Flower Stealing Master

Holding a warm and fragrant beauty in his arms, Song Qingshu inhaled a subtle, alluring fragrance—neither orchid nor musk—and felt his spirit surge. With a hearty laugh, he said, “Miss Ren, may I borrow your sword?”

Although he had his own wooden sword, it was far too conspicuous. Was there anyone left in the martial world who didn’t know his weapon was a wooden sword? Revealing it would not only expose his hidden identity but might also cause an even greater problem: what if Ren Yingying, upon realizing he was Song Qingshu, refused his treatment?

Based on their previous interactions, this scenario seemed all too likely.

Whether in his past life or this one, Song Qingshu held deep affection for Ren Yingying and couldn’t bear to see her perish.

“You… just take it yourself.” Ren Yingying, her arms wrapped around his neck, had tucked the short sword into her chest. With the chaos of their constant dodging, she feared that letting go might cause her to fall. If he had to save her from falling and left them both vulnerable to attack, it would spell disaster.

‘Extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary measures,’ she thought, biting her lip.

Song Qingshu was briefly stunned. He hadn’t expected the usually shy and reserved Miss Ren to act so decisively. Naturally, he felt no hesitation—after all, she was his fiancée, so this didn’t breach propriety.

“Well, well, what a pair of shameless lovers! I wonder what Linghu Chong would think if he saw this scene,” mocked Zuo Lengchan. Since Song Qingshu had taken Ren Yingying into his arms and was now evading attacks with ease, his earlier strategy to trap them had fallen apart. He tried goading Ren Yingying, hoping her anger or shame would prompt her to break free from Song Qingshu.

“You’re courting death!” Song Qingshu’s expression turned cold. He reached into Ren Yingying’s chest and, with a flash of light, a short sword gleamed. Zuo Lengchan cried out and retreated hastily. When he finally steadied himself, the onlookers noticed his left hand was drenched in blood—his pinky and ring fingers had been severed.

Zuo Lengchan was nothing if not bold. After staunching the bleeding with acupuncture, he wielded his long sword and charged again, shouting at his black-clad subordinates, “Are you all dead? Kill them!”

The group had hesitated earlier, knowing that Zuo Lengchan, a renowned martial artist, had already stooped to exploiting a weakened enemy and even joined forces with another top-tier master. To pile on further in front of Shaolin’s Master Fang Zheng would have been disgraceful. However, seeing Zuo Lengchan injured brought them to their senses. This was a fight for survival, and there was no time for dignity. With fierce cries, they rushed forward.

Song Qingshu forced You Tanzhi back with a single strike and glanced at the approaching horde. Looking down at Ren Yingying, he asked softly, “Miss Ren, are you afraid?”

Ren Yingying smiled faintly. “With a senior like you here, how could I be?”

“Hahaha!” Song Qingshu burst into hearty laughter, his morale soaring. Facing the oncoming crowd, he shouted, “Even if you all come at me together, what have I to fear?”

His voice, imbued with inner strength, rang out, leaving the black-clad attackers momentarily stunned and hesitant to advance further.

Rather than pressing his advantage, Song Qingshu raised the short sword before him to examine it. The blade was short and thin, almost transparent in the sunlight. Curious, he asked, “Miss Ren, does this sword have a name?”

Ren Yingying shook her head slightly. “I found it as a child in the Blackwood Cliff armory. I even asked my father about it, but he didn’t know its name.”

“This sword is nearly invisible, matching the essence of the legendary Shadowless Sword from the Spring and Autumn period—‘shadowed yet formless.’ Let’s call it Shadowless,” Song Qingshu declared. As soon as he finished, the blade emitted a soft hum, as if it had a spirit and approved of the name.

“Shadowless?” Ren Yingying murmured, recalling the legend she’d read: During the Spring and Autumn period, at dawn in the outskirts of Wei, a fleeting sword shadow appeared on a northern wall. The shadow vanished with the daylight, only to reappear at dusk during the brief transition between day and night.

“Very well, let it be Shadowless!” Ren Yingying’s eyes lit up, finding the sword’s connection to the ancient legend fascinating.

“Facing death, and you still find time for leisure!” Zuo Lengchan sneered. Frustrated by his subordinates’ reluctance, he led the charge himself.

Seeing Zuo Lengchan take the lead, the black-clad men exchanged glances before charging with their weapons.

The pressure on Song Qingshu instantly mounted. Even with his superior skills, he had only one hand free, and the attackers weren’t amateurs.

Under normal circumstances, he could dispatch these foes effortlessly, but now he had to constantly channel True Qi into Ren Yingying to sustain her. This halved his strength. Moreover, he had to shield her, frequently withdrawing killing blows to intercept attacks aimed at her.

From a distance, Ah Zi observed the chaos. Despite Song Qingshu’s precarious situation, he stood firm at the center, unyielding. She couldn’t help but curse inwardly, ‘Hmph! Some Five Sacred Mountain Sword Alliance Leader—so useless! Even with so many attacking, they can’t bring down one man who’s holding a woman!’

At the same time, a chill ran through her. ‘If he escapes today, he might come for my life someday…’  

Ah Zi wanted to help but knew her limits. Her martial skills were far inferior to even Zuo Lengchan’s black-clad subordinates; joining the fray would be suicidal.

Her eyes landed on the anxious Wu Yunzhu in the distance, and an idea struck. With a sly grin, she leapt over and grabbed Wu Yunzhu by the throat. Smiling, she called out to Song Qingshu, “Hey, oh-so-mighty master, if you don’t surrender, this little girl’s life is over!”

Song Qingshu turned, saw Wu Yunzhu’s predicament, and snorted coldly.

Ah Zi was about to taunt him further when that snort reverberated like thunder in her ears. She momentarily froze, her mind blank. When she recovered, a sword tip was already at her throat.

“Let her go,” Song Qingshu said, still cradling Ren Yingying, his voice cold. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

“No!” Despite the chilling sensation of the blade, Ah Zi stubbornly held Wu Yunzhu by the throat, tightening her grip.

“Big brother, don’t worry about me!” Wu Yunzhu shouted urgently.

“Heh, little beauty,” Ah Zi whispered mischievously into Wu Yunzhu’s ear, “if he didn’t care about you, that sword would’ve pierced me already. He’s just afraid I’ll hurt you before I die.”

Song Qingshu looked at Ah Zi in surprise. Despite her youth, she remained calm under pressure. Most, even the bravest soldiers, would have instinctively flinched when faced with that earlier strike. Instead, she made a decisive choice, gripping Wu Yunzhu’s throat even tighter.

“Let go of Miss Ah Zi!” cried You Tanzhi, his beloved’s life in danger. Enraged, he charged at Song Qingshu in a frenzy. 

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