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

Two white horses traveled north along the official road.

Zhongnan Mountain is not far from Chang'an; it takes only two hours by fast horse.

When Wang Chongyang chose this location to build his school, this was the place he had his eye on.

With mountains at its back, it offers both defensive and secluded advantages. A short walk north leads to Chang'an, making it convenient for purchasing goods, conducting business, and gathering information.

The fact that the Quanzhen School of Taoism has been able to establish itself in Guanzhong for the past sixty years is inseparable from its advantageous geographical location.

We set off in the afternoon, before the sun had even set, and the outline of the city gate tower of Chang'an's south gate was already visible in the distance.

The city wall was three zhang high, made of rammed earth and covered with bricks, and there were more than a dozen oxcarts waiting to enter the city at the city gate.

The guards weren't too strict, but they still had to lift the curtain and peek at each vehicle.

Yang Guo did not go directly into the city.

He reined in his horse and stopped at a fork in the road three miles outside the south gate of the city.

Three miles outside the south gate of Chang'an City, there is a narrow alley.

At the end of the narrow alley is a two-story inn with the words "Qingfeng Inn" hanging above the door.

With its peeling paint and crooked wooden signboard, it looked like a run-down shop with a sluggish business.

Yang Guo and Lu Wushuang tied their horses to the iron stakes at the entrance of the alley and walked over.

As dusk settled, two dim lanterns hung at the entrance of the inn. Inside, figures moved about, and the sounds of eating and drinking could be faintly heard.

Yang Guo changed into a gray cloth short shirt. The sect leader's robe was too conspicuous, so he had Lu Wushuang take out a spare set of clothes from his bundle before leaving.

Lu Wushuang also changed into a coarse brown dress, hiding the willow-leaf dagger under the hem and the dagger at her lower back.

The two looked like an ordinary young couple traveling and looking for lodging.

"Once inside, don't say a word. Keep your eyes peeled and memorize the number of people, their weapons, and the entrances and exits," Yang Guo whispered to him from outside the door.

Lu Wushuang nodded.

Push the door open and go inside.

The shop wasn't large, with eight tables, four of which were occupied. Behind the counter stood a lean manager, around thirty years old, with a goatee.

Yang Guo glanced around the shop. Of the four tables, two were occupied by ordinary travelers, whose clothing and accents suggested they were locals from Guanzhong.

The other two tables were occupied by five burly men, dressed in various styles, but each with weapons at their side: scimitars, short axes, and a Mongolian hunting bow.

The innkeeper behind the counter glanced at Yang Guo and Lu Wushuang out of the corner of his eye, forcing a smile. "Are you here for a meal or to stay the night, sir?"

"A room." Yang Guo swaggered to the counter and slapped a few copper coins on the table. "A superior room, half a pound of beef, and two bowls of noodles."

The innkeeper took the copper coins, then pulled a wooden plaque from under the counter and handed it to Yang Guo. "The best room is on the second floor, the one furthest inside. Waiter, take the guest up."

A waiter, around fourteen or fifteen years old, emerged from the kitchen and led the two men upstairs.

There were four guest rooms on each side of the second-floor corridor, all with their doors closed. The waiter pushed open the innermost door. "Please come in, sir."

Yang Guo entered the room and glanced around. The window faced south, directly overlooking the backyard. Three horses were parked in the backyard, with Mongolian-style leather bags hanging from their saddles.

"Wushuang, look at the backyard." Yang Guo stood by the window, his voice low.

Lu Wushuang leaned closer to look. "Three horses, Mongolian saddles. There's a side door in the backyard leading out of the alley."

"Did you notice those five people downstairs?"

"Two tables. There are three people at the table on the left and two at the table on the right. They all have daggers on their belts. One of them, who is carrying a bow on his back, is sitting near the door and is on lookout duty," Lu Wushuang said clearly.

Yang Guo nodded in satisfaction. "Not bad, you've improved."

"Why are you praising me? Let's get down to business." Lu Wushuang's ears turned red, and she turned her head away.

Yang Guo took out the bronze plaque from his pocket and examined it in his hand.

"I'll use this to test the innkeeper. You stay in the room and keep an eye on the backyard from the window. If anyone tries to run out the back door, stop them."

"Just me?"

"Your lightness skill is no worse than theirs. Your serpentine, acrobatic movements are more effective than any other skill in narrow alleys; they can't touch you no matter how you dodge left or right." Yang Guo patted Lu Wushuang's head. "Don't worry, I'm here."

Lu Wushuang slapped his hand away. "Don't pat my head, I'm not a child."

Yang Guo smiled, took the bronze plaque, and went downstairs.

The shop was still full of the same people. Yang Guo walked to the counter and placed the bronze plaque on the table.

"Centurion Tachar sent me to collect something," Yang Guo said in Mandarin with a slight northern accent.

The shopkeeper glanced down at the bronze plaque, his gaze changing. He then looked Yang Guo up and down.

"Which post are you from?" the shopkeeper asked in a low voice.

"Southern Circuit of Huxian County," Yang Guo casually made up. "The sentry post at the naan cake stall."

The shopkeeper picked up the bronze plaque and glanced at the numbers on the back, his brow furrowing. "This number belongs to Erdun. Where is Erdun?"

"He's dead." Yang Guo said without changing his expression. "We encountered a patrol team from the Quanzhen Sect on the way. They covered our retreat and told me to run ahead."

The shopkeeper's expression changed, and he turned around and shouted something in Mongolian towards the kitchen.

A person came out of the kitchen.

He was a middle-aged man, burly and with a fierce-looking face. A scar ran from his forehead to his chin on his left cheek. He carried a broad-bladed curved knife at his waist and walked with a swagger.

The man glanced at Yang Guo, then at the bronze plaque on the counter, and asked the shopkeeper a few questions in Mongolian.

The shopkeeper answered quickly.

The scarred man turned his head and stared at Yang Guo. "Eridun is dead? Who killed him?"

"A young Taoist priest, wielding a sword." Yang Guo's performance was flawless. "Eridun asked me to bring the token back to deliver the message."

The scarred man remained silent for a few moments, then pulled a rolled-up sheepskin tube from his back. He unscrewed the cap and poured out a roll of paper.

"The Quanzhen Sect has already started making moves. Perfect timing, come and take a look at this."

He rolled the paper up on the counter and unrolled it.

Yang Guo looked down and his breath hitched.

That was a list. It was written in Chinese characters.

The list contains twelve names, each followed by its sect affiliation, approximate strength assessment, and recent whereabouts.

The first name listed is "Guo Jing", followed by "Beggar Clan, Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms, Extremely Dangerous, Garrisoned in Xiangyang".

The second-ranked character is "Huang Yaoshi," labeled "Master of Peach Blossom Island, Finger Flicking Divine Skill, Extremely Dangerous, Unpredictable Whereabouts."

Yang Guo's gaze swept downwards.

The seventh name.

"Yang Guo. Leader of the Quanzhen Sect. One-Finger Divine Skill. Dangerous. Zhongnan Mountain. He has shown signs of descending the mountain recently; intercept and kill him at all costs."

Four words: Intercept and kill at all costs.

Yang Guo's fingers clenched slightly inside his sleeve. The Mongols weren't just investigating his background; they had already put him on their kill list.

He ranks seventh, on the same sheet of paper as the Five Greats, including Guo Jing and Huang Yaoshi.

That's quite a high regard for him.

Yang Guo raised his head, his face remaining calm and composed.

Who compiled this list?

The scarred man rolled up the paper tube. "You shouldn't have asked that. Go back and tell your superior that from today onwards, all sentry posts in the Zhongnan Mountain area will be staffed by two people. Once that young leader of the Quanzhen Sect goes down the mountain, immediately send a message by carrier pigeon to Chang'an. The people from the Imperial Preceptor's Mansion will handle it personally."

Imperial Prefecture.

Golden Wheel Dharma King.

Yang Guo's lips twitched. These Mongols really were a master of intricate schemes.

The undercover agents were responsible for surveillance, while the Imperial Preceptor's office was responsible for taking action.

If he hadn't made this trip today, he probably would have been ambushed by the Golden Wheel Monk's men halfway down the mountain.

Yang Guo nodded. "I understand."

He reached out to grab the brass plaque from the counter.

The scarred man's hand pressed down on the bronze medal first.

"Wait." The scarred man's gaze was fixed on Yang Guo's face. "Eridun is Mongolian, you are Han Chinese. Why did he give the badge to you instead of the other two brothers in the same post?"

The atmosphere in the shop suddenly changed.

The five burly men all reached for their weapons. The one carrying the bow had already stood up and blocked the doorway.

Yang Guo smiled.

His right hand emerged from his sleeve, his index finger raised. A dazzling pale golden light shone from the tip of his finger.

"Because the other two brothers," Yang Guo's voice was light and airy, "are also dead."

One-Finger Divine Skill, Grade 5.

"Bang!"

The counter was shattered in the middle by a powerful finger strike, sending splinters of wood flying everywhere.

The scarred man drew his sword and retreated, shouting in Mongolian. Five burly men drew their weapons and surrounded Yang Guo.

At that very moment, a scream came from the backyard, followed by Lu Wushuang's voice.

"Stop running! What are you doing?"

A willow-leaf-shaped scimitar drew a sharp arc, cleaving the shopkeeper who was trying to escape through the back door to the ground.

They launched their attack simultaneously, one in the front hall and one in the back.

Yang Guo looked at the six people who had surrounded him and stretched his neck.

"Come on." Yang Guo tucked the bronze medal into his pocket and flicked it with his right index finger. "After three years of hiding, I'm in dire need of practice."