Reborn Song Qingshu: Besieging Bright Peak at the Start

Just as described in the original work, what lay before them was a verdant valley hidden deep within the mountains, with sheer cliffs on all sides as if carved by a knife and axe, isolating this small corner of the world from the outside world.

The valley is lush with vegetation, and a clear stream meanders through its heart. Unknown wildflowers bloom along the banks, attracting bees and butterflies.

Sunlight poured down from the cracks overhead, turning the entire valley golden.

On the grassy bank of the distant stream, several monkeys were lazily sunbathing. When they saw this uninvited guest intruding, they merely turned their heads to look at him, showing no fear whatsoever.

Song Qingshu stood at the cave entrance, gazing at this paradise, and remained stunned for a long time.

He finally understood why Zhang Wuji had been able to stay here for five years.

If it were him, he might as well spend the rest of his life here if he didn't have to care about the bloodshed outside.

Of course, the thought only lingered in his mind for less than a moment before being dispelled.

He still preferred the bustling, mundane world, not because there were many other beautiful women, but because he hadn't even met Minmin, whom he longed for.

The idyllic paradise may be wonderful, but it is not his final destination.

Despite his feelings of regret, he did not forget the purpose of his trip.

He walked upstream along the stream, his eyes searching around.

According to the original text, Zhang Wuji buried the four volumes of the Lankavatara Sutra in the rock wall deep in the valley.

Passing through a dense orchard, a smooth, mirror-like, crimson stone wall appeared ahead. At the foot of the wall lay a small pile of rubble, clearly traces of human excavation and subsequent backfilling, starkly different from the surrounding naturally weathered stones.

Song Qingshu squatted down, his heart involuntarily racing.

He reached out and brushed aside the surface rubble, digging about two feet deeper, when his fingertips suddenly touched something soft yet tough—oilcloth.

He carefully pulled out the oilcloth and unfolded it layer by layer.

Six volumes of books lay quietly in the oilcloth.

Four of the books had several Sanskrit characters written on their covers in a crooked pattern that he didn't recognize, but he figured they must be the Lankavatara Sutra.

  

There are also two other volumes, with the titles "Medical Classic" and "Poison Classic" written on their covers respectively.

Song Qingshu opened the medical classic to its title page, where the signature "Hu Qingniu" was prominently displayed.

A thought struck him—and sure enough.

In the original novel, Zhang Wuji studied medicine under Hu Qingniu, the immortal physician of Butterfly Valley, in Butterfly Valley. Later, by chance, he obtained the Poison Manual of Hu Qingniu's wife, Wang Nangu. He carried these two books with him until he fell off a cliff and was buried here with other scriptures.

Hu Qingniu's medical skills were unparalleled in the world. Back then, even the leaders of major sects had to condescend to seek medical treatment in Butterfly Valley when they suffered internal injuries.

Wang Nangu's poison skills were unparalleled. The couple, one a healer and the other a poison master, were truly a match made in heaven.

Although these two books are not martial arts manuals, their value is in no way inferior to the Nine Yang Manual—the medical skills can save lives, and the poison skills can protect oneself. If used properly, they are more effective than any peerless martial arts.

However, he could examine those two books later; at the moment, all his attention was drawn to the four volumes of the Lankavatara Sutra.

Song Qingshu sat cross-legged on the bluestone by the stream and laid out the four volumes of scriptures one by one.

The scripture was a Sanskrit copy, which he couldn't understand a single word of. However, between each line of the scripture, the tiny characters, as fine as mosquito legs, were written clearly and neatly, which were the secrets and wonderful methods for practicing qigong.

The current state of perfect stability confirms it's definitely the Nine Yang Manual!

He composed himself and continued reading.

The four volumes of scriptures contained a considerable amount of content, and he read them all in one go.

After reading it, he himself could hardly believe it—the content he had just read was now vivid in his mind, every word clear, as if it were engraved in his brain.

He paused for a moment, then closed the book and recited a passage from memory, and it was almost perfect.

Photographic memory?

Song Qingshu was overjoyed.

Although he had a decent memory in his past life, it was far from being able to remember everything he saw.

This body was naturally gifted, and Song Qingshu in the original novel was able to stand out among the third-generation disciples of Wudang, so his aptitude was naturally top-notch.

Now that the two souls have merged, it's unknown what kind of wondrous synergistic effect has produced, but it has given him such abilities.

He didn't delve too deeply into the matter; whatever the reason, it was a great thing for him.

So he spent another two or three hours repeatedly reading and memorizing the four volumes of the Nine Yang Manual from beginning to end until he knew all the contents by heart.

It's no exaggeration to say that I can recite it backwards.

After memorizing the Nine Yang Manual, he picked up Hu Qingniu's medical manual and Wang Nangu's poison manual and began to read them.

I became completely absorbed in reading it.

Hu Qingniu's medical skills were profound and extensive, encompassing everything from pulse diagnosis to acupuncture, from the combination of medicinal properties to the setting of bones for external injuries.

Wang Nangu's poison manual is even more astonishing—

The book records the methods of making hundreds of poisons and their antidotes. It exudes a cold and decisive atmosphere, making readers feel a chill down their spines, yet one cannot help but admire the mastery of poisons.

Before we knew it, another two hours had passed.

By the time he had memorized all six volumes, it was nearly dusk.

The afterglow of the setting sun slanted into the valley through the cracks in the cliff top, turning the stream into a molten gold.

Song Qingshu breathed a sigh of relief, carefully wrapped the six volumes of books again in oilcloth, and buried them back into the stone wall.

After thinking for a moment, he mischievously carved a few words on the stone wall next to the message that Zhang Wuji had left back then—"Su Youpeng was here."

After he finished carving, he laughed first.

Engraving it here is like leaving a little Easter egg for future wearers.

After everything was done, Song Qingshu patted the dirt off his hands, straightened up, and looked around.

The valley is quiet and secluded, with a babbling brook. The setting sun paints the cliffs in a warm orange-red hue, and in the distance, several monkeys are chasing and playing. The entire verdant valley is enveloped in peace and tranquility.

This place is secluded and tranquil, completely isolated from the world, making it the perfect place for secluded cultivation.

He decided to stay here for the time being, to solidify his foundation in the Nine Yang Divine Skill before venturing out of the mountains.

As for what's happening outside—he mentally calculated the time.

In the original novel, Zhang Wuji had at least a month's gap between his journey from Bright Peak to Green Willow Manor.

He can cultivate in the valley for a while before coming out of the mountain; there's plenty of time.

However, before you can start your cultivation, you need to fill your stomach first.

After all that fuss—climbing cliffs and digging tunnels—I was so hungry I was practically starving.

He originally intended to eat some of the dry rations he had brought with him, and then pick some wild fruits from the valley to make do with a meal.

But then he suddenly remembered that the original novel mentioned a kind of white fish in the waterfall and pool in this valley, which was extremely delicious. Zhang Wuji lived in the valley for five years and ate white fish and wild fruits every day.

He was curious: just how delicious must something be that Zhang Wuji could eat for five years without getting tired of it?

They immediately followed the sound of water.

As we passed through an orchard, the sound of water grew louder and louder. Turning a corner at the foot of a mountain, a waterfall suddenly appeared before us.

The waterfall cascades down from the top of a cliff dozens of meters high, its waters flowing like an inverted Milky Way, crashing into a deep, emerald-green pool below and creating a misty spray.

Extremely spectacular.

Song Qingshu walked to the edge of the pool, where the water was clear and green.

Sure enough, more than ten large white fish, each about a foot long, were swimming in the water. Their bodies were silvery white, and their scales shimmered. They appeared and disappeared in the blue waves.

Without further ado, he drew his long sword from his waist with a loud thud, spotted a white fish, flicked his wrist, and plunged the sword into the water.

The moment the sword tip broke through the water, two plump white fish were already skewered on the blade, thrashing about wildly with their tails swishing.

With his keen eyesight and skill as a disciple of Wudang, catching a few fish was a piece of cake for him, requiring no effort at all.

He found some dry branches by the pool, started a fire, and put the two fish on the fire to roast.

In no time, the fish was roasted to a golden brown and slightly charred color, the oil dripping into the fire sizzling, and an indescribable aroma spreading everywhere.

Song Qingshu couldn't wait to tear off a piece of fish, blow on it to cool it down, and put it in his mouth.

With just one bite, his eyes widened.

Tender! Fresh! Sweet!

The fish meat is incredibly smooth and tender, as if it could melt on the tip of the tongue. It is fresh and delicious with a natural sweet aftertaste. Most importantly, it has no bones.

In his past life, he hated spitting out fish bones. This white fish has delicate flesh and no fine bones at all, making it a perfect ingredient sent from heaven.

Song Qingshu dared to swear to heaven that even in the era of such advanced food culture in later generations, he had never tasted such delicious fish.

He quickly devoured the large fish, leaving only a complete skeleton.

Just as he was preparing to tackle the second one, his expression suddenly changed—a surge of heat rose from his dantian, unbearably hot, and instantly filled his limbs and bones.

Song Qingshu was startled.

Could it be poisoning?

Wait a minute, Zhang Wuji ate white fish in the valley for five years and he was fine, right?

He immediately dared not delay, sat down cross-legged on the spot, and circulated his internal energy according to the mental method of Wudang Nine Yang Skill, guiding the hot energy to slowly flow along his meridians.

About an incense stick later, Song Qingshu slowly opened his eyes, a glint of light flashing in them.

The heat in my abdomen had long since transformed into a warm and gentle current, settling in my lower abdomen, making me feel indescribably comfortable and relaxed all over.

This isn't poisoning at all! This white fish is clearly a rare and powerful tonic for increasing internal energy!

The internal strength he gained in just this short period of meditation was equivalent to the results of a month of arduous training.

Song Qingshu made a quick estimate and was both surprised and delighted, and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Heaven is helping me! It truly is heaven's help!"

Laughter echoed through the valley, startling several monkeys in the distance who turned to look.

After laughing, he suddenly remembered something else.

Besides the white fish, there is an even greater opportunity in this valley—in the original story, the white ape once brought a peach to Zhang Wuji for help.

According to the book, the white ape ate this peach year after year and lived to be over ninety years old and was still very healthy, which shows that the peach was a rare and precious natural treasure.

If white fish has such miraculous effects, wouldn't peaches be even more amazing?

He immediately made up his mind to go and find a peach tree.

The original story does not specify the exact location of the peach tree, but he has his own way of doing it—just follow the monkey.

He found the trail of a group of monkeys in the valley and followed them from a distance.

The monkey troop traveled for about four or five miles through the mountains and forests before arriving at a sunny hillside.

Song Qingshu stopped at a distance, looked over the bushes, and couldn't help but gasp.

On a huge, flat, sunny rock on the hillside, grows an incredibly robust peach tree.

That tree must be hundreds of years old, its trunk so thick that two people couldn't wrap their arms around it, and its branches and leaves were so lush that they covered half of the hillside.

The tree was laden with peaches, each one as red as blood, as big as a bowl, and glistening enticingly in the setting sun.

A mountain breeze blows by, carrying a rich, sweet aroma that is so enticing it makes one's mouth water.

Song Qingshu was overjoyed, but then cursed inwardly—that white ape is not honest.

In the original story, the peaches that the white ape brought to Zhang Wuji were only the size of a fist, so he assumed that all the peaches in the valley were that big.

But most of the peaches hanging on the tree were as big as bowls, while the ones the size of fists were the inferior ones that didn't get enough sunlight on the treetops.

This white ape is quite the secretive one.

He leaped a few times and arrived at the peach tree. Just as he reached out to pick one, an angry ape howl suddenly rang in his ears.

The whistling sound shook the leaves, causing them to fall in a rustling motion.

Song Qingshu turned his head and saw a white giant ape, taller than an adult man, leap out from behind the rocks.

The white ape was pure white, with arms as thick as tree trunks. Its two dark, bright eyes were wide open, and it was staring at him with bared teeth, looking extremely fierce.

Song Qingshu raised an eyebrow: This old beast is quite possessive of his food.

However, the white ape did not pounce directly.

It was extremely intelligent. Seeing that Song Qingshu had a long sword hanging at his waist and his eyes were fixed on the hand holding the sword, it knew that this two-legged creature was no pushover. So it just jumped and roared a few feet away and dared not approach rashly.

Song Qingshu secretly praised him – he was indeed a spiritual being.

Without wasting words, he drew his longsword with a loud thud and casually slashed at a wild tree as thick as a bowl beside him.

Where the sword flashed, the tree snapped in two.

He sheathed his sword, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable chill:

"I know you understand. If you dare to obstruct me, your fate will be like this tree. I'm sparing your life because I know you've lived so long and it wasn't easy for you. But listen carefully—I will only take one tree each day, and I will never take more than that."

After he finished speaking, he looked directly into the white ape's eyes, and the two stared at each other for several breaths.

The fierce glint in the white ape's eyes gradually faded, and it let out a few low gurgling sounds, as if it were weighing the pros and cons, or perhaps expressing some kind of compromise.

Finally, it took two steps back and stopped roaring.

Song Qingshu withdrew his gaze, reached out and plucked a peach the size of a bowl from the tree, indeed taking only one.

He held the peach in his hands and weighed it in his hand; it was heavy and substantial.

As he turned to leave, the white ape's gaze followed his retreating figure until he disappeared into the woods.

Back at the edge of the pool, Song Qingshu sat down on a blue stone and washed the peaches in the pool water.

The first bite bursts with sweet juice on your tongue, the flesh is delicate and soft, and the aroma hits you right in the head. Before you know it, a big peach is gone.

He patted his slightly bulging belly and let out a satisfied burp.

White fish as the staple food, and peaches as dessert—this kind of treatment is something even a god wouldn't trade.

After he finished eating, he didn't throw away the peach pit, but carefully put it into his package.

These peaches are such rare and precious that even the pits are valuable enough to be used in medicine; to waste them would be a terrible waste.

Just as he was savoring the moment, a pure and warm current suddenly rose from his dantian.

This warm current is more than ten times more powerful than the white fish from before.

If the white fish was a bonfire, then the peach was a volcano, its heat surging like a tidal wave, instantly engulfing his entire body's meridians.

Even more strangely, wherever this warm current passed, there was a feeling of being cleansed of one's bones and marrow, and reborn—

Sweat poured from his pores, carrying traces of grayish-black impurities, forcing out years of accumulated toxins from his body.

Song Qingshu was both surprised and delighted.

These peaches are indeed extraordinary; they possess the miraculous effect of strengthening tendons and cleansing marrow.

He dared not delay any longer, and immediately sat cross-legged with his palms facing the sky, using the warm current to begin cultivating the Nine Yang True Scripture.