Huang Rong from The Return of the Condor Heroes: Brother Jing, let's get a divorce.

The town at the foot of the mountain is called Taiping Town. The name sounds auspicious, but today is destined to be anything but peaceful.

At the entrance of the "Jinxiuzhuang" cloth shop, two beggars, one big and one small, were squatting on the steps eating roast chicken.

Ouyang Feng ate with gusto, his mouth dripping with oil. He grabbed the plump chicken's rear end with both hands and devoured it with gusto, even chewing up and swallowing the bone fragments.

"Dad, does it smell good?" Yang Guo asked with a grin, casually pulling on Ouyang Feng's sleeve, which was already of indistinguishable color, and wiping the grease from the old madman's mouth.

"It smells amazing! Much better than snake gall!" Ouyang Feng grinned foolishly, revealing a set of white teeth, his eyes as clear as a 300-pound child's. "Son, shall we eat this every meal from now on?"

"Absolutely." Yang Guo threw the chicken bone in his hand on the ground, his tone domineering, "As long as Father listens to us, we'll eat and drink well and celebrate the New Year every day from now on."

Just then, a commotion broke out in the cloth shop.

Several burly men dressed in foreign attire swaggered in, crowding the doorway. The one in the lead, a young nobleman, was dressed in fine clothes and carried a folding fan. He looked quite respectable, but his narrow eyes revealed a sinister glint, making him look like the kind of villain who wouldn't survive three episodes in a TV drama.

Yang Guo glanced at it and wondered to himself.

Mongol?

This is at the foot of Zhongnan Mountain, within the territory of the Song Dynasty. Why are these Mongol Tartars acting like they're strolling through their own backyard?

He remained calm, his ears twitching slightly as he used his internal energy to eavesdrop.

As soon as the young master entered, he shouted in broken Mandarin, "Shopkeeper! Bring out all your most expensive fabrics! This prince wants them as betrothal gifts!"

The shopkeeper was an honest, middle-aged man. When he saw that the group of people looked fierce, he dared not be negligent. He quickly brought out all the best Yun brocade and Shu embroidery he had kept at the bottom of his chest, piling them up like a small mountain.

"Is this the best?"

The young master used his folding fan to lift a large piece of bright red brocade, looking at it with disdain as if it were a rag. "How can such a crudely made thing be worthy of the fairy sister in the ancient tomb?"

The chicken in Yang Guo's mouth suddenly lost its flavor.

An ancient tomb? A fairy goddess?

Is this grandson after Little Dragon Girl?

"Your Highness," a burly Tibetan monk with a menacing face said in a deep voice, "in my humble opinion, that Little Dragon Girl is nothing more than a wild girl living in a tomb. Why would she be worth your trouble? Isn't our main objective that group of Taoist priests?"

"Batu, you're a boor, you don't understand."

The young man known as the prince—Khodu, the "wild prince" of Mongolia—snaped his folding fan shut, revealing a lewd grin that made one want to leave a shoe sole on his face.

"I heard that Little Dragon Girl cultivates the Jade Maiden Heart Sutra, and although she's over eighteen, her skin is so tender it's like you could squeeze water out of it. Such a top-quality cultivation vessel, if I could get it into bed, the pleasure would surely be insane. As for those Taoist priests..."

Huo Du sneered, his tone contemptuous: "The Quanzhen Sect is nothing but a bunch of chickens and dogs. Wang Chuyi is old and senile, and Qiu Chuji is just a brute. As long as we proceed according to plan, that Chongyang Palace will become our Mongolian cavalry's stable!"

"The prince is wise!"

Several attendants immediately followed suit, flattering him with extremely lewd smiles: "We've heard that Little Dragon Girl rarely sees the light of day, and is as white as snow. When the prince gets tired of her, could you perhaps offer her to us brothers for a taste?"

"Hahaha! No problem, no problem! Everyone gets a share!"

The language was foul and offensive, every word grating to the ear.

Yang Guo narrowed his eyes, a murderous intent churning within his chest.

What a stupid, ignorant bastard! What does he take Sister Long for?

In the past, he would have drawn his sword and charged in to show these people why the flowers were so red. But now, he suppressed his impulse.

These people dared to target the Quanzhen Sect, so their background must be extraordinary. Although those Taoist priests of the Quanzhen Sect are annoying, they are, after all, a prominent name in the Central Plains martial arts world. If I were to go to Peach Blossom Island to snatch Sister Rong in the future, I would still need their backing.

Therefore, the Quanzhen School cannot collapse, at least not now.

But how exactly should one treat it? There are methods; one must treat it slowly and gradually, scientifically and methodically.

After saving them, we must make them grateful.

This kind of behavior—directly helping them get rid of trouble and becoming an unsung hero—is clearly not in line with Yang Guo's principles of conduct.

But these people insulted Xiaolongnu, and this debt must be settled on the spot, and it must be settled in a way that they will never forget.

What to do? A direct confrontation is definitely not an option; my internal energy is currently weak, and I'm likely to suffer a loss.

We must outsmart them.

Yang Guo's eyes darted around, and his gaze fell on Ouyang Feng, who was still struggling with the chicken cartilage beside him.

Got it!

The strongest fighter has been deployed.

"Father," Yang Guo whispered in Ouyang Feng's ear, pointing to Huo Du in the cloth shop, his tone mysterious, "Look at that guy with the fan, doesn't he look like a big toad?"

Ouyang Feng looked up in confusion, oil still dripping from his mouth: "Toad? Where? Can I eat it?"

"That guy in the brocade robe!" Yang Guo coaxed, switching into his persuasive mode. "Look at his eyes, so bulging; look at his mouth, so wide and big; and look at the way he walks, hopping and skipping. Isn't it exactly the same as when you practice your martial arts?"

Ouyang Feng stared at Huo Du for a long time.

Originally, it didn't seem like it, but under Yang Guo's powerful psychological suggestion, Huo Du really did slowly undergo some "biological atavism" in his eyes.

"It's just like it! It's so similar!" Ouyang Feng clapped his hands excitedly, as if he had discovered a new continent. "Is this also a form of Toad Stance?"

"Exactly!" Yang Guo slapped his thigh, adding fuel to the fire. "And he's better at it than you! Look how arrogant he is, everyone's afraid of him, and he's dressed much better than you. Dad, can you tolerate this? It's like a counterfeit pooping on the real thing!"

Upon hearing this, Ouyang Feng was furious.

He's always been arrogant about his martial arts skills, and he doesn't respect anyone except that dead Wang Chongyang. Now, someone practicing Toad Style Kung Fu has suddenly appeared who's even more arrogant than him?

"This is intolerable!" Ouyang Feng slammed the chicken bone in his hand down and stood up angrily. "How dare he steal my thunder! I'll cripple him right now!"

"Hey, hey, Dad, don't worry."

Yang Guo grabbed him, saying, "We are civilized people. We can't just start fighting and killing. That's what brutes do. We need to use 'civilized tactics' to show him what the wickedness of society is."

"A battle of wits?" Ouyang Feng scratched his messy hair. "How do we do that?"

"Isn't this toad demon rich?" Yang Guo said with a wicked smile. "Let's make him pay to avoid disaster. You'll just play your part later, do whatever I tell you to do, and we'll teach him a lesson."

Although Ouyang Feng didn't understand what "acting as himself" meant, he knew that listening to his son was the right thing to do, since his son had bought him roast chicken.

Inside the cloth shop.

Huo Du was holding the brocade up to himself, feeling quite pleased with himself, when suddenly the light at the doorway dimmed and a sour smell wafted in.

Two ragged beggars walked in.

"Get out of here! Where did this stinking beggar come from!" A servant pinched his nose and stepped forward to shoo him away. "Don't dirty the prince's noble eyes! Get lost!"

Yang Guo ignored him completely, walked straight to Huo Du, and instantly channeled his inner Oscar-winning actor, staring blankly with drool in his eyes as he pointed at the folding fan in Huo Du's hand: "Flower...flower...I want a flower..."

Huo Du frowned, taking a step back in disgust as if avoiding a pile of garbage: "Where did this idiot come from? Get him out of here!"

Just as the attendant was about to make a move, Ouyang Feng did.

He didn't use any extraordinary martial arts skills; he just lay down on the ground like a street ruffian, grabbed the attendant's leg, and started howling, his voice as loud as a broken gong: "They're hitting people! They're killing people! The Mongol Tartars are bullying an old man!"

This shout, full of energy and surging with internal force, shook the dust off the roof beams.

The area outside the cloth shop was already bustling with people, and upon hearing the commotion, a crowd of onlookers instantly gathered.

The attendant tried to pull his leg out, but found that the old beggar's grip was terrifyingly strong, like an iron clamp, and he couldn't move at all; his bones were about to be crushed.

"You...you let go!" The attendant panicked and punched Ouyang Feng in the head.

Ouyang Feng tilted his head, and his fist slammed into the ground with a "crack," shattering the bluestone slab.

The onlookers gasped in surprise.

"Ouch! It hurts so much!" Ouyang Feng cried out even more pitifully, his acting exaggerated. "My bones are broken! I have internal injuries! Pay up! I won't get up until you pay up!"

Huo Du's face was so gloomy it could drip water.

He had a secret mission in the Central Plains and didn't want any complications. But this old beggar was clearly a skilled practitioner; his staged accident was too professional.

"My friend," Huo Du put away his folding fan, looking at Ouyang Feng on the ground with a forced smile, "we've always kept to ourselves, what's the meaning of this?"

"I want flowers!" Yang Guo continued to play dumb, taking the opportunity to rub his hands, which were covered in chicken oil and mud, hard on Huo Du's expensive brocade robe.

The two clearly visible black handprints stood out starkly against the magnificent brocade robe.

Huo Du was obsessed with cleanliness, and upon seeing this scene, his stomach churned, and he almost vomited on the spot.

"court death!"

Huo Du's eyes flashed with murderous intent; this fool had crossed his line. He flicked his folding fan, and a dark blue spike shot out from the fan ribs, aiming straight for Yang Guo's throat.

This move is extremely insidious; if it were an ordinary person, they would surely die.

But Yang Guo slipped, as if stepping on a watermelon rind, and leaned back, avoiding the stab at an extremely strange angle.

"Father! The giant toad is biting people!" Yang Guo cried out in terror, his voice shrill.

Upon hearing that his son had been bullied, Ouyang Feng stopped pretending.

"You dare touch my son?!"

He suddenly sprang up from the ground, and without any apparent movement, slapped her across the face.

"Snapped!"

The crisp sound was even louder than firecrackers during the Lunar New Year.

Huo Du only felt a blur before his eyes, and then he was hit squarely on the face. He spun around like a top three and a half times before coming to a stop.

Half of his face swelled up like a steamed bun, and several bloody teeth flew out.

"You..." Huo Du covered his face, his head buzzing, both shocked and angry.

He was a Mongolian prince, a disciple of the Golden Wheel Monk, and his martial arts skills were among the best of the younger generation. How could he be slapped away by an old beggar without even a chance to react?

"Who are you?!" Huo Du shouted sharply, his voice trembling.

"I'm your grandfather!" Ouyang Feng said, hands on his hips, completely self-righteous. "Grandson, you don't even kowtow to your grandfather? Who taught you such manners?"

Seeing his junior brother being beaten, Darba roared in anger and swung his vajra down.

This vajra weighs a hundred pounds, and with a whooshing sound, it is incredibly powerful, as if it could flatten a mountain.

Ouyang Feng didn't even look at it, but stretched out a withered finger and lightly flicked it on the vajra.

"when!"

A crisp, metallic vibrato.

Darba felt an overwhelming force surge through the vajra, instantly splitting his hand and drawing blood. The hundred-pound vajra flew out of his grasp and embedded itself in the wall beside him, disappearing completely except for its tail, which trembled outside.

The entire room fell silent.

Huo Du's pupils contracted sharply, and cold sweat instantly soaked his back.

Top-tier master!

This level of internal energy, this effortless skill—even my master, the Golden Wheel Monk, would be wary. The Central Plains martial arts world is truly full of hidden masters; even a random beggar could be a master of the Sweeping Monk level?

A wise man doesn't suffer a loss he can't avoid; as long as the green hills remain, there's always hope for a comeback.

Huo Du's mind raced, and he immediately changed his expression, his speed of changing faces comparable to that of a Sichuan opera.

"So you are a senior expert. I was blind." Huo Du endured the pain on his face, cupped his hands in a respectful bow, and said, "I was very rude just now. Please forgive me, senior."

"Excuse me?" Yang Guo peeked out from behind Ouyang Feng, pointed to the large red brocade, and said, "I want that as underwear!"

Huo Du's lips twitched.

That's the finest Yun brocade, worth its weight in gold. This fool actually wants to use it to make underwear?

"Give it all! Give it all!" Huo Du gritted his teeth and gestured for his attendant to hand over the fabric.

"And that!" Yang Guo pointed to a pile of Shu embroidery on the counter. "I want to make a hat for Dad! The green kind!"

"Here you go!" Huo Du's face turned pale.

"And that gold bracelet! I want to give it to Dad!"

"Give!"

Yang Guo made outrageous demands, taking everything of value from the cloth shop, acting as if he were no outsider at all.

Huo Du's heart was bleeding. These were originally gifts he had prepared for the Quanzhen Sect and the Ancient Tomb Sect, but now they had all gone to these two beggars. These weren't beggars; they were practically bandits!

But he dared not retaliate.

The way that old madman looked at him was like he was looking at a toad that could be crushed at any moment; that oppressive feeling from the top of the food chain made him feel suffocated.

"Alright, get lost."

When Yang Guo's arms were full of things, and he even had two strings of pearl necklaces around his neck, looking like a nouveau riche, he waved his hand as if shooing away flies.

Huo Du took a deep breath, suppressing the humiliation and murderous intent in his heart.

"The green hills remain unchanged, and the clear waters flow on forever. Huo Du will remember today's favor."

After uttering a few polite words, Huo Du led his men away in a sorry state, his retreating figure looking utterly pathetic.

Once they were far away, Yang Guo tossed the things he was carrying onto the counter.

"Shopkeeper, all of these items will be converted into cash."

The shopkeeper had been dumbfounded for a while, but when he heard this, he snapped out of it and hurriedly nodded and bowed, "Yes, yes, yes! Please wait a moment, sir!"

Yang Guo selected several bolts of the finest white cotton cloth, which were to be used to make panties for Xiaolongnu.

Then he asked for another set of clothes.

However, this set is brighter in color and looks larger, so it's clearly not for Xiaolongnu.