Explore Tianlong Temple at Night

Disparagingly, Song Qingshu muttered under his breath, "Even Zhang Wuji had the sense to leave a clue behind, yet Duan Yu's actions are nothing but crude." The thought of Zhang Wuji only soured his mood further, fueling his frustration.

A glimmer of realization crossed his face as Song Qingshu recalled the painting scroll depicting the fairy sister, who had used her body to indicate the direction of each meridian point. A sly smile curved his lips. They were all men, and he couldn't bear the thought of leaving such valuable knowledge to others. He was determined to keep it for himself.

With Duan Yu having acquired the Beiming Divine Art and Lingbo's Microsteps, Song Qingshu wondered if he had also mastered the Six Meridian Divine Sword. Reluctant to embark on a fruitless journey, he devised a plan to rendezvous with his companions at the Tianlong Temple.

The I Ching Bone Forging Chapter within the Jiuyin Scripture promised accelerated internal strength cultivation, surpassing that of an average practitioner. Armed with the Jiuyin Scripture and Shenzhao Scripture, Song Qingshu believed his internal strength had reached a level sufficient to wield the power of the Six Meridian Divine Sword.

The pious people of Dali were quick to aid him when they learned of his destination, eager to showcase their devotion to Buddha. However, by the time Song Qingshu arrived at the outskirts of Tianlong Temple, darkness had enveloped the sky.

"Nowadays, martial arts sects are fiercely protective of their techniques. The Six Meridian Divine Sword is an art kept secret even from lay disciples. Borrowing it from them would be impossible," Song Qingshu pondered, acutely aware of the discerning eyes of those in power. He weighed his options, unburdened by the notion of theft. After all, he merely intended to peruse the text once. Could scholars consider it theft?

Silently skirting the walls of Tianlong Temple, Song Qingshu moved with the agility of a shadow, his every step calculated and deliberate. His objective was clear—to locate the coveted treasure hidden within these sacred grounds. With a graceful leap, he seamlessly infiltrated the temple, leaving no trace of his presence. His exploration led him past the illustrious Qingdu Yaotai, Wutianjing, Sanyuan Palace, Tusita Academy, Yuhua Academy, and Prajna Terrace, each more magnificent than the last. However, it was amidst a cluster of unassuming pine huts that a flicker of intuition guided him. Could this be the clandestine repository he sought?

Scaling the rooftop with utmost caution, Song Qingshu gingerly lifted a tile, his heart sinking as disappointment crept over him.

To his dismay, six serene monks sat cross-legged on their mats, their faces serene and their breathing steady—a testament to their profound mastery.

"This won't be easy," Song Qingshu sighed involuntarily, fully grasping the gravity of the situation. "In the presence of the Heavenly Dragon and these formidable monks, with Kumozhi's unparalleled might, my hopes seem nothing more than shattered dreams."

"Why not reveal yourself since you've graced us with your presence, Your Excellency?" The monk seated with his back to the wall suddenly turned, his thumb raised, and a scorching gust of sword energy surged towards Song Qingshu. Startled, he lost his footing and stumbled through the roof, spinning in the air before safely landing inside the house.

"Visiting your esteemed temple under the cover of night carries numerous transgressions. I humbly apologize for my audacity," Song Qingshu gracefully landed, bowing respectfully.

The monks within the room had already opened their eyes, fixing their gaze upon him. Zen Master Ku Rong, still facing the wall, sneered, "Though your words are polite, your actions betray stealthiness. I wonder what brings you to our temple on this late visit."

Song Qingshu hesitated momentarily. It appeared that his hopes of silently acquiring the scripture were gone. He decided to emulate Ku Mazhi and fabricate a story, saying, "While I may be of humble origins, I happened to witness Senior Feng Qingyang's awe-inspiring performance of the Dugu Nine Swords on Huashan Mountain. It was truly a fortuitous encounter. I can scarcely fathom a sword technique mightier than the Dugu Nine Swords. In coming to Guisi today, I hoped to witness firsthand the prowess of your temple's Six Meridian Divine Sword, to compare it against my recollection of the Dugu Nine Swords and determine which sword reigns supreme."

Several monks in the room began to converse upon hearing his words. Feng Qingyang, the sword sage of Huashan, was known far and wide as the world's greatest swordsman. The monks held a deep fascination for his Dugu Nine Swords. Song Qingshu's mention of it sparked their curiosity.

Ku Rong remained motionless, his voice hoarse and cold as he spoke, "Your Excellency wishes to witness the Six Meridian Sword, but why the need to read through the scriptures? Though we humble monks possess modest martial skills, we have also gleaned fragments of the Six Meridian Sword's essence. I implore you to share your wisdom and teach us a thing or two."

It appeared that Kumozhi had already visited Tianlong Temple. Song Qingshu sighed inwardly, realizing he had fallen behind the unfolding plot. He noticed the monks subtly positioning themselves, encircling him. With a bitter smile, he said, "It seems King Dalun Ming has already graced your temple, and the rumors of the Six-Meridian Excalibur Sword Scroll being destroyed hold true. Despite the numerous interruptions during my journey, I bear no ill intentions. The esteemed priests embody compassion, and I humbly request your permission to depart."

The room fell into a puzzled silence as everyone exchanged uncertain glances. How did he possess such intimate knowledge of such a closely guarded secret? Emperor Baoding, previously concerned for his nephew Duan Yu's safety, anxiously interjected, "Since you possess such detailed knowledge of this secret matter, it is unlikely that you have any association with Kumozhi. Please, stay and enlighten us." With a flick of his finger, a swift and precise sword strike shot towards Song Qingshu.

In that moment, Song Qingshu berated himself internally, wishing he could deliver a resounding slap to his own face. He had missed the opportunity to bid his farewell. Now, he had no choice but to act out his part in the narrative. He narrowly evaded the true dust sword with quick reflexes, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. Inside the house, the monks lent each other support, their swords clashing in a symphony of danger, their movements swift and thunderous, rending the air.

Despite his internal frustration, Song Qingshu's reflexes remained sharp as he gracefully evaded the true dust sword, narrowly escaping its lethal trajectory. Inside the house, the monks united in their cause, their swords clashing with a ferocity that ripped through the air like thunder.

Song Qingshu found himself cornered, compelled to face the unfolding battle. Though the Six Meridian Divine Sword remained invisible, he discerned its presence through the subtle finger movements of his opponents. With each strike, he calculated the angle and anticipated the sword's eruption, allowing him to dodge with surprising agility. As he rolled on the ground, his embarrassment mingled with a sense of gratitude towards his long-forgotten physics teacher from junior high school.

Zen Master Ku Rong, the one monk who had refrained from attacking until now, finally made his move. Offering a rare compliment, he raised his thumbs and unleashed his formidable swordsmanship, Shao Shang's technique.

Ku Rong's cultivation far surpassed that of the other five monks. Despite their attempts to conjure sword auras, Song Qingshu skillfully employed the snake-shaped turning raccoon body method from the Jiuyin Scriptures, evading their attacks without suffering any significant harm. However, Ku Rong's two swords exploited the gaps in Song Qingshu's evasive maneuvers, leaving him vulnerable amidst his airborne acrobatics.

With limited options available, Song Qingshu made a daring decision. He pressed the tip of his left foot against his right instep, propelling himself several feet into the air just as Ku Rong's swords whizzed past, missing their mark. Aware that continuous attacks would eventually penetrate his defenses, Song Qingshu swiftly launched a counteroffensive.

His left hand traced a semicircle while his right palm surged forward with determined force. The technique he employed was none other than the renowned "Kanglong has regrets" from the Jianglong's eighteen palms. Sensing the formidable gust of Qi released by Song Qingshu's strike, Ku Rong, who had just recovered his breath after expending it on the sword aura, wisely chose evasion. The palm wind unleashed by Song Qingshu sent the nearby futon hurtling through the air, leaving Ku Rong astonished by the power behind the attack.

"Eighteen palms of the dragon?" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief.