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

Yin Zhiping's dough twitched.

Upon hearing Yang Guo publicly shout "traitor to the country for personal gain" and "secretly colluding with the Mongols," a chill ran down his spine, and he held his breath for a moment.

How could this little beast know so much? Could it be that he intercepted my secret message transmission?

He couldn't let him continue. If the charge was proven true, he would lose not only his position as sect leader, but also his foothold in Zhongnan Mountain. He suppressed his wildly beating heart, quickly steadied himself, and rapidly devised a counterattack plan in his mind.

He put on a pained expression and seized the moral high ground: "Yang Guo, you've gone too far astray."

Yin Zhiping moved his whisk to his left hand, drew his longsword with his right, and pointed the tip diagonally at the ground. He tried his best to make his tone sound compassionate yet righteous, "I, out of consideration for our master-disciple relationship, originally intended to spare your life. But you, for the sake of this position of sect leader, have gone so far as to fabricate such absurd lies to slander your master. The Mongols' wolfish ambitions are known throughout the world. My Quanzhen Sect is the mainstay of the righteous army resisting the Jin and Mongols. Your act of throwing filth like this is an insult to the spirit of Patriarch Chongyang in heaven."

To mask his inner cowardice, he raised his voice to an extremely high pitch, making it resound throughout the entire square, determined to use the power of all the heroes in the world to crush Yang Guo: "Today, all the heroes of the world are here to bear witness. If I had even the slightest selfish motive, may I be pierced through the heart by ten thousand arrows. You traitorous disciple, spouting nonsense, I can only act on behalf of Heaven, cripple your evil skills, and then hand you over to the Discipline Hall for punishment."

Yang Guo felt nauseous listening to this. This hypocrite's pretentious skills were truly unparalleled. Even the award-winning actors in his previous life couldn't act like him. He kept talking about patriarchs and righteousness, packaging himself as a radiant figure, but deep down he was a thoroughly rotten traitor.

He couldn't be bothered to look at Yin Zhiping's hypocritical face and decided to tear down the facade directly: "Master, you are truly skilled at making oaths."

Yang Guo held his longsword level. "If you really have the guts, dare you take off your Taoist robe and let everyone see if you have any token given to you by the Mongols? Dare you call Wang Qingchen up here and confront him about the origin of that poison?"

Yin Zhiping's eyes twitched, and his palms, gripping the sword, were drenched in cold sweat. The token was tucked close to his body, and Wang Qingchen was a spineless coward; if they truly confronted each other, he would surely die. He couldn't let Yang Guo continue speaking; only the mouths of the dead are truly sealed.

"You're just spouting nonsense! Prepare to die!" Yin Zhiping roared, his killing intent rising. He stepped out with the Quanzhen Footwork, his longsword transforming into a white rainbow, aiming straight for Yang Guo's throat.

Yin Zhiping's sword strike was incredibly fast. He forcibly suppressed the dark red true energy within his body into his dantian to avoid revealing his demonic arts, but his internal strength, transformed by the Blood Bodhi, was now vastly different. This sword strike contained his unwavering determination to kill; the longsword pierced through the air with a whooshing sound.

Yang Guo raised his sword to parry. The two swords clashed, producing a piercing metallic clang.

A tingling, aching pain shot through Yang Guo's wrist. The immense force traveled along the sword, causing a dull ache in the space between his thumb and forefinger. He was jolted back half a step, his shoe leaving a shallow mark on the wooden plank.

He was secretly shocked. How had this old man's internal energy become so strong? He himself had taken two Nine-Turn Life-Reversing Pills, gaining sixteen years of pure internal energy, yet he hadn't gained the upper hand in their direct confrontation. This old man must have secretly taken some kind of evil tonic; otherwise, he could never possess such brute strength.

Seeing Yang Guo retreat, Yin Zhiping was overjoyed. So this kid's internal strength was nothing special; he was determined to kill him today! He pressed his advantage, unleashing a series of thrusts with his longsword, employing the deadly move "Snowstorm" from the Quanzhen Swordplay. The sword shadows blurred, enveloping Yang Guo completely.

Yang Guo retreated repeatedly. These past few days, he had been repeatedly tormented by Xiaolongnu and Li Mochou in the Ancient Tomb, and his lower back was sore from the excessive exertion. He hadn't recovered his strength.

Now, facing Yin Zhiping, whose internal energy had surged dramatically, he endured several blows, his blood surging, and his legs felt unsteady. He gritted his teeth, secretly sighing that a man's suffering was truly indescribable. After this fight, he would definitely ask Huang Rong to cook him several pots of nourishing soup to replenish his body.

Seeing this, the round-faced female disciple of the Emei Sect below the stage clapped her hands with joy, convinced that the Daoist Master Yin she had chosen was wise and powerful.

"Look! That thieving Taoist priest can't hold on any longer!" she shouted. "Master Yin's martial arts are unparalleled; this is the true foundation of a reputable sect. That traitor was only relying on his slippery movements on the lower levels, but now that he's encountered real skill, his true colors have been revealed!"

The female disciples of the Diancang Sect echoed, their eyes filled with blind worship for Yin Zhiping: "Master Yin is teaching him a lesson. Evil cannot prevail over good; this kind of demonic person deserves to end up like this."

Lu Wushuang stood in the front row, holding a willow-leaf dagger in her hand. Her eyes were wide open, and she recalled the humiliating scene of Yang Guo holding her waist in the back mountain. She wished she could go up and finish him off herself.

"Well done! Master Yin, cripple his martial arts! Gouge out those thieving eyes of his!" Lu Wushuang shouted at the top of her lungs. Seeing Yang Guo suffer a setback, she finally felt most of her anger subside. She was convinced that Yang Guo was a lecher, while Yin Zhiping was a true gentleman, and that the wicked would be punished by heaven.

On the viewing platform.

Huang Rong sat upright in the armchair. Watching the confrontation on the stage, her eyebrows furrowed, and a sense of worry arose in her heart.

With her keen eye, she immediately noticed that Yin Zhiping's internal energy was quite unusual. The Quanzhen Sect's internal energy cultivation emphasizes gradual progress and a balanced, moderate approach.

Yin Zhiping's sword strikes were executed using the Quanzhen Sword Technique, but the internal energy he channeled was domineering and violent. This was definitely not the style of the Quanzhen Sect; this hypocrite must have practiced some evil, self-serving martial art.

She glanced at Yang Guo again. This rascal's steps were unsteady, his strength failing him. She cursed inwardly; this little thief must have been fooling around with those two vixens in the Ancient Tomb, making himself so weak. He had no self-control, even neglecting important matters. But despite her curses, her protective instincts kicked in, and she wouldn't allow her man to be outdone by someone like Yin Zhiping.

Hearing the women in the audience blindly praising Yin Zhiping, she felt extremely annoyed and wished she could take a dog-beating stick and knock all these brainless idiots unconscious.

"A bunch of ignorant fools who've never seen the world." Huang Rong spoke coldly, her tone low but clear enough for the surrounding sect leaders to hear clearly, determined to expose Yin Zhiping's hypocrisy. "The chief disciple of the Quanzhen Sect, his internal energy tainted with evil fire. Is this the righteous sect you speak of?"

The Kunlun Sect's Qing Lingzi, the sect leader, turned his head, looking puzzled, completely unable to understand the intricacies of the matter.

"What do you mean by that, Chief Huang? I see that Master Yin's swordsmanship is the pure Quanzhen swordsmanship."

"His swordsmanship is genuine, but his internal strength is questionable." Huang Rong picked up her teacup and said no more. She knew these mediocre people were blind, and no one would believe her if she pointed it out now. She could only let Yang Guo turn the situation around himself. This rascal was always clever and would never admit defeat so easily.

On the ninth level of the arena.

Yang Guo was cornered. He had nowhere to retreat, and his heels were already dangling over the edge of the wooden railing.

"You traitor, where did your arrogance go?" Yin Zhiping lowered his voice, mocking in a volume only the two of them could hear, his face full of a ferocious, confident expression. "What do you have to fight me with? This day next year will be your death anniversary."

Yang Guo's chest heaved as he regulated his breathing. He knew he couldn't retreat any further; if he did, he would truly become a laughingstock, and he would lose even the means to woo women in the martial world. He put away his cynical thoughts.

His left hand formed a sword incantation, while his right hand held a long sword pointing diagonally towards the sky. The eight characters on the stone tablet of the forbidden ancient tomb flashed through his mind: "Forbidden Land of Quanzhen, those who trespass shall die."

This is the Chongyang Sword Technique left behind by Wang Chongyang, a unique skill specifically designed to counter the Quanzhen martial arts.

Yang Guo flicked his wrist, deciding to abandon his defense and utterly destroy the old man's proud swordsmanship. His longsword transformed into a streak of light, thrusting towards Yin Zhiping's blade.

This sword strike lacked the intricate variations of the Quanzhen Swordplay, possessing only extreme simplicity and sharpness. True skill appears clumsy, a return to the essence of nature.

Yin Zhiping sneered, assuming Yang Guo was fighting like a cornered beast. He raised his sword to parry, preparing to use his powerful internal energy to directly knock Yang Guo's sword away and end the contest completely.

The two swords clashed.

The collision that Yin Zhiping had anticipated did not occur. At the moment of contact, Yang Guo's longsword curved in an extremely strange arc, bypassing Yin Zhiping's blade and stabbing straight at the Shenmen acupoint on his wrist.

Yin Zhiping was terrified, a dangerous, sharp pain shooting through his wrist. He hastily withdrew his sword and retreated, breaking out in a cold sweat. Had he been even a fraction slower, the meridians in his right hand would have been ruined.

"What kind of sword technique is this?" Yin Zhiping asked, a sense of panic rising within him, a feeling of losing control of the situation.

Yang Guo, too lazy to waste words, decided to strike while the iron was hot. He moved with the agility of a snake, closing in on Yin Zhiping. His longsword flashed out in rapid succession, each strike extremely cunning, targeting the weaknesses in Yin Zhiping's moves, leaving him utterly defenseless.

On the viewing platform.

Qiu Chuji straightened up, gripping the armrests of the armchair tightly with both hands. His eyes were wide open, staring intently at Yang Guo's swordplay, his heart churning with turmoil.

"The Chongyang Sword Technique... he's used it again." Qiu Chuji's voice was strained, and even his beard was trembling. He had seen Yang Guo use this move before, but witnessing it again on this life-or-death arena today, the shock was no less than before, as if the patriarch himself had manifested.

Wang Chuyi also stood up, his face stiff and his breathing extremely rapid.

"Senior brother, look at his starting stance..." Wang Chuyi lowered his voice, his eyes reddening, his mind filled with the image of the patriarch passing on the sword.

Ma Yu, seated in his armchair, burst into a violent cough, his whole body trembling with excitement. After coughing, his old eyes remained fixed on Yang Guo's swift swordplay, as if afraid to miss a single change.

"No mistake." Ma Yu was panting heavily, his tone filled with extreme satisfaction and awe. "This child's understanding of the patriarch's sword intent is even deeper than last time."

The Seven Masters of Quanzhen remained silent. As they watched the ancient and sharp swordplay on the stage, scenes from decades ago involuntarily flashed before their eyes.

At that time, the wind was gentle in the back of Zhongnan Mountain. Master Chongyang, dressed in a blue Taoist robe and holding a long sword, demonstrated each move to his ignorant disciples in the courtyard.

Time flies, and the old friends are gone. They have devoted their lives to arduous cultivation, yet they have never reached their master's level. Now, however, they have witnessed their master's unparalleled brilliance again in a fourth-generation disciple, which fills them with both shame and awe.

The situation offstage has completely reversed.

Yang Guo's Chongyang Swordplay was exquisite and unparalleled, specifically designed to counter the ordinary sword techniques of the Quanzhen Sect. Yin Zhiping's proud swordplay became full of flaws in front of Yang Guo, making him look like a complete novice swordsman.

Forced to retreat, Yin Zhiping's despair deepened with each step. He was gripped by extreme panic; the swordplay seemed designed to completely overwhelm him, as if it were specifically created to crush the Quanzhen Swordplay. He couldn't understand how Yang Guo could use such an unprecedented sword technique. Was this young man truly destined for greatness?

The female disciples who had been cheering just moments before were now completely silent, their cheeks burning as if they had been slapped from a distance.

The round-faced female disciple of the Emei Sect opened her mouth, unable to speak for a long time, her mind blank.

Lu Wushuang gripped the curved blade tightly, her knuckles aching from the pressure. She bit her lip, staring intently at the stage, her entire understanding of the world shattered. She refused to believe that the lewd Taoist priest who had taken liberties with her could actually overpower the head disciple of the Quanzhen Sect. Didn't this prove she had been blind and had misjudged him?

She is stubborn by nature and never admits her mistakes.

"Master Yin is definitely going easy on him!" Lu Wushuang shouted, offering himself a flimsy excuse, his voice revealing a hint of weakness beneath the surface. "Master Yin, stop showing mercy!"

Huang Rong sat in the armchair. Seeing Yang Guo use this sword technique, her heart, which had been hanging in suspense, finally settled back down. Her brows relaxed, and she picked up her teacup, taking a large gulp, savoring the incredibly sweet tea.

"This little thief has finally brought out his trump card." Huang Rong sat upright in the armchair, and the fine sweat that had seeped from her palms due to nervousness finally dried a little.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at the speechless women below the stage, and seeing their embarrassed expressions as they blushed and could not utter a sound, the pent-up frustration in her chest vanished.

She secretly gloated. These brainless girls dared to judge the man she had her eye on? Her man should trample these hypocrites underfoot.

Yin Zhiping was forced to the edge of the arena, with nowhere to retreat and his heels dangling in the air. He caught a glimpse of the astonished gazes of the crowd below, and the originally loud shouts of the female disciples had weakened, turning into shrill whispers.

His chest heaved violently, and his mind was buzzing.

If he were to be defeated today by this disciple whom he regards as an ant, his carefully cultivated reputation for benevolence and righteousness would be completely turned into a laughing stock, and the lofty throne of the sect leader would be forever out of his reach.

He absolutely cannot lose.

Yin Zhiping gritted his teeth, disregarding the risk of exposure, and completely released the suppression of the dark red true energy in his dantian.

That sinister power, like a wild horse that had broken free, surged violently into his limbs and bones, bringing a tearing, throbbing pain.

He roared and swung his longsword. This strike was fueled by an increase in internal energy several times over. The sword wind howled, carrying an extremely violent aura, aimed directly at Yang Guo's life.

Seeing that things were going badly, Yang Guo had no choice but to raise his sword to meet the attack head-on.

"when!"

A deafening crash. The two forces collided, sending Yang Guo's longsword flying high into the air, nearly slipping from his grasp. He felt a piercing pain in the web of his hand, and looking down, he saw that the skin there had split open, and blood was flowing down the hilt of the sword, staining the back of his hand red.

Yang Guo staggered back three steps before barely managing to regain his balance. He had been paying his dues too frequently in the Ancient Tomb these past few days and hadn't fully recovered. Now, forcing himself to fight, the soreness in his lower back intensified, and his legs felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead.

"That old bastard's playing dirty tricks." Yang Guo cursed inwardly. This evil fire was definitely not the kind of upright and peaceful internal energy cultivation method of the Quanzhen Sect. This Taoist priest must have taken some kind of shady, evil medicine.

Seeing Yang Guo injured and defeated, Yin Zhiping's face contorted with wild joy. This little beast had finally given up. He took a step forward, his longsword aimed straight for Yang Guo's heart. Die! Once this little beast is dead, all the secrets will be buried, and the position of sect leader will still be his. Yin Zhiping roared madly in his heart.

Yang Guo was cornered with no way to escape. A ruthless glint appeared in his eyes. Even if it meant losing an arm, he was determined to drag this old man down with him.

He simply released his right hand, abandoning the longsword, and with his left hand forming a claw, he grabbed the blade that Yin Zhiping was thrusting at him. The sharp blade easily cut Yang Guo's palm, drawing blood and causing him to gasp in pain.

But he gritted his teeth, his five fingers still gripping the sword tightly.

Yin Zhiping was shocked and tried to pull his sword back with all his might, but it wouldn't budge, as if it were stuck in a crack in the rock.

Seizing the fleeting moment, Yang Guo suddenly extended his right index finger.

He unleashed the full power of the seventh-grade peak of the One-Finger Divine Skill. He gathered all the remaining sixteen years of pure Yang energy in his body into his fingertips without reservation, and his meridians ached slightly due to the overload of the energy.

A layer of golden energy emanated from his fingertips as he pointed a finger at Yin Zhiping's chest acupoint, determined to kill him with a single blow.

Yin Zhiping was terrified when he saw the golden finger. He hurriedly raised his left hand to block it.

Yang Guo's finger landed precisely on Yin Zhiping's left palm. The penetrating force of the One-Finger Divine Skill was extremely domineering, piercing through Yin Zhiping's left hand defense with overwhelming force and ruthlessly penetrating his chest cavity along the meridian.

Yin Zhiping felt as if his chest had been slammed hard by a battering ram, and his internal organs had shifted.

"puff!"

Yin Zhiping spat out a mouthful of blood, flew backward, and slid several feet across the ground before crashing into a wooden railing.

But at the crucial moment, he dodged slightly, and Yang Guo's finger did not hit Yin Zhiping's Tanzhong acupoint.

Yang Guo was also in a bad state. He had forced himself to use the last of his One-Finger Divine Skill, completely depleting his internal energy, leaving his meridians feeling empty and weak. Coupled with the excruciating soreness in his lower back, his knees buckled, and he could no longer support himself, collapsing heavily to one knee on the arena.

He was panting heavily, the wound on his left hand throbbing with pain, blood dripping onto the wooden board and pooling into a gruesome sight.

The entire room was completely silent; not even a breath could be heard.

The martial arts practitioners below the stage were all dumbfounded. No one expected that a duel between fellow disciples would escalate to such a brutal and bloody level.

Yin Zhiping lay on the ground like a dead dog. He struggled to get up and save face for the chief disciple, but the pain in his chest made him unable to exert any strength, and he could only cough up blood repeatedly.

He stared intently at Yang Guo, his eyes filled with resentment.

Yang Guo knelt on one knee, looked at Yin Zhiping's miserable state, and grinned. Even if he was exhausted, he would never let go of this verbal advantage.

"Master... your internal energy... is quite unique." Yang Guo said mockingly, panting heavily, determined to utterly humiliate this hypocrite.

On the viewing platform.

Qiu Chuji's face was ashen, and his beard was trembling. He noticed something was wrong with Yin Zhiping and was even more afraid that the two of them would actually die together on the stage. He leaped from the eighth level directly onto the ninth level of the arena.

Wang Chuyi followed closely behind, fearing that something might go wrong.

Qiu Chuji strode forward and stood between the two.

"Stop!" Qiu Chuji shouted, using his inner strength to stun the entire scene.

He turned his head and glanced at Yin Zhiping, who was lying on the ground coughing up blood, and then at Yang Guo, who was kneeling on one knee and covered in blood.

He was in extreme turmoil. Yin Zhiping was the chief disciple, the face of the Quanzhen Sect to the outside world. If he were to be defeated in public, the Quanzhen Sect would lose all its prestige.

Although Yang Guo is unruly, he has displayed the swordsmanship of his master, making him a once-in-a-century genius. If either of these two were to die on the stage, it would be an unbearable loss for the Quanzhen Sect.

What alarmed him even more was that he had clearly sensed that the internal force of Yin Zhiping's last sword strike was sinister.

However, he absolutely could not examine his first disciple's martial arts skills in front of all the heroes of the world. Family scandals should not be aired in public, so he had to keep this matter hidden.

"The competition is over!" Qiu Chuji turned around, faced the crowd below, and announced loudly with a forced smile.

The crowd immediately erupted in uproar.

Lu Wushuang was so anxious she was jumping up and down in the audience. She absolutely refused to accept that the villain Yang Guo had won, and shouted, "Master Qiu! The battle isn't over yet! Master Yin hasn't lost!"

The female disciples of the Emei Sect also joined in, shouting to save face for their Master Yin: "That's right! Master Yin was injured to avoid harming his fellow disciples! He didn't even use his full strength!"

Qiu Chuji's expression was stern, and his gaze, carrying a warning meaning, swept over the commotion of the female disciples below the stage, silencing the crowd.

"According to the rules of the Tongtian Arena, duels between fellow disciples must end when the point is reached. Both of them are now injured, and continuing the fight would surely endanger their lives." Qiu Chuji, maintaining an extremely authoritative tone, forcefully declared, "This old Daoist announces that the ninth-level duel between Yin Zhiping and Yang Guo is a draw!"

This statement sparked a heated discussion among the audience, with no one agreeing with it.

Huang Rong toyed with the tea lid in her hand; the subtle sound of the porcelain rubbing together couldn't mask the anger in her heart.

She was extremely dissatisfied with Qiu Chuji's attempt to smooth things over.

Anyone with eyes could see that if Yang Guo had struck Yin Zhiping's vital point with his final finger, that hypocrite would have been dead long ago. These old Taoist priests of the Quanzhen Sect, to protect Yin Zhiping's false facade, deliberately declared the game a draw – they were utterly shameless.

But she refrained from objecting. Her keen eye told her that Yang Guo was severely depleted of his internal energy, barely able to stand, and desperately needed to recuperate. Continuing the fight would only harm the thief.

"A draw is a draw, but protecting Guo'er's health is the most important thing." Huang Rong thought to herself, a hint of coldness flashing in her eyes. "I'll expose this hypocrite's true colors sooner or later and ruin his reputation."

She stood up, casually picked up the dog-beating stick beside her, and struck a pose befitting the leader of the Beggars' Sect.

"Master Qiu is fair in his dealings," Huang Rong said loudly. "Since it's a draw, how does the Quanzhen Sect intend to decide on the position of sect leader?"