As the night fell, Song Qingshu awoke to find Zhou Zhiruo lying on the bed across from him, fast asleep. A surge of disgust coursed through his veins, igniting a whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. He pondered how to exact revenge, not only for the original Song Qingshu but also to cleanse himself of this unfamiliar shame. However, the realization of Zhang Wuji's martial prowess and his leadership in Mingjiao, a sect capable of opposing the Mongol forces in the Western Regions, dampened his spirits. He, now a powerless individual devoid of martial arts and influence, felt utterly helpless in seeking revenge. A sense of impotence washed over him, spreading throughout his entire being.
Yet, as his gaze inadvertently fell upon Zhou Zhiruo's exquisite face again, Song Qingshu's flames of hatred reignited within him.
With his meridians shattered, Song Qingshu contemplated a way to restore his strength. Memories of the Jiuyin Zhenjing and the Eighteen Palms of the Dragon-Slaying Blade from the Heavenly Sword and Dragon-Slaying Sword resurfaced in his mind. Along with his familiarity with Musashi in this world, achieving success in martial arts seemed within reach. He envisioned acquiring formidable treasures and rallying a force amidst the ongoing chaos of the present era, culminating in a final confrontation with Zhang Wuji.
As his thoughts grew clearer, Song Qingshu's once tumultuous emotions gradually subsided. He even considered secretly informing Zhao Min, urging her to catch them in the act. However, he couldn't shake the realization that Zhao Min, an exceedingly astute woman, might betray him to Zhang Wuji for some unforeseen reason, leading to his exposure and the subsequent helplessness of his situation. The mere thought sent shivers down his spine.
The following day, in front of everyone, Zhang Wuji regretfully announced his inability to mend the shattered meridians. Zhou Zhiruo still harbored concerns that Song Qingshu would hold resentment, but to her surprise, he calmly took a sip of tea and flatly stated, "It is the will of the heavens. Song cannot blame others for the troubles caused to Master Zhang during this period."
Even Zhao Min looked at him in astonishment. Song Qingshu responded with a faint smile, concealing the tempestuous waves brewing within his heart, all the while refining his plans for future revenge.
This was a skill he had learned from his past life in society. He would never reveal his resentment prematurely unless the outcome was certain, lest his adversaries rise early and fortify their defenses.
After engaging in light conversation for a while, Zhang Wuji, due to the pressing war in the Western Regions, had no choice but to depart with his entourage. Zhou Zhiruo commanded her disciples to pack their belongings and set forth on the journey back to Emei.
"It seems that the headmistress has become more radiant of late," the two young female disciples remarked sincerely, admiring Zhou Zhiruo along the way.
Before, Zhou Zhiruo possessed a haunting beauty, yet a somber aura lingered between her brows, evoking a sense of fear in others. Now, a perpetual hint of a smile played at the corner of her lips, accentuating her radiance. It was undoubtedly brighter than before.
"Zhiruo's beauty naturally blossoms, becoming more enchanting with each passing day," Song Qingshu spoke softly as he gently held Zhou Zhiruo's delicate hand, gazing at her affectionately. As he felt her exquisite skin, a sneer danced within his heart. The disciples remained oblivious to the reason, but he was acutely aware. Over the past few days, Zhou Zhiruo had been nourished by the essence of Zhang Wuji's Nine Yang Qi, which undoubtedly enhanced her charm and allure.
Conscious of the disciple's watchful eyes, Zhou Zhiruo hesitated to withdraw her hand directly. After all, they were husband and wife in appearance, but her impatience grew within, and her eyes gradually cooled. Merely because she played the role of Mrs. Song in front of Zhang Wuji did not mean she would allow Song Qingshu to engage in intimate acts between husband and wife with her.
Sensing that the time was right, Song Qingshu released her hand and leisurely settled into the carriage.
After days of contemplation, his plan had taken shape within his mind. Although the prospects of restoring his shattered meridians were bleak, he couldn't accept it without trying. Among the four renowned physicians in the world, Ping Yizhi, Xue, and Hu Qingniu were unlikely to have any solutions if Zhang Wuji couldn't help. That left the enigmatic Poison Medicine King and the future luminary of medicine, Cheng Lingsu. After careful consideration, he concluded that Cheng Lingsu held the greatest promise.
If all went well and his meridians were healed, he would regain his martial arts prowess, retrieve the mystical secrets and treasures, and execute his plan flawlessly. In the unfortunate event that his meridians remained irreparable, he would simply forgo martial arts. Wei Xiaobao, who possessed no martial skills, had still thrived in his previous life, climbing the social ladder step by step. There was no reason why he couldn't do the same in this life!
Song Qingshu possessed an indomitable spirit, unwilling to abandon even the faintest glimmer of hope unless death claimed him.
Prepared to depart without bidding farewell, he couldn't leave without exacting some interest first. With this in mind, Song Qingshu narrowed his eyes and observed Zhou Zhiruo's retreating figure. Unbeknownst to her, sitting in front, Zhou Zhiruo suddenly felt a shiver crawl up her spine, causing her to tightly clutch her clothes.
Under the cover of night, the group of four sought refuge in a small town inn. After dinner, the two female disciples tactfully retired to their room to rest. Zhou Zhiruo furrowed her brows and reluctantly followed Song Qingshu into their shared room. Her displeasure grew evident upon noticing the single bed occupying the space.
Song Qingshu followed her gaze, swiftly grasping the situation, and offered a smile. "Zhiruo, tonight, you shall have the bed to yourself."
"What about you?" Zhou Zhiruo never anticipated such consideration from Song Qingshu. Her heart warmed, recalling his consistent politeness towards her. Even after their marriage, he had refrained from overstepping boundaries. The memory of their agreement with Zhang Wuji came rushing back, causing a blush to stain her cheeks.
"I will make do with the floor," Song Qingshu replied, casting her a peculiar glance.
"You can't do that! Your injuries haven't fully healed, and the cold ground will exacerbate the condition," Zhou Zhiruo protested, her words warming Song Qingshu's heart. It seemed she wasn't entirely heartless.
"What if we don't?" Song Qingshu gestured towards the lone bed, his meaning clear. "Shall we make do and share?"
"That's out of the question!" Zhou Zhiruo's head shook vehemently. If not for her prior agreement with Zhang Wuji, perhaps she might have considered this intimate arrangement. Nevertheless, they would each have their own quilts. Her martial arts prowess far surpassed his, leaving her unafraid of any untoward advances.
Song Qingshu let out a wistful smile. "Don't worry, I'll fetch a few more mattresses from the inn and lay them on the floor."
Contemplating the fact that one day she would forsake him to become the wife of the man he despised the most, Zhou Zhiruo initially felt a twinge of guilt. However, upon hearing his words, she swiftly rose to her feet. "Your injuries haven't healed. Rest here, I'll take care of it." With that, she hurried out of the room.
At the inn's store, the sight of a ethereal maiden requesting additional bedding filled the storekeeper with delight. Eagerly and warmly, the storekeeper provided her with a few more mattresses. As Zhou Zhiruo departed, the storekeeper admired her retreating figure and asked, "Fair maiden, do you require any more quilts?"
Zhou Zhiruo savored the fleeting happiness until she returned to the room. What woman didn't relish the praise of her beauty from the opposite sex? She found joy in assisting Song Qingshu in arranging the floor. Given the disciples' ignorance of their true martial status, she shouldered the responsibility alone.
Finally, they finished their preparations. Zhou Zhiruo wiped the perspiration from her brow with the back of her hand. Song Qingshu poured a cup of tea and handed it to her. "Zhiruo, you've worked hard. Let's have a drink to replenish our energy."