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

The tip of the sword was only three inches away from Wang Chuyi's heart.

Wang Chuyi's cloudy old eyes were filled with despair, but also a hint of relief.

He had taken on countless disciples throughout his life, yet produced such a worthless wretch. It's better he's dead; out of sight, out of mind. He wouldn't have to watch the centuries-old foundation of the Quanzhen Sect crumble in the hands of these unworthy descendants, nor would he have to witness the Central Plains being trampled upon by foreign tribes. He even dissipated his protective inner energy, simply waiting for the excruciating pain to pierce his chest.

"stop--!"

Qiu Chuji's eyes were wide with rage.

This hot-tempered old Taoist priest, the most skilled in martial arts among the Seven Masters of Quanzhen, was now weak and powerless. He wanted to rush down and kill Zhao Zhijing, this treacherous and ungrateful bastard, with a single palm strike, even if it meant dying together with him.

He forcibly mobilized the true energy in his dantian, but it was like draining a pond to catch all the fish. His meridians ached and he couldn't muster any strength. Instead, he experienced a sharp pain.

"puff!"

As soon as Qiu Chuji moved, he spat out a mouthful of dark red blood. His strength vanished, his body went limp, and he collapsed heavily onto the prayer mat, his face ashen.

"Junior brother!" Ma Yu reached out to help him, his hands trembling.

It's over. It's all over. The century-old reputation of the Quanzhen Sect is about to be ruined by this traitor.

Hearing the commotion behind him, Zhao Zhijing's sinister smile deepened. Even Qiu Chuji had fallen; who else in this world could stop him? At this moment, the thrill of killing even overshadowed any remaining awe he held for his master.

No one can save you, you old man.

As long as you are all dead, I will be the leader!

go to hell!

The longsword pierced the air, filled with a resolute determination to kill and a lifetime of suppressed madness.

At this critical moment.

"Wow, it's quite lively here."

A slightly mocking voice drifted in and out of sight, lazily reaching everyone's ears. It was languid, exuding an air of nonchalance, as if this wasn't a scene of carnage, but rather the stage of a brothel.

"When did the Quanzhen Sect start putting on a grand opera? This whole thing—kneeling and begging for mercy, killing their master to prove their Dao—is quite a well-written script."

The sound hadn't faded.

A white figure floated down from the top of the main hall.

Its body was so light that it felt weightless, and it was swept left and right by the wind.

It was clearly one person. But in everyone's eyes, the white figure seemed to have split into several parts.

One on the left, one on the right, and one in the middle. The illusions and afterimages blend together, making it impossible to distinguish the real figures.

Even though the Seven Masters of Quanzhen were severely injured, their eyesight remained sharp. Ma Yu's pupils contracted sharply, and his heart skipped a beat: "This is..."

Nine Spiral Shadows!

The long-lost Nine Yin Manual movement technique!

The white figure was incredibly fast, giving no one time to react.

Zhao Zhijing felt a blur before his eyes. Before the fatal sword could pierce to the end, a piercing pain shot through his wrist, and his wrist bones felt like they were about to crack.

Clang!

The longsword flew out of his hand, swirling in the air before finally embedding itself in the bluestone slab at Huo Du's feet, penetrating three-tenths of an inch into the stone, its tip still humming.

Zhao Zhijing clutched his wrist, staggered backward, and stared in horror at the young man who had suddenly appeared in front of Wang Chuyi.

Dressed in pristine white, her long hair tied up. She had striking eyebrows and bright eyes, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

That face was so familiar.

He knew him so well that Zhao Zhijing dreamed of tearing him to pieces every night, yet he would wake up drenched in cold sweat.

"Yang...Yang Guo?!"

Zhao Zhijing exclaimed in disbelief. "How is this possible? How could that little beast appear at this time? Wasn't he fooling around with that demoness in the ancient tomb?"

In the shadows of the crowd.

Yin Zhiping's previously lowered eyelids suddenly lifted, staring at the white-clad youth. His teeth clenched, his cheeks bulged, and his nails almost dug into his flesh.

It's him. It's that jinx again!

That day at the entrance of the ancient tomb, it was this kid who ruined my and my senior brother's plans, almost causing me to be crippled by that female demon Li Mochou. Now that the situation has finally been brought under control, with this kid's arrival, things are likely to change again.

Unexpectedly, he actually dared to come to Chongyang Palace!

The Seven Masters of Quanzhen were also taken aback.

Yang Guo? Isn't that kid in the Ancient Tomb?

Moreover... that movement technique just now, that level of lightness skill, is probably even inferior to Qiu Chuji in his prime.

How long has this kid been on the mountain? Less than a year, right? Even if he started training from the womb, he couldn't have achieved this level of skill! Ma Yu was filled with astonishment and doubt. This kind of progress in martial arts was simply unbelievable. Could there really be geniuses in this world who are born with innate knowledge?

"Yang Guo!"

Qiu Chuji wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, slapping his thigh in exasperation: "You little brat, what are you doing here! Have you got a death wish? Get out of here! Get as far away as you can!"

Although he was strict with Yang Guo on ordinary days, often scolding and glaring at him, he truly regarded this son of his old friend as his own grandson. Yang Guo was a descendant of Yang Tiexin, a loyal and virtuous man, and also a promising martial arts talent.

Most importantly, he was Yang Kang's son.

Qiu Chuji could never forgive himself for Yang Kang; it was a lifelong regret. The Quanzhen Sect had fallen today, and this last remaining member couldn't be allowed to perish here as well. If Yang Guo were also gone, how could he face Guo Jing and Yang Tiexin in the afterlife?

Yang Guo turned around.

He glanced at Qiu Chuji, who was covered in blood and in a sorry state, and sighed inwardly. This old Taoist priest may have a bad temper, and he usually sets strict rules for himself, but when it comes to life and death, he is truly protective of his own.

Fine, for the sake of this sentiment, I shall see this matter through to the end today.

"Grandmaster."

Yang Guo cupped his hands in a respectful gesture, though his movements were somewhat casual, his tone was filled with reverence. "You're so old, don't be so quick to shout about fighting and killing. Getting angry damages your liver and can easily lead to a stroke."

"You..." Qiu Chuji was so angry he almost vomited blood again. This brat, what time is it and he's still making jokes? "What time is it for you to keep talking nonsense! Let's go! These Mongol Tartars are not someone you can handle!"

"Walk?"

Yang Guo smiled.

He turned around, put his hands behind his back, and his gaze swept over the group of arrogant Mongolian warriors on the field, finally landing on Huo Du's noble and imposing face.

Leaving is out of the question. If he wants to establish himself in the martial world and provide for his aunt, today must be a good opportunity to set an example. Besides, he still possesses the skills he stole from Wang Chongyang, and he needs to find a chance to show them off, lest the Quanzhen Sect be truly wiped out.

"I, Yang Guo, have no other skills, except that my legs are not very good."

Yang Guo shrugged, looking roguish. "Now that I'm here, if I leave in disgrace, how will I face the martial arts world? Will I ever be able to get married?"

Huo Du stopped waving his fan.

He looked Yang Guo up and down. This young man was interesting.

He showed no signs of internal energy fluctuations, appearing to be just an ordinary rich young master. But his agility and composure in the face of hundreds of people were clearly genuine. Huo Du was cautious by nature and never fought a battle he wasn't sure of winning; he couldn't see through this kid's true nature.

"Who are you?" Huo Du snapped his fan shut, his tone polite yet laced with arrogance. "This is a matter between Mongolia and the Quanzhen Sect. If you happen to be passing by, please do me a favor. Otherwise... you might accidentally lose your life."

"Just passing by?"

Yang Guo chuckled.

He took two steps forward, his gaze sweeping over Huo Du's magnificent brocade robe before finally settling on the folding fan in his hand. His eyes were filled with undisguised mockery as he looked at Huo Du.

"In the dead of winter, are you using a fan?"

Yang Guo shook his head, looking disgusted. "Are all the rich people these days a little bit mentally ill? Aren't they afraid their brains will freeze into tofu pudding?"

Huo Du's face stiffened. Was he being called brain-dead? He prided himself on his refined taste, and this fan was a symbol of his status. How could this country bumpkin have interpreted it as him being mentally ill?

"What did you say?" Behind Huodu, the Tibetan monk named Darba glared angrily, raised his vajra, and was about to step forward.

Huo Du raised his hand to stop him.

He suppressed his displeasure, considering himself an aristocrat and a refined gentleman; arguing with such a street ruffian would be beneath him. More importantly, he hadn't yet figured out the kid's methods and didn't want to act rashly.

"It seems you're determined to meddle in this mess?" Huo Du sneered, a murderous glint in his eyes. "I just wonder if you have the guts."

"Didn't your gatekeeper brother tell you whether you're capable or not?"

Yang Guo raised an eyebrow, recalling the scene of teasing the Tibetan monk at the foot of the mountain that day, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "That day at the foot of the mountain, didn't I give him a few copper coins? What, didn't I share some with you to buy candy?"

Huo Du was stunned. His senior brother had been given a copper coin? Were they treating him like a beggar? This was an utter disgrace!