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

Huo Du's facial muscles twitched slightly.

Four second-rate fighters were defeated before they even finished their first exchange.

This script is wrong.

But he was, after all, a Mongolian prince and a disciple of the Golden Wheel Monk, so he still had some self-control. He snapped his folding fan shut, forcibly suppressing his surprise and doubt, and forced a seemingly elegant smile onto his lips.

"Impressive internal strength."

Huo Du clapped his hands, seemingly in praise, but actually to save face: "I never expected the Quanzhen Sect to have such a hidden young hero as you. Those four lackeys were unskilled and disgraced me; they deserved to die."

He spoke casually, as if what had just flown out wasn't four human lives, but four pets.

The Seven Masters of Quanzhen felt a chill run down their spines. These Mongols, what ruthless nature they possessed.

Yang Guo raised an eyebrow, inwardly cursing: Keep pretending. This pretty boy is even better at acting than that grandson Zhao Zhijing. If this were in his previous life, he would definitely deserve an Oscar nomination for Best Villain.

"What? Is the prince planning to personally intervene?" Yang Guo said with a half-smile, his eyes darting over Huo Du. "But judging from your delicate skin, you might not be able to withstand a beating. If I were to bruise your pretty face, wouldn't all your young ladies and wives come after me?"

Upon hearing this, the young Taoist priests of the Quanzhen Sect wanted to laugh but dared not, their faces turning bright red with suppressed laughter.

Huo Du's face darkened, and he gripped the folding fan so tightly that it creaked.

"There's no need for me to personally deal with you."

Huo Du sneered and bowed to the Tibetan monk standing behind him like an iron tower: "Senior brother, this kid is a bit strange, his internal strength is quite peculiar. Those four good-for-nothings underestimated him. I beg you, senior brother, to take action and set an example for our Tantric sect."

That Tibetan monk was Darba.

He wasn't very bright, but he always obeyed his junior brother's orders. When he heard Huo Du ask him to take action, he didn't ask any questions, just grunted and strode out.

"Thump!"

"Thump!"

With each step, the ground trembled.

This Darba was as burly as a black bear walking upright, carrying a golden, gleaming vajra. The vajra was as thick as a child's arm, with ferocious demon heads at both ends, and judging by its weight, it must have weighed at least fifty or sixty pounds.

Yang Guo glanced at the vajra and his eyelids twitched.

If this thing were to hit you solidly, it would turn even a cow into mincemeat, let alone a person.

"Guo'er! Run!"

Ignoring the excruciating pain in his chest, Sun Bu'er anxiously shouted, "This monk possesses superhuman strength; we cannot fight him head-on! Although your internal strength is strong, this Vajra Pestle is no ordinary weapon. Run!"

Ma Yu also said urgently, "Yang Guo, as long as the green hills remain, the grass will grow tall! You are a disciple of Quanzhen Sect, in the future..."

"Shut up, you old woman."

Yang Guo didn't turn his head. His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears: "If I leave, will any of you old Taoist priests be alive today? Besides..."

He paused, a smile playing on his lips, but his thoughts were quite different:

"If I run away, wouldn't this whole act of bravado fall apart? Besides, Sister Rong is still waiting for me to snatch her away. If she finds out I was scared off by some big oaf, how will I ever regain my husbandly authority in bed again?"

"Besides, this kind of big, dumb guy is only good for intimidating people."

Yang Guo reached behind him with his hand.

"Clang—"

A clear, resonant dragon's roar echoed throughout the square.

A jet-black sword light suddenly appeared from its sheath.

The sword is simple and unadorned, without any fancy decorations. The blade is not even sharpened, as blunt as a ruler. However, the entire blade is jet black, with a faint, warm, jade-like luster.

The Gentleman's Sword.

Yang Guo gently stroked the blade with his fingers, his movements tender.

This is the token of love between him and Sister Long... This sword and the Lady Sword in Sister Long's hand are a pair, symbolizing "A beautiful and virtuous lady is sought after by a gentleman".

"This is Sister Long's dowry. If this big oaf's broken iron rod damages even a little bit of paint, I'll twist his head off and use it as a ball."

"What are you pretending to be so clever with that unsharpened, broken sword?"

Lu Qingdu, standing at the back of the crowd, couldn't help but mutter, his face full of disdain, "He was just lucky earlier. Does he really think he's an expert? He'll be smashed into mincemeat soon, then let's see how arrogant he is."

Although Zhao Zhijing didn't speak, his eyes were sinister. He wished that Darba would smash Yang Guo to death with his pestle, so that no one would know about his shady dealings with Yin Zhiping.

"Wow!"

When Darba saw Yang Guo draw his sword, he roared like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

The golden demon-subduing pestle in his hand, weighing sixty-four pounds, came crashing down with a howling gale.

Simple and straightforward. There are no fancy moves, just pure power and speed.

This is the principle of overwhelming force with sheer power.

The Seven Masters of Quanzhen were deathly pale. If this attack were in their prime, they might have been able to withstand it, but now, with their bodies severely injured, a mere graze would be fatal, and a direct hit would mean certain death.

Yang Guo, however, did not move.

He slipped when the vajra was less than three inches from his head and the strong wind made his hair fly wildly.

He slid out like an eel, clinging to the vajra pestle.

The Nine Yin Manual - The Technique of Snake-like Movement and Fox-like Turns!

"boom!"

The vajra slammed into the bluestone slab. Shards of stone flew everywhere, dust billowed, and a deep crater the size of a washbasin was carved into the ground.

Before Darba could even pull out the pestle, Yang Guo had already handed over the Gentleman's Sword.

He did not seek to kill, but only to force the enemy to defend themselves.

The sword tip trembled, turning into specks of cold starlight that enveloped several major acupoints on Darba's wrist.

Although Darba was simple-minded, he possessed a beast-like intuition when it came to martial arts. Feeling a sharp pain in his wrist, he had no choice but to withdraw his hand and defend, sweeping his vajra pestle to try and deflect Yang Guo's sword.

How could Yang Guo bear to let the Gentleman's Sword clash head-on with such a crude weapon?

With a flick of his wrist, the Gentleman's Sword drew a semicircle in mid-air, lightly bypassing the Vajra Pestle, and then struck horizontally, like a schoolteacher's ruler, heavily on Darba's shoulder.

"Snapped!"

This seemingly effortless strike was actually infused with Yang Guo's sixteen years of refined internal energy.

Darba groaned, half of his body went numb, and he staggered two steps.

"good!"

Among the Quanzhen Sect disciples, someone couldn't help but cheer.

Huo Du's expression changed slightly, and he gripped the folding fan in his hand even tighter.

"What... what kind of sword technique is this?"

Sun Bu'er stared wide-eyed at the dashing figure in the arena, her face filled with disbelief.

Yang Guo's swordsmanship looks too strange.

It lacks the elegance of the Quanzhen Swordplay, and is not as sharp as other schools. Every move and stance exudes a sense of antiquity and clumsiness, even carrying a hint of... awkwardness?

But ironically, this "clumsy" swordsmanship, when used by Yang Guo, possessed the power to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary.

No matter how strong Darba was or how fierce his attacks were, Yang Guo could always easily neutralize them with the simplest moves, or even turn defense into offense.

The feeling was like a learned scholar reprimanding a disobedient child.

Calm and composed, handling things with ease.

"Senior brother..."

Wang Chuyi turned to look at Qiu Chuji, his voice trembling slightly, "This swordsmanship... why does it look somewhat familiar?"

Ma Yu stared intently at Yang Guo's sword moves, as if a lightning bolt had flashed through his mind, awakening memories that had been sealed away for many years.

He gaped open, seemingly in disbelief, "This is...this is..."

Ma Yu pointed at Yang Guo, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, "This is my late master from back then..."

He didn't finish speaking, but Wang Chuyi already understood.

Chongyang Sword Technique!

Wang Chongyang founded the Quanzhen Sect here, possessing unparalleled martial arts skills. Although the Seven Masters of Quanzhen received his true teachings, they only learned the basics. The true essence of the Chongyang Sword Technique was too profound for Wang Chongyang to fully impart.

Unexpectedly, this junior, who had been a student for less than a year, had actually mastered his master's ultimate technique!