Flower Stealing Master

Song Qingshu snorted, “Shaolin and Wudang have never gotten along. For the past century, they’ve always slandered our grandmaster, accusing him of stealing Shaolin martial arts. They constantly claim you’re a traitor of Shaolin. Add to that the incidents with Dragon Gate Security Service and the matter of our fifth… uncle, and they’ve long regarded Wudang as a thorn in their side.”

Zhang Sanfeng shook his head. “Wudang’s martial arts were painstakingly developed by me later on, but if we trace the roots, without Master Jueyuan passing me the ‘Nine Yang Scripture’, all subsequent martial arts would have had no foundation. It’s not entirely wrong for them to say my martial arts originated from Shaolin.”

Song Qingshu replied solemnly, “That’s because you’re magnanimous, Grandmaster. The people of Shaolin don’t have such high moral character. Moreover, over the past two years, I have had several conflicts with Shaolin. They’ve long wanted to get rid of me. This time, their ambush on the two senior uncles is likely a ploy to gradually weaken our strength and attack when the time is right.”  (G: There you go, as of chapter 651, about 2 years have past.)

“You may have a point. Alas, it seems this old daoist will have to pay Shaolin a visit.” Zhang Sanfeng gazed out the window at the distant horizon, his face tinged with a complex emotion, as if memories of the past had been stirred.

“Grandmaster, I’ll accompany you.” Song Qingshu thought to himself, ‘The grievances with Shaolin must come to an end someday.’

Zhang Sanfeng shook his head. “You shoulder the responsibility of expelling the invaders. There are countless tasks waiting for you. You don’t need to come with me.”

“But Shaolin has strength in numbers, and their methods this time have been so despicable. They won’t adhere to martial world rules. I’m afraid you’ll be overwhelmed, Grandmaster,” Song Qingshu said anxiously.

Zhang Sanfeng laughed heartily. “Qingshu, you don’t need to worry. Though I haven’t fought in many years, this old daoist hasn’t feared anyone in the past century. Do you think Wudang’s formidable reputation in the martial world came out of nowhere? Since the founding of our sect, countless masters have come to challenge us, and it was through my fists and sword that Wudang’s name was forged!”

Seeing Zhang Sanfeng’s rare display of boldness, Song Qingshu couldn’t help but flatter him, “Your prowess back then truly inspires awe in this disciple.”

“What is it?” Seeing his seriousness, Song Qingshu straightened his expression.

“Although Shaolin and Wudang have many grievances, for them to openly attack Wudang like this is illogical.” Zhang Sanfeng glanced at the sword in his hand. “And since they decided to act, it makes no sense to leave such obvious traces at the scene. From Liting’s sword to the distinct palm imprint of the Prajna Palm, I worry that someone might be hiding in the shadows, deliberately instigating conflict between our two factions to reap the benefits.”

Hearing this brief analysis, Song Qingshu was full of admiration. ‘As expected of over a century of experience—no conspiracy can escape his eyes.’

“But didn’t you say the Prajna Palm is a Shaolin secret technique?” Song Qingshu asked, puzzled.

“That’s exactly what I can’t figure out,” Zhang Sanfeng replied, equally perplexed.

“Regardless of whether it’s real or fake, we can investigate at Shaolin to find out. Only a few high monks at Shaolin know the Prajna Palm. Even if someone is framing them, we can uncover some clues through careful investigation,” Song Qingshu suggested.

“Indeed, that’s our only lead at the moment. To rescue your father and the others, we must visit Shaolin.” Zhang Sanfeng nodded.

Song Qingshu quickly said, “Shaolin is filled with masters, and now there’s also an enemy lurking in the shadows. I’d better accompany you to demand justice from Shaolin.”

“Qingshu, you know my martial arts capabilities, yet your tone remains full of worry. Is there something you’re hiding, thinking I’ll face great danger at Shaolin?” Zhang Sanfeng suddenly looked at him.

“Grandmaster, your insight is as sharp as ever,” Song Qingshu said bitterly. “If the mastermind is someone else, that’s fine. But if Shaolin is truly behind this…”

“For centuries, Shaolin has been renowned in the martial world, with countless masters in their ranks. The current Xuan, Kong, and Fang generation monks may seem like towering figures to most, but they shouldn’t pose a threat to you, Grandmaster.”

“However, the Vajra Evil Subduing Ring of Du’e, Du’jie, and Du’nan managed to trap even Zhang Wuji, who had mastered martial arts at the time.”

At the mention of the Shaolin Tri-Duos, Zhang Sanfeng nodded slightly. “I’ve heard of the Lion-slaying Assembly. The Tri-Duos’ meditation over thirty years has made them spiritually attuned, greatly enhancing the Vajra Evil Subduing Ring’s power. Dealing with them would indeed be challenging.”

As he spoke, Zhang Sanfeng sighed suddenly. “Qingshu, the grudge between you and Wuji started over Zhou’s daughter. Now that you’ve married her, let that enmity go. You two are the most outstanding representatives of Wudang’s third generation. This old daoist truly doesn’t want to see you turn on each other.”

“I will heed your advice, Grandmaster,” Song Qingshu replied respectfully. On Blackwood Cliff, he had spared Zhang Wuji’s life and even taught him a self-modified version of the Cosmic Absorption Technique, letting go of past hatred. Now, he viewed matters from a broader perspective, needing Zhang Wuji to lead the Ming Cult in stalling Mongolia’s advance in the Western Regions. Similarly, he had kept Zhang Wuji’s possession by the Ming Cult’s Holy Lord a secret from Zhang Sanfeng, knowing the latter’s fondness for Zhang Wuji might drive him to attack Bright Summit in anger, benefiting Mongolia instead.

Zhang Sanfeng was unaware of Song Qingshu’s thoughts. Seeing his respectful answer, he nodded in satisfaction. “Qingshu, there’s something I’ve never told anyone before. Let me speak to you as a confidant. Your father and the other senior uncles lack the talent to truly inherit my legacy. Wuji, while exceptionally gifted, is the leader of the Ming Cult. His martial arts style is far removed from Wudang’s. For a long time, I’ve regarded you as the one to inherit Wudang’s legacy. But alas, what happened back then…”

Zhang Sanfeng looked desolate. “Fate plays cruel tricks. Now, despite your accomplishments, you’re far removed from Wudang. You’ve even become the Golden Serpent King. It’s lamentable that Wudang has produced two exceptional third-generation disciples, yet neither can inherit my legacy.”

Song Qingshu grinned. “Don’t worry, Grandmaster. If the third generation doesn’t work out, there’s always the fourth!”

Zhang Sanfeng was stunned. “Where would the fourth generation come from?”

Song Qingshu laughed. “You know my preferences. With so many women, I’m bound to have many sons. When the time comes, I’ll send a few talented ones to Wudang for you to train.”

Zhang Sanfeng couldn’t help but laugh and scold him, “By the time your sons grow up, this old daoist will be long gone!” 

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