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

Yang Guo held the bright red silk bodice in his hand and examined it over and over.

The thin fabric is embroidered with mandarin ducks, and the workmanship is very fine.

He turned to look at Lu Wushuang and lowered his voice.

"Wrap this up and keep it safe when you get home."

"I'll be waiting for you in the room tonight."

Lu Wushuang's ears burned, her fingers twisted inside her sleeve, and after a long while she finally responded softly.

She had suffered hardships in the martial arts world, seen dead people, and even dug up a corpse for Yang Guo in a mass grave.

But standing in this small inner room, facing a shelf full of women's underwear, is even more unbearable than when he was being chased by Li Mochou back then.

Yang Guo spoke frankly, yet it didn't sound like he was joking.

She knew very well that although this person seemed unreliable on ordinary days, once he made up his mind about something, he would not leave any room for others to maneuver.

Moreover, she is now his personal envoy.

Nominally, he was in charge of the intelligence department, but in reality, he had everything done for him, from food and clothing to housing and transportation.

The proprietress had been running her business nearby for years; how could she not see that the two had a close relationship?

With her head down, she quickly wrapped up the few pieces of clothing, added another layer of blue cloth on the outside, tied them securely, and handed them over.

"Young master, madam, everything is here."

Lu Wushuang's cheeks flushed even more when she heard the word "Madam," but she did not refute it.

Yang Guo paid the money, casually took the bundle, and glanced at the proprietress again.

"The dress will be delivered to the west wing of the Marshal's mansion in three days."

"If anyone questions you, just say that you are the leader of the Quanzhen Sect and are procuring clothing for a special envoy of your sect."

The proprietress nodded quickly.

Although she was unfamiliar with the ways of the world, she knew what to say and what not to say.

The city of Xiangyang is teeming with high-ranking officials and nobles; those who can live in Guo Jing's mansion are certainly not ordinary江湖客 (jianghu ke, a term referring to people from the martial arts world).

Yang Guo carried the bundle and walked out.

Lu Wushuang followed behind him.

As she stepped out of the Jinxiu Pavilion, the sunlight from the street fell on her, and she finally let out a long breath.

The cries of vendors outside were incessant, while the clanging of hammers echoed from the blacksmith's shop.

An old man selling herbal tea by the roadside is pouring water for the soldiers guarding the city.

Xiangyang is located in a strategically important military location. Although the city is still relatively bustling, a closer look reveals signs of wartime atmosphere everywhere.

Armored soldiers patrolled every alleyway, and long queues formed in front of weapons shops.

As the carriage passed by, its axle pressed against the stone slab, making a dull thud.

Yang Guo walked slowly.

As he walked, he guided his innate vital energy, circulating it along his meridians.

Inside the dantian, the red and black intertwined primordial energy bead floated steadily.

Under the harmonization of the "Qiankun Jue", the positive and negative Nine Yin True Qi each follow their own path and do not clash with each other.

After reaching the Innate Realm, his perception of Qi no longer relied solely on his senses.

Within a thirty-foot radius, he could discern at most seven or eight parts who had heavy steps, whose breathing was deep and labored, and who was concealing a weapon.

At the end of the street were two men carrying firewood. Their shoulders were broad, but their steps were unsteady, indicating that they were people who worked year-round.

Beside the tea stall stood three soldiers with swords, their voices rough and forceful, clearly practicing military martial arts.

Further away, on the second floor of a tavern, a scholar in a blue robe sat by the window.

He had no weapon at his waist, but his right hand had calluses on the tiger's mouth.

As the man flipped through the book, his gaze inadvertently wandered across the street twice.

Yang Guo glanced at it only once before withdrawing his attention.

Now the list of Mongolian spies is in his hands, and he has eliminated many strongholds in the Guanzhong area.

Xiangyang was far more chaotic than Tongguan, with the military, merchants, gangs, and refugees all mixed together. If there were any hidden threads, even Huang Rong might not be able to find them all.

He did not disturb the scholar.

When the enemy is in the dark and we are in the light, revealing that we have seen through the other party may not be a good thing.

Only by keeping the fishing line still can you see clearly what's tied to the end of the line.

Lu Wushuang followed beside him, her hand already on the hilt of the willow-leaf scimitar.

Yang Guo glanced at her.

"Don't be so serious, you should act like you're shopping."

Lu Wushuang asked in a low voice, "Is there something wrong with that person?"

"not necessarily."

Yang Guo smiled and said, "There are many capable people in Xiangyang City. It's not unusual to find a scholar who knows a little martial arts."

"Then why does my husband want to see him?"

"I see everyone the same way."

Lu Wushuang pursed her lips and didn't ask any more questions.

Now that she's in charge of the intelligence department, she's long understood a principle.

In the world of martial arts, many things cannot be resolved simply by saying "there's a problem" and drawing your sword.

If you draw the knife too quickly, you might sever the clues that follow.

The two walked past a stall selling sugar paintings.

Lu Wushuang's gaze lingered on the stall for a moment.

Yang Guo saw it but didn't expose it. He simply took out two copper coins, bought a candy rabbit, and handed it to her.

Lu Wushuang was stunned for a moment.

"My dear husband, I'm not a child anymore."

"You didn't get enough to eat when you were little, now it's time to make up for it."

Lu Wushuang held the thin bamboo skewer, and a sudden softness welled up in her heart.

When she was young, the Lu family village was destroyed, and for many years afterward, she was either on the run or starving.

Those trinkets that ordinary girls could easily obtain were more distant to her than martial arts manuals.

Yang Guo was always fooling around, but he always managed to remember her in these little things.

This is more effective than any sweet talk.

She took a bite of the sugar rabbit's ear, and the sweetness instantly melted on her tongue.

She looked down at her left leg.

That leg is no longer lame.

The old bone injury was deeply embedded in the meridians, and according to ordinary medical principles, it was incurable.

Yang Guo used the Yi Jin Duan Gu chapter of the Nine Yin Manual as a foundation, and with his innate primordial energy, he gradually opened up her blocked meridians.

He practiced the exercises every three days, first opening the Foot Shaoyin meridian, then opening the Foot Jueyin meridian, and only then daring to touch that abnormally long joint.

If there is even the slightest mistake in the process, it will damage the meridians, and the consequences will be unimaginable.

She was in so much pain that she was covered in cold sweat, but she gritted her teeth and didn't utter a sound.

Yang Guo scolded her for being stubborn, but his hands moved very steadily.

From that moment on, she understood that her life was already tied to his.

What does it matter if I put a bellyband on him?

Meanwhile, on the official road outside Xiangyang City, a black horse was galloping swiftly, kicking up dust.

The man on horseback wore a gray cloth robe, had broad shoulders and a dignified appearance.

The dust rushed towards him, but he didn't rein in the horse at all.

Upon seeing this man, the soldiers guarding the route all made way for him.

This person was none other than Guo Jing.

Guo Jing rushed back from the camp outside the city, with two important matters weighing on his mind.

Firstly, there were unusual movements by the Mongol army in the direction of Fancheng.

Scouts reported that the enemy had been transporting grain frequently recently, and their camp had moved more than ten miles south.

On the surface, this still appears to be a test, but in reality, it is already a covert gathering.

Secondly, Huang Rong sent someone to deliver a message saying that Yang Guo had arrived in Xiangyang.

Upon hearing the name "Yang Guo," Guo Jing could no longer remain seated.

Guo Jing felt guilty whenever he thought of his sworn brother Yang Kang, who died young.

Yang Guo was eccentric and had suffered a lot of grievances in his childhood. He originally wanted to take him with him and teach him properly, but after several twists and turns on Peach Blossom Island, he eventually sent him to Zhongnan Mountain.

He originally thought that the Quanzhen Sect still retained the legacy of Wang Chongyang, and that although the masters were rigid, they could guide Yang Guo onto the right path.

However, Huang Rong's letter was very brief, only saying that Yang Guo had become the seventh leader of the Quanzhen Sect and had accompanied them to Xiangyang.

After reading the letter, Guo Jing sat in his tent for a long time without saying a word.

The Quanzhen Sect is no ordinary sect.

That is the orthodox sect of Taoism in the world, with thousands of disciples.

Although Qiu Chuji, Wang Chuyi, and others were getting old, their prestige remained.

Yang Guo was only in his early twenties. What virtue or ability did he have to sit in the position of sect leader?

If it was obtained through genuine ability, then it is naturally something to celebrate.

However, if one gets caught up in the internal strife and is used as a puppet to be pushed to the forefront, then the situation becomes extremely dangerous.

Guo Jing acted with integrity, but he was not unaware of the dangers of the martial world.

Within major sects and factions, the concept of "status" sometimes carries a heavier weight than swords.

The position of sect leader may seem glamorous, but it involves incense offerings, land, disciples, and donations from Taoist temples across the country. How could a young person easily bear such a heavy burden?

Moreover, Yang Guo carries the blood of Yang Kang.

Guo Jing didn't doubt that he would go astray, but he was afraid that he might have a momentary lapse of judgment and go astray.

The black horse entered the gates of Xiangyang. Guo Jing dismounted and led the horse on foot.

He did not return to the commander's mansion first, but went to the military camp first, as was customary.

He took attendance, checked the grain registers, inquired about intelligence from the scouts in Fancheng, and then personally went up the city wall to inspect the reserves of rolling logs, stones, crossbow strings, and kerosene.

The defense of Xiangyang was never based on mere enthusiasm.

If a battlement is missing a stone, ten more people could die in war.

With the bowstrings removed, the enemy's siege engines could get another ten zhang closer.

Having defended the city for many years, Guo Jing knew best the significance of these seemingly minor details.

By the time he finished walking the circle, it was already late afternoon.

He handed the horse to his personal guard and strode into the general's mansion.

The butler immediately came forward and bowed.

As Guo Jing walked, he asked, "Where is Guo'er? Go and invite him to the front hall to see me."

The steward replied, "Master, Headmaster Yang has finished breakfast and then went out with a personal maid, saying he was going to the street to buy some clothes. He hasn't returned yet."

Guo Jing abruptly stopped in his tracks.

"A personal maid? And clothes?"

The butler dared not say anything more, and simply lowered his head even further.

Guo Jing frowned deeply, and after a long while, he waved his hand.

"You may leave."

After the steward left, Guo Jing stood alone under the eaves, not going inside immediately.

He knew that Yang Guo had been unrestrained since childhood, but his current status was different.

Although the Quanzhen School of Taoism is not as strict as the Buddhist School in terms of precepts, it still has its own rules for practicing pure cultivation.

It wouldn't sound good if word got out that a dignified sect leader was accompanied by a young woman and went shopping for clothes in broad daylight.

People in the martial arts world have all sorts of opinions; a single casual remark can become ten completely different interpretations once it reaches Zhongnan Mountain.

If someone with ulterior motives were to use this to attack Yang Guo for not being legitimate in his position as leader, it would likely be another huge disaster.

Guo Jing sighed deeply.

He had already made up his mind that he would not embarrass Yang Guo in public at the welcoming banquet that evening.

But privately, I have to give him a few words of advice.

Young people who suddenly rise to high positions are most afraid of having no one to restrain them.

With that thought in mind, he strode toward the main courtyard.

In the main courtyard, Huang Rong was sitting alone at the table.

Today she wore a light purple long gown with the collar buttoned up tightly.

Although the ambiguous teeth mark under the collar has been covered, the fabric still occasionally rubs against it, causing a slight pain.

She barely left her room all day.

After the confrontation in the front hall, she wanted to calm down and deal with Guo Fu's marriage, but as soon as she picked up a teacup, the scene from last night would uncontrollably flash through her mind.

The canopy bed, the moon's shadow by the window, and the breath Yang Guo exhaled as he chuckled in the ear.

And... that black stockings and bodycon skirt that she hurriedly stuffed into the bottom of her trunk.

She should have burned it to the ground.

But when she opened the box this morning, she stopped halfway through reaching out her hand.

Those clothes were so absurd that they shouldn't even exist in Guo Jing's mansion.

But it is precisely because of its absurdity that she dares not discard it easily.

What if a servant finds it? What if Guo Fu discovers it? What if... Guo Jing asks about it?

Any one of these possibilities could shatter the dignified image she has painstakingly cultivated over the years into dust.

Huang Rong closed her eyes wearily and picked up the teacup again.

She was always confident in her intelligence, and she could unravel any treacherous scheme in the martial arts world.

But then he encountered Yang Guo, and was constantly restrained by him.

What's most infuriating is that she wasn't entirely powerless to fight back; rather, she faltered at every crucial moment.

This is not a matter of losing a battle of wits.

My heart is in turmoil.

Just then, familiar footsteps came from outside the door.

Huang Rong looked up and saw Guo Jing enter the room.

She loosened her wrist, and a few drops of scalding tea splashed out and landed on the back of her hand.

She quickly put down her teacup and got up to greet him.

"Brother Jing, why are you back at this time? Isn't the camp busy?"

Guo Jing walked to the table, sat down, poured himself a cup of tea, and drank it all in one gulp.

"There's a lot going on at the main camp; the Mongols have reinforced their troops in Fancheng."

"But you mentioned in your letter that your son has arrived, and I was really worried, so I came back to see him."

After he finished speaking, he took Huang Rong's hand and made her sit down next to him.

Guo Jing's palms were broad and calloused from years of holding a bow and sword.

Huang Rong was held by him, but her body stiffened for a moment.

She shouldn't be thinking about other things at a time like this.

But then, she remembered Yang Guo's hands.

Yang Guo's hands also had thin calluses, but because his innate vital energy was constantly circulating, his muscles and bones appeared exceptionally smooth, and his finger strength was extremely measured.

Last night, when those hands landed on her waist, they could easily restrain her, yet she couldn't muster the slightest thought of resistance.

Guo Jing's hands, on the other hand, were much rougher.

Those are the traces left by defending the city, practicing martial arts, and drawing bows.

In the past, she would have felt incredibly at ease.

But now, she actually feels... a little uncomfortable.

The moment the thought crossed her mind, Huang Rong cursed herself for being foolish.

She subtly withdrew her hand and picked up a handkerchief to wipe the tea on the table.

"Brother Jing, Guo'er is now the leader of the Quanzhen Sect. His martial arts have greatly improved, and he has become much more mature. You don't need to worry too much."

Guo Jing shook his head.

"Rong'er, you're oversimplifying things."

"How old is Guo'er? Those old Taoist priests of the Quanzhen Sect, haven't they all cultivated for decades?"

"How could a mere kid like him possibly manage to control the situation?"

"I just heard from the butler that he went shopping for clothes with a young maid. That doesn't look like something a monk would do!"