Flower Stealing Master

“Not only did we meet, but we also held a wedding ceremony,” Song Qingshu said with a bitter smile.

“What?” Ren Woxing was stunned.

“The Grandmaster officiated our wedding,” Song Qingshu quickly explained, selectively recounting the events. Of course, in his version, Ren Yingying was not deceived but had willingly married him.

Ren Woxing felt uneasy, thinking, ‘How could such an important event take place without inviting me, her father? And it was so rushed—the wedding must have been too simple.’

Song Qingshu immediately guessed his thoughts and hastily explained, “I hope Father-in-law won’t mind. The main reason for the haste was due to the trouble on my father’s side. Once I rescue him and the others, I will hold a grand wedding to properly marry Yingying.”

Only then did Ren Woxing’s anger subside, turning into joy, though he still said, “Having Grandmaster Zhang officiate is a blessing Yingying must have earned in her past life, hahahaha!”

While Song Qingshu and Ren Woxing whispered to each other, Jiumozhi was consulting Zhang Sanfeng. 

Jiumozhi was highly confident in his martial arts and had always been arrogant, never regarding the martial artists of the Central Plains seriously. However, Zhang Sanfeng’s reputation was too great. Without absolute confidence, he dared not challenge Wudang. Now that he had the chance to probe Zhang Sanfeng, he wouldn’t let it slip by. Along the way, he constantly posed martial arts questions, but Zhang Sanfeng, a true grandmaster, effortlessly answered them in just a few words. His clarity left Jiumozhi both astonished and fearful, quelling any thought of challenging him.

The four of them soon arrived at the foot of Mount Song. 

Song Qingshu initially intended to sneak in under the cover of night to investigate, but Zhang Sanfeng disapproved. Given his status, such behavior would be unbecoming.

Realizing Zhang Sanfeng had a point, Song Qingshu decided to pay an open and respectful visit instead.

As they ascended Shaoshi Mountain, Zhang Sanfeng revisited old memories. Over ninety years ago, his master, Monk Jueyuan, had carried two iron water buckets and escaped from Shaolin with Guo Xiang and himself. Now, looking back, it felt like a lifetime ago. He sighed deeply as he climbed the mountain, seeing the same five peaks and ancient steles, but knowing that Jueyuan and Guo Xiang were long gone from this world.

When they reached the entrance, they encountered two young Shaolin monks chatting and laughing. 

Zhang Sanfeng stepped forward and said, “Please inform the abbot that Zhang Sanfeng of Wudang seeks an audience.”

The two monks were startled upon hearing his name. They scrutinized him carefully—he was unusually tall, with silver hair and beard, yet his face was smooth and ruddy. His eyes twinkled with kindness, though his blue daoist robe was tattered and stained. The monks thought, ‘Zhang Sanfeng is the great grandmaster of Wudang. Our Shaolin and Wudang have never been on friendly terms—could he have come to start trouble?’

However, the three men accompanying him carried an extraordinary aura, clearly not ordinary individuals. When the monks met their gazes, they felt an invisible pressure and subconsciously believed him.

“Are you truly Zhang… Esteemed Zhang of Wudang?” one monk asked hesitantly.

Zhang Sanfeng smiled. “I am indeed. I would not dare to impersonate him.”

The other monk, sensing his casual demeanor lacking the solemnity of a grandmaster, remained skeptical but dared not question further. Instead, he turned to Song Qingshu and the others. “May I ask for your names?”

Song Qingshu and his companions introduced themselves one by one. The two monks were dumbfounded. They had never seen such renowned figures in their lives, let alone four at once. Exchanging glances, though still suspicious, they dared not be negligent and hurried back to the temple to report.

News of Zhang Sanfeng’s arrival, along with the Golden Serpent King Song Qingshu, Sun Moon Holy Cult Leader Ren Woxing, and the Maha Cakra Vajra Jiumozhi, sent shockwaves through Shaolin. 

Each of them was among the top martial artists of their era. The ancient temple immediately rang its bells, summoning all monks to the Grand Hall in preparation. Meanwhile, messengers were sent to invite Chief Left of Mount Song Sect. Abbot Xuan Ci led the senior monks of the Xuan, Kong, and Fang generations to personally welcome the visitors.

As they approached, Xuan Ci discussed with the senior monks, “Zhang Sanfeng has trained for a century, and his martial arts are unfathomable. Who in the world could be his match? He must have come with absolute confidence. Moreover, Song Qingshu and Ren Woxing are both formidable—one dominated the Golden Serpent Assembly, the other, a demon cult leader, wields the Cosmic Absorption Technique unmatched in the martial world. Even Jiumozhi, though lesser-known, must be powerful to travel in such company. So many experts arriving at Shaolin could mean they intend to challenge us. Even if we cannot defeat them, the thousand monks of Shaolin must uphold our thousand-year reputation.”

All the monks nodded in unison, declaring, “We swear to stand with Shaolin to the end!”

Before long, the temple gates opened. Seeing the four visitors, Xuan Ci secretly groaned. ‘I had hoped it was merely imposters trying to stir trouble, but it’s truly them.’

Faced with such formidable guests, Xuan Ci quickly composed himself. Accompanied by the senior monks of the Damo Hall, he stepped forward and pressed his palms together. “I am Xuan Ci. Greetings to you all.”

Zhang Sanfeng observed Xuan Ci and noted his restrained yet deep inner strength, a testament to his profound cultivation. He sighed inwardly, ‘Master Xuan Ci is as reputed as the Sage Monk of Qingliang Temple. Shaolin’s thousand-year foundation truly lives up to its name.’

Meanwhile, Song Qingshu studied the righteous-looking old monk before him and smirked inwardly. ‘You may fool the world, but you can’t fool me. You broke your vows and fathered a child with Ye Erniang, then abandoned them. You allowed Ye Erniang to wreak havoc in the martial world and let your old friends die one by one, refusing to reveal your true identity as their leader. What a hypocritical monk. But this secret is too valuable—I won’t expose it just yet.’

Unaware of Song Qingshu’s thoughts, Zhang Sanfeng politely bowed and said, “We are grateful for the abbot and esteemed monks’ welcome. It is an honor beyond measure.” Though displeased, Song Qingshu and the others followed suit and paid their respects.

Ren Woxing scoffed inwardly. ‘I have roamed the martial world unhindered—these mere monks are unworthy of my bow!’

Jiumozhi, however, mused, ‘Shaolin is said to be full of masters, but these monks before me are no match for me. Hmph, if not for Esteemed Zhang, I’d humiliate them properly.’

Xuan Ci pressed his palms together and said, “It is a great surprise to receive such esteemed guests. May I ask what brings you here?”

Zhang Sanfeng replied, “I have a matter to inquire about.”

Xuan Ci gestured, “Please, have a seat.”

Once seated, monks served them tea. Ren Woxing, already irritated, sneered, “We three may be mere martial artists of some renown, but Esteemed Zhang is a grandmaster and your senior. How dare you make him sit halfway up the mountain instead of welcoming him into the temple? Even ordinary guests deserve better. Shaolin truly declines with each generation.”

Tension immediately filled the air as Shaolin monks turned pale with anger, ready for confrontation.

---

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