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

The Golden Wheel Monk sat in a wooden wheelchair, his face so gloomy it was almost dripping with water.

He pointed at Huo Du standing beside him and shouted sternly:

"What are you standing there for? Hurry up and help your senior brother capture this little thief!"

Upon hearing this, Huo Du felt a sudden cramp in his calves.

He glanced at the heavy, black iron sword in Yang Guo's hand, then at the broken blue bricks beneath Yang Guo's feet, and couldn't help but swallow hard.

"Master, my senior brother is naturally strong. He could easily smash this kid into mincemeat by himself. Why would I need to get involved?"

Huo Duqiang chuckled twice and quietly took a half-inch back.

The Golden Wheel Monk snorted coldly and slapped the armrest of his wheelchair.

With a crisp crack, a long gash appeared on the sturdy wooden handrail.

"If you dare utter another word, I'll kill you with a single blow right now!"

Huo Du trembled with fear, knowing that his master was truly enraged.

He dared not refuse any longer, so he had no choice but to steel himself, pull out the fine steel folding fan from his waist, and slowly walk toward the open space.

Darba had just gotten up from the ground.

He spat out the bloody mud from his mouth and bent down to pick up the vajra that had fallen to the ground.

He weighed the 64-pound iron lump in his hand a couple of times, then turned to look at Huo Du, who was walking towards him.

"Junior brother, this pretty boy is really strong. My hand is still numb."

Darba complained in a muffled voice.

Huo Du quickly leaned close to Darba's ear and whispered something in a low voice.

"Senior brother, don't panic. This kid fought with you for so long, his internal energy must have been exhausted long ago. He's just putting on a brave face to scare people."

"You attack from the front, while I'll flank him and find his weaknesses. With us brothers working together, we'll definitely take his life!"

Darba, who was always slow to think, immediately found Huo Du's analysis to be very reasonable.

He nodded vigorously, gripped the vajra tightly with both hands again, roared, and charged towards Yang Guo once more with ferocious momentum.

Yang Guo slowly pulled the heavy sword out of the mud and casually held it at his side with one hand.

Seeing the two men charging towards him menacingly, he curled his lip in disdain.

"Two against one? You bunch of Mongol barbarians are as unruly as ever. Fine, I'll play along with you today!"

Darba rushed forward first, his heavy vajra pestle accompanied by a piercing whistling sound, and smashed down on Yang Guo's head.

This strike brought out all his strength, and the violent gust of wind swept up all the sand and gravel on the ground.

Huo Du then shifted his footwork, his figure flashing like a ghost, quickly circling around to Yang Guo's right side.

With a whoosh, the fine steel folding fan in his hand unfolded, its incredibly sharp edges slicing straight towards Yang Guo's ribs.

Seeing this, Guo Jing, who was leaning against the boulder, cried out in alarm:

"Guo'er, be careful! These two are incredibly vicious, one forceful and the other gentle. Your heavy Xuan Tie sword is too heavy; turning around will be difficult. Don't let them entangle you. Retreat quickly!"

Yang Guo did not reply to Guo Jing's reminder, nor did he retreat even half a step.

He gripped the sword hilt tightly with both hands, and as Darba slammed the vajra down, he swiftly swung it upwards.

The jet-black greatsword and the vajra collided heavily, producing a deafening metallic clang that made everyone present's eardrums buzz.

Using the force of the impact, Yang Guo took a half step back.

At the same time, he suddenly twisted his wrist, and the broad black iron sword spine slammed hard to the right along the force.

Just as Huo Du's folding fan was about to tear Yang Guo's clothes, everything suddenly went black, and a black iron lump the size of a door was slammed in front of him.

He let out a strange cry in fright, hurriedly retracted his folding fan, and stomped his foot on the ground, leaping backward more than two zhang away in a disheveled manner.

"They run pretty fast."

Yang Guo sneered, his expression full of disdain.

Darba's attack failed, and he roared in anger.

He swung the vajra wildly, smashing it repeatedly, each move filled with unreasonable and violent power.

Yang Guo, however, remained calm and composed, holding his sword firmly in both hands and standing steadily in place.

He didn't need to use any fancy sword techniques; he simply parried with his sword.

As the saying goes, a heavy sword has no edge, and great skill is without artifice.

This heavy black iron sword already weighed eighty-one jin (approximately 40 kg), and when combined with the ever-flowing true qi of the Qiankun Technique within Yang Guo's body, its defense was as solid as an iron wall, leaving no room for error.

The vajra slammed wildly against the heavy sword, sending sparks flying.

Darba was panting heavily and drenched in sweat, yet he couldn't even touch the hem of Yang Guo's clothes.

Huo Du paced back and forth on the periphery of the battle, his forehead beaded with cold sweat from anxiety.

He discovered that the heavy sword in Yang Guo's hand was far too wide. With a simple swing, the opponent could completely block all his vital points, leaving him with no way to attack.

"Senior brother, attack his lower body! Smash his legs hard!"

Huo Du eagerly offered suggestions from the side.

Darba obediently changed his attack immediately, and the Vajra Pestle swept across Yang Guo's lower body with violent force.

Yang Guo sneered, then pushed off the ground with both legs, leaping more than three feet into the air.

Darba's powerful strike landed on empty air.

Huo Du had been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.

Seeing that Yang Guo was in mid-air with nowhere to grab onto, he pressed the hidden mechanism on the folding fan handle without hesitation.

Several extremely faint whooshing sounds rang out.

Three deadly poison-coated nails shot out from the fan ribs, forming a triangular shape and heading straight for Yang Guo's vital chest.

Lu Wushuang, who was hiding behind the boulder, saw everything clearly and cried out in alarm:

"Husband, watch out for hidden weapons!"

Cheng Ying clenched her fists tightly, her palms sweating profusely.

Yang Guo was in mid-air at this moment, and the hidden weapon was fast and poisonous. An ordinary person would probably have no chance to dodge it.

Yang Guo was in mid-air when he heard the rapid whooshing sound of air being cut by the slightest movement of his ear.

He didn't even glance at it, gripping the heavy sword tightly with both hands and quickly drawing a semicircle in front of him.

The broad, black blade, like a shield, blocked directly in front of his chest.

Three crisp metallic clanging sounds rang out.

All three poisoned nails struck the spine of the greatsword, sparks flew, and the nails were deflected, disappearing into the grass in the distance.

Yang Guo landed steadily on his feet and propped his heavy sword on the ground.

He stared coldly at Huo Du, his eyes already filled with a chilling intent.

"You despicable scoundrel, resorting to hidden weapons when you can't win a fight, huh? If I don't cripple your right hand today, I'm not a Yang!"

Yang Guo took a deep breath and began to frantically circulate the internal energy within his body.

The red and black primordial energy beads in his dantian began to spin rapidly, and powerful internal forces surged wildly into his arms.

Yang Guo lifted the heavy sword with one hand, his figure blurred, and he charged towards Huo Du.

When Darba saw that Yang Guo was about to attack Huo Du, he hurriedly swung his Vajra Pestle to intercept him from the side.

"Pretty boy, your opponent is me!"

Darba roared repeatedly.

Yang Guo didn't even glance at him. He gripped the sword hilt tightly with both hands and slashed down fiercely at the Vajra pestle that was smashing down like Mount Tai!

With this sword strike, Yang Guo held nothing back, unleashing the immense internal energy of a mid-stage Innate Realm cultivator.

The greatsword and the vajra collided again in mid-air with a deafening roar.

A sharp, unusual cracking sound was heard.

The golden demon-subduing pestle in Darba's hand, weighing sixty-four pounds, was actually bent and deformed by the heavy iron sword.

The terrifying recoil force surged wildly into Darba's arm along the vajra.

Darba screamed in agony as the sleeves of his clothes were instantly shattered into countless pieces, fluttering like butterflies.

His hands were completely lacerated at the base of his thumbs, and blood gushed down his wrists.

He could no longer hold the weapon; the vajra flew out of his hand and crashed heavily into the muddy ground some distance away.

Darbana's burly body was shaken so badly that he staggered back more than a dozen steps, finally collapsing onto the ground in a sorry state, his face pale, unable to get up for a long time.

Yang Guo severely injured Darba with one move, but his steps did not falter in the slightest. He continued to rush towards Huo Du like the wind.

When Huo Du saw that his powerful senior brother had been crippled in one move, he was terrified.

He no longer cared about saving face; he turned around and ran away without even looking back.

"Trying to run? Do you think you can escape!"

Yang Guo's cold voice rang out behind him.

Yang Guo, carrying a heavy sword, used the mysterious "Snake-like Leap" movement technique, his figure elusive, and in the blink of an eye, he had caught up with Huo Du.

He raised his heavy sword high, and with a sharp gust of wind, slammed it down hard on Huo Du's back.

Huo Du heard a howling wind behind his head and knew that he couldn't escape it no matter what.

He could only grit his teeth, twist his body abruptly, and raise his steel folding fan high in both hands, attempting a final, desperate struggle.

There was a loud, muffled crack.

The heavy sword, imbued with immense force, slammed down on the folding fan.

The finely forged steel folding fan was as fragile as tofu in front of the Xuan Tie Heavy Sword, and was instantly smashed into several pieces of scrap iron.

The remaining force of the heavy sword was unstoppable, slamming heavily into Huo Du's chest.

Huo Du grunted and flew backward like a kite with a broken string.

He flew a good four or five zhang (approximately 10-15 meters) and crashed heavily into a large rock before slid softly to the ground.

He spat out a mouthful of black blood mixed with fragments of internal organs, his eyes rolled back, and he immediately fainted.

The entire valley fell into a deathly silence once again, with only the sound of the cold wind whistling through the pile of rocks remaining.

Guo Jing, leaning against the stone wall, stared in disbelief.

He had thought that Yang Guo would be entangled by the two of them, and might even be in mortal danger.

But who could have imagined that Yang Guo would defeat these two masters of the Tantric sect with just a few moves, leaving them utterly helpless?

Such domineering and unparalleled internal energy, such expansive and powerful swordsmanship—Guo Jing had never witnessed such a thing in his decades of wandering the martial world.

"What has Guo'er gone through all these years... His martial arts skills have far exceeded the scope of the Quanzhen Sect."

Guo Jing muttered to himself, coughed violently twice, and a trickle of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth again.

Lu Wushuang excitedly jumped out from behind the rock, clapping her hands with joy.

"My husband is amazing! He utterly annihilated those Mongol barbarians!"

Cheng Ying finally breathed a sigh of relief, her heart, which had been hanging in suspense, was finally at ease.

She gazed quietly at Yang Guo's back as he gripped the heavy sword, a sense of peace and security inexplicably rising within her.

Yang Guo planted the heavy sword into the ground and placed his hands on the top of the hilt.

He looked up at the Golden Wheel Monk sitting in a wooden wheelchair in the distance, and raised his voice in a provocative tone:

"You old bald monk, your two disciples are both down now, it's your turn. Are you going to roll over here and get beaten up yourself, or do you want me to come over and chop you up?"

The Golden Wheel Monk sat in a wheelchair, his face ashen.

He looked at Darba and Hodu lying on the ground, their lives hanging in the balance, and trembled uncontrollably with rage.

He gripped the armrests of the wheelchair tightly with both hands and suddenly squeezed them.

Click!

He crushed the hard wooden handrail to pieces, and countless tiny wood chips fell to the ground.

"Great, excellent!"

The Golden Wheel Dharma King spoke through gritted teeth:

"Yang Guo, you little thief, you must not be allowed to live! Today, this old monk will personally send you to hell!"