Flower Stealing Master

Qiu Qianren was renowned across the world for his Iron Palm technique. In terms of palm strength, he was second only to the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms of the Beggar Gang and the Prajna Palm of Shaolin. Though he had to engage the enemy in haste, he was still confident that a single strike would force his opponent back. By then, Western Poison Ouyang Feng should have arrived, and with the two of them joining forces, even if Wang Chongyang were to return from the dead, he would have no choice but to retreat.

As their palms clashed, Qiu Qianren felt his strength dissipate as if it had vanished into thin air, like a mud ox sinking into the sea. His heart trembled with shock. His full-force strike had landed on empty space, and his own internal force rebounded, causing his chest to churn with turbulent blood and Qi.

He hadn’t expected that despite his opponent’s fearsome momentum, their palm strike carried a formless force. This resulted in him sustaining internal injuries in an instant. But there was no time for regret—years of experience in the martial world made him instinctively dodge to the side.

While mid-air, he twisted his waist, forcibly shifting his body several feet to the side. Under normal circumstances, Qiu Qianren would have taken pride in his maneuver. Across the martial world, one could count on one hand the number of Qinggong experts capable of such an elegant movement.

However, there was no joy in his heart this time. He realized that his opponent had not missed their mark due to his evasion. Instead, their palm followed him relentlessly, like a maggot clinging to bone.

Taking a deep breath, Qiu Qianren brought both palms to his chest, hurriedly forming a defensive stance. With his level of skill, he didn’t seek to defeat the enemy, only to protect himself. This move should have been impenetrable—yet, unexpectedly, his opponent’s palm bypassed his defense from an inconceivable angle. It seemed slow and unhurried, but in the next moment, it lightly pressed against his chest.

Qiu Qianren felt as if struck by lightning. A mouthful of fresh blood spurted from his lips as he plummeted to the ground. Fortunately, his decades of cultivation weren’t for nothing—he managed to shift just enough to avoid a fatal blow, barely preserving his life. However, his meridians were now in turmoil, his internal energy was in disarray, and he wouldn’t be able to fight for at least several months.

Though the entire exchange seemed drawn out, it had occurred in the blink of an eye. Ouyang Feng was merely a short distance behind Qiu Qianren, yet by the time he arrived, Qiu Qianren was already severely injured and falling to the ground.

Experienced and decisive, Ouyang Feng didn’t hesitate. Without sparing Qiu Qianren a glance, he immediately launched a strike with his Toad Skill at the shadowy figure.

However, Ouyang Feng found little cause for celebration. He had only gained the upper hand due to the timing—his opponent had just exhausted their strength against Qiu Qianren and had yet to recover. But despite this advantage, he was unable to convert it into victory.

The two exchanged over a dozen blows in an instant. With Ouyang Feng’s formidable martial arts and his initial advantage, each of his moves was a ruthless killing strike. Against an ordinary opponent, this would have been fatal. Yet, the mysterious figure deflected each attack with exquisite techniques, narrowly escaping danger every time. As the battle continued, they even began to turn the tide.

Seizing the moment during a palm clash, the figure’s body floated backward several feet, creating a safe distance between them.

Ouyang Feng did not pursue. His opponent’s martial prowess was extraordinarily rare. Even with his own abilities, he knew he couldn’t take them down alone. Fortunately, by this time, Wanyan Liang’s imperial guards had arrived on horseback, their longbows drawn, subtly surrounding the figure. At that moment, Murong Bo also arrived, assessing the shifting situation.

Only then did Ouyang Feng take a good look at his opponent. The figure wore a long blue robe and had a tall, imposing stature. Though their face was concealed by a mask, an air of majesty and confidence still radiated from them. Behind them stood Huang Rong, leaning against them like a delicate bird seeking shelter.

If not for the fact that everyone present knew that Guo Jing had been poisoned and could not possibly be here, the natural closeness between the two would have made them appear like a perfect couple.

“Song Qingshu?” Ouyang Feng was taken aback. He was likely the only one present who recognized the figure, though even he felt uncertain. “How has this brat’s martial arts improved so much?”

Having fought Song Qingshu multiple times, Ouyang Feng was intimately familiar with his skills—whether it was the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms or his sword techniques, none were unknown to him. Yet, in their recent exchange, he hadn’t recognized a single one of his opponent’s moves. Each attack appeared unremarkable—simple palm strikes and kicks—but they seamlessly dissolved his own ferocious assaults as if turning decay into wonder.

“Who exactly are you? Why do you keep interfering with my plans?!” Wanyan Liang’s expression turned dark as he glared at the masked man. Seeing Huang Rong standing so close to him, an intense jealousy burned within him, as if his most treasured possession had been seized by another.

“In the martial world, I go by the name Lu Xiaofeng—the man with four eyebrows. I love fine wine, beautiful women, and meddling in matters of injustice.”

As the leader of the Golden Serpent Camp, Song Qingshu had to consider the impact of his actions. His faction was still in its early stages, accumulating power. There was no need to provoke the Jin Empire outright, so he donned a mask and borrowed the identity of a character from a past-life wuxia novel he had admired.

Upon hearing his self-introduction, Huang Rong secretly spat in disdain, thinking, ‘This scoundrel can’t even hide his true nature while in disguise!’

“Four eyebrows… Lu Xiaofeng?” Wanyan Liang frowned and turned to Murong Bo. “Master Murong, have you heard of such a person in the martial world?”

Murong Bo shook his head. “Perhaps I am uninformed, but I cannot recall any sect producing such a master.”

“The Murong family possesses knowledge of all martial arts under heaven. If even you say there’s no such person, then he must be an impostor using a false name!” Wanyan Liang’s anger flared. With a wave of his hand, his imperial guards tightened their grip on their bows, ready to unleash a barrage of arrows at his command.

“No matter who you are, those who offend me never meet a good end. If you surrender now and swear loyalty to me, I may spare your life. Otherwise, I will have you shot through with a thousand arrows!”

Though his opponent was undoubtedly an elite martial artist, Wanyan Liang was unconcerned. If martial masters were truly invincible, then emperors and officials would all be martial artists.

No matter how powerful a martial artist was, they were helpless before the might of a disciplined army. Surrounded on all sides by spears, swords, and arrows, even the most skilled fighters could not evade every strike. Against military formations, all their Qinggong, internal strength, and counter techniques were useless.

Even grandmasters could be overwhelmed by sheer numbers—unless, of course, they possessed abilities like Ouyang Feng’s Poisonous techniques, capable of mass slaughter. Otherwise, Wanyan Liang was confident that a well-trained squad of a thousand men could annihilate any martial artist.

Of course, martial artists still had their uses—assassinations, intelligence gathering, and serving as personal guards were all valuable roles.

Hearing Wanyan Liang’s threat, Song Qingshu smiled faintly. “If not for the fact that you’re still of some use to me, I could take your life right now.”

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