Flower Stealing Master

Hearing Dongfang Muxue speak with such conviction, the possibility that Yuan Chengzhi might not be dead began to seem plausible. Overcome with surprise  and joy, Xia Qingqing pressed, “What is the *Nine Revolutions Primordial Unity Skill*?”

Even Song Qingshu pricked up his ears. Though he was known as the Wulin’s All Knowing, his knowledge relied primarily on having read the original novels. When it came to true esoteric lore, he could not compare to Dongfang Muxue, the cult leader of the Sun Moon Holy Cult.

Dongfang Muxue explained, “The *Nine Revolutions Primordial Unity Skill* is said to have been authored by the Earthly Immortal, the Venerable Chen Tuan. It is called ‘Nine Revolutions’ because legend has it that after experiencing nine cycles of death and rebirth, one can ascend to immortality during the day.”

“Really?” Song Qingshu frowned. With his current level of cultivation, he could be said to stand at the pinnacle of the martial world. Yet he still could not touch the threshold of the Heavenly Dao. He found it hard to believe that immortals truly existed.

“The talk of immortality is indeed too ethereal—likely a fabrication.” Dongfang Muxue replied. “However, according to the records of our cult’s predecessors, each completed revolution of the skill doubles one’s power. That much is true.”

“What exactly constitutes a completed revolution?” Hearing her describe it so mysteriously, Song Qingshu was curious.

“According to legend, the practitioner must experience the transition from life to death, then from death back to life. That constitutes one revolution. As for how to return from death, opinions vary. Many of our predecessors’ notes contain speculation. The most likely scenario is that the practitioner does not truly die but enters a state of embryonic breath—a suspended animation. That is why the *Nine Revolutions Primordial Unity Skill* is also known as the *Embryonic Breath Art*.” Song Qingshu was filled with admiration for Dongfang Muxue’s explanation. She truly deserved her reputation as the former cult leader—her knowledge was vast and her memory excellent.

“Embryonic breath is a Daoist concept. Legend has it that top-tier Xiantian masters, when severely injured, enter an embryonic breath state to heal automatically. During this time, their bodies become impervious to water, fire, weapons, and stones. If Yuan Chengzhi truly practiced the *Nine Revolutions Primordial Unity Skill*, it is indeed possible that he entered an embryonic breath state by chance. Being buried in the earth might actually have promoted his recovery,” Song Qingshu said thoughtfully.

“If he had been injured elsewhere, your speculation might hold. But Big Brother Yuan was struck on the head. How could such an injury heal?” Though Xia Qingqing desperately wanted to believe, everything was simply too far beyond her understanding.

Dongfang Muxue frowned. Clearly, this was the point of uncertainty for her as well.

“This is an area where I might have some insight. The human brain is very mysterious. It is composed of many parts, each with its own function—some control movement, some control speech, some control nerves… Some parts are very mysterious, and their functions are still not fully understood. Even removing them does not seem to affect a person’s safety…” Song Qingshu spoke with authority, not spouting nonsense. In his previous life, a friend had been severely injured in a car accident. During surgery, about a spoonful of brain matter had been removed from behind his forehead. He recovered fully and remained lively—at least until the time of Song Qingshu’s transmigration, his friend had shown no aftereffects.

By coincidence, Yuan Chengzhi had also been struck by Dongfang Muxue’s sewing needle on the forehead. With the *Nine Revolutions Primordial Unity Skill* protecting his body, it was possible he had truly undergone a rebirth.

When he finished speaking, he found the two women staring at him in astonishment.

“I had no idea you understood medicine. Where did you learn all that about nerves?” Dongfang Muxue marveled.

Song Qingshu smiled sheepishly. “I spent some time with the Poison King.” He could hardly bring up his past life again. After all, Song Qingshu’s hometown was at the foot of Wudang Mountain. Dongfang Muxue, having seen much of the world, would not be easily fooled.

“The Poison King…” Dongfang Muxue fell into recollection. “Back then, I invited him several times, but he refused to join the Sun Moon Holy Cult. Looking back, that was truly a great regret.”

“If he had joined the cult, you might not be looking at a living me right now,” Song Qingshu snorted, his expression somewhat strange. “Given your nature back then, the fact that he refused you and still lived is quite surprising.”

“Hmph, don’t paint me as a bloodthirsty demon who kills without blinking.” Seeing the looks on Song Qingshu and Xia Qingqing’s faces—clearly thinking *that’s exactly what you are*—Dongfang Muxue was frustrated. “The Poison King has always kept a low profile and is difficult to track. Moreover, as the world’s greatest poison master, there was no need for me to make an enemy of him.”

Xia Qingqing suddenly spoke. “Big Brother Song, I want to go to the Liao Dynasty.”

Song Qingshu hesitated for a moment, then finally smiled. “Alright.”

Dongfang Muxue, however, sneered. “Xia Qingqing, do you hope Yuan Chengzhi is alive or dead?”

“Alive, of course!” Xia Qingqing answered without thinking.

“But have you considered: if that surnamed Yuan is indeed alive, what will you do? Will you return to his embrace, or stay with Song Qingshu?” Dongfang Muxue looked at her calmly.

Song Qingshu said grumpily, “Can you stop calling me ‘that brat’? What about me is so small?” Though he spoke lightly, he was still watching Xia Qingqing’s reaction.

Dongfang Muxue’s gaze fell on a certain part of his anatomy. Her jade-like face, for once, flushed. She snorted. “Your body isn’t small. But you are younger.”

“How old are you, really?” This was a question Song Qingshu had long been curious about. He knew Dongfang Muxue was older than him, but by how much, he had no idea.

“What, afraid I’m an old woman robbing the cradle?” The corner of Dongfang Muxue’s mouth curled up as she asked teasingly.

Song Qingshu said with exaggerated seriousness, “If all the old women in the world were as beautiful as you, all the old men would be beside themselves with joy!”

Dongfang Muxue spat. “Pah! You and your oily tongue.”

Xia Qingqing seemed deaf to their banter. Her ears echoed with Dongfang Muxue’s words.

*Yes, if Big Brother Yuan is still alive, what will become of me?*

She had always prided herself on her unwavering devotion to love. Her decision to be with Song Qingshu had been made under the premise that Yuan Chengzhi was dead. But if Yuan Chengzhi had returned from the dead, then she would have become the very thing she most despised—a faithless, fickle, lowly person.

Seeing her expression shift between dark and light, Song Qingshu worried that the emotional rollercoaster might leave lasting scars. He quickly patted her shoulder comfortingly. “Qingqing, whatever decision you make, I will support it. Don’t put any psychological burden on yourself.”

Xia Qingqing took a deep breath, as if she had finally made her decision. She opened her eyes. “I have decided to go to the Liao Dynasty.”

Song Qingshu’s heart sank, but he said nothing else. He smiled wryly. “Alright. I’ll have someone escort you.”

Xia Qingqing studied his reaction. She couldn’t help pouting. “Aren’t you going to try to stop me?”

Song Qingshu’s eyes lit up. He realized the situation might have taken a turn. A smile slowly spread across his face. “Do you want me to stop you?”

Xia Qingqing glanced at Dongfang Muxue and the rumpled bedsheets nearby. Biting her lip, she stamped her foot. “My foolish big brother, after doing… doing something so embarrassing with you, how could I go looking for another man?”

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