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

Huang Rong placed her palms on the acupoints on Yang Guo's waist, continuously channeling her inner energy into them. After a good half hour, a thin layer of sweat appeared on her forehead, and the heat in her palms gradually subsided.

"That's about enough." Huang Rong withdrew her palms, took a half step back, and leaned against the cold stone wall, her chest rising and falling slightly. Transferring true energy was an extremely mentally taxing task, and her own internal energy had been reduced by 20%.

Yang Guo stretched his waist a couple of times, and the soreness and weakness he felt had indeed subsided considerably. Although his dantian felt empty, his meridians were no longer blocked, and his blood and qi were flowing much more smoothly. He swung his arms a couple of times and clenched his fists.

"How is it?" Huang Rong asked.

"Much better. At least I'm not unsteady on my feet anymore." Yang Guo bent over twice. "It's just that my internal energy hasn't recovered yet, so I don't dare to fight head-on with anyone."

"Nonsense. A person with depleted Qi in their dantian won't recover to full strength in three to five days. In your current state, you can still fight with movement techniques and moves, but engaging in a direct internal force attack is suicide." Huang Rong wiped the sweat from her forehead, her tone carrying a warning, "If you encounter Yin Zhiping, use skill to win, don't fight him with internal force. That beast has taken some kind of evil pill, his brute strength is immense."

Yang Guo nodded and bent down to pick up the long sword leaning against the stone wall.

"Let's go, we can't linger here any longer." Yang Guo pushed aside the vines at the crevice in the rock and slipped out sideways.

The night air outside was a bit chilly. The moon was half-hidden by a thin cloud, casting dim light and shadows through the woods. Yang Guo stood on the narrow path, took a few deep breaths of the cool mountain air, and felt much more refreshed.

Huang Rong followed and tidied her hair, which had been ruffled by the vines.

Yang Guo glanced upwards as usual—above the stone cave was the top of a precipice. Under the moonlight, the precipice was covered with knee-high weeds.

He hadn't paid any attention at first, but the moment his gaze swept over it, he stopped in his tracks.

At the edge of the cliff top, there was a small patch of grass, all flattened on the ground, pressing out the outline of a human figure.

Yang Guo's hair stood on end.

Without uttering a sound, he used his toes to propel himself upwards, employing the Golden Goose Skill. He gripped the edge of the cliff with both hands and climbed to the top.

Seeing his movement, Huang Rong also climbed up.

The two stood on the cliff top, looking down at the patch of flattened weeds.

Yang Guo squatted down and placed his right palm on the fallen grass.

The grass blades are warm.

His hand remained motionless on it. Three breaths later, he raised his head to look at Huang Rong, the color draining from his face.

"Someone is lying here. The grass is still warm; they've been gone for less than an incense stick's time."

Huang Rong's expression changed as well. She quickly walked to the edge of the cliff and glanced down—directly below was the stone cave they had just been in. Vines partially concealed the entrance, but it was not hidden.

If someone were lying on the cliff top, their head sticking out over the edge...

Every word the two of them said and every action they took in the cave was witnessed by this person.

Yang Guo stood up, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"What did I call you when you were channeling your inner energy into me?"

Huang Rong remained silent. She didn't need to answer. Yang Guo had called out "Rong'er" at least five or six times in the stone cave. There were also those vulgar and obscene words—things like "verifying the identity card," "personal maid," and "you're so good to me."

If these words were overheard by a disciple of the Quanzhen School, they could make up an excuse that it was "a junior joking with his senior."

But the matter of transferring true energy cannot be explained. A man took off his outer robe, and a woman placed her hands on his lower back. In the middle of the night, they hid in a stone cave in the desolate mountains, locking the door and bolting it shut.

Anyone who hears this description will only think in one direction.

"Who is it?" Huang Rong asked, her voice extremely low.

Yang Guo squatted down and carefully examined the marks on the ground. At the edge of the fallen grass, a few drops of dark brown liquid had seeped into the soil. He reached out, dipped his finger in it, and smelled it.

blood.

He scanned the area again. On the muddy ground behind the cliff top, there was a series of very shallow footprints extending towards the western ridge. The footprints were widely spaced, indicating that someone had been running at a rapid pace.

Yang Guo stood up.

"He has a chest wound, escaped westward, and this is the only way up the cliff..."

He pieced these clues together, and the answer became clear.

"It's Yin Zhiping."

Huang Rong felt a chill run down her spine.

Yang Guo quickly went through the worst-case scenario in his mind.

What did Yin Zhiping hear? How much did he hear?

His conversation with Huang Rong in the stone cave, their intimacy when transferring internal energy, and all those flirtatious and lewd words... all of it was overheard by this old fellow.

If Yin Zhiping survives to get down the mountain and exposes this matter—

What would Guo Jing do?

Yang Guo knew without a doubt. Guo Jing was an upright man who valued righteousness above all else. Yang Guo's father, Yang Kang, had killed several of Guo Jing's mentors, but Guo Jing didn't pursue the matter out of consideration for the son of an old friend. However, if he had known that Yang Guo had been unfaithful to his wife, given Guo Jing's temperament, he would have simply taken up the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms and gone to Zhongnan Mountain to kill him with a single blow.

What about Huang Rong? The scandal of the Beggars' Sect leader having an affair with the leader of the Quanzhen Sect has spread throughout the martial arts world. Who among the elders, leaders, and eight-bag disciples of the Beggars' Sect will still respect her? It's only a matter of time before the Beggars' Sect falls apart.

Huang Yaoshi of Peach Blossom Island was such a proud and aloof man. How could he possibly save face after his daughter did such a thing?

Needless to say, Yang Guo himself was even worse off. If the fact that the leader of the Quanzhen Sect had an affair with his grandmaster's wife got out, not only would he be unable to stay in the Quanzhen Sect, but he would also have no place in the entire Central Plains martial arts world.

Upon thinking of this, Yang Guo's palms turned ice-cold.

He turned to look at Huang Rong.

Huang Rong's face was deathly pale. She had lived most of her life, traveled all over the country, and experienced countless dangers, but she had never been more afraid than she was now.

She is not afraid of death.

What she feared was Guo Jing's gaze.

If Guo Jing knew about this, he wouldn't hit her or scold her. He would just look at her with his honest and kind eyes and say nothing.

That look in his eyes was sharper than a knife.

"We can't let him go down the mountain," Huang Rong said, her voice tight. "He can't be alive."

Yang Guo nodded. The two understood each other perfectly well; no further words were needed.

"He's badly injured and can't run far. But he's very slippery; he deliberately left false clues to lure the pursuers eastward, while he himself circled around via this narrow path along the cliff to the west." Yang Guo squatted down to examine the direction of the footprints. "If he goes west, there's an abandoned path on the back mountain that leads to the mass grave at the foot of the mountain. If he finds that path, he'll be completely out of the game."

Huang Rong glanced at the surrounding terrain and quickly assessed the situation.

"We'll split up. You follow his footprints westward from the top of the cliff. I'll go around to the mass grave from below and intercept him. No matter how fast he runs, with his injuries, crossing mountains and valleys will take time. If we attack from both sides, he'll have nowhere to run."

Yang Guo hesitated for a moment. He was worried about Huang Rong going alone. That old bastard Yin Zhiping was now a desperate fugitive, capable of anything when cornered. Although Huang Rong was highly skilled in martial arts, she had just transferred her inner energy to him, and her internal strength had been significantly depleted.

"Rong'er, why don't you wait here? I'll go by myself."

"Wait? Wait until dawn? Wait until he escapes Zhongnan Mountain?" Huang Rong glared at him, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Split up is the safest way. You chase his tail, I'll block his exit. Whoever catches him first makes the move. Stop dawdling."

Yang Guo looked at her pale face, etched with tension, and felt a surge of indescribable emotions. This woman had followed him through thick and thin, even jeopardizing her reputation. If even a whisper of what had happened today were to leak out, it wouldn't be him, Yang Guo, who would be ruined first, but Huang Rong.

He walked up to Huang Rong and reached out to grasp her wrist.

"Rong'er, I'll take the blame if anything happens."

Yang Guo's tone, however, was firm and resolute.

"If he runs away and the news spreads everywhere, I'll take the blame. I'll tell everyone that it was I, Yang Guo, who forced you, and that I used my martial arts to bully my elders. I'll protect your reputation with my life."

Huang Rong was stunned.

She looked into Yang Guo's eyes, and there was no joking or dirty talk in them, only the resolute determination of a man in dire straits who would leave his last escape route to his woman.

Her nose stung and her eyes burned.

But she was Huang Rong, not one of those ordinary, tearful women. She forcefully suppressed the tears welling up in her eyes, withdrew her wrist, and gently pushed Yang Guo in the chest.

"Stop talking such discouraging things. Don't argue with anyone. Just catch that beast; the dead can't talk."

Huang Rong turned around, picked up her dog-beating stick, and quickly disappeared into the night along the path below the cliff.

Yang Guo watched her departing figure, stood for a moment, then turned and ran towards the western ridge.

He stared at the intermittent trail of blood and footprints on the ground, his pace quickening.

The eastern foothills of Zhongnan Mountain.

Twenty miles away from Chongyang Palace, in a grove of mixed trees, Lu Wushuang was carrying a small bundle on his back and a willow-leaf scimitar in his hand, hurrying on his way.

She had originally planned to descend the mountain and leave this place of trouble. The outcome of the Tongtian Arena left her extremely displeased. That lecherous Yang Guo had actually become the leader of the Quanzhen Sect—was there no justice left in this martial world?

But she stopped halfway up the mountain.

A disciple of the Quanzhen Sect, an outer disciple, was resting on a rock by the roadside, drinking water from a water pouch. Two other disciples were nearby, and the three of them huddled together, whispering amongst themselves.

Lu Wushuang had sharp ears, so she slowed her pace and listened to a few words from a distance.

"Have you heard? The entire sect is in an uproar right now, everyone's out there trying to catch Uncle Yin!"

"How could I not have heard of this? Who would have thought that Yin Zhiping, the dignified third-generation chief disciple, would secretly collude with the Mongols! This is an utter disgrace to our Quanzhen Sect!"

Lu Wushuang was stunned upon hearing this. Although she was extremely displeased that Yang Guo, that scoundrel, had become the sect leader, she never expected that the seemingly virtuous Yin Zhiping was actually a complete hypocrite. Recalling how she had cheered him on at the Tongtian Arena, she felt even more indignant and cursed inwardly, "Bah! I was blind! I even cheered him on back then. It's a good thing this scoundrel didn't become the sect leader!"

However, these troubles of the Quanzhen Sect were ultimately none of his business. Lu Wushuang was only slightly angry in his heart, and then decided not to meddle and prepared to leave quietly.

But just as she was about to lift her foot, the two disciples suddenly changed their tone.

"...Besides the search for Yin Zhiping, things aren't peaceful in the back mountains either. A woodcutter said he saw a woman in red walking in the woods a couple of days ago; she was extremely beautiful..."

"A woman in red? Who is she? Could she be the fairy from the Tomb of the Living Dead?"

"According to the woodcutter's description, she was dressed in red, and although she was very beautiful, she looked fierce and menacing. The woodcutter only glanced at her, and she was about to gouge out his eyes."

"Gouging out people's eyes? Could it be that Red Serpent Fairy Li Mochou? Isn't she a notorious demon? How dare a woodcutter approach her?"

"That's why it's strange. The woodcutter said that although the woman spoke fiercely, she looked very weak, so she was probably seriously injured."

Lu Wushuang's steps froze on the spot.

Li Mochou.

Seriously injured?

She gripped the hilt of the curved knife tightly with both hands, her knuckles turning a thin layer of white.

When Lu Wushuang was three years old, her entire family was massacred by Li Mochou. Her father, mother, uncles, cousins—not a single one was spared. She and her cousin Cheng Ying managed to escape, but for the next ten years they wandered from place to place, living under the roof of others and enduring endless scorn.

She remembered this blood debt for more than a decade.

She remembered it while working during the day, while sleeping at night, and while practicing her sword. She wished she could skin Li Mochou alive. But Li Mochou's martial arts were too high. Her Red Serpent Palm and Ice Soul Silver Needles were famous throughout the martial arts world. Not to mention a little girl with only rudimentary skills, even an ordinary second-rate master wouldn't be able to be defeated by Li Mochou with a single palm strike.

This hatred had been suppressed by reality for over a decade, to the point that she almost forgot the idea of ​​revenge.

Is Li Mochou seriously injured now?

Lu Wushuang's breathing quickened.

She stood behind the bushes, biting her lower lip tightly, her mind racing as she weighed the options.

If this news is true...

Li Mochou was seriously injured and was just an ordinary woman. Although Lu Wushuang's martial arts skills were not high, she had practiced swordsmanship for more than ten years, which was more than enough to deal with a seriously injured person.

But she was also afraid it might be a trap.

Li Mochou is ruthless and cunning; what if she's just faking it?

She thought about it for a moment, then dismissed her concerns. How could someone as proud and arrogant as Li Mochou possibly talk about gouging out someone's eyes but not actually do it?

The Quanzhen disciples were still chatting about other things, but Lu Wushuang didn't want to listen anymore.

Her heart was pounding, and her palms were sweaty. The scimitar felt slippery in her hand, and she almost dropped it.

To go or not to go?

She looked down at the willow-leaf scimitar in her hand. The blade reflected the moonlight, cold and sharp.

More than a decade has passed. The blood debt owed by my parents can finally be settled.

This opportunity, once missed, will never come again.

Lu Wushuang turned around and walked towards the back mountain.