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

Zhao Zhijing just wants to become a groundhog right now.

He lowered his head, hunched his back, and slowly crept behind the group of junior brothers who hadn't yet come to their senses.

That arrogant Mongolian prince was actually driven away by that little bastard Yang Guo.

This script is wrong!

According to his vision, today should be a day of bloodshed for the Quanzhen Sect. He "stepped forward" at the critical moment, bowed to the Mongols to preserve the sect's tradition, and finally endured humiliation to take over the position of sect leader.

Now everything is in complete chaos.

The boy standing in the center of the square, grinning with an infuriating smile, became the savior. Zhao Zhijing, on the other hand, became the laughingstock, kneeling and begging for mercy.

"We need to get out of here quickly."

Zhao Zhijing was thinking to himself that as long as he blended into the crowd, he could find an excuse later, saying that it was to lull the enemy into a false sense of security...

"Snapped!"

Suddenly someone tripped over my foot.

The kick was extremely tricky, and Zhao Zhijing had no time to react. He lost his balance and fell flat on his face with a "thud".

The fall was quite loud, landing him right at the front of the crowd.

The surroundings fell silent instantly.

Zhao Zhijing awkwardly raised his head, only to meet a pair of mocking eyes.

Behind him, his eldest disciple, Lu Qingdu, who was usually the most clingy follower, innocently withdrew his chubby foot, feigning concern as he cried out, "Master! How could you be so careless! The floor is slippery!"

That fat bastard!

When a wall falls, everyone pushes it down; even an apprentice dares to betray his master!

"Hey, Zhao the Great Swordsman."

Yang Guo crouched down and gently patted Zhao Zhijing's shoulder with the scabbard of his Gentleman's Sword, as if patting a stray dog.

"So eager to go? Are you planning to follow your Mongolian master to the grasslands to herd sheep?"

Zhao Zhijing's face turned a deep shade of liver, and he scrambled to his feet in a fluster.

At this moment, hundreds of eyes are fixed on him.

Especially the young disciples who had just been nearly killed by the Mongol soldiers, looked at their usually domineering senior uncle with undisguised murderous intent in their eyes.

There is no escape.

Since there's no way to escape, we have no choice but to take a gamble.

The panicked expression on Zhao Zhijing's face vanished instantly, replaced by... a tragic look?

He's a movie star.

Yang Guo secretly gave a thumbs up in his heart. With that kind of face-changing speed, it would be a pity if he didn't go into opera.

"Yang Guo! Stop spouting nonsense!"

Zhao Zhijing pointed at Yang Guo's nose, righteously declaring, "I, Zhao Zhijing, did that for the lives of these hundreds of disciples of the Quanzhen Sect! If I don't go to hell, who will?!"

He turned around, knelt down in front of the Seven Masters of Quanzhen with a thud, and tears welled up in his eyes.

"Master! Fellow disciples! In that situation just now, I couldn't bear to watch my fellow disciples die tragically, so I had to feign surrender to preserve our strength! Han Xin endured the humiliation of crawling between someone's legs, and Goujian endured hardship and humiliation to achieve his goal. Is this the kind of slander I, Zhao Zhijing, have earned for all my efforts?"

These words were spoken with tears streaming down his face, deeply moving and touching.

Some of the less bright disciples in the crowd actually hesitated.

Yes.

In that desperate situation, a direct confrontation would have certainly led to certain death.

Uncle Zhao's actions seem... not wrong?

"Slap! Slap! Slap!"

Applause erupted.

Yang Guo stood up, clapping his hands repeatedly, a signature mischievous grin on his face.

"Wonderful, truly wonderful."

Yang Guo walked up to Zhao Zhijing, looking down at him condescendingly: "Master Zhao, with your eloquence, it's a waste that you're not out there telling stories under the Tianqiao Bridge. Preserving your strength? Bearing humiliation?"

His expression suddenly turned cold, and his voice rose eight octaves.

"So, you stabbed your junior brother through with that sword, also to preserve your strength? And you were cheering and shouting behind Huo Du, telling people to kill me, also to endure humiliation?"

Zhao Zhijing's face stiffened, and his eyes darted around.

He looked at his junior brother who was still alive not far away, and then at Yin Zhiping, who was standing to the side with a pale face.

"That...that was just an act for the Mongols. I was very careful with my actions. You see, my junior brother can still be saved!"

Zhao Zhijing panicked and grabbed Yin Zhiping's sleeve: "Junior Brother Yin! Say something! You saw what happened just now, I was forced into it! We grew up together, you know me best! Please say something for me!"

Yin Zhiping trembled.

He looked at Zhao Zhijing's distorted face, then secretly glanced at the imposing Yang Guo, and the heavy sword behind Yang Guo that was still sheathed.

That boy is now like a mountain, pressing down on people and making it hard to breathe.

Yin Zhiping was scared.

He recalled their shady dealings, realizing he was an accomplice. If he spoke up for Zhao Zhijing now, would he also be implicated?

Better to die for your fellow Daoist than for me.

Even if Zhao Zhijing confesses, it's just his word; he's desperate and making baseless accusations without any evidence.

Yin Zhiping shook off Zhao Zhijing's hand, turned his head, looked at the sea of ​​clouds in the distance, and remained silent.

Zhao Zhijing's hand froze in mid-air, and his heart grew colder and colder.

Even that coward Yin Zhiping abandoned him.

Since you won't let me live, then none of us will have an easy time!

Zhao Zhijing suddenly stood up, his face contorted with rage. He pointed at Yang Guo, spitting as he spoke.

"Yang Guo! What right do you have to judge me?! You treacherous and disloyal little beast!"

"I'm doing this for the Quanzhen Sect! And you?! You're colluding with evil heretics!"

Zhao Zhijing shouted, "Master! Fellow martial uncles! Don't be fooled by him! This kid is a menace! He's taken that female demon from the Ancient Tomb Sect as his master! That Little Dragon Girl is Li Mochou's junior sister! This kid has illicit affairs with both of them!"

"He monopolizes the two beauties of the ancient tomb! He spends all his time in that sunless tomb, indulging in debauchery with those two vixens! This is genocide!"

"He even calls Ouyang Feng, the Western Poison, his son! He's recognizing a thief as his father! What right does this kind of person have to be a disciple of my Quanzhen Sect?! What right does he have to act like a hero here?!"

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

This news is explosive!

Everyone looked at Yang Guo with envy. Although Xiaolongnü had beaten them when she came up the mountain last time, her fairy-like beauty remained in their hearts.

Yang Guo is truly blessed with good fortune in love; he managed to get his hands on such a fairy-like woman.

However, there were also some public-spirited disciples who hated Li Mochou to the core, as well as Ouyang Feng, the public enemy of the martial arts world.

In an instant, the way all the disciples looked at Yang Guo changed.

Some admire him, some despise him!

Yang Guo narrowed his eyes.

He wasn't particularly angry; in fact, he even felt a little amused.

If that bastard knew that I not only wanted to sleep with Sister Long, but also got the famous Chief Huang into bed, he'd probably be scared to death on the spot.

However, how could we let him gossip about such a private matter?

"Are you done talking?"

Yang Guo took a step forward.

This seemingly casual step actually landed right on Zhao Zhijing's escape route.

Zhao Zhijing instinctively took a step back: "You... what do you want to do? Are you enraged? Trying to kill me to silence me?!"

"Kill you? You dirty hand."

Yang Guo stopped three feet in front of Zhao Zhijing.

The Nine Yin True Qi within his body began to reverse, and a strange, eerie light suddenly appeared in his eyes.

The Nine Yin Manual - The Great Technique of Soul Transference.

This skill is specifically designed to deal with those who are weak-willed and mentally unstable. At this moment, Zhao Zhijing's defenses have been breached, making it the perfect opportunity to strike.

"Look me in the eyes."

Yang Guo's voice was deep and had a strange magnetism, like a demonic sound resounding from the depths of the soul.

Zhao Zhijing instinctively wanted to look away, but those eyes seemed to have two vortexes, drawing his gaze in.

His eyes began to glaze over. His previously ferocious expression gradually turned blank.

Yang Guo's lips curled into a wicked smile.

The fun has begun.

"Master Zhao, please calm down," Yang Guo said gently. "Continue what you were saying earlier. What are you really thinking?"

The entire audience held their breath in suspense.

Zhao Zhijing stood there, like a marionette.

He opened his mouth, his voice flat and without any inflection, as if he were reciting a text.

"The Quanzhen Sect... those old geezers..."

After uttering the first sentence, Wang Chuyi swayed.

"Especially that old senile Wang Chuyi..." Zhao Zhijing continued, speaking slowly, "He's full of moralistic platitudes, but he's incompetent himself, yet he's always trying to control me. He should have died long ago, occupying a position without doing anything."

Wang Chuyi's face turned deathly pale, and he nearly fainted from lack of breath.

The surrounding disciples stared in disbelief. Was this a game of truth or dare?

Yang Guo suppressed a laugh and continued to guide the conversation: "Then why did you surrender to the Mongols?"

"Give me the money."

Zhao Zhijing answered matter-of-factly, even revealing a greedy smile: "Prince Huodu said that as long as I obey, the Quanzhen Sect will be mine. There will also be ten thousand taels of gold and ten beautiful women."

"What do those stupid Taoist priests know? What good can they possibly achieve by cultivating Taoism? It's much more comfortable to sleep with a woman."

"Once I become the leader, I'll kill all these disobedient ones. I'll turn the Quanzhen Sect into a Taoist temple and a brothel; that would be truly enjoyable."

"puff--"

Someone in the crowd couldn't help but burst out laughing.

But more than anything, there was anger.

Is this the same sanctimonious, preachy senior master who always talks about rules and regulations?

He's a complete scumbag!

Yin Zhiping stood to the side, sweating profusely as he listened. He was glad he hadn't spoken up for this guy; that was practically suicide!

"So what do you think of Yang Guo?" Yang Guo asked as a last question, purely out of personal consideration.

"Hmph, that little bastard..." Zhao Zhijing's face twisted with jealousy. "Why is he so lucky? Why do all the beautiful women fawn over him? I'm just jealous of him. I want him dead. I want to see him kneeling in front of me, shining my shoes..."

"That's enough!"

A loud shout, like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

Wang Chuyi couldn't listen to it anymore.

Throughout his life, he valued his reputation and adherence to rules above all else. He never imagined that he would raise such a despicable person!

"You wicked disciple! You wicked disciple!"

Wang Chuyi pushed away the disciple who was helping him and rushed over, trembling all over.

Yang Guo, knowing when to stop, snapped his fingers.

"Smack."

The Soul Transfer Technique has been dispelled.

Zhao Zhijing suddenly snapped out of his daze. He looked around at the menacing stares and at Wang Chuyi rushing towards him, completely bewildered.

"What's wrong? What's wrong? I... what did I just say?"

He only remembered that he was in a daze for a moment and had a wonderful dream in which he was the head of the sect and was counting money.

"Go ask in hell!"

Wang Chuyi drew his long sword, its light as bright as a rainbow.

But the sword ultimately failed to pierce Zhao Zhijing's heart.

Taoism emphasizes compassion.

Even under these circumstances, Wang Chuyi still couldn't bring himself to kill.

"puff!"

The long sword pierced Zhao Zhijing's lower abdomen, dantian.

With a burst of internal energy, the dantian shattered.

"ah--!!!"

Zhao Zhijing let out a piercing scream. He clutched his stomach, writhing on the ground in pain.

Decades of arduous practice, all wasted in one day.

For someone who values ​​power and martial prowess above all else, this is more painful than simply killing him.

"From this day forward, Zhao Zhijing is no longer my disciple of Quanzhen!"

Wang Chuyi seemed to age ten years in an instant, and the sword in his hand clattered to the ground. He closed his eyes, unwilling to look at his disciple who had made him lose face again.

"Throw it out."

Qiu Chuji coldly added, "Throw them down the mountain and let them fend for themselves."

Two strong disciples immediately rushed up and, like dragging a dead dog, hoisted Zhao Zhijing, who was still screaming and cursing, and dragged him out of the mountain gate.

"I refuse to accept this! I did it for the Quanzhen Sect! You bunch of senile old fools! I refuse to accept this—"

"Yang Guo, you will die a horrible death..."