Be a proper Taoist priest in The Condor Heroes

The night was as dark as ink, and the lights of Chongyang Palace gradually went out, with only a few courtyards still lit up with a faint glow, reflecting the frost on the blue brick road.

Su Yan stood at the entrance of the library courtyard and gave instructions to Su Ye, who had finished packing up her swords.

"I'm going to Master's courtyard. I might be back late. You should rest early and don't wait for me."

Su Ye nodded, a hint of gentleness appearing in her cold eyes.

"Be careful, Yan-ge'er!"

She still held the wooden sword that Su Yan had made for her in her hand. The tassel swayed gently in the night wind. Four years of training had long since shed her timidity. Only when facing Su Yan would she show such a docile appearance.

Su Yan nodded, turned around and took a step. With the movement of the Leap Technique, his body moved lightly and his footsteps landed silently on the bluestone slab.

He remained calm, pondering the unusual events in Mongolia that he had just heard from Qiu Chuji, wondering if he should use divination to predict them beforehand. He was completely unaware that a pair of eyes in the shadows were staring intently at his departing figure, filled with resentment.

In Zhao Zhijing's bedroom, the oil lamp flickered, casting his anxious shadow.

He was dressed in a blue Taoist robe, but he had long lost the composure of a Taoist hermit. He paced back and forth in the room, making the wooden floorboards creak under his feet.

With his hands behind his back, his fingers unconsciously rubbing together, his brows furrowed, he would occasionally look up at the door, his eyes filled with urgency, mixed with a hint of hidden fear.

"Why haven't they arrived yet? Could something have gone wrong?"

Zhao Zhijing muttered to himself, raising his hand to wipe the fine sweat from his forehead. Tonight's news was crucial to whether he could turn the tide and reclaim everything that should have been his. He couldn't help but be nervous.

He walked to the window, lifted a corner of the curtain, and scanned the courtyard by moonlight to make sure no one was watching. Only then did he retreat back inside and continue pacing. The teacup on the table had long since gone cold, and several finger marks were visible on its rim, a testament to his inner anxiety.

Just then, three soft sounds came from outside the courtyard gate: first three short, light knocks, followed by two slightly heavier knocks.

This was the secret code he had agreed upon with his disciple.

Zhao Zhijing shuddered, a surge of wild joy flashing in his eyes. He quickened his pace, almost rushing to the door. He didn't open the door immediately, but instead held his breath, listened intently to the sounds outside, and only after confirming that there was only one person's footsteps did he abruptly pull open the latch and drag the disciple outside inside.

"Come in quickly!"

He lowered his voice and spoke urgently, while peeking out and looking around. Seeing that it was dark and no one was around, he hurriedly closed the door, bolted it, and even used a wooden stool to prop the door shut.

The disciple was an unfamiliar third-generation disciple. He looked flustered, and sweat beaded on his forehead. As soon as he steadied himself, he took out a series of wax-sealed letters from his bosom and handed them to Zhao Zhijing with both hands.

"Senior Brother Zhao, they...they agreed! Here's the reply!"

"well!"

Zhao Zhijing snatched the letter, his fingertips trembling, completely abandoning his usual senior brother demeanor. Fearing his disciple might say something, he quickly pulled out a silver ingot from his pocket and stuffed it into the ingot, giving him a stern warning.

"This matter is of utmost importance. If you dare to utter a single word, you'll be in big trouble! Go back now and don't let anyone see you've been here!"

The disciple accepted the silver coins as if he had been granted a pardon. He nodded repeatedly, bowed, and hurried away, making sure to gently close the door behind him before leaving.

Zhao Zhijing turned around impatiently, rushed to the table, lit the oil lamp, and carefully adjusted the wick. He pried open the wax seal with his fingernail, unfolded the letter, and read it word by word by the dim light.

The handwriting on the letter was messy, but every word hit the nail on the head.

The Mongols have already agreed. When the time is right, they will send people to Chongyang Palace. At that time, they will work together from the inside and outside to help him get rid of Qiu Chuji, Yin Zhiping and Su Yan, and support him to take the position of leader of the Quanzhen Sect.

When he read the last sentence, "After the matter is accomplished, I will grant you the position of sect leader," Zhao Zhijing could no longer contain himself. His chest heaved violently, and his lips suddenly parted into a wide grin, almost causing him to burst into laughter.

But just as the laughter reached his throat, he suddenly remembered that he was deep inside Chongyang Palace. He quickly raised his hand and covered his mouth tightly, but the wild joy in his eyes surged like a tide and could not be hidden.

He spun around twice, his fingers gripping the letter so tightly they turned white, and the wrinkles on his face smoothed out, revealing a smug and manic madness.

"Finally! It's finally going to be done!"

Zhao Zhijing roared inwardly, all the pent-up frustration and resentment of the past few years surging up at this moment.

He recalled the days before Su Yan arrived, how prestigious he was among the third-generation disciples! Yin Zhiping's talent was mediocre, and his martial arts were far inferior to his. Everyone in the sect tacitly agreed that in two years, the position of the third-generation chief disciple would inevitably be his. Once he became the chief disciple, the position of sect leader would be just around the corner when the Seven Masters grew old.

But Su Yan's appearance shattered his beautiful dream!

That kid, who had only been a student for a little over twenty days, showed remarkable talent. His martial arts skills improved every day, and in just four short years, he had reached an unknown level.

Even Qiu Chuji held him in high regard.

What's even more infuriating is that, taking advantage of the opportunity to spar with Su Yan, Yin Zhiping's martial arts skills improved by leaps and bounds, surpassing Su Yan by a large margin!

Every year during the grand competition, he was repeatedly criticized by Ma Yu, Wang Chuyi and others for his impetuousness and slow progress in martial arts, while Yin Zhiping was praised for his composure and diligence, and Su Yan was even praised to the skies.

Those seasoned shrewd individuals' favoritism was like a thorn, deeply embedded in his heart.

"Why should I?!"

Zhao Zhijing gritted his teeth and slammed his fist on the table, making the oil lamp shake.

"That hypocrite Yin Zhiping, if it weren't for Su Yan, he'd be stuck following me around for the rest of his life! And those six old Taoists, would it kill them to pass the chief discipleship to me sooner? Why do they have to keep their eyes on those two brats!"

His gaze grew increasingly sinister as he recalled the times Su Yan had repeatedly embarrassed him.

In the grand competition, he was easily suppressed by Su Yan, and in private challenges, he was stopped by Su Yan after being touched. Even the disciples in the sect respected Su Yan far more than he respected him.

What made him even more jealous was that Su Yan and Su Ye lived together in the small courtyard of the library, spending their days and nights together, and no one in the sect said a word against it. But he had only met with his lover twice in private, and his fellow disciples pointed fingers at him, saying that he was not following the rules!

"Double standards! It's all double standards!"

Zhao Zhijing trembled with rage, the resentment in his eyes turning into a ferocious malice.

"Su Yan, you brat, and that Su Ye beside you! You just wait!"

Dirty and vile thoughts surfaced in his mind.

Once the plan succeeds and the Mongols take control of Chongyang Palace, he will personally cripple Su Yan's martial arts, skin him alive, and make him taste the bitterness of wishing for death!

And then there's Su Ye, that girl who always has a cold face and is indifferent to everyone, but is gentle and clingy to Su Yan. He'll "discipline" her properly in front of Su Yan and see if she can still maintain that aloofness!

A series of sinister thoughts swirled in Zhao Zhijing's mind, and a sickly smile appeared on his face, his mouth stretching almost to his ears.

He brought the letter close to the oil lamp, carefully burned it to ashes, poured the ashes into a teacup, mixed it with water, and drank it all in one gulp, leaving no trace.

In the following days, Zhao Zhijing seemed like a different person.

He used to always have a furrowed brow and a gloomy face, but now he goes everywhere with a smile, his eyes and brows revealing his smugness.

Although his fellow disciples didn't know why he was suddenly happy, they all came up to congratulate him. In the past two years, the competition between Zhao Zhijing and Yin Zhiping for the chief position had become increasingly fierce, and the disciples in the sect had long been divided into two factions. Now that Zhao Zhijing was gaining momentum, many people naturally rushed to take sides and curry favor.

"Senior Brother Zhao looks really good lately; it seems his martial arts have improved again!"

"Congratulations, Senior Brother Zhao! You'll likely soon gain the favor of the Seven Masters and take charge of the third generation of disciples!"

"I hope Senior Brother Zhao will continue to guide and mentor me in the future!"

Hearing these flattering words, Zhao Zhijing laughed even more heartily. He pretended to be humble, but in his heart he had already decided that the chief position, the power of the teaching, and even greater wealth were all within his grasp.

He looked towards the library, his eyes filled with a sinister glint, as if waiting for nightfall to unleash a bloody storm.