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

An abandoned grotto in the Zhongnan Mountains that is extremely hidden.

The cave is perpetually dark and damp, so much so that even birds and animals avoid it.

Yin Zhiping sat cross-legged on the cold stone platform, his hands forming the "Three Pure Ones Seal" of the Quanzhen School.

He closed his eyes tightly, veins bulged on his forehead, and large beads of cold sweat streamed down his face.

The "Blood Bodhi Marrow Cleansing Pill" given by Huo Du has completely dissolved in his dantian.

The medicinal power transformed into scalding lava, rushing and crashing along the eight extraordinary meridians.

The Quanzhen internal energy emphasizes balance and tranquility, like a gentle stream. But the medicinal power of this Blood Bodhi is domineering and unparalleled, like a flood bursting its banks.

Two forces clashed within the meridians.

Yin Zhiping gritted his teeth, not making a sound.

Success or failure hinges on this moment; failing to endure it means exploding and dying, while surviving it means being reborn. As long as Yang Guo can be trampled underfoot, what is this little bit of suffering?

He circulated the internal energy cultivation method of the Quanzhen Daoda Song, attempting to guide this raging medicinal power.

Each time the true qi circulates for one cycle, the meridians are forcibly widened by one point.

The pain was excruciating, like a thousand ants gnawing at his heart. He bit his gums until they bled, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

He changed the hand seals, transforming the "Three Pure Ones Seal" into the "Great Vajra Wheel Seal" of Tantric Buddhism.

This hand seal technique was also taught to him by Huo Du. He had long since thrown the rules of the Quanzhen Sect to the winds. As long as he could become stronger, he didn't care which sect's method he used.

The esoteric Buddhist guiding techniques taught by Huo Du were effective.

The domineering medicinal power was tamed and merged into his dantian.

As his inner energy circulated, he felt his limbs and bones filled with unprecedented power. That feeling of fullness made him feel comfortable even in the deepest recesses of his bones, and all the frustration he had felt from being suppressed by Yang Guo for days was swept away.

He raised his right hand, bringing his index and middle fingers together to form a sword-like gesture.

He used his fingers instead of a sword to perform a move from the Quanzhen Swordplay called "Parting Flowers and Sweeping Willows".

This move used to be characterized by its lightness and grace.

Now, under the influence of the Blood Bodhi medicine, half a foot of crimson qi was being emitted from his fingertips.

The qi surged forth, emitting a hissing sound as it cut through the air.

He flipped his wrist and unleashed a sweeping "White Clouds Emerging from the Mountain" move. He thought to himself that he used to find this move weak and powerless, but now he could unleash it to such a level.

The crimson finger strike landed on the stone wall three zhang away.

A deep ravine was carved into the stone wall, and gravel flew everywhere.

This power surpasses that of any one of the Seven Masters of Quanzhen.

Yin Zhiping withdrew his sword finger and exhaled a long breath.

The turbid air condensed in mid-air without dissipating, demonstrating the depth of the internal strength.

He looked down at his hands, his eyes filled with fanaticism. Even his breathing became heavy.

With such unparalleled martial arts skills, one can go anywhere in the world.

Who can stop him from ascending to the throne of the Quanzhen Sect?

The image of Yang Guo's arrogant face flashed through his mind. That face always wore a cynical smile, revealing his utter contempt for him.

That kid stole the show in the main hall of Chongyang Palace, trampling the third-generation disciples of the Quanzhen Sect underfoot.

What's even more hateful is that Yang Guo stole Xiaolongnu's innocence.

That was the fairy that Yin Zhiping dreamed of and longed for day and night.

The image of that night outside the ancient tomb flashed through my mind.

The night breeze in Zhongnan Mountain carries the fragrance of flowers.

Ouyang Feng sealed Xiaolongnu's pressure points and turned to leave.

Little Dragon Girl lay quietly in the grass, her white clothes whiter than snow, her fair skin glowing with a luminous sheen under the moonlight.

That was the most beautiful scene Yin Zhiping had ever seen in his life.

He hid in the shadows, his heart pounding like a drum. His throat was dry, and even swallowing saliva became difficult.

He stretched out his trembling hands, trying to unbutton the pristine white garment. His fingertips touched the soft fabric, and his entire arm went numb.

It was so close.

It was just a tiny bit off.

Then that little bastard Yang Guo reappeared, haunting me like a ghost.

Not only did they ruin his plans, they also beat him to a pulp.

That humiliation, that resentment of unfulfilled desire, gnawed at his internal organs like venomous snakes. Why? After decades of arduous training, he was no match for a mere novice?

"Yang Guo!" Yin Zhiping roared in the cave, his throat emitting the mournful cry of a night owl.

"You stole my love and ruined my future. On the Tongtian Arena, I will cut your flesh piece by piece in front of the whole world!" He clenched his five fingers into claws, gripping the stone platform beneath him tightly, and dug several deep marks into it.

Next up is Little Dragon Girl.

That aloof and otherworldly face made him both love and hate her.

He hated her for being fickle.

As the leader of the Ancient Tomb Sect, he usually pretends to be aloof, but secretly he has an affair with his disciple.

She would rather let Yang Guo take advantage than even glance at herself.

When Yang Guo dies on the Tongtian Arena, he wants to make this woman kneel before him and beg for mercy.

He wanted to imprison her in Chongyang Palace and make her serve him day and night.

He wanted to experience the pleasure of being favored by the chief disciple of the Quanzhen Sect. Thinking of this, a surge of lust rose in his lower abdomen, and his eyes became incredibly greedy.

Qiu Chuji and the Seven Masters of Quanzhen also appeared.

These old fogies.

He usually talks a lot about benevolence and morality, and always mentions the strict rules of the sect.

When faced with a powerful enemy, they can only rely on forming a battle formation to protect themselves.

Ma Yu is seriously ill, and Qiu Chuji favors Yang Guo.

They're blind; instead of nurturing their rightful chief disciple, they're promoting an outsider.

The Quanzhen Sect will be destroyed sooner or later in the hands of these old guys.

Only by becoming the sect leader himself can he restore the prestige of the orthodox Xuanmen sect. He wants to make all these old fogies bow their heads and admit their mistakes in the Chongyang Hall.

Zhao Zhijing's face made him feel nauseous.

A disgraced disciple, stripped of his martial arts skills, survived only by serving as a lackey for the Mongols.

How dare they order me around in the tavern!

Once he had power, the first person he would kill was Zhao Zhijing.

We must sever the other half of that cripple's meridians and throw him into the back mountains to feed the wolves. We must never let this scoundrel live in the world and spread his shameful secret of taking poison everywhere.

And then there's Huo Du.

The Mongol Tartars harbored wolfish ambitions.

He used poison to control himself.

Do they really think they're servants who can be summoned at a moment's notice?

Once he seizes the position of sect leader and commands three thousand disciples, he will definitely find an opportunity to tear Huo Du to pieces and force out the antidote. Yin Zhiping's life can only be in his own hands.

Yin Zhiping clenched his fists.

The joints made a popping sound like popping beans.

The medicinal effects were completely absorbed into the dantian.

The originally balanced and peaceful internal energy of Quanzhen was now mixed with a sinister dark red hue.

He stood up, kicked aside the rubble blocking his path, and strode out of the cave. The sunlight outside made him squint.

He forcefully suppressed the violent aura within him, the dark red in his pupils faded, and he returned to his usual sanctimonious appearance.

Back at Chongyang Palace, dozens of fourth-generation disciples were practicing swordsmanship in the front courtyard square.

Yin Zhiping changed into a clean blue Taoist robe, put his hands behind his back, and strolled into the square. He usually maintained a dignified air in front of his disciples, putting on a kind and approachable teacher's demeanor. Today was no exception, except that he stood up straighter than usual.

"Uncle-Master Yin." Several sharp-eyed disciples saw Yin Zhiping, quickly stopped practicing their swordsmanship, and bowed in respect.

One of the disciples, tall and thin with a mean face, was named Wang Qingchen, a former confidant of Zhao Zhijing. After Zhao Zhijing was deposed and banished from the mountain, Wang Qingchen lost his backer and began to outwardly comply with Yin Zhiping's wishes while inwardly defying him.

When Wang Qingchen saw Yin Zhiping approaching, he simply cupped his hands in a casual gesture, without even bending his waist. "Uncle Yin, you haven't been on the mountain these past few days. Where have you been seeking immortals and visiting Daoists? The Tongtian Arena is just around the corner, and everyone is practicing their skills like crazy, but you seem to be quite leisurely, Uncle."

These words were laced with barbs, clearly showing that Yin Zhiping was not taken seriously. In the past, Yin Zhiping, to protect his reputation, would have at most given him a few words of reprimand and then let it go.

He had never wanted to be known for bullying younger generations. But today was different; he was just looking for an outlet for his pent-up anger, and now Wang Qingchen had walked right into his doorstep, so he had no one to blame but himself.

Yin Zhiping stopped and turned to look at Wang Qingchen. His dough twitched, stretching into a horrifying arc.

"Nephew Wang, your swordsmanship is lacking. Your lower body is unstable, and your sword strikes are weak. Such fancy footwork will only make you a disgrace on the Tongtian Arena."

Yin Zhiping spoke calmly, but took a step forward without hesitation, shortening the distance between them. A hint of mockery appeared in his eyes, like a cat looking at a mouse under its paws.

Wang Qingchen sneered. He considered himself to be among the best in martial arts among the fourth-generation disciples, and he couldn't stand such belittling. Besides, Yin Zhiping was usually rather timid and was considered an easy target by everyone.

He thought to himself, "You, Yin Zhiping, are only relying on your status as the chief disciple. You might not be able to beat me in a real fight."

"Since you say my training is inadequate, why don't you personally give me a few pointers?"

Before he could finish speaking, Wang Qingchen flicked his wrist, and his longsword shot straight at Yin Zhiping's shoulder. The strike was incredibly fast, clearly intended to intimidate Yin Zhiping. He was determined to humiliate Yin Zhiping in public.

The other disciples in the square retreated, ready to watch the show.

Yin Zhiping stood still, making no attempt to dodge. Just as the sword tip was inches from his shoulder, he didn't move his hands, but simply raised his right hand. He sneered inwardly, thinking, "Such a flawed move, and he dares to show off like this."

The speed was so fast that it was impossible to see with the naked eye. Yin Zhiping caught Wang Qingchen's sword blade with two fingers without any mishap.

Wang Qingchen was shocked and tried to pull the sword back with all his might, but the longsword seemed to be rooted to the spot and wouldn't budge. His face turned red, and he gripped the hilt with both hands and pulled desperately, but it was still to no avail.

His palms were covered in cold sweat, and he couldn't understand why Yin Zhiping's finger strength was so great.

"Let me teach you what it means to draw your sword with power." Yin Zhiping twisted his fingers forcefully.

With a crisp "crack," the longsword made of fine steel was snapped in two by his fingers.

Before Wang Qingchen could react, Yin Zhiping struck Wang Qingchen's chest with a backhand. He used only half his strength in this strike and deliberately suppressed the dark red evil energy, so to an outsider it appeared to be just an ordinary push.

He wanted to establish his authority, but he couldn't reveal that he had practiced evil arts.

But Wang Qingchen was struck as if by lightning, flying backwards three zhang away, spitting out a mouthful of blood that stained his Taoist robe red.

He clutched his chest, his face filled with terror. He felt an icy force pierce his internal organs, the pain so intense he could barely breathe.

The audience was silent.

All the disciples stared wide-eyed, not daring to utter a sound. No one had expected that the usually gentle Uncle Yin would be so ruthless, and that he would kill the best of the fourth-generation disciples in one move.

Yin Zhiping dusted off his hands, feeling the domineering medicinal power in his dantian still throbbing faintly. He walked up to Wang Qingchen, looking down at this fourth-generation disciple who had previously outwardly obeyed him but inwardly defied him.

Looking at the other person's face contorted in pain, he felt an unprecedented sense of pleasure. This was the benefit of power; even if it was like drinking poison to quench thirst, it was worth it.

"Junior Nephew Wang, are you satisfied with this guidance?"

Wang Qingchen was in excruciating pain in his chest, and even breathing was painful because of his broken ribs. His mind was filled with the image of those two fingers breaking his steel sword. He didn't dare to talk back and could only swallow the blood in his mouth and nod repeatedly in agreement.

The Uncle Yin in front of me is no longer the pushover who only talks big principles; he is a living Yama who can crush me at any time.

Yin Zhiping bent down, lowered his voice, and said in a tone only the two of them could hear, "Tonight at midnight, bring your close fellow disciples to the Scripture Pavilion to find me. If you dare not come, I guarantee your corpse will appear at the bottom of the cliff tomorrow."

He wanted to control all the troublemakers left behind by Zhao Zhijing. To deal with Yang Guo at the Tongtian Arena, he couldn't rely on martial arts alone; he also needed helpers to create momentum.

Wang Qingchen met Yin Zhiping's bloodshot eyes and was intimidated by the undisguised murderous aura. Terrified, she could only nod frantically.

He couldn't even muster the slightest thought of resistance; all he wanted was to escape this scourge as quickly as possible.

It was midnight. A night wind blew through the dense forest behind the Sutra Repository. Wang Qingchen, along with five fourth-generation disciples who usually followed Zhao Zhijing, stood trembling under a tree.

These six people were all troublemakers in Chongyang Palace, known for their bullying and harassment of men and women. But tonight, they all shrank back, not daring to utter a sound. The blow Wang Qingchen received during the day had made them fully realize the situation.

Yin Zhiping emerged from the shadows of the trees. He held a small cloth bag in his hand, containing pills he had made during the day at the pharmacy using several highly poisonous herbs.

He didn't have Huo Du's Blood Bodhi to control people, so he could only use this crude poison as a substitute, as long as it could fool these few fools.

"Uncle-Master Yin, what brings you to this late-night summons?" Wang Qingchen asked respectfully, clutching his chest and bowing low, afraid of angering the other party and receiving another slap.

Without a word, Yin Zhiping threw the cloth bag on the ground. The bag opened, revealing six shiny black pills that emitted an extremely pungent, fishy smell.

He stared at the six people, calculating in his mind that as long as these people swallowed the medicine, he would have a better chance of killing Yang Guo at the Tongtian Arena.

"Take this medicine," Yin Zhiping commanded, his tone icy. He wanted these people to experience what it felt like to have poisoned and strangled. Why should he, Yin Zhiping, be the only one threatened by the Mongols?

The six disciples looked at each other, their feet rooted to the spot, none daring to pick up the pills on the ground. Even a fool could see that they were no good; if they swallowed them, they would be dead.

"Uncle Yin, what... what kind of medicine is this?" a timid disciple stammered, his legs trembling.

"This medicine will kill you." Yin Zhiping gave them no time to think, and with a burst of speed, he was already in front of the disciple.

He grabbed the disciple by the neck and lifted him up with one hand. The evil energy within him surged through his arm, making him feel incredibly strong. This feeling of controlling other people's lives fascinated him.

The disciple's feet were dangling in the air, and he struggled desperately, his hands gripping Yin Zhiping's fingers tightly. His face turned purple and his eyes were almost bulging out.

"I'll only count to three. If you don't eat, you die now." Yin Zhiping's grip tightened, the cracking sound of bones grinding together was extremely jarring in the night. He had no pity whatsoever; his mind was filled with hatred for Yang Guo. Anyone who dared to stand in his way of killing Yang Guo would be killed.

Wang Qingchen was the first to break down. Looking at Yin Zhiping's expressionless face, he realized this man was a complete madman, a ruthless killer. A wise man doesn't fight a losing battle; he'd deal with it after tonight.

He knelt down with a thud, grabbed a pill, stuffed it into his mouth, and swallowed it whole without even chewing it. The pill got stuck in his throat, making him choke and his eyes roll back in his head.

Seeing this, the remaining disciples' mental defenses completely collapsed, and they could only desperately pick up the pills and swallow them.

Yin Zhiping tossed the nearly suffocating disciple to the ground. He looked at the six trembling lackeys kneeling on the ground and clapped his hands with extreme satisfaction.

This is the power he desires. Once he becomes the sect leader, all three thousand disciples of the Quanzhen Sect will kneel at his feet like these six people.

"This is called the 'Heart-Rotting Pill.' Without my antidote, your hearts will turn into a pool of pus and blood in seven days."

Yin Zhiping revealed his trump card, telling a lie so convincingly that even he almost believed it, completely cutting off their escape route: "From today onwards, you are my dogs. Whoever I tell you to bite, you bite."

Wang Qingchen kowtowed repeatedly, his forehead hitting the muddy ground and getting covered in dirt: "I am willing to serve Uncle Yin like a dog or a horse! Uncle, please give me any orders!" He knew in his heart that he had sold his life to Yin Zhiping.

Yin Zhiping paced back and forth in front of the six people, his hands behind his back.

"The Tongtian Arena will be held in half a month. That little beast Yang Guo will definitely make his appearance." Yin Zhiping's voice was extremely venomous. "I want you to infiltrate the crowd below the arena. Once Yang Guo steps onto the stage, you will lead the disturbance, spreading rumors that he is colluding with the Mongols and practicing evil arts of the demonic sect. Stir up the waters and let the Seven Masters of Quanzhen and the martial arts practitioners below the stage attack him en masse."

He knew all too well the ways of those old Taoist priests in the Quanzhen Sect. Once their reputation was ruined, no matter how high Yang Guo's martial arts skills were, he would still be the target of everyone's criticism.

"As soon as he loses his composure, I'll personally take his life on stage!" Yin Zhiping clenched his fists, not even noticing his nails digging into his flesh. He wanted to crush this little beast in front of the whole world and avenge all the humiliation he had suffered.

"After this is accomplished, I will become the sect leader. You will all be the heroes of the Quanzhen Sect, and you will be rewarded with wealth and honor!"

The six disciples obeyed the order in unison, none daring to disobey in the slightest.