Flower Stealing Master

The faces of the members from the Qinghai Sect changed drastically, as if they had just heard the most terrifying thing imaginable. They instinctively stepped back a few paces, their expressions full of fear and wariness as they stared at the two figures.

Yue Lingshan asked curiously, “Father, who are these two exactly? Why did those Qinghai Sect members, who were just strutting around arrogantly, suddenly act like they’ve seen a ghost?”

Yue Buqun’s face also turned pale as he murmured, “There is a legend that in the vast South Sea lies an island called the Isle of Heroes. Once every thirty years, the island sends two emissaries—Zhang San and Li Si—to the Central Plains. They summon the leaders of the various martial sects to the Isle of Heroes to drink Laba Congee.” (G: Laba congee is a Chinese ceremonial congee dish traditionally eaten on the eighth day of the twelfth month in the Chinese calendar.)

(Author’s Note: In the original novel, the island sends emissaries every ten years. However, to align with the timeline of this book, it has been adjusted to thirty years.)

“It’s just congee. If they invite us, why not just go and have a bowl?” Yue Lingshan remarked, still puzzled. Most people in the tavern nodded in agreement, as many of them were too young to have experienced the bloody events of thirty years ago.

Yue Buqun gave a bitter smile. “But none of the sect leaders who went to the Isle of Heroes thirty years ago ever returned. They were all top martial artists of their time, including Master Miaodi of Shaolin and Daoist Yucha of the Wudang Sect. Their martial prowess was no less than that of today’s Shaolin and Wudang leaders.”

Yue Lingshan gasped, whispering, “Then why not just refuse to go?”

Yue Buqun’s face darkened as he recalled some terrifying memories. “Thirty years ago, every leader who refused to go either met a tragic end or saw their sect erased from the martial world. Even Xu Shan, the head of the Qingcheng Sect at the time, was killed in a single move by the two emissaries—who were just youths back then. Since then, no one has dared defy them.”

“Why haven’t I heard of any Mount Hua Sect elder being invited?” Yue Lingshan asked suddenly, confusion in her voice.

“At that time, the Qi and Sword branches of the Mount Hua Sect were in fierce conflict, and neither could defeat the other. The sect leader’s position remained vacant, which might have spared us from that disaster,” Yue Buqun replied bitterly. Ever since becoming the leader of the Mount Hua Sect, he had been beset by trouble. Zuo Lengchan’s ambition loomed from the outside, the Sword branch harbored ulterior motives, and there was even a spy within the disciples. Now, the Isle of Heroes was involved, complicating matters further.

The portly, well-dressed man smiled and said, “As expected of Master Yue. I am Zhang San.”

The other man, dressed in black, spoke coldly, “Li Si.”

“Master Yue, I hope you will excuse me while I discuss something with the Qinghai Sect,” Zhang San said, turning toward the three members of the Qinghai Sect. “Which one of you is the current leader of the Qinghai Sect?”

Bu Tai scoffed. “Our Qinghai Sect has never had many members. With so few people, what need is there for a formal leader?”

Zhang San flipped through a ledger-like book and nodded. “Indeed. Old Fourth, what do you think we should do with them?”

“Three of them—together,” Li Si replied curtly, disinclined to waste words.

Zhang San tapped his forehead, chuckling. “Silly me. Well then, take this Summoning Order.”

With a flick of his left hand, several dark objects shot out from his sleeve, landing with a sharp crack before the three Qinghai Sect members. They were bronze plaques embedded neatly into the stone floor, each engraved with a smiling face, identical to Zhang San’s grin.

From a distance, Yue Buqun gasped. The Mount Hua Sect’s internal energy techniques were renowned, and despite having cultivated the Violet Mist Divine Skill manual to this level, Yue could at most embed a plaque into wooden boards. Yet these plaques sank effortlessly into solid stone, as if it was child’s play.

The three Qinghai Sect members exchanged glances, realizing the immense disparity between their abilities and those of the two emissaries. However, it was hard for them to swallow their pride and willingly go to the Isle of Heroes after having built up their reputation over decades.

“What if we refuse?” asked the Blank Fiend, laughing eerily. He had not witnessed the emissaries’ martial prowess thirty years ago and was unsure of their true strength. Though experienced in the underworld, he knew that high internal energy did not always equate to victory. Confident in their combined strength, he believed they might stand a chance against these two.

“Accept, and live. Refuse, and die,” Li Si responded flatly, his voice devoid of emotion, sending chills down everyone’s spine.

“Then I’d like to test you,” The Blank Fiend sneered, launching himself at Zhang San like a giant bird of prey.

Bu Tai and Hao Mi moved in unison, attacking Zhang San with their full strength, aiming to take him by surprise. They knew that if they could eliminate one of the emissaries, the other would be easy to handle.

“Do you think I’m an easy target just because I smile?” Zhang San chuckled, his plump face jiggling. In a flash, he was at their side.

Before Hao Mi could react, Zhang San grabbed his shoulder. In an instant, all of Hao Mi’s strength vanished without a trace. Before he could panic, Zhang San flung him toward Blank Fiend, who was still mid-air.

Blank Fiend had no choice but to abort his attack. However, Hao Mi flew at him like a cannonball, hitting his chest with the force of a hammer. Both men crashed to the ground in a humiliating heap.

Despite the chaos, Bu Tai’s attack landed. Channeling the full power of his “One Finger Zen” technique, he struck several key points on Zhang San’s body. Yet instead of feeling triumphant, Bu Tai’s heart sank—his strikes felt as though they had hit wood, having no effect at all. Just as he attempted to retreat, Zhang San’s other hand clamped down on his arm.

A wave of excruciating pain surged through Bu Tai, and he despaired. ‘I’m going to lose this arm…’

Luckily, Hao Mi shouted, “Wait! We accept!”

Zhang San released his grip with a smile. “Now, that’s the spirit.”

The crowd watched as Zhang San leisurely made his way to the Mount Hua Sect’s table. “What do you say, Master Yue?”

Yue Buqun, shaken by Zhang San’s Qinggong, hurriedly responded, “Since the two of you have graciously invited me, I will certainly attend the banquet.”

The Qinghai Sect members cursed Yue Buqun inwardly. He had been coerced, yet spoke as if he were going willingly. They had hoped to observe the emissaries’ techniques during the fight, but Yue Buqun’s cowardice shattered their plan.

Zhang San gave a thumbs-up. “Thank you, Master Yue. Now my brother and I won’t return empty-handed.”

With the matter settled, Li Si walked over to Li Mochou. “Li Mochou, the Red Fairy. Out of hatred, you exterminated the Lu family and slaughtered countless members of the He family. Your crimes warrant death.”

He flicked his sleeve, sending a bronze plaque flying into the pillar beside Li Mochou. This plaque, however, bore a grimacing face.

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