Ren Yingying quickly shook her head, constantly comforting herself: the reason she thought this way was simply that the scoundrel had already taken advantage of her in the bath barrel back then. Suffering another small loss now didn’t seem like a big deal.
Such is the strange logic of w0n; they would rather allow one man to take more advantage of them than accept being taken advantage of by two n simultaneously.
While Ren Yingying was lost in thought, Zhang Sanfeng was also stunned. As far as he knew, Xia Qingqing was the wife of the previous Golden Serpent King, Yuan Chengzhi. Yet now, she was addressing him as her grandmaster. Observing her deanor with Song Qingshu, how could Zhang Sanfeng not understand their relationship?
His grand-disciple was far more skilled in this area than he ever was. Zhang Sanfeng shook his head slightly. Although he found it unethical for Song Qingshu to be involved with a widow, Xia Qingqing showed no sign of unwillingness on her face. He quickly dismissed the thought—grandchildren have their own blessings; let them be.
“Your Seventh Martial Uncle has encountered a grave disaster. While you bear so responsibility, he also played a part. If not for him… sigh.” Zhang Sanfeng’s words trailed off with a heavy sigh.
Song Qingshu’s heart sank. Could there be more to that old case from years ago?
Not wanting to dwell on painful mories, Zhang Sanfeng changed the subject, asking, “Qingshu, what was that sword move you used just now? In my hundred years, I’ve never seen such a powerful sword technique.”
“This is a move I created myself, called ‘Return of the Myriad Swords,’” Song Qingshu replied respectfully, then added, “I thought this move would make
invincible in the martial world, but Grandmaster neutralized it with such ease. Truly unfathomable! My admiration for you is as boundless as the Yangtze River, unending like the flooding Yellow River.”
“Enough, enough! Qingshu, where did you learn to be so glib?” Zhang Sanfeng was overwheld by the flurry of complints. “Your grandmaster’s reception of your move was nowhere near as effortless as you make it sound. Take a look for yourself.” With that, he raised his hands, which had been clasped behind his back.
The three people present fixed their gaze and saw that his wide sleeves were now in tatters, clearly shredded by sword Qi.
Song Qingshu’s face lit up with joy, but he quickly composed himself and said solemnly, “Qingshu is truly at fault. Tomorrow, I will make sure to compensate Grandmaster with a hundred sets of robes.”
Zhang Sanfeng couldn’t help but glare at him. “Do you think I don’t know what’s on your mind? Just now, when you saw your ultimate move was countered, you looked completely dejected. Now that you see I didn’t co out unscathed, you must be secretly pleased, aren’t you?”
Song Qingshu chuckled awkwardly. “How could I? My ager skills are naturally no match for Grandmaster. Just now, with a re pull, lean, and push from you, I nearly fell flat on my face. Not to brag, Grandmaster, but with my current martial arts, there’s likely no one else in the martial world who could make
look so wretched with just one move—except for you.”
This flattery hit Zhang Sanfeng in a soft spot. Despite living over a hundred years with no desires or ambitions, his recent developnt of Taiji had beco a source of pride. Seeing its effectiveness in combat brought him great joy. “Well, no need to probe subtly. I can tell you. This move is part of a new martial art I developed in recent years during seclusion: Taijiquan. The technique is called ‘Grasping the Sparrow’s Tail.’”
(G: Taijiquan = Tai Chi, is a martial art and movent practice that combines physical exercise with breathing and ditation. It’s known for its slow, gentle movents.)
Song Qingshu’s eyes lit up as he murmured, “Grasping the Sparrow’s Tail? The na is indeed apt.”
“Enough, Qingshu. The reason I ca this ti was to ask you sothing,” Zhang Sanfeng suddenly said, his expression turning serious.
“Please ask, Grandmaster. Qingshu will answer without reserve.” Seeing Zhang Sanfeng’s grave deanor, Song Qingshu couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Could sothing serious have happened?
Zhang Sanfeng spoke slowly, “You should rember when your Fourth and Sixth Martial Uncles ca to attend the Golden Serpent Assembly not long ago.”
Song Qingshu nodded. “After I beca the Golden Serpent King, Fourth and Sixth Martial Uncles stayed to help us fend off the Qing soldiers. Afterward, they returned to Wudang…” As he spoke, Song Qingshu’s expression suddenly changed. “Could sothing have happened to them?”
Zhang Sanfeng sighed. “Not just them, but also your father.”
Song Qingshu froze. It took him a mont to rember that he had a father in this world—Zhang Sanfeng’s eldest disciple, Song Yuanqiao.
All along, Song Qingshu had deliberately avoided this matter. After all, he was a transmigrator, not the real Song Qingshu. The sudden appearance of a father was hard to accept.
Avoidance was one thing, but if sothing had truly happened, it was another matter entirely. Thanks to inheriting Song Qingshu’s body, he was given a second chance at life, so he felt it was his responsibility to step up.
He had fulfilled Song Qingshu’s desires regarding Zhou Zhiruo and his vengeance against Zhang Wuji. If sothing happened to his father, there was no reason to stand idly by.
“Grandmaster, what exactly happened?” Song Qingshu asked, his voice heavy, his deanor like that of a beast ready to pounce.
Zhang Sanfeng nodded inwardly at this display of filial piety. To be honest, he still harbored so resentnt over Mo Shenggu’s death. However, Song Qingshu had already faced his punishnt during the Lion-slaying Assembly. Moreover, his subsequent efforts to protect the Han people and fight the Manchurian invaders had gradually earned Zhang Sanfeng’s forgiveness.
However, hearing tales of his bravery and seeing them in person were different matters.
Zhang Sanfeng had co out of seclusion partly to assess Song Qingshu personally. While he was initially displeased with Song Qingshu’s flamboyant display and unclear relationships with won, seeing his current reaction finally set Zhang Sanfeng’s heart at ease.
“Here’s what happened. After Zhao Min’s raid on the six major sects years ago, I established a rule to prevent Wudang from being caught off guard in similar situations. Disciples who leave the mountain must send a ssage via carrier pigeon to Purple Heaven Palace at each stop to report their safety. This way, if anything happens, the sect can respond imdiately.”
“Initially, there was no issue with Songxi and Liting’s whereabouts. However, shortly after leaving the Golden Serpent Camp, their ssages ceased. We imdiately realized sothing was wrong. Since their disappearance occurred within the Golden Serpent Camp’s territory, I sent Yuanqiao to investigate, thinking that with you two working together, you’d surely uncover their whereabouts. But not long after Yuanqiao left, he also disappeared.”
Zhang Sanfeng sighed deeply. “I know my disciples. While they’re not invincible, they’re more than capable of protecting themselves. For all three to vanish, they must have encountered an incredibly formidable foe. If I were to send your Second Martial Uncle, I fear even he wouldn’t return. That’s why I’ve co personally—to find out just who dares to trouble Wudang!”
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