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

The roars from the square still echoed.

"We'd rather die than surrender!"

The combined voices of hundreds of people created quite a powerful atmosphere.

Huo Du's smile gradually faded, and the folding fan in his hand tapped lightly against his palm, making a crisp "snap, snap" sound that sounded particularly jarring in the somber atmosphere.

These people from the Central Plains always like to talk tough. Huo Du sneered inwardly, "Just wait until there's blood, let's see if you can still shout like that."

"What a fine example of 'preferring death to surrender'!"

Huo Du took a step forward, his gaze sweeping over the crowd and landing on Sun Bu'er, the only female among the Seven Masters of Quanzhen.

Women are most prone to breakdowns, so start with her.

"Since you're so eager to die, I'll grant your wish."

Before he could finish speaking, his figure suddenly blurred.

Sun Bu'er, with her fiery temper, could no longer restrain herself despite her serious injuries, seeing the Mongol Tartars so arrogant. She bit her tongue sharply, spitting out a mouthful of blood, and forcefully activated the dried-up true energy in her dantian. She twirled her longsword in a fierce arc and thrust it straight at Huo Du's face.

I'll fight to the death! Even if I die, I'll leave a scar on this beast's face!

This sword strike was delivered with the intention of mutual destruction.

The sword's aura was chilling, filled with unwavering resolve.

Unfortunately, in the face of an absolute disparity in strength, fighting desperately is just a joke.

Huo Du didn't stop, not even bothering to dodge. Just as the sword tip was about to touch his nose, the folding fan in his hand suddenly opened.

The fan surface is made of high-quality steel, with its edges ground very sharp.

clang!

A crisp sound.

Sun Bu'er's longsword was easily blocked by the fan ribs. Immediately afterwards, Huo Du flicked his wrist, and the fan swept horizontally, striking Sun Bu'er's chest heavily with fierce force.

"puff--"

Sun Bu'er was sent flying backward by the blow, spraying a shower of blood in the air before crashing heavily at Ma Yu's feet.

She struggled to get up, her vision blurred and her ears ringing. "Senior brother... I'm sorry..." She only twitched twice before falling silent.

"Junior Sister!"

"Uncle-Master!"

The Quanzhen Sect members were furious, and several disciples cried out as they were about to rush forward and fight to the death.

"Whoever moves, dies."

Huo Du slowly closed his fan, a drop of blood dripping from the tip.

Darba stepped forward and slammed his vajra heavily on the ground.

Boom!

The ground trembled.

The disciples who had just rushed out were shaken by the invisible shockwave, staggering and falling to the ground, their faces filled with terror.

No one made a sound in the entire square; even their breathing was extremely low.

Even Qingjing Sanren, one of the Seven Masters of Quanzhen, couldn't withstand a single move from them. What could these people do if they rushed up there, except to throw their lives away?

Huo was very satisfied with the result. He looked around, his gaze as if he were selecting livestock.

"Anyone else want to be a martyr? Step forward, and Xiao Wang promises to make sure they suffer a horrible death."

No one spoke.

Only suppressed sobs could be heard.

Just then, a rustling sound of footsteps suddenly came from the crowd.

A Taoist priest squeezed out from the back of the crowd.

His Taoist robe was somewhat disheveled, his face was plastered with a fawning smile, and his back was slightly hunched. He didn't look like a Taoist practitioner; he looked more like a rogue who had just crawled out of a gambling den.

Zhao Zhijing.

He didn't look at Sun Bu'er, who was seriously injured on the ground, nor at his master Wang Chuyi, whose face was full of grief and indignation.

He couldn't look; his heart would soften if he did. Zhao Zhijing gritted his teeth, forcing himself to fix his gaze on Huo Du. He had to survive; only by surviving would he have a chance.

He walked straight to a spot three steps in front of Huo Du, and with a thud, knelt down on one knee.

The movements were fluid and seamless, without the slightest hesitation.

"Zhao Zhijing, a third-generation disciple of the Quanzhen Sect, pays his respects to the young prince."

This kneeling made everyone in the Quanzhen Sect lose their jaws.

He is a leading figure among the third generation of disciples of the Quanzhen Sect and a strong contender for the future sect leader!

Brother Zhao, who usually bosses his fellow students around and talks about morality and ethics, and who always talks about "respecting teachers" and "national integrity," is now kneeling before the Mongols like a dog.

Huo Du raised an eyebrow and began to act in cooperation with Zhao Zhijing.

This dog is quite sensible. If Zhao Zhijing were to reveal that he had already defected to the Mongols, although it wouldn't affect the outcome, Zhao Zhijing's example of surrendering would likely inspire his fellow disciples to follow suit.

To subdue the enemy without fighting, Huo Du felt that he was also a cultured person, and a cultured person should act like a cultured person.

"Oh? You're quite perceptive. Your name is Zhao Zhijing?"

"It is indeed I, Xiao Dao." Zhao Zhijing raised his head, his face full of fawning smile. "I have long admired the young prince's demeanor. Seeing you today, I can see that you are indeed a dragon among men, a noble of the imperial family."

"Hahaha!" Huo Du laughed loudly, then turned to look at Darba, "Senior brother, look, there are still smart people in the Central Plains martial arts world."

Darba scratched his bald head and chuckled foolishly.

Zhao Zhijing straightened his back a bit more after receiving the "praise".

He was overjoyed. As long as he clung to this powerful figure, the Quanzhen Sect would be his!

He stood up and turned his head.

The humility he had shown when facing Huo Du vanished completely, replaced by an expression of deep sorrow and righteous indignation.

"Master, senior uncles, and fellow senior uncles."

Zhao Zhijing pointed at Huo Du, and his voice echoed throughout the hall.

"The young prince possesses unparalleled martial arts skills and is a hero of our time! The Song Dynasty court is currently corrupt and incompetent, with treacherous officials in power, and the people are suffering terribly. Meanwhile, the Mongol Khan is a man of great talent and ambition; unifying the world is the will of Heaven!"

"We who cultivate the Tao emphasize acting in accordance with the natural order."

"Do you really intend to let the centuries-old foundation of the Quanzhen Sect be destroyed in an instant, for the sake of that corrupt court and that pitiful amount of face?"

"You are being foolish and selfish!"

Zhao Zhijing became more and more agitated as he spoke, spitting as he spoke, as if he were the one standing on the moral high ground.

He was almost convinced of his own words. Zhao Zhijing sneered inwardly; these old fogies should have died long ago.

"The young prince said that as long as we submit, we will still be the Quanzhen Sect, still the orthodox Taoist school! We might even go further and be appointed as the National Preceptor, bringing glory to our family! Isn't this a miracle from our patriarch?"

The Seven Masters of Quanzhen were so angry that they trembled all over.

Qiu Chuji pointed at Zhao Zhijing, his fingers trembling violently, unable to utter a single word.

Only Yin Zhiping, standing in the corner, lowered his eyelids and shrank half a step into the shadows.

Although he and Zhao Zhijing were in cahoots, the nail that sticks out gets hammered down. Yin Zhiping thought to himself, given the current situation, since Zhao Zhijing was willing to take the limelight, let him have it first. Once the limelight died down, he would clean up the mess.

"fart!"

A young Taoist priest rushed out from the crowd, interrupting Zhao Zhijing's speech.

He was Li Zhichang, Zhao Zhijing's junior brother, who usually respected his senior brother the most. But now his face was covered in tears and his eyes were red.

"Zhao Zhijing! Have you no shame?!"

The young Taoist priest pointed at Zhao Zhijing's nose and cursed, "You always teach us to be loyal to the emperor and love our country, to be unyielding! Now you're leading the way in becoming a traitor! How can you face our ancestors? How can you face this Taoist robe?"

"Pooh!"

He spat a thick wad of phlegm hard onto Zhao Zhijing's face.

Everyone was worried for Li Zhichang.

Zhao Zhijing wiped the phlegm off his face.

He wasn't angry. He even smiled.

But that smile was somewhat sinister.

Zhao Zhijing was furious. These fools still couldn't see the situation. He told himself that this was necessary. To survive, to get everything, what did this humiliation matter?

"Junior brother..."

Zhao Zhijing sighed, looking at him as if he were a naive child. "Senior brother did this to save you, to preserve the Quanzhen Sect's lineage. How can you not understand?"

"Pah! Who needs a spineless coward like you to save them! I..."

puff.

A dull thud as a sharp blade pierced flesh.

The young Taoist priest abruptly stopped speaking.

His eyes widened as he looked down at his chest.

There, a long sword was stuck in the ground.

The sword hilt was in Zhao Zhijing's hand.

That was the sword that Zhao Zhijing had pulled from the little Taoist's waist while he was talking, and then casually stabbed him in.

fast.

ruthless.

quasi.

Without the slightest hesitation.

Zhao Zhijing's hands moved faster than his mind. The moment the sword pierced through, he felt a slight resistance, followed by warm liquid splashing onto his hand. A wave of nausea washed over him, but at the same time, he felt a strange sense of pleasure—this was the first time he had killed a fellow disciple, yet it was much easier than he had imagined.

"In this world, those who don't know any better won't live long."

Zhao Zhijing whispered in the young Taoist's ear. His hand trembled slightly as he spoke, but his tone remained steady.

Then, he suddenly drew his longsword.

Blood splattered.

The young Taoist priest swayed, then collapsed to the ground with a thud, twitched twice, and remained motionless.

Blood stained the bluestone slabs red.

Zhao Zhijing flicked the blood off his sword, turned around, and coldly surveyed his terrified junior brothers.

He felt his heart pounding, not with fear, but with excitement. Years of suppressed resentment found an outlet in that moment.

"Who else?"

"Who else thinks I did something wrong? Step forward."

No one dared to make a move.

The disciples, who had been so excited just moments before, were now all pale-faced and instinctively backed away.

It's not just because of fear of death.

More importantly, it's because of fear.

The usually strict but upright senior disciple was now filled with murderous intent and acted ruthlessly. He killed his fellow disciples with a speed and efficiency that surpassed even that of killing chickens.

Huo Du applauded from behind.

"Great! Excellent!"

Huo Du waved his fan, his face full of admiration, "Master Zhao is indeed a man destined for great things. I, your humble servant, will accept this pledge of loyalty."

Zhao Zhijing immediately turned around, put on his obsequious face again, and bowed and scraped: "Thank you for your praise, Your Highness. It is my honor to serve you."

He breathed a sigh of relief. He had made the right bet. Huo was satisfied, so he was safe.

"Traitor! Traitor!!"

A furious roar, filled with grief and indignation, echoed from the steps.

Wang Chuyi finally caught his breath.

He looked at his disciple lying in a pool of blood, and then at Zhao Zhijing, whose face was full of servility, and his eyes were so angry that they seemed to burst.

That was his most prized disciple!

He raised her, taught her martial arts, and placed high hopes on her as his successor!

He's a beast who betrayed his own kind and murdered his fellow disciples!

Wang Chuyi's mind went blank, with only one thought remaining—kill him, he had to be killed.

"I'll kill you, you wicked creature!"

Wang Chuyi roared and, with a burst of strength from who knows where, sprang up from the ground.

Ignoring his injuries, he charged down with his sword in hand.

Even if it means mutual destruction, we must clean house!

Zhao Zhijing's heart tightened.

He still harbored a deep-seated fear of his master.

He instinctively took a step back.

But then he saw Wang Chuyi's staggering steps, his master's pale face, and his weak and feeble sword moves.

My master is getting old.

It was also injured.

He himself was in his prime, and although he had lost an arm, he was more than capable of dealing with an old man who was at the end of his strength.

more importantly……

Zhao Zhijing turned around and glanced at Huo Du.

Huo Du simply watched with a smile, showing no intention of making a move.

This is a test.

If he can't even handle a useless master, then he has no value in Huo Du's eyes.

If you lose your value, you are dead.

In that instant, the fear in Zhao Zhijing's heart vanished.

Instead, it generated a distorted excitement.

Since we've already become traitors, let's see it through to the end!

Killing one is killing, killing two is also killing!

As long as I can survive and become the sect leader, I will trample all those who look down on me under my feet...

Master?

You're blocking my way!

A surge of heat welled up in Zhao Zhijing's chest; it was the burning resentment that had been building up for years. He remembered his master's favoritism towards Yang Guo, his cold treatment of him, and the grievances he had suffered over the years. At this moment, he no longer hesitated.

"Master!"

Zhao Zhijing shouted loudly, and instead of retreating, he drew his sword and charged forward.

"You're getting senile!"

when!

The two swords clashed.

Sparks flew everywhere.

Wang Chuyi was already seriously injured, and the impact of the sword made his hand go numb, almost causing the sword to fly out of his grasp. He staggered back three steps, and a mouthful of blood welled up in his throat.

"You..." Wang Chuyi looked at Zhao Zhijing in disbelief.

Zhao Zhijing actually used his full strength in this sword strike!

They came here to kill!

Wang Chuyi felt a sharp pain in his heart, more painful than the wounds on his body. He had taught this wicked disciple for decades, and yet he had raised such a beast.

"Master, the Quanzhen Sect of today is not the same as it was in your time."

Zhao Zhijing approached step by step, his face contorted with rage, as if he wanted to unleash all the resentment he had accumulated throughout his life.

"On what grounds?"

"Why should I listen to you old fogies?"

"Why is it that brat Yang Guo gets to learn divine skills, while I'm stuck with these lousy sword techniques?"

Why do you all look down on me?

"Today, I will show you who the true savior of the Quanzhen Sect is!"

Zhao Zhijing roared and thrust his long sword out.

This sword was aimed directly at Wang Chuyi's heart.

The ultimate move in Quanzhen swordplay is "One Sword Transforms into Three Pure Ones".

But when used now, it only exudes a chilling ghostly aura, with not a trace of Taoist purity.

Zhao Zhijing felt the power surging through his arm, a feeling of exhilaration he had never experienced before. This sword strike would end everything.

"stop!"

Ma Yu and Qiu Chuji wanted to rescue them, but were blocked by Darba's vajra.

"Hehe." Darba shook his big head. "Your opponent is me."

The sword was about to pierce Wang Chuyi's chest.

Wang Chuyi closed his eyes in despair.

Unexpectedly, he ended up dying at the hands of his own apprentice.

This is truly... karma.