Song Qingshu’s face darkened. He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. *Even the best catchers get their paws dirty eventually.* No wonder he had never heard of any martial arts master causing trouble in the Southern Song palace over the years…it turned out there was a hidden big boss lurking within these walls.
Back then, Qu Lingfeng had broken into the palace to steal valuable calligraphy and paintings. He had fled all the way to Niujia Village, only to be hunted down and killed by Shi Yanming, one of the palace’s Weapon-Bearing Officers. Huang Yaoshi had later lamented that if Qu Lingfeng hadn’t had his legs crippled earlier, he wouldn’t have died.
Now it seemed that Qu Lingfeng simply hadn’t been worthy of Huang Shang’s attention. Otherwise, he wouldn’t even have had the chance to leave the palace.
A single *Nine Yin Scripture* had once driven the entire martial world wild. The Eastern Heretic, Western Poison, Southern Emperor, Northern Beggar, and Central Divine had fought for seven days and nights on Mount Hua over this book. Even masters of their caliber treasured it, which showed just how profound and abstruse the *Nine Yin Scripture* truly was.
Though Song Qingshu had long since mastered the *Nine Yin Scripture*, he wasn’t naive enough to think that Huang Shang’s martial arts could be fully represented by a single manual…just as Dugu Qiubai’s martial arts were far more than the Nine Swords of Dugu, serpent gall inner energy, a heavy sword, and a giant eagle.
Moreover, Huang Shang had written the *Nine Yin Scripture* decades ago. Who knew what new martial arts he had comprehended since then, or what level he had reached?
Song Qingshu suddenly felt a bit aggrieved. Back in the day, Hong Qigong and Zhou Botong had roamed the palace mooching food and drink, and Ouyang Feng and others had come looking for the *Martial Art Manual*. Why hadn’t Huang Shang intervened then? Yet the moment *he* showed up, he stepped on a landmine?
After some thought, Song Qingshu could only reason that Hong Qigong and the others had only prowled the edges of the palace, like the imperial kitchen, and Huang Shang couldn’t be bothered with them. Unlike himself, who had ventured into the emperor’s own harem, finally alerting the old man.
“I didn’t expect anyone in the martial world to still remember me after all these years,” the man in the black cloak said, gazing up at the moon as if recalling past events. But whether due to the cloak’s size or some other reason, even under the moonlight, his face remained indistinct. “It’s natural for young people to make mistakes. As long as you know when to turn back, you can still be saved. Put down the imperial consort you’re carrying, stay in the palace to copy Daoist scriptures for ten years, and I can guarantee that no one will hold tonight’s actions against you.”
“Ten years?” Song Qingshu chuckled. “Compared to copying books, I prefer the vibrant world outside.”
“Breaking into the bedchamber and abducting an imperial consort is a crime punishable by the execution of nine generations. Don’t be stubborn, young man.” Huang Shang sighed softly. The surrounding plants and trees seemed to sense his emotions, rustling in sympathy as a wave of regret spread through the air.
Song Qingshu’s expression grew serious. His opponent had clearly reached a state of unity between heaven and man…every movement harmonized with nature. His cultivation might even surpass Wang Chongyang’s. But if Wang Chongyang used the Big Dipper Heavenly Gang Formation, he could multiply his strength several times over. It was hard to say who would win in a fight between them.
“Strike. Out of consideration for you being my junior, I’ll let you have three moves.” Huang Shang’s tone carried an absolute confidence.
“Are you serious, senior?” Song Qingshu’s lips curled slightly, as if he already had a plan.
“I wouldn’t lie to a junior,” Huang Shang replied calmly.
“Then I thank you, senior.” Song Qingshu smiled faintly. With a kick of his foot against the ground, he shot into the night sky, Li Yuanzhi in his arms. (G: yolp…)
Huang Shang blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Though he had appeared relaxed, he hadn’t let his guard down. This young man’s martial arts were on par with anyone he had ever seen…and even seemed unfathomable. But a grandmaster had his dignity. As a senior, he naturally wouldn’t strike first. He had felt confident enough to grant three moves.
He had been on high alert, bracing for a devastating strike. Who would have expected the man to simply… run away? And not just run…he *fled*!
Typically, true masters had their pride. Unless absolutely necessary, they wouldn’t flee from a confrontation. This man’s cultivation was clearly profound, yet he played by no rules.
Having devoted years to quiet cultivation, Huang Shang had long achieved a state of unruffled calm. But this sight actually made him feel a rare flicker of irritation. His form flickered as he gave chase.
But after a full incense stick’s worth of pursuit, he not only failed to catch up…the distance between them only grew until the other vanished entirely. Huang Shang finally stopped and gave up the chase, muttering to himself, “There’s such astonishing movement skill in this world? It seems I’ve been out of touch for too long. I’ll have to ask Yingluo about any formidable young martial artists who’ve appeared in recent years.”
Back in the Cold Palace, Song Qingshu set Li Yuanzhi down and let out a breath of relief. “Finally shook him off.”
“Who was that?” Li Yuanzhi asked. Though she was half a member of the wulin, legendary figures like Huang Shang were far beyond her ken.
“The author of the *Nine Yin Scripture*…an incredibly powerful master,” Song Qingshu replied.
Li Yuanzhi’s mouth fell open. Though she was barely a third-rate martial artist at best, she had still heard of the *Nine Yin Scripture*. Her eyes sparkled as she sidled up to him with a grin. “Brother Song, is he stronger than you? This is the first time I’ve seen you run so desperately.”
Song Qingshu smiled, unbothered by her teasing. “I came here for a real purpose this time. Making a scene would’ve been hard to clean up. Besides, he’s a friend’s master. At his age, if he overexerted himself and something happened, that friend of mine would come after me with a vengeance.”
Li Yuanzhi gave a knowing, teasing hum. “That friend of yours is definitely a woman. And she must be very beautiful.”
The image of the Yellow-Robed Maiden’s cold, ethereal face floated through his mind. Song Qingshu gave an awkward laugh and changed the subject. “Pack your things. I’ll take you out of here.”
To his surprise, Li Yuanzhi shook her head. “No. I want to stay in the Cold Palace. You can come get me when you leave Lin’an.”
“Why?” Song Qingshu was taken aback.
“How else am I going to enjoy watching Consort Wu and her daughter live in fear?” Li Yuanzhi grinned.
“Uh…” Song Qingshu hadn’t expected that reason, though it certainly suited her mischievous nature.
Li Yuanzhi continued, “Besides, if I suddenly disappear from the palace while you happen to be in Lin’an, someone might suspect you. Then Consort Wu and her daughter would know who ‘visited’ them tonight.”
Song Qingshu thought to himself, *You were the one who ‘visited’ them.* But he understood her concern was not without merit, and that she was thinking of him. He was moved. “But what if someone comes to grant you a white silk cord again?”
Li Yuanzhi huffed. “Last time I was caught off guard. Now that I’m prepared, I won’t be cornered so easily. Don’t worry…I wandered the wulin before, and nothing happened.”
Song Qingshu silently disagreed. *Yes, nothing happened… until Zhang Zhaozhong captured you.*
“Alright. Take this. If you’re in danger, fire it off, and I’ll come rescue you immediately.” Song Qingshu took a bamboo tube from his pocket and handed it to her. It was a signal device used by the Golden Serpent Camp on the battlefield, similar to fireworks.
“Brother Song, you’re so good to me.” Li Yuanzhi threw herself into his arms, enveloping him in a wave of fragrance, and planted a passionate kiss on him.
After a long while, she pushed him away, her face flushed. She glanced briefly at his body’s reaction, then quickly averted her eyes. “Dawn’s approaching. If you don’t leave now, you won’t make it in time.”
Song Qingshu laughed heartily and reached out to pinch her cheek. “Even the little seductress gets scared?”
Li Yuanzhi spat. “I’m still a young girl. How could I withstand you… all that… Go, go, go!” She shoved him toward the door.
“Take care of yourself.” He kissed her once more, then vanished into the night.
Li Yuanzhi stood by the window, momentarily lost in thought.
*****
Song Qingshu returned to the inn, exhausted from the night’s escapades, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Early the next morning, Minister Han sent someone with a message.
First, he apologized for not coming in person…at such a critical time, meeting openly would invite gossip. Second, he relayed that he had communicated their intentions to Zhao Gou, but the specific details still required the opinions of the civil and military officials at court. Third, an official from the Court of State Ceremonial would come later to instruct him on the etiquette and formalities for his audience with the emperor tomorrow.
After Han’s special envoy left, the Court of State Ceremonial officials indeed arrived shortly. The torrent of red tape and formalities made Song Qingshu’s ears grow calluses. Using the excuse that he hadn’t eaten yet, he ordered a lavish feast, invited the officials to eat while they explained, and soon had them all dead drunk.
Their subordinates had to carry them to nearby guest rooms to rest. To avoid further bombardment, Song Qingshu pleaded drowsiness from the wine and retreated to his room to pretend to sleep.
Since he’d barely slept before being woken early, he was genuinely tired. What started as pretending soon turned into real sleep.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep when he suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze shifting toward the window.
Outside, night had fallen…but that wasn’t what had woken him.
“Someone’s still sending assassins after me?” Song Qingshu chuckled, his tone dripping with mockery.
Soon, a section of the window paper was punctured, and a brass tube was inserted. Song Qingshu snorted, flicked his finger, and the tube was knocked back with tremendous force.
“Ah!” A scream of agony came from outside…it seemed the tube had pierced the man’s throat.
Song Qingshu reached out and, with a gesture, drew the tube into his hand. Outside, the man, with the tube abruptly ripped from his throat, sprayed a trail of blood across the window before falling silent.
“I wonder what kind of poison they planned to use against me.” Song Qingshu opened the tube and looked at the powder inside. His expression turned cold.