Flower Stealing Master

“Hmph!” Li Mochou was a proud woman, a ruthless figure who had roamed the martial world for years without hesitation to k!ll. Having been provoked repeatedly by Zhao Min, she couldn’t hold back any longer. Even though she knew her life was hanging by a thread, she summoned her remaining True Qi and leaped towards Zhao Min in a final attack.

Although Li Mochou was on the verge of death, this move was shockingly powerful, carrying an air of determination to perish together with Zhao Min. 

Startled by her ferocity, Zhao Min’s expression changed, and she quickly retreated.

Unfortunately, Li Mochou didn’t have enough strength to sustain her attack. Mid-flight, the pain in her dantian and meridians became unbearable. With a muffled groan, her vision darkened, and she plummeted to the ground.

Song Qingshu appeared beside her just in time and gently caught her in his arms. 

Li Mochou gave him a deep look before falling unconscious.

“Step aside, Surnamed Song. I’m going to k!ll her!” Zhao Min, noticing the seemingly tender exchange between the two, felt inexplicably annoyed.

“There’s no need for you to act. She won’t survive much longer anyway,” Song Qingshu sighed softly. He carried Li Mochou to the bed, placed his fingers on her wrist to check her pulse, and frowned deeply.

“Is it… really that serious?” Zhao Min asked hesitantly.

Zhao Min initially thought he was exaggerating to avoid her scolding, but his expression told a different story. She quickly stepped forward to check Li Mochou’s pulse, and soon, her delicate brows furrowed.

“What kind of demonic martial arts are you practicing? Stripping your clothes to train and ending up like this,” Zhao Min snapped, standing abruptly. She felt exasperated. Despite coming openly and with good intentions, she had somehow ended up on the defensive.

Song Qingshu’s breath caught. “Can you not phrase it so horribly? I kept my eyes covered the entire time.”

Zhao Min noticed the black cloth strip on the bed and felt slightly appeased, though she refused to admit it. “Hmph, when I came in, your eyes weren’t covered.”

“That was a coincidence. If I hadn’t uncovered them at that moment, you’d already be dead from the Frozen Soul Silver Needles…” Song Qingshu waved his hand impatiently. “Anyway, I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Zhao Min paused, realizing she indeed had no grounds to be angry. After all, the two weren’t married or even romantically involved. Embarrassed, she quickly said, “I’m just helping Zhou Zhiruo keep an eye on you.”

“Is that so?” Song Qingshu gave her a half-smile. “Weren’t the two of you sworn enemies? Since when did you become so close?”

“Mind your own business.” Zhao Min bit her lip, worried he’d press further. To divert his attention, she changed the subject. “There’s a carriage outside the inn. Why not take her to a doctor?”

Given Zhao Min’s status, with numerous experts under her command, including grandmasters, Li Mochou’s minor fame in the martial world meant little to her. She didn’t care whether Li Mochou lived or died. What she cared about was Song Qingshu’s opinion.

Zhao Min didn’t want him to see her as a jealous and ruthless woman, so she instinctively offered to help save Li Mochou. However, she wasn’t fully aware of her own motivations.

Song Qingshu shook his head. “Her condition was caused by inner turmoil disrupting her True Qi. No external force can save her. Even if the Four Divine Physicians came, they would be helpless.”

Song Qingshu thought of “The Smiling, Proud Wanderer”, where Linghu Chong’s body was filled with conflicting True Qi strands. Even one of the Four Divine Physicians, Ping Yizhi, couldn’t figure out a cure. 

Li Mochou’s situation was similar, except her body wasn’t invaded by external True Qi. Instead, it was chaotic Qi from her training in the Jade Heart Sutra, compounded by the remnants of her previously shattered internal energy. Her condition was even worse than Linghu Chong’s.

Suddenly, Song Qingshu’s eyes lit up as he thought of a potential solution, though he wasn’t sure if it would work.

“You once bragged about a method to heal even the most severe injuries…” Zhao Min’s voice interrupted his thoughts. By the end, her tone softened, tinged with shyness.

Unlike Zhou Zhiruo’s cold demeanor, Zhao Min was inherently radiant. Her bashfulness added a hint of charm, and Song Qingshu was momentarily captivated.

Noticing his gaze, Zhao Min felt as though it carried a searing heat that touched her skin. She turned her head away, coughing lightly to mask her discomfort.

Snapping out of it, Song Qingshu replied irritably, “Dual cultivation isn’t a miracle cure. It’s only effective for injuries caused by external forces. Li Mochou’s injury is self-inflicted, so it won’t work.”

Zhao Min’s lips curved into an alluring smile. “Well, since there’s no other solution, you might as well try it. If Li Mochou were conscious, she likely wouldn’t refuse. Despite her reputation for ruthlessness, she’s widely recognized as a beauty. Even if you can’t save her, wouldn’t spending such an intimate moment with her be worthwhile?”

Song Qingshu glared at her. “How can you suggest such ridiculous ideas at a time like this? No wonder you’re called an Demoness in the Central Plains.”

“What’s wrong with being an Demoness? At least I speak my mind, unlike you Central Plains hypocrites who deny what you truly want.” Zhao Min leaned close to his ear and whispered, “So, do you prefer Demonesses or ladies?”

Her warm breath sent a shiver down Song Qingshu’s spine. He instinctively replied, “Demonesses are a bit more endearing.”

Zhao Min blushed and quickly distanced herself. With a teasing smile, she nodded towards Li Mochou on the bed. “Hmph, I think you prefer witches instead.”

Song Qingshu chuckled and replied, “Whether Demonesses or witches, I like anyone who treats me well.”

“Aren’t you greedy?” Zhao Min huffed.

Song Qingshu smirked. “What about you, Princess? Do you prefer a refined gentleman or a shameless scoundrel?”

Zhao Min’s expression faltered but quickly recovered. “Neither. I like a rogue.” Memories of Zhang Wuji teasing her in the iron prison flashed through her mind, filling her heart with pain. ‘Ming Zun, I, Minmin Temür, swear to the Eternal Heaven that I’ll make you suffer eternal damnation!’

Noticing her shift in mood, Song Qingshu regretted his words. An awkward silence fell between them.

“Could you two stop flirting and pay attention to the critically injured person here?” A faint voice came from the bed. 

Li Mochou had regained consciousness.

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Check out my other projects: Dual Cultivation with a Fox Demon, Ask the Mirror (recommended), and Immortal Divine Tribulation