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

Huo Du stood in the middle of the field, and with a "whoosh," he unfolded the folding fan again, holding it in front of his chest.

He looked at his senior brother Darba lying on the ground not far away, and his heart tightened. He knew his senior brother's strange strength; to be able to knock his senior brother's weapon away, this kid's internal strength was simply a mystery.

A direct confrontation is definitely not an option.

Huo Du's eyes darted around, and a plan came to him. He was of noble birth and his greatest skill was finding loopholes in the rules. Since he couldn't win by strength, he would compete in techniques.

"Impressive skill."

Huo Du gave a forced smile, his folding fan waving rapidly in his hand. "Your inner strength is profound, you must have had some extraordinary encounters. However, you claim to be a disciple of Quanzhen, yet what you just used were nothing more than brute force to bully others. Can this really be called Quanzhen martial arts?"

He took two steps forward, chin held high, looking as if he were thinking of the orthodoxy of the martial arts world.

"I have always admired the profound and extensive martial arts of the Central Plains. If you only know brute force, even if you win, you are nothing more than a wild mountain brute. Since you call yourself a member of the Quanzhen School, do you dare to use the true Quanzhen sword technique to exchange a few moves with me?"

Upon hearing this, the Seven Masters of Quanzhen frowned.

These Mongolians are shameless.

Anyone with eyes could see that although Yang Guo's sword strike was powerful and heavy, the subtle changes in force it contained were far more than just brute force. Huo Du was afraid of Yang Guo's heavy sword style and wanted to use words to provoke him and force him to make himself helpless.

"Despicable!" Sun Bu'er cursed.

Yang Guo was not annoyed at all upon hearing this.

He reached out and rubbed his ear, tilting his head to look at Huo Du with the same look he gave a conman shouting his wares.

This kind of provocation is less sophisticated than the jade bees found in ancient tombs.

"My lord," Yang Guo flicked the earwax off his finger, "do you think you can beat me as long as I don't exert myself?"

Huo Du, thick-skinned and unfazed, said, "I merely wish to experience firsthand the Quanzhen Swordplay, which is hailed as the orthodox school of Xuanmen, to see if it truly lives up to its reputation. Or perhaps you simply don't know it at all?"

"Okay."

Yang Guo agreed so readily that Huo Du was taken aback.

"Since you want to see the Quanzhen Sword Technique, I'll show you." Yang Guo flicked his wrist, and the unsharpened Gentleman's Sword pointed diagonally at the ground. "But let me make this clear beforehand: if you lose too badly later, don't come crying to your mother."

Huo Du snorted coldly, feeling much more at ease.

As long as this kid doesn't use that unreasonable fighting style, with his fan skills honed over many years in the Western Regions' Tantric sect, surely he can handle a mere brat.

"please!"

Before he finished speaking, Huo Du shifted his feet and moved closer like a ghost.

The folding fan in his hand wasn't for fanning; its ribs were entirely made of fine steel, with edges as sharp as knives. Now, with the fan closed, it resembled a short judge's pen, poised to strike Yang Guo's throat.

This move, "The Serpent Spits Its Tongue," is insidious and vicious.

The disciples of Quanzhen cried out in surprise.

Yang Guo stood still, without moving his heels.

He only slowly raised his hand when the folding fan was almost poking his throat.

The longsword slashed upwards.

The movements were slow, even somewhat limp, much like the elderly people practicing Tai Chi in the park early in the morning.

But at the very moment the sword was raised, the tip of the sword touched Huo Du's wrist just an inch below.

That's the pulse point.

Huo Du felt a numbness in his wrist, and his "Snake Spits Venom" move suddenly became powerless, forcing him to withdraw and retreat.

"This is called 'Zhang Guolao Riding a Donkey Backwards'," Yang Guo said with a grin. "But my donkey has a bad temper; it kicks anything that doesn't know its place."

Huo gritted his teeth and launched another attack.

This time, the folding fan was unfolded, its surface horizontally slashed, specifically targeting Yang Guo's lower body.

Yang Guo slashed vertically with his longsword, without any fancy moves, cutting straight towards the fan.

This sword strike looked ordinary, even somewhat clumsy.

But Ma Yu, who was on the steps, suddenly shuddered.

His eyes, which were usually half-open, were now wide open, staring intently at the sword in Yang Guo's hand.

"This...this is..."

Ma Yu's voice trembled slightly as he reached out and grabbed Qiu Chuji's sleeve. "Junior brother, look at this move, doesn't it resemble Master's move back then..."

Qiu Chuji was no longer in his usual hot temper. He opened his mouth, forgetting even to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth.

"So similar...too similar."

Qiu Chuji muttered to himself, his eyes unfocused, as if he could see through the white-robed youth the imposing figure from decades ago.

"When we practice this move, 'Azure Dragon Emerging from the Water,' we emphasize the lightness and agility of the sword, with the intention preceding the sword. But our master once said that the greatest truths are the simplest, and a heavy sword has no edge. The essence of this move lies not in agility, but in 'clumsiness.'"

Yang Guo's sword was still moving.

The Seven Masters of Quanzhen knew every move and every style.

That was the Quanzhen Swordplay they had practiced their entire lives.

However, it is completely different.

Yang Guo's swordsmanship lacks elaborate sword flourishes and elaborate feints added for aesthetic purposes.

A sword is just a sword.

A stab is a stab, a chop is a chop.

It is simple, heavy, and even a little clumsy.

But each swing of the sword carried an oppressive force that left people breathless.

"That's 'White Rainbow Piercing the Sun'!" Wang Chuyi exclaimed excitedly, his beard trembling. "Our move is a diagonal thrust with a flick, but Yang Guo pressed down straight down! That's the true form of this move!"

"That's right, that's right..." Hao Datong's eyes were a little moist. "Back then, when my master taught me this move, I couldn't get it right no matter what I did. My master even hit my palms with a ruler. So... so this is how it's supposed to be used."

The several old Taoist priests, whose combined age was several hundred years, looked like a group of children just starting out in school, watching the teacher demonstrate the lessons, their faces filled with both shame and excitement.

They finally understood why the Quanzhen School had been declining in recent years.

It's not that my swordsmanship is bad.

It's because these disciples are too stupid. They've made the things their master passed down more and more fancy, and in doing so, they've lost sight of the most fundamental essence.

Only Yang Guo.

This disciple, whom they looked down upon and even left to fend for himself, was now teaching his senior uncles and elder brothers the most authentic Quanzhen sword techniques.

This is not just about fighting.

This is preaching!

"Absurd! Utterly absurd!"

A jarring sound shattered the enlightenment of the Seven Masters of Quanzhen.

Zhao Zhijing, hiding not far behind Huo Du, pointed at Yang Guo and shouted angrily, "What kind of Quanzhen swordsmanship is this? It's utter chaos! Our Quanzhen swordsmanship emphasizes elegance and transcendence, not something like this, chopping wood!"

He didn't recognize this sword technique.

Or rather, given his aptitude and understanding, he simply couldn't comprehend the true meaning behind what Wang Chongyang left behind.

In his eyes, Yang Guo was just fighting blindly.

"Sect Leader! Fellow Martial Uncles!" Zhao Zhijing shouted back up the steps, "Don't be fooled by this little beast! He's insulting our Quanzhen martial arts! This is heresy!"

Upon hearing this, Qiu Chuji's face turned as black as the bottom of a pot.

He turned and glanced at this junior apprentice he had once valued, his eyes now filled with nothing but disgust.

A frog at the bottom of a well.

Rotten wood cannot be carved.

"Shut up!" Qiu Chuji roared. "If you don't understand, get out of here and stop making a fool of yourself!"

Zhao Zhijing shrank back as he was scolded, his heart filled with even more resentment.

They're all getting senile! These old folks are all confused!

How can something that's clearly unorthodox become the authentic one?