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

Yin Zhiping stood at the edge of the viewing platform, his inner energy surging with jealousy, making his throat taste sweet.

He stared intently at the blue figure on the seventh floor, his teeth grinding together. That little bastard Yang Guo was too arrogant. If he let him rise through the ranks like this, trampling all the third-generation disciples of the Quanzhen Sect underfoot, where would his prestige as the head disciple stand?

The position of sect leader may indeed be in flux.

No, we absolutely cannot let this bastard steal the spotlight. We must get our revenge and show the world who is the true backbone of the Xuanmen lineage.

He forcibly suppressed the surging evil energy, put on a gentle and refined expression, and turned to face Ma Yu, who was sitting upright behind him.

He slightly bent his knees and lowered his back, adopting a humble posture, even regulating his breathing to be even and even, all to demonstrate the humility and composure of the chief disciple.

"Master, senior uncles, according to the rules of the Tongtian Arena, disciples of all three generations can participate. As the head disciple, I should set an example for my fellow disciples. I will go now." Yin Zhiping spoke with righteous indignation, but in his heart he was calculating that as long as he participated, with his current skills, he would definitely steal the limelight and make Yang Guo look like a worthless peasant.

Ma Yu's face was ashen, and he was breathing heavily, completely unaware that his proud disciple had long since turned out to be a black-hearted man. He thought Ma Yu was acting out of a sense of public duty, so he forced himself to nod slightly.

Having received permission, Yin Zhiping picked up his whisk and turned to walk towards the edge of the first-level arena. He caught a glimpse of the gazes of the crowd below, which greatly satisfied his vanity.

He lightly touched the bluestone slab with his toes and landed gracefully in the arena.

To show off, he deliberately pushed the Quanzhen Sect's "Golden Goose Skill" to its limit, his Taoist robe fluttering in the wind, his sleeves billowing, truly putting on a show of otherworldly elegance like a celestial being.

At this moment, dozens of disciples were still vying for wooden plaques on the first level of the arena. Two fourth-generation disciples were locked in a fierce sword fight, their eyes bloodshot, neither gaining the upper hand, completely oblivious to the fact that the head disciple had already left the arena.

Yin Zhiping stepped forward, secretly activating the medicinal power of the Blood Bodhi, but trying his best to conceal its violence and transform it into a move called "Spring Breeze and Rain".

A gentle surge of internal energy flowed through his whisk, deftly deflecting the two longswords. He knew very well that the more effortlessly he dealt with these junior disciples, the more unfathomable his abilities would be revealed.

"My two junior disciples, the competition is all about friendly competition. Please don't let it damage the harmony between fellow disciples." Yin Zhiping spoke gently, with a compassionate expression, just like a teacher who cares for his juniors.

The two disciples felt an irresistible force push away their weapons. Seeing that it was the head disciple who had stepped forward, they dared not act rashly. They quickly sheathed their swords and retreated, bowing respectfully with their faces full of awe: "Thank you, Uncle Yin, for showing mercy."

Yin Zhiping nodded with a smile and climbed the steps. He listened to the gasps of amazement from below the stage, feeling a sense of satisfaction deep within him.

Upon reaching the second and third levels, they encountered several disciples forming a small array to block their way.

He scoffed inwardly, thinking that such a broken formation dared to be shown off, but on the surface he remained calm and composed, waving his whisk left and right, only defending and not attacking, deliberately creating the illusion of being in complete control.

When the opponent's moves were exhausted and full of flaws, he gently tapped an acupoint on the opponent's wrist with the end of his whisk. The disciples' arms went numb and their longswords slipped from their hands.

Yin Zhiping took the opportunity to reach out and support the other person's back to prevent him from falling and embarrassing himself, taking this "benevolence and morality" act to the extreme.

"Junior brother, the power of this move 'Gale Sweeping Leaves' is too scattered. You will need to work harder on your internal strength in the future." Yin Zhiping gave gentle advice, showing the demeanor of an elder in every way, but in reality, he took the opportunity to announce to the whole audience how high his martial arts skills were.

The defeated disciple had no idea of ​​the chief disciple's ulterior motives. He simply thought the chief disciple was magnanimous, and with a face full of admiration, he thanked him repeatedly and withdrew.

The crowd below witnessed this scene clearly. The female disciples and heroines of various sects, who usually valued their appearance and demeanor most, could not resist such a carefully crafted disguise. Seeing Yin Zhiping's manner, they all praised him and their eyes were full of admiration.

A female disciple from the Emei Sect tugged at her companion's sleeve, her cheeks flushed, her eyes filled with admiration: "Look at Master Yin, his martial arts are superb, yet he doesn't bully the weak, always holding back. This is the true character of a righteous sect. If I could become his Daoist partner, I would die for it."

A female disciple from the Diancang Sect chimed in, her tone laced with disdain: "That's right. Look at how he wields his whisk, so skillful and measured. Unlike that Yang Guo, who's like a rough, uncultured man who's never seen the world. He's tumbling and crawling on the lower levels, just hiding behind pillars like a coward. I think his face is handsome, but unfortunately, he's all show and no substance, all looks and no action. The difference is obvious."

Lu Wushuang stood at the very front of the crowd. The lingering sensation of Yang Guo's pinch on her waist still haunted her, burning with resentment she had nowhere to vent.

Now that she had the chance, she didn't care about any rules of the underworld and raised her voice extremely high, as if afraid that others wouldn't hear her.

"That scoundrel Taoist priest is a lecher! Look at the way he was running away with his head in his hands on the stage just now. Where is the decorum of a disciple of a major sect? Such a vulgar person is not even worthy of carrying Master Yin's shoes!"

Lu Wushuang gritted her teeth, recalling Yang Guo's lewd words, wishing she could rush up and tear his face apart. She continued to fan the flames: "If such a lecherous scoundrel becomes the leader of the Quanzhen Sect, Zhongnan Mountain will become a den of thieves! The women of our Central Plains martial arts world will have to be more careful when they go out in the future!"

Several female disciples of the Diancang Sect nearby chimed in, getting more and more excited: "This young lady is absolutely right. Yang Guo's eyes are so shifty, he looks at people very improperly. Master Yin, on the other hand, looks straight ahead, completely open and honest. The difference in their abilities is obvious."

The women chattered on and on, their words growing increasingly offensive. In just a few words, they had elevated Yin Zhiping to the heavens while utterly vilifying Yang Guo.

These words were relayed to the viewing platform without missing a single one.

Huang Rong sat upright in the armchair, the veins on the back of her hands bulging, and her breathing became heavier.

She was extremely protective of her own. Yang Guo was the man she had chosen. The two of them had made love on the cold jade bed in the ancient tomb, and had long been honest with each other. He was her most cherished possession.

She could criticize Yang Guo however she wanted, but she would never tolerate an outsider uttering a single negative word about him. Listening to these ignorant girls slandering her man, she truly wished she could tear their mouths apart.

As she listened to those young girls belittling Yang Guo, she felt a tightness in her chest.

She glanced down at the impressive curves beneath her blue robe. The extremely thin garment clinging to her body made it hard for her to breathe, further stirring up her memories of Yang Guo's outrageous tricks.

She was furious. This rascal usually pulled all sorts of tricks in the ancient tomb, exhausting herself to the point of near death, yet he was full of energy. Now that it was time to show his face, he insisted on acting lazy, making himself a laughingstock for no reason. He really didn't know what was important.

She knew Yin Zhiping's true nature all too well. This hypocrite secretly wrote letters to sow discord and colluded with the Mongols; he was a scoundrel.

Now, he puts on a compassionate act on stage, completely fooling these naive young girls. How can there be so many fools in this world who can't even tell the difference between humans and ghosts?

Then I thought of Yang Guo. Although that scoundrel was lecherous and glib, he was extremely considerate towards her, and his martial arts skills were truly solid. These foolish women ignore the real gold and insist on clinging to a piece of scrap metal; it's utterly ridiculous.

She gripped the dog-beating stick at her side, wanting nothing more than to leap off the platform and smash those gossiping mouths to pieces. But as the leader of the Beggars' Sect and an elder, she couldn't lower herself to argue with these ignorant women, and could only swallow her humiliation.

She picked up the teacup, gulped down the lukewarm tea in one go to extinguish the anger in her heart, and then slammed the teacup heavily on the table.

The tea splashed onto her sleeves, but she was completely unaware. She only stared intently at Yang Guo on the seventh-level arena with her fierce and menacing phoenix eyes, wishing she could poke several transparent holes in that lazy good-for-nothing with her gaze.

The young Taoist servant standing nearby was startled by the sudden commotion and hurriedly stepped forward to ask, "Chief Huang, has the tea gone cold? I'll go and get you a fresh cup."

Huang Rong gave him a cold glance, which made the young Taoist shrink back in fright. She said stiffly, "No need. The wind in Zhongnan Mountain is too strong and makes people feel irritable."

She ignored everyone else, turned to look at the seventh floor of the tower, and glared at Yang Guo fiercely from a distance.

She secretly plotted to herself, thinking, "This rascal is usually so clever, why is he so pathetic today?" If he really lost to Yin Zhiping and made her suffer this injustice for nothing, she would make him kneel on the jade bed tonight when they returned to the Ancient Tomb, and cut off all his tormenting tricks, so he would know what was really going to happen to him.

At this moment, Yang Guo was standing on the seventh-level platform. He was idly tossing a promotion token up and down in his hand. Having mastered the Nine Yin Manual to a high level, his hearing was extremely sharp, and he could clearly hear the women's discussions below the platform, not missing a single word.

He was a proud and arrogant man. If he was scolded by a few rough men, he would ignore it completely and not even raise an eyebrow.

But he loved showing off in front of women, and now he was being publicly belittled by a group of pretty girls, who even compared him to that hypocritical and sanctimonious Yin Zhiping. How could this seasoned driver's pride bear it?

This is even more painful than slapping him in the face.

Especially Lu Wushuang's words, "You're not even worthy to carry Master Yin's shoes," were like adding fuel to the fire, making his face burn.

He rubbed his still throbbing lower back, intending to save his energy for dealing with Yin Zhiping later. After all, these past few days in the ancient tomb had been a constant drain on him by Xiaolongnu and Li Mochou, and he'd been paying too much "taxes" (i.e., his resources were running low).

But given the current situation, if he doesn't take action to establish his authority, how will he ever be able to pick up girls in the martial arts world again? A man can never be told he's no good in front of a woman; that's the bottom line.

Yang Guo stopped what he was doing, clenched his fists tightly around the wooden plaque, the edges digging into his flesh. He walked to the wooden railing, looked down at the audience below, his gaze sweeping over the female disciples who were shouting the loudest, and silently memorized their appearances.

"You call me vulgar? You say I'm inferior to that hypocrite?" Yang Guo gritted his teeth, letting out a cold snort through his nose, his chest heaving violently.

His gaze shifted to the fifth-level arena. Yin Zhiping, with one hand behind his back, deftly deflected a disciple's longsword with his whisk, and even pretended to help the disciple up, drawing another round of cheers from the audience.

Yang Guo scoffed inwardly. This old bastard was putting on airs, trying to make himself look good by using other people's hard work, really thinking he was a savior.

He cursed himself for his bad luck; he'd been overly exploited by those two ladies in the ancient tomb these past few days, and his lower back was still aching. He'd originally planned to hold out until the very end. But given the current situation, if he continued to hold out, his reputation as a "romantic heartthrob" would be nailed to the pillar of shame. Even if it meant going back for some super-nutritious tonic, he had to put on a good show today.

"Alright, you women like to see the style of a master, right? Today I'll show you what a real dimensional reduction attack is."

Yang Guo dropped his nonchalant demeanor and stopped dodging. He stared at the four sword-wielding Taoist priests before him, exhaled a long breath, and mobilized all the pure Yang energy in his eight extraordinary meridians. "I was hoping to play with you a little longer. But since some people down below are getting impatient, I won't keep you any longer."

Seeing that Yang Guo was no longer running away, the four Taoist priests were overjoyed, assuming he was simply exhausted. They exchanged glances and attacked from four different directions. The wind howled as they sealed Yang Guo's vital points, determined to capture this madman.

Yang Guo neither dodged nor evaded, his feet firmly planted on the ground. He pushed forward with both palms, unleashing the full power of the Yi Jin Jing (Muscle/Tendon Changing and Bone Strengthening) from the Nine Yin Manual. Sixteen years of refined internal energy surged forth like a mighty river, cleansing his limbs and bones.

Pure Yang Qi circulated through his meridians, and a layer of pale golden Qi emanated from his palms, radiating intense heat.

The moves taught to him by Huang Rong flashed through his mind, and he unleashed "Falling Petals Everywhere" from the Falling Petals Divine Sword Palm. His palm shadows danced, carrying an extremely domineering force, striking first despite being behind.

Four muffled thuds followed in quick succession. Yang Guo's palms struck the spines of the four longswords with perfect precision. The penetrating force of his One-Finger Divine Skill traveled along the blades, aiming straight for the wrists of the four Taoists. The four Taoists felt their hands go numb, and they lost their grip on the steel swords, which flew out of their hands.

Yang Guo didn't stop, closing in. He formed claws with both hands, gripped the two men's shoulder acupoints, and threw them outwards. The two men were sent flying into the air, directly off the arena.

Before the remaining two could react, Yang Guo unleashed a series of kicks, striking them squarely in the chest, specifically the Tanzhong acupoint. The two staggered back several steps, falling off the stage and unable to get up for a long time.

The whole process was swift and efficient, taking only three breaths. Only Yang Guo remained on the seventh level. He walked to the wooden pillar and removed the advancement plaque. He walked to the edge of the arena, looking down at Lu Wushuang below.

"Little cripple, watch closely. This is what you call hiding your true strength. Your Master Yin is nothing but a fart in my eyes." Yang Guo laughed loudly.

Lu Wushuang was so angry that her face turned pale, but she couldn't find the words to refute him. Yang Guo's displayed martial arts skills were indeed ridiculously high.

Yang Guo tucked the wooden plaque into his pocket, turned around, and strode toward the wooden stairs leading to the eighth floor.

He abandoned his previous evasive and lazy behavior, and began to circulate the pure Yang energy of his One-Finger Divine Skill at full speed. He exerted force with his feet, and the wooden ladder creaked under his feet. His figure was like a tiger released from its cage, carrying an unparalleled domineering aura as he charged straight up.

Yang Guo stepped onto the eighth level of the arena.

He was initially filled with rage and ready to unleash his fury, but upon seeing the scene before him, he involuntarily stopped in his tracks. He was completely dumbfounded.

On the wide wooden platform, there were no third-generation disciples as expected. Instead, there were seven figures dressed in apricot-yellow Taoist robes.

The seven people stood in the positions of the Big Dipper.

At the Tian Shu position, Qiu Chuji stroked his long beard, his face as still as water.

At the Tianxuan position, Wang Chuyi stood with one hand behind his back, his eyes cold and sharp.

At the Tianji position, Hao Datong held a long sword, ready for battle.

At the Tianquan position, Sun Bu'er's face was frosty, and the tip of his sword pointed diagonally at the ground.

At the positions of Yuheng, Kaiyang, and Yaoguang stood three of the most outstanding masters among the third-generation disciples of the Quanzhen School: Li Zhichang, Song Daoan, and another disciple.

The seven men drew their longswords, their auras intertwined. An immense pressure enveloped the entire eighth-level arena.

Yang Guo stood there, stunned. He had thought that the eighth level would at most be guarded by a few highly skilled fellow disciples, but he hadn't expected that these old guys would personally come down to fight.

"Grandmaster, what are you all up to?" Yang Guo asked tentatively, his hand on his sword hilt, his tone tinged with confusion. "Isn't the Tongtian Arena a competition for the juniors to vie for the position of sect leader? What are you old folks doing here? You've even brought out the sect protection formation to deal with a fourth-generation disciple like me. You're clearly trying to prevent me from reaching the ninth level."

Qiu Chuji took half a step forward, his long sword held horizontally in front of his chest. He looked at Yang Guo, his tone extremely authoritative: "The Tongtian Arena selects the leader of a sect, which is related to the century-old foundation of the Quanzhen Sect. The leaders of each generation must be proficient in the sect's formations. The rule of the eighth level is to break this Tiangang Beidou Formation. If you can break the formation and take the wooden tablet, you will be qualified to step onto the ninth level."

Sun Bu'er snorted coldly and replied, "Just now on the lower levels, you were ruthless towards your fellow disciples, showing no mercy whatsoever. Today, we will personally guard the pass to see what kind of unorthodox skills this traitorous disciple has learned, and whether he can pass this Xuanmen Grand Formation!"

Yang Guo cursed inwardly. This old Taoist nun really held a grudge. All he did was expose her weakness in formations and footwork, why was she targeting him like this?

Wang Chuyi frowned. He was unwilling to bully the weak, but Yang Guo's actions were indeed outrageous. "Guo'er, according to the rules of the Tongtian Arena, the eighth level is breaking the formation. This Tiangang Beidou Formation is the brainchild of Patriarch Chongyang. If you can survive half an incense stick's time in this formation, you will win. If you feel it's unfair, you can still retreat now."

Seeing that these old men were determined to stop him, Yang Guo felt a surge of anger. He remembered Huang Rong's teachings: the Big Dipper Formation was ever-changing, but its core always remained at the Jade Balance position. As long as Sun Bu'er's movements were disrupted, the formation would be half broken.

Yang Guo listened to these grand pronouncements with a cold laugh. These old Taoist priests, to put it bluntly, were just afraid he would steal Yin Zhiping's thunder and lead the Quanzhen Sect astray. Little did they know the despicable things Yin Zhiping had done behind the scenes. Yin Zhiping appeared respectable on the surface, but in private he was even capable of poisoning his own disciples, yet these senile old fools treated him like a treasure.

"Very well! Since our grandmasters insist, this disciple will gladly experience the world-renowned Heavenly Dipper Formation!"

Yang Guo shouted and drew his long sword from his waist. The blade gleamed with a blinding cold light in the sunlight.

He shed his previous cynicism and became like a sharp sword drawn from its sheath.

"Today, I will show everyone how to properly use the Quanzhen martial arts!"