The expected pain never came. Instead, Zhao Min felt herself falling into a warm embrace, followed by a familiar voice whispering in her ear:
“Were you so certain I would save you?”
The corners of Zhao Min’s lips curled slightly. Only then did she slowly open her eyes, tilting her head to look up at the man holding her. She giggled. “Would you really let someone bully me?”
Still perched on the tree, Zhao Yingluo couldn’t help but inwardly scoff: ‘In broad daylight… How utterly shameless! What a pair of immoral degenerates!’
“Eldest Brother, what’s going on here?” Seeing Zhao Min nestled shyly in Song Qingshu’s arms, the three Wudang heroes nearly popped their eyes out. Zhang Songxi couldn’t resist tugging at Song Yuanqiao’s sleeve.
“That’s right, wasn’t Miss Zhao supposed to be with Wuji…?” Among the elders, Yin Liting had the closest relationship with Zhang Wuji—not only was his wife Yang Buhui like a sister to Wuji, but Wuji had also healed him after his limbs were shattered by the Vajra Finger technique. Seeing Zhao Min in another man’s arms left him utterly bewildered.
Song Yuanqiao could only offer a bitter smile. “Don’t ask me. I’m just as confused.” Earlier, when Ouyang Feng had made insinuations, he hadn’t taken them seriously. After all, in his mind, Zhao Min and his son were worlds apart. The current scene left him even more stunned than his junior brothers.
Murong Bo’s pupils contracted slightly. Song Qingshu held Zhao Min with one arm, his expression calm and unruffled, while Gongsun Zhi’s face was flushed red, straining with all his might yet unable to break free from the grip on his wrist.
Ouyang Feng burst into laughter. “Brother Song, it hasn’t been that long since we last met, yet your martial arts have improved so dramatically. You’ve been hiding nearby all this time, and I didn’t even sense you.”
“You flatter me, Brother Ouyang,” Song Qingshu replied with a smile. “I heard what you said to Miss Zhao earlier. I’ll remember this favor.” From start to finish, he didn’t spare Gongsun Zhi a single glance.
“Don’t mention it,” Ouyang Feng waved his hand dismissively. “I didn’t even get the chance to do anything. Miss Zhao here wasn’t interested in my help—she was waiting for you to swoop in and play the hero.”
Song Qingshu couldn’t help but glance at Zhao Min. She was as radiant and beautiful as ever. “How did you know I was nearby?”
Just as Zhao Min was about to answer, Gongsun Zhi’s labored grunting reached her ears. She shot him a disgusted look and huffed, “Get rid of this nuisance first, then I’ll tell you.”
“Very well.” Song Qingshu smiled faintly. “Since he tried to hit you earlier, I’ll return the favor and vent your anger for you.” With that, he raised his hand and swung at Gongsun Zhi’s face.
Since one of his arms was wrapped around Zhao Min, striking Gongsun Zhi would require releasing his grip. Gongsun Zhi had heard every word of their exchange. As a renowned master, how could he possibly show his face in public again if he allowed himself to be slapped in front of everyone?
The moment his hands were free, he immediately assumed a defensive stance, confident he could block any follow-up attacks. Yet, with a sharp “smack!”, a searing pain exploded on his left cheek. He was utterly dumbfounded.
“He bullied you so badly earlier. Just slapping his left cheek would be letting him off too easy,” Song Qingshu remarked casually.
Gongsun Zhi’s soul nearly fled his body in terror. He frantically mobilized every ounce of his strength to shield his right cheek.
Yet, Song Qingshu’s hand seemed formless, effortlessly slipping through his defenses. Another crisp slap rang out. A tremendous force struck Gongsun Zhi’s right cheek, sending him flying like a heavy sandbag. He crashed to the ground several zhang away, unconscious before he even landed.
Half of it was due to the sheer force of the blow, but the greater reason was sheer humiliation. As a dominant figure in the martial world, being toyed with so easily in front of a crowd left him too ashamed to face anyone ever again. Overwhelmed by rage, he passed out before he could even catch his breath.
Ouyang Feng and Murong Bo both stiffened. While they could defeat Gongsun Zhi, they would never do so with such ease—let alone announce which cheek they intended to strike before breaking through his airtight defense in a single move.
For a master of Gongsun Zhi’s caliber, while it might be impossible to defend every inch of his body flawlessly, if he focused entirely on protecting a single spot, his defense should be impenetrable. Yet Song Qingshu’s hand had pierced through effortlessly!
Murong Bo hadn’t even clearly seen how those two slaps landed. Ouyang Feng, however, seemed to grasp something—the technique appeared simple, yet it contained the profound principles of heaven and earth. For a brief moment, Ouyang Feng felt a pang of despair.
‘When we first met on Shenlong Island, this brat’s martial arts were impressive, but still clearly beneath mine. Yet every time we meet after that, his skills advance by leaps and bounds. Now, he’s likely surpassed me… All these years, I’ve schemed relentlessly for the title of the world’s strongest, only to find it was nothing but an illusion.’
If Ouyang Feng was merely disheartened, Murong Bo was gripped by sheer terror. The only reason he had dared to abduct Song Yuanqiao and the others was that, during their previous clash near Ping Yizhi’s residence, their skills had been evenly matched. For the sake of reviving the Yan Dynasty, he hadn’t feared offending Song Qingshu. But now, after such a short time, how had his martial arts improved so drastically?
Meanwhile, the three Wudang heroes were both shocked and delighted. While Zhang Songxi and Yin Liting had witnessed Song Qingshu’s skills at the Golden Serpent Camp’s gathering, Song Yuanqiao’s memory of his son’s abilities was still stuck before the Lion-Slaying Assembly. Back then, his son had been decent among the younger generation but far from a true top-tier expert. Yet after the trials of the Assembly, he had grown to such heights!
Though Song Yuanqiao still harbored some resentment over his son’s role in Mo Shenggu’s death, what father wouldn’t take pride in his son’s achievements?
Unfazed by the crowd’s reactions, Song Qingshu turned his attention back to Zhao Min after sending Gongsun Zhi flying. “Now, will you tell me how you knew I was nearby?”
Noticing the stares around them, Zhao Min suddenly realized she was still half-leaning against Song Qingshu. Despite her usual composure, she couldn’t help but flush. She quickly straightened up and pushed him away, clearing her throat before speaking with reddened cheeks:
“Earlier, I found it strange. The Laundry Courtyard poisons all captured experts with a drug called Rouge’s Drunkenness, leaving them weak and powerless. Yet Senior Song and the others showed no signs of poisoning. The only explanation is that someone had already given them the antidote.”
“The Laundry Courtyard is hidden deep within the Jin Dynasty’s imperial palace—an extremely secretive organization. Even I, the princess, didn’t know Senior Song and the others were imprisoned there. The only person in the world capable of sneaking in to cure them… well, the only one I can think of is you, their son.”
Song Qingshu looked impressed. “Princess, your intellect is truly remarkable. To deduce so much from such a small clue—I’m genuinely in awe.”
Zhao Min rolled her eyes. “You talk sweetly, but deep down, you’re anything but kind. I was being harassed for so long, yet you didn’t lift a finger to help. Tell me honestly—if I hadn’t forced you out, would you have stayed hidden?”
Song Qingshu chuckled awkwardly. “Of course not! My… my father and the others are here too. I just thought you weren’t in immediate danger, so I… observed for a while first.”
Zhang Songxi nudged Song Yuanqiao with his shoulder and teased, “Eldest Brother, they say a married daughter is like spilled water—impossible to take back. But it seems your son isn’t much different! He could stay calm even when you were in danger, yet the moment Miss Zhao spoke up, he rushed out to protect her.”
Song Yuanqiao’s face darkened, and his gaze toward his son turned distinctly unamused.
Zhang Songxi hadn’t bothered to lower his voice, so Zhao Min heard every word. Her cheeks burned. “Uncle Zhang, the Wudang Seven Heroes are renowned in the martial world. If Qingshu had stepped in to help you three against a single opponent, wouldn’t that be an insult to your pride?”
“Oh-ho-ho!” Zhang Songxi grinned. “Who was it earlier that kept calling me ‘Hero Zhang’ and threatening us? Now you’re suddenly calling me ‘uncle’?”
Even Zhao Min’s thick skin couldn’t withstand such teasing. She blushed and spat, “Pah! No wonder the Wudang Sect is full of scoundrels—the beam above is crooked, so the ones below lean the same way!”
Zhang Songxi laughed heartily. “Seeing the proud Zhao Min flustered even once makes this trip to the Jin Dynasty worth it!”
Just as Zhao Min was about to retort, a cold, crisp voice cut through the air:
“With enemies surrounding us and deep in hostile territory, Young Master Song still finds time for idle chatter? Have you forgotten the purpose of this mission?”
Everyone looked up to see a woman clad in a pale-yellow robe descending gracefully from above, her sleeves and hair fluttering like an immortal untouched by mortal cares.
Her ethereal beauty and flawless Qinggong left the crowd momentarily speechless.
Zhao Yingluo walked up to Song Qingshu and stared at him silently.
Song Qingshu smiled wryly. “Of course I haven’t forgotten.”
Noticing the familiarity in their exchange, Zhao Min suddenly grinned sweetly. “Sister, you’re not jealous, are you?”
“Hah! As if I’d be jealous over this d*mned scoundrel! Only you would treat him like a treasure,” Zhao Yingluo snorted disdainfully.
Yet the others present exchanged odd glances. If there really was nothing between them, why call him “d*mned scoundrel”? Her tone was unmistakably that of a lover’s pique.
As Song Qingshu stood flanked by two stunning women—one radiantly beautiful, the other elegantly poised—even Ouyang Feng, who had little interest in women, felt a twinge of envy.
‘This brat’s luck with women is simply outrageous! If my poor Ke’er had half of his… no, even a third of his ability to pick up girls, Huang Rong would’ve given me grandchildren by now!’