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

Zhongnan Mountain was unusually bustling. The mountain paths were teeming with people. Heroes from all over the Central Plains had gathered, along with people from all walks of life.

The teahouses and taverns were bustling with noise, all discussing the rules of the Quanzhen Sect's Tongtian Tournament.

Wang Qingchen changed into a coarse cloth outfit and wore a bamboo hat, mingling with the tea stalls halfway up the mountain. He touched his chest, where a dull ache throbbed.

The "corrupting pill" he had taken five days ago constantly reminded him that his life was in Yin Zhiping's hands.

The suffocating feeling of being gripped by Yin Zhiping's single hand around the neck that night lingered in his mind. As long as he could live, he was capable of anything, not just spreading rumors, but even murder and arson.

He glanced sideways at his fellow disciple Li Qingzhi beside him. "Keep your eyes peeled," Wang Qingchen said in a low voice, pouring two bowls of coarse tea. "When we go up the mountain later, specifically target the disciples of the prestigious sects. Do as Uncle Yin instructed."

Li Qingzhi held the teacup in both hands, his hands trembling. "Senior Brother Wang, are we really going to do this? That kid Yang Guo is incredibly cunning. If he finds out, we'll be doomed."

"Shut up!" Wang Qingchen slammed his teacup down on the table, splashing tea everywhere. Li Qingzhi's cowardice had struck a nerve. Wasn't he afraid of Yang Guo too? But Yang Guo was far away, while Yin Zhiping, that living devil, was hanging over his head.

"Are you out of your mind? Once the seven-day deadline is up, without Uncle Yin's antidote, we'll all die! No matter how wicked Yang Guo is, can he save your life?"

Li Qingzhi swallowed hard and dared not say another word.

Wang Qingchen picked up his teacup and took a big gulp, steeling his resolve. His escape route was already blocked; he had no choice but to go down this path to the bitter end.

"Listen carefully. When we get to Chongyang Palace Square, tell everyone you meet that Yang Guo practiced the evil art of 'yin-yang replenishment' in the Ancient Tomb. Also, tell them that he had been secretly colluding with the Mongol Tartars and plotting to seize the foundation of the Quanzhen Sect. The more convincing the story, the better. The law does not punish the masses. As long as the public is indignant, even the founder cannot protect him."

At the next table sat several swords-wielding martial arts practitioners, engaged in a loud discussion. Wang Qingchen, carrying his teacup, approached, adopting a pained expression. He had already rehearsed his story dozens of times, waiting only for his prey to take the bait.

"My esteemed heroes, you are unaware of the truth," Wang Qingchen sighed, "this Quanzhen Sect competition is fraught with peril. That third-generation disciple named Yang Guo, relying on his knowledge of some unorthodox and demonic arts, has disregarded even the proper respect for his teachers."

The man with the knife, intrigued, put down his wine bowl. "Oh? Young brother, you're also from the Quanzhen Sect? What's the story with Yang Guo?"

Wang Qingchen glanced around, then lowered his voice. He feigned apprehension, but was actually trying to pique the other person's curiosity.

"I was originally an outer disciple of the Quanzhen Sect, and I truly cannot tolerate such behavior. That Yang Guo hides in the Ancient Tomb every day, mingling with that female demon, practicing only vicious martial arts that drain people's life essence. This time, he wants to compete in the Tongtian Arena to seize the position of sect leader. The Quanzhen Sect's century-old reputation is about to be ruined in an instant."

Upon hearing this, several martial arts practitioners slammed their fists on the table and cursed angrily.

Wang Qingchen returned to his original position and then set his sights on another table of Diancang Sect disciples dressed in light blue outfits.

He walked over and used the same trick again, but this time he changed his words. He knew that the most effective way to deal with prestigious sects was to undermine their dignity.

"Young heroes, Yang Guo of the Quanzhen Sect was spouting nonsense down the mountain a few days ago, saying that the swordsmanship of the Diancang Sect was all just fancy moves and not even worthy of carrying his shoes. He boasted that he would trample all the famous swordsmen under his feet at the Tongtian Arena this time."

The disciples of the Diancang Sect were already proud and arrogant. Upon hearing this, they all drew their swords and stood up, cursing Yang Guo for being arrogant.

Wang Qingchen bowed repeatedly and retreated, secretly pleased with himself. Once this rumor spread, Yang Guo would become the public enemy of the martial arts world. Uncle Yin's tactic of using someone else to do his dirty work was extremely vicious. As long as Yang Guo became the target of everyone's hatred, his own life would be saved.

Xinghua Village Tavern.

Zhao Zhijing sat at a square table by the window, with a pot of strong liquor and two small dishes in front of him. He was dressed in an extremely elegant brocade robe and held a folding fan in his hand, looking like a wealthy old man.

Two ragged beggars squatted outside the tavern. A broken bowl sat in front of them, but their eyes kept glancing into the tavern.

Zhao Zhijing picked up his wine cup and took a sip. He had long since figured out the two beggars' background: spies from the Beggars' Sect. These past few days, many unfamiliar faces had appeared in town, all beggars, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

He didn't react. With Huo Du backing him, he was quite confident. He sneered inwardly. No matter how powerful Peach Blossom Island was, could it be greater than the Mongol cavalry? That bitch Huang Rong had extended her reach into Zhongnan Mountain; she must have sensed something. But so what? The overall situation was settled; the Beggars' Clan couldn't overturn it.

Zhao Zhijing gripped the white porcelain wine cup in his right hand, secretly channeling the true energy generated by the Blood Bodhi. That true energy was incomparably domineering, surging into his palm along his meridians.

With a crisp "crack," the white porcelain wine glass was crushed into extremely fine powder. The powder fell through the fingers and landed on the wooden table, actually etching a shallow pit into the thick surface.

This insidious internal energy greatly pleased Zhao Zhijing. He had painstakingly cultivated the Quanzhen Xuan Gong, enduring countless rules and regulations, only to end up as a cripple.

Now, having swallowed poison, he has gained this terrifying ability. He took a cloth to wipe his hands, stood up, and couldn't wait to show off to Huang Rong.

"Waiter." Zhao Zhijing tapped the table.

The waiter came running over, a towel draped over his arm. "What can I do for you, sir?"

Zhao Zhijing pulled a handful of copper coins from his sleeve and threw them on the table. "Those two beggars outside are quite pitiful. Take this money and give it to them as a reward."

The waiter nodded repeatedly, then ran out of the shop with the copper coins in his hands.

Zhao Zhijing walked to the window. He looked down at the two beggars, enjoying the pleasure of trampling the once unapproachable prestigious families under his feet.

"Brothers, take this and buy some wine." Zhao Zhijing waved his folding fan, smiling extremely kindly. "And please pass on a message to Chief Huang for me. Tell him that Zhao Zhijing, a former disciple of the Quanzhen Sect, greatly admires her and will definitely pay her a visit when he has the chance."

The two beggars looked at each other, not even daring to pick up the coins on the ground, and scrambled to their feet before slinking away into the crowd.

Zhao Zhijing watched the two walk away and snorted coldly. He just wanted to disgust Huang Rong. He himself had fallen into the mire, so he couldn't stand seeing others high and mighty.

Once that good-for-nothing Yin Zhiping becomes the leader and the Quanzhen Sect falls to the Mongols, he will definitely lead his men to raze Peach Blossom Island to the ground. He'll make that high and mighty female strategist taste the bitterness of being a stray dog.

He wants to make all those who look down on him kneel before him and beg for mercy.

The square in front of Chongyang Palace.

On the flagstone-paved square, a three-zhang-high arena had already been erected. The arena was surrounded by apricot-yellow flags of the Quanzhen Sect, fluttering in the wind.

Yin Zhiping, dressed in a brand-new blue Taoist robe, with his hair tied in a Taoist bun and holding a whisk, stood in front of the mountain gate, smiling as he welcomed guests from all walks of life entering the mountain.

He tried his best to maintain this humble demeanor. Seeing these renowned figures in the martial arts world treating him with utmost respect, he became even more certain that once he obtained the position of sect leader, no one in the world would dare to look down on him.

"Oh dear, it's Qing Lingzi, the leader of the Kunlun Sect. I'm so sorry for not greeting you sooner." Yin Zhiping quickly stepped forward and bowed to a lean and vigorous Taoist carrying a long sword.

Qing Lingzi smiled and returned the greeting. "Master Yin, you are too kind. I am far away in the Western Regions. I heard that the Quanzhen Sect has reopened its Grand Competition, so I came to the Central Plains to witness the splendor of this orthodox sect of Taoism. Master Yin's magnanimity is truly a blessing to the Quanzhen Sect."

Yin Zhiping waved his hands repeatedly, sighed, and looked worried. He had long since mastered this act, and every sigh was perfectly timed.

"Senior Qinglingzi, you flatter me. I am of dull talent and do not deserve such praise. I only hope that this competition will select a virtuous and talented leader to guide the Quanzhen Sect back on the right track. The martial world is currently in turmoil, with the Mongol Tartars surrounding us from the outside and the sect's reputation declining from within. I am worried about this day and night, and I only regret that my abilities are too meager."

He spoke hesitantly, which aroused Qing Lingzi's great curiosity. What he wanted was for someone to ask the question first, so that he could legitimately throw the dirty water out of the house.

"Since we are both from the same lineage of Xuanmen, does Master Yin have some unspeakable secret?" Qing Lingzi pressed.

Yin Zhiping looked around and lowered his voice. He feigned a pained expression, as if he didn't want to air his dirty laundry in public.

"Senior, you are unaware of this. My unworthy disciple, Yang Guo, is naturally unruly. In the ancient tomb in the back mountains, he learned some unorthodox martial arts from that witch of the Ancient Tomb Sect, and his personality has changed drastically. As his master, I am truly ashamed for failing to discipline him properly. I fear that he might resort to some insidious means when he goes to the arena this time, harming the harmony among his fellow disciples. I originally intended to uphold justice and even kill my own flesh and blood, but Uncle Qiu is extremely fond of him, and I am of little influence and cannot stop him."

Upon hearing this, Qing Lingzi's face turned angry.

"Such a thing has happened! Since ancient times, good and evil have been irreconcilable, and we cultivators are most wary of those with wicked intentions. The Ancient Tomb Sect acts mysteriously and is definitely not on the righteous path. Rest assured, Master Yin, if Yang Guo dares to use sorcery on the arena, I will be the first to object! The Quanzhen Sect's century-old reputation cannot be tarnished by such a rebellious disciple!"

Yin Zhiping bowed again, feigning deep sorrow. Inwardly, however, he was overjoyed; he had successfully borrowed the knife. "Thank you, Senior Qing Lingzi, for upholding justice. On behalf of the entire Quanzhen Sect, I thank you, Senior. Please come in and have a cup of tea."

Just after seeing off the Kunlun Sect members, several eminent monks from Qingliang Temple on Mount Wutai arrived. Yin Zhiping stepped forward to greet them, pressing his palms together in prayer. He concealed his earlier sorrowful expression, replacing it with one of compassion and empathy.

"The presence of these esteemed masters from afar brings great honor to Chongyang Palace." Yin Zhiping said solemnly, "Buddhism and Taoism are of the same family. I hope the masters will offer their guidance during this grand competition."

The leading high-ranking monk from Mount Wutai chanted a Buddhist prayer. "Master Yin, you are too kind. This old monk has heard that the Quanzhen Sect has recently been embroiled in some turmoil; is this true?"

Yin Zhiping sighed deeply, his expression filled with deep sorrow. He portrayed Yang Guo as an utterly wicked demon, every word paving the way for his own ruthless killing spree on the arena later.

"Master, please have mercy. Our sect is unfortunate to have produced such a wicked disciple as Yang Guo. This boy is extremely bloodthirsty and acts entirely on a whim. I have repeatedly admonished him, but he remains obstinate. As the chief disciple of Quanzhen, I have a duty to protect the righteous path. If he indiscriminately kills innocent people at the Tongtian Arena, I will risk my life to capture him and appease the world."

The eminent monk from Mount Wutai nodded slightly. "Master Yin is truly wise and righteous; I admire him greatly. It is our duty to eliminate demons and uphold the Way."

After seeing off the eminent monk from Mount Wutai, Yin Zhiping turned around, his face immediately darkening. He touched the whisk in his sleeve, and the dark red true energy within his dantian surged incessantly.

He's already spread the word. If Yang Guo dares to step onto the stage, he'll face universal condemnation. His reputation will be ruined, and the Seven Masters of Quanzhen, to save face, will certainly not show him any favoritism. Then, he can eliminate the scourge, becoming the rightful successor of the Xuanmen lineage.

The image of Xiaolongnu's aloof face flashed through his mind. After Yang Guo died on the platform, he would personally lead a search and raid of the Ancient Tomb. He would bind that woman and bring her back to Chongyang Palace, making her kneel at his feet day and night to atone for the humiliation she had suffered.

The rear hall of Chongyang Palace.

Supported by two young Taoist disciples, Ma Yu staggered out of the inner room. His face was sallow, his eyes sunken, and even his breathing was labored and labored. His illness had worsened in recent days, but he insisted on holding on and watching the Tongtian Arena begin.

"Senior brother, you are not fully recovered, why come out in the wind?" Qiu Chuji quickly stepped forward and supported Ma Yu's other arm.

Ma Yu waved his hand and pushed Qiu Chuji aside. "The Quanzhen Sect has built a century-old foundation, and today we must decide on the leader. This old body of mine will die right here beside the arena."

Wang Chuyi walked over from the side, his expression grave. "Senior brother is right. Today, heroes from all walks of life have gathered. The seven of us must work together to maintain order and prevent this from becoming a laughingstock. That Mongol barbarian, Huo Du, is surely lurking in the shadows; we must be on guard."

Sun Bu'er, holding her longsword, snorted coldly. "As long as that Yang Guo doesn't cause trouble, our Quanzhen Sect won't lose face. That kid has a sinister aura; just looking at him annoys me."

Qiu Chuji felt embarrassed upon hearing Sun Bu'er's words. Yang Guo was, after all, a promising talent he had his eye on. "Junior Sister," he said, "though Guo'er is eccentric, he is not a bad person. He has been in seclusion in the back mountain these past few days, and his martial arts must have improved. We set up the Tongtian Arena precisely to select talent. If he truly has the ability to clear all nine levels, then becoming the sect leader is not out of the question."

"Senior Brother Qiu, this is favoritism!" Sun Bu'er roared. "What virtue or ability does a fourth-generation disciple have to lead the Quanzhen Sect? If he dares to take the stage, I, this old man, will be the first to teach him a lesson. The Big Dipper Formation is there; he can't escape!"

Qiu Chuji's temper flared up as well. "Junior Sister, what kind of talk is that? The Big Dipper Formation is for defending against enemies, not for dealing with your own disciples. Besides, your footwork in the right wing, the Jade Balance position, is always half a beat slower when transitioning to the Opening Yang position. If we really fight, and Guo'er sees through this flaw, how will you defend yourself?"

In order to persuade everyone, Qiu Chuji simply broke down the changes in the formation into small steps.

"The Big Dipper Formation emphasizes the seven stars linked together, with the true energy flowing endlessly. The stars Tian Shu, Tian Xuan, Tian Ji, and Tian Quan form the head, while Yu Heng, Kai Yang, and Yao Guang form the handle. Your position at Yu Heng is crucial, connecting the upper and lower parts of the formation. When you strike with your sword, you always aim for deadly moves, causing your internal energy to stagnate. Yang Guo has practiced the Nine Yin Manual and has extremely sharp eyes. If he uses the penetrating force of the One Yang Finger to target your lower body, your slight delay will become the fatal flaw of the entire formation!"

Upon hearing this, the inner hall fell silent.

Wang Chuji's expression changed drastically. He grabbed Qiu Chuji's arm and shouted angrily in a low voice, "Senior Brother Qiu! What nonsense are you spouting!"

Qiu Chuji then realized his slip of the tongue. The flaw in the Big Dipper Formation was the Quanzhen Sect's top secret.

He blurted it out in front of everyone.

Wang Chuyi glanced around. Besides the seven of them, there were several fourth-generation disciples cleaning in the back hall. He felt a chill run down his spine.

"Senior brother, you really need to change your temper," Wang Chuyi gritted his teeth, wishing he could slap Qiu Chuji. "Today, the mountain is full of all sorts of people, and walls have ears. If your words reach outsiders' ears, our Quanzhen Sect's protective formation will be rendered useless!"

Qiu Chuji knew he was in the wrong, his face turned bright red, and he couldn't utter a single word for a long time.

Ma Yu coughed twice, interrupting the argument. "Alright. With a formidable enemy at hand, it's disgraceful to lose your composure like this. Chuji, you really need to correct your tendency to speak without thinking. Bu'er, practice your footwork a few more times before going on stage later. Make sure it's flawless."

Sun Bu'er's face turned ashen. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly and turned to walk towards the side hall without saying a word.

Looking at Sun Bu'er's retreating figure, and then at Qiu Chuji's frustrated face, Wang Chuyi felt utterly exhausted. The Quanzhen Sect was truly declining with each generation.