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

Inside the headmaster's courtyard.

The room was filled with a strong smell of medicine. Yang Guo lay flat on the bed, his chest wrapped in white cloth.

He had three broken ribs, and his internal organs were shaken; even the slightest breath brought on waves of excruciating pain.

Huang Rong sat on the edge of the bed with a porcelain bowl in her hand, stirring the dark medicine with a spoon.

Lu Wushuang stood to the side, holding a blood-stained gauze in her hand, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Drink your medicine." Huang Rong handed the spoon to Yang Guo's lips.

Yang Guo opened his mouth and swallowed the bitter medicine, his brows furrowed.

He tried to mobilize the true qi in his dantian, but as soon as he started, his meridians felt a tearing, throbbing pain.

The aftereffects of Hong Qigong's palm strike were immense; the remaining fierce power of the palm was still surging within his body, making it impossible to refine it in a short time.

"Don't waste your energy." Huang Rong put down the medicine bowl, pressed down on Yang Guo's shoulder, "How could Seventh Master's palm strike be a joke? Your meridians are extremely fragile right now. Forcing yourself to use your internal energy will only result in lifelong disability. You absolutely cannot use any internal energy for the next half month."

Yang Guo gritted his teeth and remained silent.

Just then, a deep, muffled sound of a Taoist bell suddenly rang out from the front mountain.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

The bell tolled rapidly nine times in succession; this was the highest alarm bell to be rung when the Quanzhen School was facing annihilation.

Immediately afterward, a series of staggering footsteps echoed outside the courtyard. With a loud bang, the courtyard gate was flung open, and a young disciple, his robe stained with blood, stumbled and collapsed outside, screaming hoarsely, "Sect Leader! Heroine Huang! The Mongol army, leading a large number of Tibetan monks, has breached the mountain gate and is already marching towards Chongyang Palace!"

Upon hearing this, Yang Guo suddenly opened his eyes, gripped the bedsheets tightly with both hands, and tried to sit up despite the excruciating pain that was pulling at his internal organs.

"Lie down!" Huang Rong shouted sharply, pressing down on Yang Guo's shoulders with both hands to prevent him from moving.

"I can't stay on the front mountain..." Yang Guo's voice was hoarse, and beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead from the pain and anxiety, but his eyes showed determination. "I am the leader of Quanzhen Sect, I have to go to the front mountain."

"Are you going to your death?" Huang Rong looked directly into Yang Guo's eyes. "You can't even beat an ordinary disciple now. The Quanzhen Sect still has Qiu Chuji and Hao Datong to hold them off. You should stay here and recover from your injuries. As long as you don't die, the Quanzhen Sect will not be extinct."

Lu Wushuang walked quickly to the door, drew his willow-leaf scimitar, and stood with his back against the door.

"You can lie here peacefully. If anyone dares to break in, I'll chop them down." Lu Wushuang gripped the hilt of his knife tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Yang Guo closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

This feeling of helplessness, of being able to only hide behind a woman, made him extremely irritable.

The square of the Chongyang Palace at this time.

The square was completely surrounded by a dense mass of Mongol soldiers, the sunlight shining on their armor with a blinding, cold gleam.

Spears were like a forest, and bows and crossbows were nocked. A large number of Quanzhen Sect disciples were forced to retreat step by step, all of them retreating to the steps of the main hall.

Qiu Chuji, Hao Datong, Wang Chuyi, and Sun Bu'er stood side by side at the front of the steps.

The four men had bristling hair and beards, held long swords, and had angry expressions on their faces.

Hundreds of Quanzhen disciples stood in formation behind them, their hands trembling slightly as they gripped their swords.

The Mongol army split to the sides.

Huo Du swaggered out of the formation, fanning himself with a folding fan.

He wore a brocade robe and a mocking sneer played on his lips.

Darba followed closely behind, his arms bare, carrying a thick golden pestle on his shoulder, each step accompanied by a muffled thud on the ground.

A Tibetan monk dressed in a red robe stepped out from behind the two.

This person was extremely tall and thin, with a slightly sunken forehead and a sallow complexion.

He twirled a string of prayer beads in his hand, his eyes indifferent, completely disregarding the Quanzhen Sect members before him.

This person was none other than the Mongolian National Preceptor, the Golden Wheel Dharma King.

Huo Du walked down the steps, put away his folding fan, pointed at Qiu Chuji, and spoke loudly.

"Listen up, you Taoist priests of the Quanzhen Sect! The Mongol cavalry is pressing in! Those who submit will prosper, those who resist will perish! Where is your sect leader, Yang Guo? Make him come out and kneel down to receive the decree! As long as you hand over the seal of Chongyang Palace, the Great Khan will spare your dog lives!"

Qiu Chuji stepped forward, his long sword pointing directly at Huo Du.

"Shameless Tartars, stop your arrogance! The Quanzhen Sect is a reputable and righteous sect; how could we bow down to a bunch of barbarians who drink blood and eat raw meat! Yang Guo is our sect leader; if you want to see him, you'll have to ask the sword in my hand first!"

Huo Du threw his head back and laughed loudly, then took out a piece of paper with a bloody handprint on it and slapped it onto the folding fan.

"Still being stubborn even when death is imminent! Zhao Zhijing from your sect has already revealed all the secrets of Chongyang Palace. Your sect leader, Yang Guo, was beaten half to death by Hong Qigong a few days ago, and he probably can't even get out of bed now. Do you think you old, weak, sick, and disabled people can stop the advance of my Great Mongol National Preceptor?"

The news of Yang Guo's serious injury caused a stir among the Quanzhen disciples.

Hao Datong turned and roared, "Silence! Anyone who disrupts my formation will be dealt with according to the rules!"

The Quanzhen disciples immediately fell silent. Hao Datong had been studying martial arts in the Scripture Pavilion these past few days, and his entire demeanor had changed drastically, becoming increasingly dignified.

Wang Chuyi had the most fiery temper. He leaped down the steps and thrust his long sword straight at Huo Du's face.

"Further words are useless; prepare to die!"

Huo Du dodged to the side, his folding fan aimed at Wang Chuyi's wrist. Wang Chuyi swiftly turned his sword, slashing at Huo Du's fingers, and the two instantly engaged in combat.

Huo Du's martial arts style is characterized by its subtle yet ruthless nature, with hidden mechanisms concealed within his folding fan.

After exchanging more than twenty blows, Wang Chuyi's swordsmanship was precise and he held the upper hand.

Seeing that he couldn't break through after a long siege, a ruthless glint flashed in Huo Du's eyes.

He swung his folding fan out suddenly, and three poisoned nails shot out from the fan ribs, heading straight for Wang Chuyi's major acupoint in the chest.

The two were extremely close, and Wang Chuyi had no time to dodge, so he could only parry with his sword. After deflecting two poisoned nails, the third one grazed his Taoist robe and cut his arm.

The poison took effect very quickly; Wang Chuyi's arm went numb, and he almost dropped his longsword.

Taking advantage of the situation, Huo Du lunged forward and struck Wang Chuyi in the chest with a palm.

"Junior brother, be careful!"

Hao Datong shouted and leaped down the steps, his long sword flashing three times to force Huo Du back, and then he caught the swaying Wang Chuyi.

Seeing Huo Du retreat, Darba roared, gripped the golden pestle with both hands, leaped up, and unleashed a powerful strike, "Mount Tai Pressing Down," aimed directly at Hao Datong's head.

This strike was powerful and heavy, accompanied by the whistling sound of the wind.

Hao Datong dared not confront him directly and pulled Wang Chuyi back hastily.

"boom!"

The golden pestle struck the bluestone steps, shattering the stone slabs instantly. Shards of stone flew in all directions, injuring several Quanzhen disciples in the front row.

Qiu Chuji realized that the enemy was formidable and that he had no chance of winning against the Quanzhen Sect in a one-on-one fight. He raised his longsword and shouted fiercely.

"Form the formation! The Big Dipper!"

Sun Bu'er immediately jumped down the steps.

Qiu Chuji selected three of his most skilled disciples, along with Hao Datong, Sun Bu'er, and Wang Chuyi, who had taken a short break to catch his breath. The seven of them quickly dispersed and occupied seven positions.

Tian Shu, Tian Xuan, Tian Ji, Tian Quan, Yu Heng, Kai Yang, Yao Guang.

The seven longswords were linked end to end, their sword energy intertwined to form a tight net, trapping Huo Du and Darba in the core.

The Big Dipper Formation was a protective formation created by Wang Chongyang with painstaking effort. When the seven of them worked together, their true energy circulated continuously, and its power was far more than just the sum of its parts.

Huo Du brandished his folding fan, charging left and right, but he could not break through the sword net. Sun Bu'er thrust out with his sword, and Huo Du was slightly slow to dodge, resulting in a long, bloody gash on his left arm.

Darba roared repeatedly, smashing his golden pestle wildly in all directions.

Hao Datong and Qiu Chuji took the pivotal position and used the opponent's force against them. Their longswords struck the side of the golden pestle, completely deflecting Darba's brute force and instead causing Darba's tiger's mouth to crack.

Desperate as beasts are, both Huodu and Darba quickly sustained injuries and faced perilous situations.

The Golden Wheel Monk, who had been standing at the rear, stopped turning his prayer beads. He raised his eyelids, glanced at the situation in the formation, and snorted coldly.

The cold snort was extremely short, yet it clearly reached the ears of everyone present, making their eardrums ache.

With his hands behind his back, the Golden Wheel Monk strode towards the front of the formation.

He didn't draw the golden wheel from his waist, but simply extended his right hand in an unremarkable manner.

This is precisely the Dragon Elephant Prajna Skill.

The Golden Wheel Monk pushed out with his right palm, and an extremely terrifying true energy burst forth from his palm, forming a visible distorted air wave in the air.

This shockwave, carrying a suffocating sense of oppression, struck Qiu Chuji, who was positioned at the Tian Shu point.

Qiu Chuji was greatly alarmed and immediately mobilized the true energy of the entire formation, converging the inner strength of the seven men into his own body. He gripped his sword with both hands and slashed down at the shockwave.

The moment the sword blade struck the shockwave, Qiu Chuji felt as if he had struck an iron mountain.

"Snap!"

The longsword, forged from fine steel, broke into pieces.

The violent palm strike continued unabated, slamming heavily into Qiu Chuji's chest.

Qiu Chuji spat out a mouthful of blood, and his whole body flew backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing into the vermilion pillar of the main hall and sliding to the ground, his fate unknown.

Once the Tian Shu position is broken, the Tian Gang Bei Dou Formation collapses instantly.

The Golden Wheel Monk did not stop. He stepped forward and struck the three chief disciples of the Heavenly Authority position with his left palm.

The three disciples didn't even have time to scream before their protective aura was shattered, their sternums collapsed, and they died on the spot.

Hao Datong's eyes were bloodshot, and instead of retreating, he advanced. He gathered all his life's power into the tip of his sword, and with the most ferocious move of the Quanzhen Swordplay, "One Qi Transforms into Three Pure Ones," he thrust straight at the Golden Wheel Monk's throat.

The Golden Wheel Monk remained unfazed, neither dodging nor avoiding, and flicked his right finger.

My finger flicked the spine of the sword.

Hao Datong felt a tremendous force surge through the sword into his right arm, causing the bones to crack with a teeth-grinding sound, and the sword flew out of his hand. Golden Wheel Monk then kicked Hao Datong in the stomach.

Hao Datong's body arched like a shrimp as he crashed into the crowd of Quanzhen disciples, knocking over more than a dozen people. He coughed up blood and could not get up again.

Sun Bu'er and Wang Chuyi wanted to fight back, but Darba swung his golden pestle and each of them was struck on the shoulder, and they both fell to the ground.

In less than half an incense stick's time, the top combat force of the Quanzhen Sect was completely wiped out.

The entire square was deathly silent, with only the sound of flags fluttering in the wind.

The Golden Wheel Monk withdrew his hands and began to spin his prayer beads again. His breathing remained perfectly steady; defeating the Seven Masters of Quanzhen seemed to him as nothing more than swatting a few flies.

"Utterly vulnerable," said the Golden Wheel Monk in a calm tone.

This is a true master, whose absolute power crushes all fancy formations and techniques.

Huo Du, clutching his bleeding left arm, walked to the side of the Golden Wheel Monk, his face full of flattery.

"Master's divine power is unparalleled; these Taoist priests are truly overestimating themselves."

The Golden Wheel Monk ignored Huo Du's flattery and looked past the Quanzhen Sect members lying on the ground towards the depths of Chongyang Palace.

"Go to the backyard and find that sect leader named Yang Guo." The Golden Wheel Monk's voice was cold. "I want to see him alive or dead."

Huo Du accepted the order and turned to wave to the Mongol soldiers.

"Leave one team to keep an eye on these scoundrels. Anyone who dares to move is to be killed on the spot! The rest of you, come with me to search the backyard!"

A large number of Mongol soldiers, spears in hand, scrambled across the blood-stained ground from the main hall, heading towards the sect leader's courtyard on the back mountain. The clanging of armor and the clatter of footsteps echoed within Chongyang Palace.

Inside the sect leader's courtyard on the back mountain.

The sounds of fighting and clashing weapons on the front mountain had subsided, replaced by increasingly dense footsteps.

Huang Rong's face was extremely pale. She had sensed the change in the situation outside: the Quanzhen Sect's defenses had collapsed.

"They can't hold out any longer." Huang Rong stood up, walked to the table, and picked up the dog-beating stick.

Lu Wushuang gripped the willow-leaf dagger in both hands, her palms drenched in cold sweat. Her crippled left leg trembled slightly, but she stood firmly in front of Yang Guo's bed, not retreating an inch.

Yang Guo lay on the bed, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug deep into his flesh.

The footsteps stopped outside the courtyard gate.

The courtyard gate was violently kicked open, and the wooden planks slammed heavily onto the ground.

"Shelp this yard up! Don't let a single fly out!" Huo Du's shrill voice rang out in the yard.

Immediately afterward, the Golden Wheel Monk's steady and powerful footsteps entered the courtyard. Each step carried an extremely strong sense of oppression, causing the paper windows inside the house to tremble.

Huang Rong turned to look at Yang Guo on the bed, her eyes resolute.

"I'll go out and hold them off. Miss Lu, you take Guo'er to the forbidden area behind the Quanzhen Sect's mountain; someone there will meet you."

Yang Guo stared intently at the roof beam, his teeth clenched until they bled.

Old beggar, those three slaps of yours are really going to kill me.