll!"

"boom--"

The door closed, and Song Qingshu stood silently at the entrance, his face bruised and swollen.