Huang Rong from The Return of the Condor Heroes: Guo'er, calm down.

A breeze stirs in the woods.

Yang Guo broke off another tree branch and casually draped it over his shoulder. His nonchalant demeanor made him look like a bandit leader who ruled the mountains, showing no trace of the refined and cultivated air of a Quanzhen Sect disciple.

"What? Nobody dares to come?"

Yang Guo curled his lip. "Weren't you all shouting for battle just now? How come you're all cowering like turtles now? Don't you want the gold and silver treasures in the ancient tomb, or that stunningly beautiful woman?"

These words sparked outrage among the crowd.

People die for wealth, birds die for food. These wandering swordsmen, having traveled all this way to Zhongnan Mountain, were naturally desperate men who had their lives on the line. Although they were stunned by Yang Guo's move earlier, who could resist such provocation?

"Don't be so arrogant, you little Taoist! I'll teach you a lesson!"

With a loud shout, a burly man sprang out of the woods on the left. He was shirtless, his muscles bulging, and he carried a bronze staff. Every step he took shook the surrounding bushes.

"It's 'Iron-Armed Bear' Xiao Yan!" Someone recognized the newcomer and exclaimed in a low voice, "This guy has superhuman strength. He can smash a bull's head with one blow. This little Taoist priest is probably going to suffer."

Yang Guo looked at Xiao Yan, who was rushing towards him menacingly, but instead of being afraid, his eyes lit up.

This kind of purely strength-based opponent is perfect for honing the "Earth" technique.

"Take this!"

Xiao Yan rushed forward and, without any fancy moves, swung his bronze cudgel down towards Yang Guo's crown. The wind howled; if this blow landed, not only would his skull be crushed, but his entire body would be turned into mincemeat.

Yang Guo neither retreated nor dodged, his feet slightly apart, like the gnarled roots of an old tree.

Just as the bronze rod was less than three inches from his head, he gently lifted the branch.

Instead of confronting it head-on, Yan Guo followed the momentum of the falling copper staff and gently touched the side of the staff.

This seemingly insignificant point actually implies the refined internal strength honed over sixteen years of Yi Jin Jing (a traditional Chinese medicine practice).

"The earth is receptive and tolerant, and its virtue sustains all things."

Yang Guo's wrist sank, and the withered branch instantly became as heavy as a mountain.

Xiao Yan felt as if the bronze rod in his hand had struck a rapidly spinning vortex; the force that was originally straight up and down had inexplicably deviated in direction.

The bronze staff grazed past Yang Guo's clothes and struck the rock beside him. Sparks flew and pebbles scattered.

Xiao Yan exerted too much force, and his body involuntarily staggered forward, leaving him wide open.

"Good strength, but weak lower body. Too many women around, perhaps?"

Yang Guo chuckled and casually pushed the branch in his hand forward.

This delivery employed the "long drive straight in" technique from the "skillful" method.

Although the withered branch had no sharp edge, it was as hard as an iron bar when infused with internal energy. This strike landed precisely on Xiao Yan's Qimen acupoint under his ribs.

Xiao Yan groaned and collapsed limply to the ground.

"Next."

Yang Guo didn't even glance at Xiao Yan on the ground, his gaze fixed intently on the forest.

At this point, the people in the woods could no longer sit still.

"Go together! This kid's a bit strange, don't talk to him about chivalry! After you capture him, torture him severely until he tells you how to get into the ancient tomb."

Someone shouted, and immediately, seven or eight men wielding various weapons rushed forward. Some were armed with knives, some with swords, and one even had a judge's pen. They surrounded Yang Guo from all sides.

"Well done!"

Yang Guo laughed loudly, feeling not only no fear, but also a surge of excitement in his blood.

At this moment, he no longer seemed like the bullied boy on Peach Blossom Island, but the powerful Patriarch Chongyang who once dominated the peak of Mount Hua.

"Complete!"

Yang Guo spun around, the tree branch in his hand transforming into an arc. This powerful and sweeping move deflected all the incoming weapons.

"real!"

The branch trembled, conjuring several afterimages that pointed towards the wrists of the two people directly in front of it. These were feints from the "Quanzhen Swordplay," a technique that blended reality and illusion, making it impossible to defend against.

"ban!"

Facing a longsword that was attacking from the side and rear, Yang Guo did not turn his head. He flicked his wrist and pointed at the sword with perfect precision, blocking the opponent's sword hilt. A viscous force was released, which made the longsword unable to move forward or backward.

These seven or eight people fought around Yang Guo like a revolving lantern, but they could never break through the defensive line built by that withered branch.

Yang Guo weaved through the crowd, his feet moving with the "snake-like, fox-like" footwork, his body as slippery as an eel. The branch in his hand moved sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes hard, sometimes soft, perfectly demonstrating the eight-character sword intent he had gleaned from the stone tablet.

With each strike, someone falls or their weapon is lost.

But Yang Guo did not kill him.

He's feeding him.

Although these江湖草莽 (jianghu caomang, meaning rough and unruly martial arts practitioners) are of mediocre skill, their strength lies in their chaotic and unpredictable moves. This kind of chaotic battle is the ultimate test of a person's reaction and control over their sword intent.

As the battle progressed, Yang Guo's understanding of those eight words deepened.

The originally awkward transition became smooth and natural.

The overall planning of "全" (quán), the interplay of reality and illusion of "真" (zhēn), the blockade of "禁" (jìn), the composure of "地" (dì), the breakthrough of "善" (shàn), the sharpness of "入" (rù), the flexibility of "者" (zhě), and the decisiveness of "死" (sǐ).

These eight characters were broken up in his hands, then reassembled, and gradually merged into one.

"happy!"

Yang Guo forced back the last man wielding double hooks with a single blow, and stood in the center of the arena, his chest rising and falling slightly.

By this time, more than a dozen people were lying on the ground, their cries of agony echoing around them.

Although Yang Guo won, he was sweating profusely.

Such intense, continuous combat, while maintaining the flow of sword intent at all times, consumes a great deal of internal energy.

Even with the Nine Yin Manual as his foundation, six or seven tenths of the true energy in his dantian had been depleted at this moment.

But the glint in his eyes grew ever more captivating.

The feeling of skillfully controlling that power was simply wonderful.

"Who else?"

Yang Guo threw away the broken branch that was only half a foot long in his hand, picked up a wooden stick from the ground, and looked down at the whole scene.

The wandering swordsmen in the woods looked at each other, all falling silent in fear.

This young Taoist priest is simply a monster!

A dozen people surrounded him, but they couldn't even touch the hem of his clothes; instead, they were beaten to a pulp. What's the point of fighting like this?

……

Just as Yang Guo was displaying his divine power, a hundred feet away from the battlefield, behind a high slope and dense forest...

Several pairs of eyes were fixed on this side.

"Master...Master, is that Yang Guo?"

The speaker was a young Taoist priest, none other than Lu Qingdu, whom Yang Guo had tricked. His beady eyes widened in disbelief. "He...when did he become so powerful?"

Standing in front of him was a middle-aged Taoist priest with a sinister face.

He was Zhao Zhijing, a leading figure among the third-generation disciples of the Quanzhen School.

At this moment, Zhao Zhijing's face was so gloomy it could drip water.

"This is impossible...this is absolutely impossible!"

A storm raged in Zhao Zhijing's heart.

Six months ago, Yang Guo could only get by by using his cleverness. How come in such a short time, he can now fight against more than a dozen martial arts masters all by himself?

Judging from his internal strength, it seems that he is in no way weaker than himself.

If it really comes down to a direct, head-on clash, I'm afraid I won't come out on top.

How old is this kid? How long has he been practicing his skills?

Moreover, what kind of sword technique was he using?

It appears chaotic and disorganized, with no trace of the Quanzhen Swordplay in its moves, yet its underlying essence subtly reveals the most authentic Taoist spirit of the Quanzhen School.

Especially that defensive move using the "Earth" technique just now, it was steady and solid, and it even had a bit of the style of the Master Uncle.

"That little bastard...did he have some kind of extraordinary encounter in the back mountains?"

A glint of greed flashed in Zhao Zhijing's eyes.

If this child is not eliminated, he will surely become a great threat!