The Hard Road of Escape

Song Qingshu got dressed. The moment he climbed out of bed, his steps felt unsteady. Damn it, beauties really are a disaster, just as they say.

He turned back to look at Zhou Zhiruo lying there weakly. Squatting down, he brushed his fingers over her cheek. "Wife, I love you so much. How could I bear to kill you? Don't worry. Your inner strength should more or less recover after daybreak."

No matter how furious she had been, after being ravaged six times, most of that fury had been extinguished. Zhou Zhiruo gave him a complicated look and said coldly, "You'll regret this."

"Even if I die by your hand in the end, I'll never regret it." Song Qingshu kissed her fragrant lips, picked up his luggage, and headed outside. As he reached the door, he seemed to recall something and turned back. "Don't say I didn't warn you. Aside from you and me, no one knows what happened tonight. You're not foolish enough to tell Zhang Wuji the truth, are you?" With a laugh, he drifted away.

Time slowly passed, and the horizon began to brighten. Zhou Zhiruo's eyes snapped open, and she abruptly sat up in bed. The numbness and pain from below nearly made her collapse again. Looking at the traces of their lovemaking all over her fair, delicate body, Zhou Zhiruo casually grabbed the bedboard and crushed it to pieces. Gritting her teeth, she said, "Song Qingshu, I will make sure you die a miserable death."

"Achoo!" Song Qingshu, dozens of li away, sneezed. Looking up at the sky, he smiled bitterly. "That woman has probably woken up by now. Was I a little too heartless?"

After learning that she was still a virgin, the reason Song Qingshu had continued humiliating her like that was actually to stir up Zhou Zhiruo's hatred for him, lest she kill herself out of grief and despair.

Though he knew that if Zhou Zhiruo caught him, he would certainly be dead, if she and Zhang Wuji had truly done anything together, Song Qingshu might really have hardened his heart and eliminated her to prevent future trouble. But now that he knew he was her first man, how could he possibly bring himself to kill her?

Besides, even if he were ruthless and merciless, he was no fool. He had spared Zhou Zhiruo because he had clearly considered that killing her would bring far more harm than benefit.

Now, only Zhou Zhiruo would secretly pursue and kill him, and she would not dare make it public. In contrast, if he killed Zhou Zhiruo and then disappeared, he would become the prime suspect. Everyone in the world would believe that he had murdered his own wife. Not only would Zhang Wuji and the Emei Sect hunt him without end, but the entire world would despise him. By then, his reputation would be utterly ruined.

One should not underestimate the word "reputation." In the ancient world, once one bore a bad name, it was likely impossible to recover for a lifetime. Wasn't Prince Pingxi Wu Sangui constantly having people leap out to undermine him, no matter what he did? That was the inevitable result of having an infamous reputation. Song Qingshu still wanted to accomplish great things in this chaotic age. How could he be foolish enough to bear the vile name of a wife-killer?

Song Qingshu reckoned that Zhou Zhiruo was already on the road to hunt him down. He had once mentioned the Four Great Divine Doctors, so Zhou Zhiruo should be able to guess that he intended to seek them out to treat his meridians.

Hu Qingniu was already dead. Of the remaining three great doctors, Ping Yizhi of Kaifeng was the closest, followed by Divine Doctor Xue in Songzhou. The Poison Hand Medicine King was the most elusive of all; ordinary people simply had no idea where to find him. But this was no challenge for Song Qingshu. As a modern man familiar with the plots of Jin Yong's novels, he knew perfectly well that Medicine King Manor was at Baima Temple in the Dongting Lake region, around Wuchang and Yueyang. He could find its exact location once he got there.

Unless something unexpected happened, Zhou Zhiruo would surely go to Kaifeng and Songzhou first, only searching for the elusive Medicine King Manor afterward. Song Qingshu should remain safe for the time being. Greatly reassured, he strode toward Dongting Lake.

After traveling for half a month, Song Qingshu finally reached the vicinity of the Dongting Lake region. He asked around in several cities for the location of Baima Temple, but everyone he questioned said they had never heard of the place.

Hungry and thirsty from the journey, Song Qingshu found a tavern in town. He ordered wine and food, drinking his sorrows away while pondering his future.

No wonder he was so dejected. Leaving aside whether the Poison Hand Medicine King could heal his meridians, he could not even find Baima Temple. And who knew how far the plot of Fox Volant of the Snowy Mountain had progressed? If the Poison Hand Medicine King and Master Wuchen were already dead, he would truly have no tears left to cry.

Unlike the usual ecstatic transmigrators, Song Qingshu had not been overjoyed to arrive in this chaotic world. He was merely grateful to have reclaimed his life, but he had no attachment to this world. The heavens were vast and the earth was wide, yet he was like a passing traveler with no family to call his own—he had never regarded Song Yuanqiao as his father after transmigrating here. Moreover, the Wudang Sect had long since severed ties with Song Qingshu because of Mo Shenggu, and his meridians being completely shattered was also thanks to the Wudang Sect. Come to think of it, the person closest to him was actually his nominal wife, Zhou Zhiruo. Yet she was currently hunting him all across the world.

With a bitter smile, Song Qingshu suddenly felt that life was filled with bleakness. There was nothing left worth living for.

"Get up and give this lord your seat." With a bang, a foot stepped onto the stool beside Song Qingshu, and a saber was planted on the table in a show of force.

Taverns in martial arts worlds really were places where trouble never ceased. Song Qingshu thought gloomily. He just had not expected such a thing to happen to him. Looking at the other empty tables, he stared strangely at the burly men surrounding him. "Aren't there empty seats over there?"

"I just want your seat," said the obvious leader of the group. "Your spot has a good view. If you know what's good for you, get out of here quickly and save yourself a beating."

The other men mocked him among themselves. "Our boss hates pretty-boy young masters like this most of all. He's unlucky today."

"This brat looks like some boy toy. He'll definitely tuck his balls between his legs and slink away."

Song Qingshu smiled. He had already fallen so low that being bullied by peerless figures like Zhang Wuji and Zhou Zhiruo was one thing, but now even a few street thugs were coming to piss on his head.

With the experience of his previous life, he had at least four or five ways to avoid a conflict in a situation like this without appearing too pathetic. But ever since transmigrating, a stifled resentment had always been lodged in his heart. After discovering that this world was made up of Jin Yong's novels, he had also developed a vague sense of unreality. To him, the people in this world were nothing more than inferior creatures.

The instant he woke up, he discovered that all his meridians had been severed. Then his nominal wife had been lovingly entwined with another man, and merely touching her body had made her want to hunt him across the world. If he still had to bow and scrape before NPC passersby like these, he would truly be a disgrace to transmigrators.

Song Qingshu smiled calmly, ignored the thugs beside him, raised his wine cup, and slowly took a sip.

"Oh, really?" The thug leader laughed and slapped his wine cup to the floor. Song Qingshu did not get angry. He picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a shrimp, and leisurely put it into his mouth.

"Fuck!" The thugs beside him realized they were being ignored, and one of their faces twitched. Grabbing a cudgel as thick as a child's arm from nearby, he swung it at Song Qingshu's back.

"Pfft!" Song Qingshu staggered from the blow, spraying out the mouthful of wine he had just drunk along with a trace of blood. The moment he made that decision, he had already prepared himself to be beaten. Some things might seem laughable to others, but he had to stand by them.

Of course, he was not an idiot. If he were still north of the Yangtze River, he would never dare act so rashly. He had judged that he was now in a prosperous part of Great Song territory. Unlike the north, where war raged everywhere, the government's deterrent power still existed here. These thugs might beat him badly, but they did not have the nerve to kill him in broad daylight before everyone.