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

Chongyang Palace.

This orthodox sect of Taoism is now shrouded in gloom and despair.

The bluestone slabs on the square had just been swept that morning, but now they were in disarray again. Hundreds of Quanzhen disciples, wielding longswords, formed the "Big Dipper Formation." However, the formation looked loose and lacked any killing intent; the disciples stood there listlessly, barely managing to stay upright.

Because they really can't stand still.

A few days ago, the Seven Immortals of Quanzhen fought with Ouyang Feng, leaving them with aching backs, sore legs, and cramps. Two days later, Ouyang Feng returned and caused another disturbance, this time inflicting even more serious injuries on everyone and affecting a wider area. Not only the Seven Immortals, but also the third and fourth generation disciples of the Quanzhen Sect were all injured. And that wasn't all; Xiaolongnü seized the opportunity to storm the palace gates, teaching the men a lesson. If the Seven Immortals of Quanzhen knew that all three fights were for Yang Guo, Yang Guo might not be able to stay in the Quanzhen Sect.

At this moment, Ma Yu sat cross-legged on a futon in front of the Sanqing Hall, his face ashen, his breathing heavy. He could feel his true energy constantly draining from his dantian, and he couldn't muster any strength at all. "Master, this disciple is truly incompetent; I can't even guard the mountain gate."

Qiu Chuji, known for his fiery temper, was now too weak to even vent his anger. His lips were still stained with undried blood, the result of a backlash from his forced attempt to ring the bell as a warning. He was seething with rage, but his body wouldn't cooperate, leaving him only able to watch helplessly.

"Master Brother..." Hao Datong clutched his chest, "Those Mongol barbarians are going too far! We...we'll fight them to the death!"

Ma Yu sighed and shook her head.

Fight? With what? He knew better than anyone that the Quanzhen Sect was outwardly strong but inwardly weak, easily broken. In its prime, with the Heavenly Dipper Formation and the cultivation of the Seven Masters of Quanzhen, let alone a few Mongol princes, even a thousand troops might not be able to break in. But now… the Quanzhen Sect was like a giant whose body had been hollowed out, outwardly strong but inwardly weak, collapsing at the slightest push.

"Hahaha! Is this how the Quanzhen Sect treats its guests?"

A long laugh pierced the heavy air, making one's eardrums ache.

At the mountain gate, a large group of people walked in.

The leader, dressed in a brocade robe and holding a folding fan, exuded an air of nobility. He walked with a light step and wore a warm smile, but a cunning glint would occasionally flash in his narrow eyes.

It was none other than the Mongol prince, Khodu.

Behind him followed a burly Tibetan monk. The monk carried a thick vajra in his hand, and with each step he took, the bluestone slabs on the ground trembled.

Darba.

Further behind were dozens of elite Mongolian warriors, each with their hands on their curved swords and fierce eyes.

Huo Du fanned himself with his folding fan, his gaze sweeping over the swaying Quanzhen disciples in the square, his smile widening. Sure enough, the intelligence was correct. These Taoists were at their last gasp. Today's matter was settled.

"Oh dear, I've come especially to pay my respects today, but I didn't expect your esteemed sect to be so...tired?"

Huo Du feigned surprise, covering his mouth and nose as if he had smelled something bad. "Why are you all so pale and unsteady on your feet? Could it be that the Taoist priests of the Quanzhen Sect collectively... overworked last night?"

That's extremely hurtful.

Several hot-blooded young Taoist priests understood the vulgar meaning behind the words, and their faces turned red with anger, their hands trembling as they gripped their swords. But they also knew in their current state that charging forward would only lead to their deaths.

"Shameless scoundrel!"

Zhao Zhijing stood in the crowd. Although he had lost an arm, he still had the spirit to curse. "Don't you even know where you are! How dare you barbarians be so presumptuous!" He was actually terrified, but he couldn't back down. At least he couldn't lose in terms of momentum.

Huo glanced at him.

Just one glance.

Zhao Zhijing felt a chill run through him, and his heart clenched suddenly. He instinctively shrank back into the crowd, cold sweat beading on his forehead. This prince… is not to be trifled with.

"Barbarians?"

Huo Du snapped his folding fan shut, showing no anger. Instead, he smiled and took two steps forward. "This Taoist priest has lost an arm, and instead of recuperating in his room, he comes out barking. Is this the rule of the Quanzhen Sect?"

He turned to look at Ma Yu and the others sitting on the steps.

"Master Ma, we've known each other for a long time." Huo Du cupped his hands in a gesture of respect that was impeccable. "I've come today with good intentions. Seeing that you are all seriously injured, I brought some of the best medicine to offer my condolences."

As he spoke, he waved his hand.

The Mongolian warriors behind him immediately brought over several trays.

The medicine on the tray wasn't any kind of wound medicine.

Instead, there was a pile of razors and a few tattered monk robes.

Everyone fell silent.

This wasn't delivering medicine; they were forcing them to shave their heads, change their clothes, and become monks! Looking at the razors, Ma Yu felt a surge of sorrow. This was outrageous! Absolutely outrageous!

Qiu Chuji suddenly stood up, pointed at Huo Du, his beard trembling: "Huo Du! You've gone too far! My Quanzhen Sect is the orthodox sect of Xuanmen in the Great Song Dynasty, how could we tolerate such an insult from you!" His chest heaved, and he almost vomited blood again, but he gritted his teeth and endured it.

Huo Du looked completely innocent. "Master Qiu, you flatter me. The Song Dynasty is now teetering on the brink of collapse, and it is only natural that our Mongol cavalry will sweep across the land. I am simply pointing out a clear path for you all."

He slowly walked up the steps, treating the hundreds of longswords around him as if they were nothing. These people were no longer capable of fighting; even if they all attacked together, they would be nothing more than clay chickens and earthen dogs.

"As long as you all submit to my Great Mongol Empire, Zhongnan Mountain will still be your Zhongnan Mountain. Master Qiu will remain your leader, and even..."

Huo Du lowered his voice, his tone enticing, "I can even petition the Great Khan to appoint you as Deputy National Preceptors. Your status would be second only to the Tantric sect. You would then enjoy endless wealth and honor. It's far better than guarding this dilapidated Taoist temple and being buried with that weak and incompetent Song Dynasty, isn't it?"

"fart!"

Wang Chuyi roared angrily, mustered his inner energy, and was about to draw his sword. "Even if I die, I will never be a traitorous lackey!" As soon as his hand touched the hilt of the sword, a sharp pain shot through his dantian, and he almost lost his balance.

"Tsk tsk tsk."

Huo Du shook his head, looking regretful. "That's where you went wrong. Xiao Wang tried to reason with you, but you insisted on fighting. Since that's the case..."

He suddenly stopped in his tracks.

His gaze fell on the third-generation disciple who was closest to him.

The disciple, named Wang Zhitan, was also pale-faced, clearly seriously injured. He felt a chill run down his spine as Huo Du stared at him; he wanted to retreat but dared not, and could only stand there, steeling himself.

"Since you refuse to listen to reason and are forced to drink the penalty cup, then I, Xiao Wang, will have no choice but to help you sober up."

Huo Du suddenly tapped the folding fan in his hand.

Swift as lightning.

Wang Zhitan had no time to react. He felt a numbness in his chest, and a tremendous force surged through him. He was sent flying backward uncontrollably, crashing heavily into a pillar of the Sanqing Hall.

puff!

He spat out a mouthful of blood and fainted on the spot.

"Zhitan!"

Qiu Chuji was shocked and wanted to help, but he felt a sharp pain in his dantian, and his body went limp and he slumped back down. He was anxious and resentful, hating himself for being so incompetent that he couldn't even protect a disciple.

"Is this the true strength of the Quanzhen Sect?"

Huo Du glanced at Wang Zhitan lying on the ground, disdainfully flicking the dust off his fan. "He couldn't even withstand a single move from Little Wang. Does such trash deserve to occupy this blessed land?"

He turned around and looked at Darba below the steps.

"Senior brother," Huo Du laughed, "it seems these Taoist priests are quite stubborn. We don't need to bother with any rules of the martial world."

Darba grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

He suddenly shouted, raised his vajra high, and smashed it down hard on a stone lion beside him.

boom!

The stone lion, weighing a thousand pounds, was smashed to pieces by this single blow! The flying debris startled the surrounding Quanzhen disciples, who all retreated in fear.

This strike demonstrated absolute power.

If it hits a person, it will definitely turn them into a pile of minced meat.

The faces of the Quanzhen Sect members turned even paler. Several young disciples were trembling, with only one thought in their minds: It's over, we're probably going to die here today.

A sense of despair spread across the square.

Under normal circumstances, if the seven sons joined forces and set up the Big Dipper Formation, they might be able to fight against these two.

But now...

The Seven Masters of Quanzhen were severely injured, and most of the third-generation disciples were crippled.

The remaining people were completely powerless against these two top experts.

"Master Ma".

Huo Du took out a parchment scroll from his pocket and slowly unfolded it. "This is the surrender document that Xiao Wang has prepared. You don't need to write anything. Just put your fingerprint on it, and then shave your head in front of Xiao Wang. That will settle the matter."

He threw the parchment scroll in front of Ma Yu.

It was filled with clauses that humiliated and ceded national sovereignty.

The Quanzhen School of Taoism revered the Mongols, and Zhongnan Mountain became a supply depot for the Mongol army, even selecting young disciples to serve as suicide soldiers...

Each and every one of them is meant to break the backbone of the Quanzhen School.

Ma Yu stared at the parchment scroll, two streams of tears flowing down his face. A sharp pain shot through his heart, more painful than his physical wounds. "Master, Master Chongyang, your disciple is incompetent, unable to uphold this legacy! But even in death, I cannot allow Master's name to be tarnished."

"Kill me if you must!"

Ma Yu suddenly raised his head, though weak, and declared, "Disciples of Quanzhen would rather die than surrender!"

"We'd rather die than surrender!!"

Although the disciples behind him were afraid, they were also stirred by the moment and roared in unison. They all knew that they might really die here today, but at least they could not disgrace the Quanzhen Sect.

Huo Du's smile vanished.

"it is good."

"Since you are in such a hurry to see Wang Chongyang, then I will grant your request."