C4 Soong Qingshu Was Humiliated.

"You brazen scoundrel, you're shamelessly encroaching on our Wudang territory. If you have any sense, you'll scram down the mountain this instant. I, Soong Qingshu, have no tolerance for frauds like you who lack talent yet strut around pretending to be formidable." With a metallic ring, Soong Qingshu drew his sword, its chilling aura palpable even from meters away to Lin Yuanjian.

"I healed Wuji's Cold Poison, and he gratefully accepted me as his master—what of it? I've also imparted to him skills that could make him invincible in this world." Lin Yuanjian's lips quirked up, his tone anything but humble.

Soong Qingshu scoffed. "Such arrogance. Not even my grandmaster could cure Wuji's Cold Poison. Who do you think you are, claiming you can conquer the world? There's a limit to boasting!"

"It seems you doubt me," Lin Yuanjian observed.

"I'm curious if your skills are as grand as your claims," retorted Soong Qingshu, his expression darkening. His steel sword lunged toward Lin Yuanjian's left shoulder, swift as a viper.

As the sword thrust forward, Soong Qingshu's stern face eased. He was certain that this strike would expose the true nature of the man before him.

"Hmph, a mere jester, unworthy of attention. You clearly have no idea what Wudang stands for."

His smug thoughts were abruptly cut short, his face stiffening in shock.

The sword halted abruptly, just a foot from Lin Yuanjian.

The reason was simple: Lin Yuanjian had effortlessly pinched the blade between two fingers.

It took Soong Qingshu a few seconds to snap out of his daze, his mind reeling. "Impossible!" His martial prowess and swordsmanship were top-tier among Wudang's third generation. That last strike, though not at full strength, was not something just anyone could counter so casually.

Yet there sat Lin Yuanjian, unmoved, as serene as an ancient pine, casually catching the sword at the critical moment with merely two fingers.

Soong Qingshu's pride was wounded. This unassuming young man was proving to be quite extraordinary.

"You got lucky with that move. The next won't be nearly as easy," Soong Qingshu said with a frosty smile, gearing up to unleash his signature technique.

But when he tried to withdraw his sword, his face contorted with alarm.

Soong Qingshu's sword felt as though it was lodged in solid rock, immovable.

No matter how much force he exerted, gripping the hilt with both hands until his face turned beet red, the sword caught between Lin Yuanjian's fingers didn't budge.

How could this be? Soong Qingshu couldn't fathom it. Even his father, Soong Yuanqiao, might not have managed to trap the sword so effortlessly with two fingers.

The man before him was younger—how could he possess such profound martial skill?

"You've interrupted my rest. It would be best if you left," Lin Yuanjian said, his face hardening as he exerted a fierce force from his fingertips.

With a cry of alarm, Soong Qingshu, along with his sword, was sent flying toward the door.

As if guided by unseen hands, the door swung open just as Soong Qingshu approached and shut promptly after he was expelled.

The seven or eight Wudang disciples in the courtyard, witnessing a figure hurled out, couldn't suppress their smirks of satisfaction.

"Hah, you thought you could undermine the Wudang Sect with your skills, but you were easily defeated by Senior Brother Soong!"

"Our Senior Brother Soong's martial arts are unmatched. How could he be bested by an amateur?"

Some quick-thinking disciples had already started to suck up to him.

But when they got a clear view of the person sprawled on the ground, their jaws nearly hit the floor.

The one who had been sent flying in such a sorry state was none other than Soong Qingshu!

The disciple who had just been singing his praises suddenly looked mortified, pretending as if he'd said nothing.

"Senior Brother Soong, what happened?"

They all rushed to help Soong Qingshu to his feet.

Clutching his sword, Soong Qingshu's face was a mix of red and green.

They had intended to give someone else a lesson, yet it appeared the tables had turned on him.

"Let's go. We'll spare him for now," Soong Qingshu managed to say through clenched teeth.

"Why, Senior Brother Soong? We haven't even taught him a lesson yet!" blurted out a less astute disciple.

Teach him a lesson? Soong Qingshu felt like swearing. Couldn't they see he had just been sent flying with a single move?

It was a humiliating situation, one he couldn't openly acknowledge, though it was clear everyone understood.

But the earlier comment from the disciple was like rubbing salt in the wound. How was Soong Qingshu supposed to respond to that? It was utterly tactless!

"Our Wudang is an esteemed and upright sect, the pillar of the martial arts community. He is our guest, and we must not treat him with disrespect. Should there be any disputes, they must be resolved openly in the presence of our sect master and the Martial Uncles! Senior Brother Soong is an honorable man; he would never stoop to venting his frustrations in secret," chimed in another more astute disciple, deftly smoothing over the awkwardness and conveniently ignoring Soong Qingshu's undignified exit.

Soong Qingshu shot him a look of approval.

The disciple puffed out his chest, as if to say, "Take note, everyone. This is how a loyal follower acts."

The words also served as a reminder to Soong Qingshu: "Indeed, the kid's got talent, but I refuse to believe he's a match for my father and the Martial Uncles. Once I explain the situation, there's no way Wudang will stand for his presence."

With that thought, Soong Qingshu's spirits lifted significantly.

...

After Soong Qingshu had been sent packing, Lin Yuanjian had barely had a moment's rest when Zhang Wuji returned.

"Master, do you have a moment?"

Lin Yuanjian arched an eyebrow. "Is your Third Martial Uncle seeking an audience with me?"

"You have an uncanny insight, Master," Zhang Wuji said with a smile, scratching the back of his head.

"Very well, lead the way," Lin Yuanjian replied. Though Soong Yuanqiao, Yuu Daiyan, and the others might not openly object, they were undoubtedly curious to gauge his capabilities.

Before long, Zhang Wuji led Lin Yuanjian to a tranquil courtyard.

Under the old tree at the courtyard's center lay a tall man, around forty years old, reclining on a bamboo bed, clearly incapacitated and immobile.

This man was unmistakably Yuu Daiyan, one of the Wudang Seven Heroes.

"Third Martial Uncle!" Zhang Wuji greeted.

"Wuji, you've come?" Yuu Daiyan looked up joyfully, his attention then shifting to Lin Yuanjian beside Zhang Wuji. "And who might this be?"

Zhang Wuji introduced him, "This is my master..."

"I am Lin Yuanjian, a pleasure to meet the three heroes of Wudang," Lin Yuanjian said with a smile, offering a fist-and-palm salute.

Yuu Daiyan was taken aback. Zhang Wuji had told him that this master had imparted the Nine Yang True Scripture, healing the Cold Poison that afflicted him. Yuu had imagined such a figure to be either an elderly recluse or a renowned martial arts master, never expecting to encounter a young man of Wuji's age.

"Third Brother, we've come to visit you. Did Wuji return? Is he with you?" A booming voice suddenly echoed from outside the courtyard, followed by a flurry of footsteps indicating the arrival of several people.

"Eldest Senior Brother?" Yuu Daiyan was surprised, then quickly responded, "Yes, Wuji is here. Please, everyone, come inside."

As Lin Yuanjian turned, he saw a procession of eight or nine people entering through the gate. Leading the group was a man in his fifties, his presence commanding, clad in a grey Taoist robe—undoubtedly Soong Yuanqiao, the head of the Seven Heroes of Wudang.

Following him were four middle-aged men who could only be Yuu Lianzhou, Zhang Songxi, Yin Liting, and Mo Shenggu.

Bringing up the rear were Soong Qingshu and three women. Two appeared to be in their thirties, while the third was a girl of seventeen or eighteen. All were strikingly attractive, but the youngest girl stood out with her exquisite beauty and the delicate charm characteristic of Jiangnan women—an unforgettable sight.

Lin Yuanjian was perplexed. The Wudang Sect was known for not accepting female disciples. Could these women be from the Emei Sect?

Soong Qingshu's gaze toward Lin Yuanjian was far from friendly. Since his arrival, he had been eyeing Lin with disdain, thinking to himself, "Now that my father and several martial uncles are here, I'd like to see if you can keep up that arrogant front!"