Chapter 11: The Hard Road of Escape

Song Qingshu put on his clothes and, as soon as he got out of bed, felt his steps unsteady. He thought to himself, "What a disaster, the saying 'beauty brings calamity' is indeed not exaggerated."

Turning his head to look at Zhou Zhiruo lying there weakly, Song Qingshu squatted down and gently stroked her face, saying, "My dear, how could I bear to kill you when I love you so much? Don't worry, by dawn, your internal strength will be mostly restored."

No matter how angry she was, after being tormented six times, her anger had mostly subsided. Zhou Zhiruo looked at him with a complex expression and said coldly, "You will regret this."

"Even if I die at your hands in the end, I will never regret it," he said, picking up his luggage and walking out. As he was about to leave, he seemed to remember something and turned back, saying, "Don't blame me for reminding you, no one else knows what happened tonight except for you and me. You wouldn't be so foolish as to tell the truth to Zhang Wuji, would you?" With that, he laughed and walked away.

Time slowly passed, and the sky began to turn white. Zhou Zhiruo opened her eyes and sat up abruptly. The numbness and pain from below almost made her lie down again. She grabbed the bed frame, shattering it to pieces, and gritted her teeth, saying, "Song Qingshu, I will make sure you die a thousand deaths."

"Achoo!" Song Qingshu, who was dozens of miles away, sneezed, looked up at the sky, and smiled bitterly, "That woman must have woken up. Was my behavior too ruthless?"

Although he knew that if Zhou Zhiruo caught him, he would definitely be dead, if she really had a relationship with Zhang Wuji, he might have been ruthless enough to eliminate her to prevent future troubles. Now that he knew he was her first man, how could he bring himself to do it?

Moreover, even if he was a ruthless person, he was not a fool. He clearly understood that killing Zhou Zhiruo would bring more harm than good, so he let her go.

Now, only Zhou Zhiruo would secretly pursue him, and she wouldn't dare to make a fuss. On the contrary, if he killed Zhou Zhiruo and then disappeared, he would become the prime suspect. Everyone in the world would think he killed his own wife, not to mention the endless pursuit by Zhang Wuji and the Emei Sect, and the whole world would despise him. His reputation would be completely ruined.

One shouldn't underestimate the power of reputation. In the ancient world, a bad reputation could ruin a person's life. Just look at Wu Sangui, the King of Pingxi; no matter what he did, there were always people who would hinder him. This was the inevitable result of a ruined reputation. Song Qingshu still wanted to achieve great things in this chaotic world, so he wouldn't be so foolish as to bear the infamy of killing his wife.

Song Qingshu estimated that Zhou Zhiruo was already on her way to pursue him. He had mentioned the four great doctors in the world, and Zhou Zhiruo should be able to guess that he would seek them out to treat his meridians.

Hu Qingniu was already dead, and among the remaining three great doctors, Ping Yizhi in Kaifeng was the closest, followed by Doctor Xue in Songzhou, and the Poison Hand Medicine King was the most elusive, and ordinary people had no idea where to find him. However, this was not a problem for Song Qingshu. As a modern person familiar with the Jin Yong stories, he knew that the Medicine King's residence was in the Bai Ma Temple in the Dongting Lake area, around Wuchang and Yueyang. He would find the exact location when he got there.

Zhou Zhiruo would likely go to Kaifeng and Songzhou first, and only then would she search for the elusive Medicine King's residence. For the time being, he should be safe. Song Qingshu felt relieved and headed towards the Dongting Lake area.

After half a month of travel, Song Qingshu finally arrived near the Dongting Lake basin. He asked for the location of the Bai Ma Temple in several cities, but the people he asked all said they had never heard of it.

Hungry and thirsty, Song Qingshu found a tavern in town, ordered some wine and dishes, and drank while thinking about his future.

It was no wonder he was depressed. Not only was it uncertain whether the Poison Hand Medicine King could treat his meridians, but he couldn't even find the Bai Ma Temple. Who knew how far the plot of "The Flying Fox of Snowy Mountain" had progressed? If the Poison Hand Medicine King, Master Wuchan, was already dead, he would be truly heartbroken.

Unlike the typical joy of those who travel through time, Song Qingshu was just grateful to have survived in this chaotic world. He had no particular feelings for this world. In this vast world, he felt like a passerby, with no relatives (he never considered Song Yuanqiao his father, and the Wudang Sect had already severed ties with him due to Mo Shenggu, and his broken meridians were also caused by the Wudang Sect). To think, the closest person to him was his nominal wife, Zhou Zhiruo, who was now hunting him down.

He laughed bitterly, feeling that life was full of darkness and devoid of meaning.

"Get up, make room for me." With a thud, a foot stepped on the bench next to Song Qingshu, and a knife was brandished on the table.

In the martial world, taverns were indeed places where trouble often occurred. Song Qingshu thought to himself, but he didn't expect to encounter such a situation. Looking at the other empty tables, he stared curiously at the several burly men surrounding him: "Aren't there empty seats over there?"

"I just want to sit here," the leader, a burly man, said, "The view here is good. If you know what's good for you, move out of the way, or you'll get beaten up."

The other men teased each other: "Our boss hates these slick, powdered young masters the most. Today is his unlucky day."

"This kid, he looks like a sissy."

...

Song Qingshu laughed. He was in such a sorry state, being bullied by people like Zhang Wuji and Zhou Zhiruo, who were among the best in the world, was one thing, but being bullied by these common thugs was another.

With his past experience, he had at least four or five ways to avoid conflict without being too cowardly. However, since he had traveled through time, he had a lingering resentment. After discovering that this was a world created by Jin Yong's stories, he felt a vague sense of unreality. To him, the characters in this world were just low-level beings.

When he woke up, he found his meridians completely severed, and then his nominal wife was affectionate with another man. Touching her body made her want to hunt him down worldwide. If he bowed to such common NPCs now, he would truly be a disgrace to time travelers.

Song Qingshu smiled calmly, ignoring the thugs, and slowly sipped his wine.

"Ha!" The leader of the thugs laughed, slapping his wine cup to the ground. Song Qingshu didn't get angry, picked up his chopsticks, and slowly picked up a shrimp, putting it in his mouth.

"Damn!" The thug next to him, feeling ignored, picked up a thick stick and swung it at his back.

"Phew!" Song Qingshu stumbled, spitting out the wine he had just drunk, mixed with a bit of blood. He had made this decision and was prepared to be beaten. Some things might seem ridiculous to others, but he had to stick to them.

Of course, he wasn't a fool. If he were still north of the Yangtze River, he wouldn't dare to be so reckless. He was confident that in the prosperous area of the Song Dynasty, unlike the war-torn north, the government's authority still existed. These thugs would at most beat him up, but they wouldn't dare to kill him in public.

Song Qingshu endured every punch and kick, calmly picking up his chopsticks and drinking his wine, although almost none of the dishes or wine could be smoothly put in his mouth under their attacks.

"Good man!" A boy of about seven or eight years old at a nearby table stood up, turned to a beautiful woman wrapped in a white fur coat, and said, "Mother, I want to save him."

The thugs were tired of beating Song Qingshu, who looked like a dead man, and they were losing interest. When they heard someone speak up, they stopped and found a child of about seven or eight years old, and they burst into laughter. When they saw the beauty next to him, they were immediately aroused.

The leader of the thugs teased, "Hey, where did such a beautiful girl come from? If you come over and have a drink with me, I won't hold it against your child."

"Rubbish, how dare you insult my mother!" The boy was furious, grabbed a bench, and threw it over.

The leader of the thugs didn't expect him to attack, and was caught off guard, feeling dazed. Enraged, he called his brothers, "Beat him to death, but don't touch the girl."

"Be careful!" Song Qingshu, beaten and bruised, couldn't see clearly, but he felt several burly men rushing towards the child.

Seeing the crowd rushing over, the boy remained calm, dodged and knocked down one thug, then stood in the middle, letting the others surround him. After several exchanges, the thugs couldn't gain any advantage.

"Hmm?" Song Qingshu looked closely and saw that the boy's movements were short, his hands and feet never extending more than half a foot, but his techniques were dense and flawless, leaving no openings for the thugs to attack.

Song Qingshu realized that the boy's palm technique was mainly defensive, deeply rooted in the essence of Tai Chi. He wondered if the boy had any connection to Wudang. Considering his status as a Wudang outcast, he originally planned to leave to avoid awkward conversations.

However, he noticed that although the boy's movements were graceful, he was still young and lacked strength, gradually falling into a disadvantage.

This made it difficult for him to leave. The thugs, seeing that they couldn't take down a child for so long, felt embarrassed. One of them, in a fit of anger, pulled out a knife and slashed at the boy.

"Be careful!" Song Qingshu was shocked, grabbed a bench, and rushed over. If the child died because of saving him, he would feel guilty for the rest of his life.

The woman in the white fur coat also acted, a white silk ribbon flew out, wrapped around the boy, and pulled him out of the fight.

Chapter 12: Xiaolongnü's Son Is Already This Big

Song Qingshu endured every punch and kick, calmly picking up his chopsticks and drinking his wine, although almost none of the dishes or wine could be smoothly put in his mouth under their attacks.

"Good man!" A boy of about seven or eight years old at a nearby table stood up, turned to a beautiful woman wrapped in a white fur coat, and said, "Mother, I want to save him."

The thugs were tired of beating Song Qingshu, who looked like a dead man, and they were losing interest. When they heard someone speak up, they stopped and found a child of about seven or eight years old, and they burst into laughter. When they saw the beauty next to him, they were immediately aroused.

The leader of the thugs teased, "Hey, where did such a beautiful girl come from? If you come over and have a drink with me, I won't hold it against your child."

"Rubbish, how dare you insult my mother!" The boy was furious, grabbed a bench, and threw it over.

The leader of the thugs didn't expect him to attack, and was caught off guard, feeling dazed. Enraged, he called his brothers, "Beat him to death, but don't touch the girl."

"Be careful!" Song Qingshu, beaten and bruised, couldn't see clearly, but he felt several burly men rushing towards the child.

Seeing the crowd rushing over, the boy remained calm, dodged and knocked down one thug, then stood in the middle, letting the others surround him. After several exchanges, the thugs couldn't gain any advantage.

"Hmm?" Song Qingshu looked closely and saw that the boy's movements were short, his hands and feet never extending more than half a foot, but his techniques were dense and flawless, leaving no openings for the thugs to attack.

Song Qingshu realized that the boy's palm technique was mainly defensive, deeply rooted in the essence of Tai Chi. He wondered if the boy had any connection to Wudang. Considering his status as a Wudang outcast, he originally planned to leave to avoid awkward conversations.

However, he noticed that although the boy's movements were graceful, he was still young and lacked strength, gradually falling into a disadvantage.

This made it difficult for him to leave. The thugs, seeing that they couldn't take down a child for so long, felt embarrassed. One of them, in a fit of anger, pulled out a knife and slashed at the boy.

"Be careful!" Song Qingshu was shocked, grabbed a bench, and rushed over. If the child died because of saving him, he would feel guilty for the rest of his life.

The woman in the white fur coat also acted, a white silk ribbon flew out, wrapped around the boy, and pulled him out of the fight.

Chapter 12: Xiaolongnü's Son Is Already This Big

Song Qingshu endured every punch and kick, calmly picking up his chopsticks and drinking his wine, although almost none of the dishes or wine could be smoothly put in his mouth under their attacks.

"Good man!" A boy of about seven or eight years old at a nearby table stood up, turned to a beautiful woman wrapped in a white fur coat, and said, "Mother, I want to save him."

The thugs were tired of beating Song Qingshu, who looked like a dead man, and they were losing interest. When they heard someone speak up, they stopped and found a child of about seven or eight years old, and they burst into laughter. When they saw the beauty next to him, they were immediately aroused.

The leader of the thugs teased, "Hey, where did such a beautiful girl come from? If you come over and have a drink with me, I won't hold it against your child."

"Rubbish, how dare you insult my mother!" The boy was furious, grabbed a bench, and threw it over.

The leader of the thugs didn't expect him to attack, and was caught off guard, feeling dazed. Enraged, he called his brothers, "Beat him to death, but don't touch the girl."

"Be careful!" Song Qingshu, beaten and bruised, couldn't see clearly, but he felt several burly men rushing towards the child.

Seeing the crowd rushing over, the boy remained calm, dodged and knocked down one thug, then stood in the middle, letting the others surround him. After several exchanges, the thugs couldn't gain any advantage.

"Hmm?" Song Qingshu looked closely and saw that the boy's movements were short, his hands and feet never extending more than half a foot, but his techniques were dense and flawless, leaving no openings for the thugs to attack.

Song Qingshu realized that the boy's palm technique was mainly defensive, deeply rooted in the essence of Tai Chi. He wondered if the boy had any connection to Wudang. Considering his status as a Wudang outcast, he originally planned to leave to avoid awkward conversations.

However, he noticed that although the boy's movements were graceful, he was still young and lacked strength, gradually falling into a disadvantage.

This made it difficult for him to leave. The thugs, seeing that they couldn't take down a child for so long, felt embarrassed. One of them, in a fit of anger, pulled out a knife and slashed at the boy.

"Be careful!" Song Qingshu was shocked, grabbed a bench, and rushed over. If the child died because of saving him, he would feel guilty for the rest of his life.

The woman in the white fur coat also acted, a white silk ribbon flew out, wrapped around the boy, and pulled him out of the fight.

Chapter 12: Xiaolongnü's Son Is Already This Big

Song Qingshu endured every punch and kick, calmly picking up his chopsticks and drinking his wine, although almost none of the dishes or wine could be smoothly put in his mouth under their attacks.

"Good man!" A boy of about seven or eight years old at a nearby table stood up, turned to a beautiful woman wrapped in a white fur coat, and said, "Mother, I want to save him."

The thugs were tired of beating Song Qingshu, who looked like a dead man, and they were losing interest. When they heard someone speak up, they stopped and found a child of about seven or eight years old, and they burst into laughter. When they saw the beauty next to him, they were immediately aroused.

The leader of the thugs teased, "Hey, where did such a beautiful girl come from? If you come over and have a drink with me, I won't hold it against your child."

"Rubbish, how dare you insult my mother!" The boy was furious, grabbed a bench, and threw it over.

The leader of the thugs didn't expect him to attack, and was caught off guard, feeling dazed. Enraged, he called his brothers, "Beat him to death, but don't touch the girl."

"Be careful!" Song Qingshu, beaten and bruised, couldn't see clearly, but he felt several burly men rushing towards the child.

Seeing the crowd rushing over, the boy remained calm, dodged and knocked down one thug, then stood in the middle, letting the others surround him. After several exchanges, the thugs couldn't gain any advantage.

"Hmm?" Song Qingshu looked closely and saw that the boy's movements were short, his hands and feet never extending more than half a foot, but his techniques were dense and flawless, leaving no openings for the thugs to attack.

Song Qingshu realized that the boy's palm technique was mainly defensive, deeply rooted in the essence of Tai Chi. He wondered if the boy had any connection to Wudang. Considering his status as a Wudang outcast, he originally planned to leave to avoid awkward conversations.

However, he noticed that although the boy's movements were graceful, he was still young and lacked strength, gradually falling into a disadvantage.

This made it difficult for him to leave. The thugs, seeing that they couldn't take down a child for so long, felt embarrassed. One of them, in a fit of anger, pulled out a knife and slashed at the boy.

"Be careful!" Song Qingshu was shocked, grabbed a bench, and rushed over. If the child died because of saving him, he would feel guilty for the rest of his life.

The woman in the white fur coat also acted, a white silk ribbon flew out, wrapped around the boy, and pulled him out of the fight.

Chapter 12: Xiaolongnü's Son Is Already This Big

Song Qingshu endured every punch and kick, calmly picking up his chopsticks and drinking his wine, although almost none of the dishes or wine could be smoothly put in his mouth under their attacks.

"Good man