Flower Stealing Master

“Master Fang Zheng, are you planning to snatch it by force?” Song Qingshu snorted coldly.

Master Fang Zheng chanted a Buddhist mantra, “Amitabha! The Marrow Cleansing Scripture belongs to Shaolin. How can it be considered snatching? It is simply returning it to its rightful owner.”

“Are the three masters planning a relay battle, or will you attack all at once?” Song Qingshu glanced around, unable to suppress a mocking laugh.

“This…” Master Fang Zheng hesitated. His original plan was to join forces with the other two to quickly retrieve the manual, but now that Song Qingshu had exposed it, he could no longer admit it openly.

Among the three, Xu Zhu was not a concern, but Fang Zheng and Xuan Cheng were both highly esteemed figures with decades of renown. If they teamed up against a younger opponent, their reputation in the martial arts world would surely suffer. However, if they didn’t join forces, given the martial arts prowess Song Qingshu had just displayed, Fang Zheng wasn’t confident he could retrieve the manual on his own.

While Fang Zheng hesitated, Xu Zhu suddenly spoke up. “Although this benefactor’s martial arts are formidable, he is constantly preoccupied with suppressing the cold poison in this female benefactor’s body. This inevitably hampers his abilities. If my two senior uncles, both highly respected figures, were to act now, it might be seen as taking advantage of someone’s weakness. How about this: let this battle be mine to handle? As a junior monk of low status in the temple, the outcome would not tarnish Shaolin’s reputation.”

Fang Zheng and Xuan Cheng exchanged glances and nodded in agreement. Letting Xu Zhu handle the matter was indeed the best course of action—not only would it silence any critics, but Xu Zhu’s astonishing martial arts, as the personal disciple of that individual, also earned their private admiration.

“In that case, you may retrieve the lost manual for Shaolin,” the two said in unison.

Song Qingshu sneered internally. This Xu Zhu appeared honest but was cunning at heart. In Shaolin, monks with the “Xu” prefix were of the lowest rank, usually new entrants to the temple. If someone underestimated Xu Zhu because of this and treated him as an ordinary junior monk, they would suffer a great loss. Xu Zhu’s martial arts were far superior to most of the senior monks in the temple.

“Senior, be cautious of this young monk. Although he looks unassuming, his martial arts may surpass even Master Fang Zheng,” Ren Yingying warned urgently. She had witnessed Xu Zhu’s incredible performance at the Golden Serpent Camp and feared Song Qingshu might underestimate him and suffer a defeat.

“Thank you, Miss Ren.” Seeing the concern in Ren Yingying’s eyes, Song Qingshu couldn’t help but smile. The two of them had always been at odds, so he hadn’t expected her to align with him today.

However, Song Qingshu knew all too well that if Ren Yingying saw his face under the mask, she would likely wish him dead on the spot, let alone offer any reminders.

“Amitabha, forgive me.” Xu Zhu clasped his hands in salute. Without moving his body, he slightly waved his right hand toward the air. A nearby tree suddenly trembled, and dozens of leaves flew into his two fingers, spinning and flipping as if held in place by an invisible force.

The crowd gasped in unison. This seemingly ordinary young monk had unleashed such a terrifying technique right from the start.

“Flower Pinching Finger?” Song Qingshu sighed. “Young monk, your move carries killing intent. Doesn’t this contradict the serene and smiling essence of the revered Kasyapa’s teaching?”

“Forgive my inelegance, benefactor,” Xu Zhu replied calmly. He extended his left hand, flicking one of the spinning leaves from his right hand. The leaf shot toward Song Qingshu like an arrow.

Xuan Cheng observed with a nod of approval. Xu Zhu’s seemingly casual flick was, in reality, a masterful display of the Indra Finger technique. Using a long-range attack to test the opponent’s abilities was a wise strategy.

The spinning leaf rapidly rotated through the air, emitting a piercing sound. Ren Yingying was stunned. ‘This young monk, despite his age, wields internal energy far beyond even Brother Chong,’ she thought to herself.

“Be careful, big brother!” Wu Yunzhu exclaimed, instinctively covering her ears as she called out.

Song Qingshu turned and smiled at her before lightly flicking his right sleeve. The leaf, seemingly capable of piercing gold and stone, instantly disintegrated into dust within his sleeve.

Wu Yunzhu’s heart skipped a beat at his faint smile. Watching him effortlessly neutralize the attack, she clapped her hands in delight. “Big brother, you’re amazing!”

Standing nearby, Ah Zi couldn’t help but pout. She thought to herself, ‘This brat fawns so naturally. She might become my greatest rival in the future…’

“Young monk, do you think throwing hidden weapons from afar can defeat me?” Song Qingshu’s words had barely left his mouth when his expression suddenly changed. He turned, holding Ren Yingying, and leaped away. Unfortunately, he was a fraction too late. Though uninjured, his clothes were slashed by a leaf that had suddenly appeared at his side. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Animitta Kalpa Finger—formless and shapeless. Truly worthy of its name,” Song Qingshu remarked, his expression more serious than before.

“Your senses are indeed sharp,” Xu Zhu admitted with a hint of surprise. His earlier display with the Indra Finger had been a distraction, masking the true force of the Animitta Kalpa Finger. Usually, by the time an opponent sensed it, they would already be hit. Yet, Song Qingshu had avoided harm entirely.

Realizing the stakes of this battle for the Marrow Cleansing Scripture, Xu Zhu’s expression grew solemn. Abandoning his probing tactics, he waved his right hand decisively at Song Qingshu.

The spinning leaves between Xu Zhu’s fingers flew toward Song Qingshu. Though scattered, they moved with an eerie coordination, forming the faint outline of a long blade.

“Sword Qi!”

Several knowledgeable spectators exclaimed in shock. Before they could marvel further, the leaves in midair suddenly ignited, transforming into a storm of flaming blades hurtling toward Song Qingshu and Ren Yingying.

“Even leaves can be used like this?” Ren Yingying gasped in horror. By the time she reacted, the burning leaves were already within three feet of her. It was too late to dodge, and a single thought filled her mind: ‘It’s over. If even one of these flaming leaves touches my face, I’ll be disfigured!’  

Despite the danger, Ren Yingying’s first concern wasn’t injury but her appearance. She pinned all her hopes on the man beside her. 

Song Qingshu didn’t disappoint. Drawing the sword, he slashed through the air. Cold light flickered as the burning leaves disintegrated into ash.

“Senior, your swordsmanship…” Ren Yingying’s lips parted in astonishment. Standing so close, she saw clearly how each spark seemed to pause midair, extinguished one by one by the tip of the sword.

Though the moment was fleeting, the image left an indelible impression in Ren Yingying’s mind, as if it had been a vivid painting.

While Ren Yingying was awestruck, Xuan Cheng’s expression changed drastically. “Song Qingshu!”

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