Be a proper Taoist priest in The Condor Heroes

At midnight, the Zhongnan Mountains were shrouded in inky fog, completely enveloping the Chongyang Palace. In the utter silence, a series of light yet heavy footsteps broke the stillness.

More than thirty Mongolian experts emerged from the forbidden area behind the mountain like ghosts. The leader, Batu, was burly and powerful, exuding a first-class aura. His broadsword gleamed with a chilling light in the mist. His two companions beside him also had similarly calm auras and were both first-class experts. The remaining twenty or so were all second-class martial artists, each with fierce eyes. They were the elite assassins under the command of the Shu Chi faction.

"Kill! Head straight for the main hall and seize the sect leader's token!"

Batu roared and slashed out with his scimitar. The air currents tore through the thick fog, and a patrolling disciple was cut in half at the waist before he could even see the move. Blood splattered on the blue bricks and was instantly shrouded in the fog, turning a strange dark red.

The Mongolian masters launched a fierce and unparalleled offensive. The vanguard composed of second-rate martial artists sliced ​​through the defenses like sharp blades. The disciples along the way were caught off guard and fell to the ground one after another, their screams rising and falling, shattering the tranquility of the Taoist temple deep in the mountains.

Almost simultaneously, the west gate of Chongyang Palace suddenly creaked shut from the inside. Zhao Zhijing, dressed in a blue martial arts outfit and holding a long sword, was followed by more than fifty disciples, all with fanatical eyes.

"Today we will seize this position of sect leader and show you who is truly worthy of leading the Quanzhen Sect!"

He roared, his voice filled with years of pent-up resentment and excitement. With a flick of his longsword, he pierced the chest of a disciple who was trying to open the door to help. The disciple still had a sense of awe for his senior brother in his eyes. When he fell to the ground, his blood stained Zhao Zhijing's Taoist robe.

"Senior Brother Zhao! Have you gone mad?!"

Yin Zhiping's roar came from the direction of the training ground.

He immediately led more than twenty elite disciples to stop him, unleashing a series of Quanzhen sword techniques, with "White Clouds Emerging from the Mountain" and "Three Rings Encircling the Moon" flowing smoothly together, but they were no match for the ferocity of the second-rate Mongolian master.

What alarmed him even more was that although the sect's defenses seemed hastily arranged, they were actually quite organized. Despite the heavy casualties among the patrolling disciples, they did not fall into chaos. Instead, they resisted step by step according to the predetermined route, which was definitely not a last-minute response.

Hearing the commotion from the direction of the library, Su Ye had already taken up his longsword and was guarding the entrance to the courtyard.

She wore a plain-colored Taoist robe, her long hair tied up, and her cold, sharp features appeared even more striking in the mist, with a faint aura of killing intent surrounding her. A second-rate Mongolian martial arts expert, seeing the secluded courtyard, attempted to rob it, but was immediately pierced through the throat by Su Ye's sword as soon as he rushed over.

"presumptuous!"

A furious shout, like a thunderclap, rang out as the six Quanzhen disciples—Qiu Chuji, Ma Yu, Wang Chuyi, Sun Bu'er, and others—who had claimed to be in seclusion, appeared together, their figures flashing like lightning on the plaza in front of the main hall.

The six men moved in staggered steps, instantly forming the Big Dipper Formation. Their inner strength intertwined to create an invisible net, forcefully blocking the main Mongol offensive. Qiu Chuji held a long sword, its tip pointing directly at Zhao Zhijing. His eyes were filled with heartache and rage, yet there was no trace of panic. Ma Yu's expression was calm, his hands behind his back, as if he had already seen through everything.

Zhao Zhijing's previously fanatical gaze suddenly hardened upon seeing Liu Zi and then the orderly resistance within the sect. He abruptly turned his head to look at the disciples retreating according to the rules, at the figures flickering around the main hall, and then at Liu Zi's unsurprised expression. A chill ran from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

His lips twitched, letting out a bitter laugh, a laugh filled with despair and resentment.

"Very well...very well! So you were prepared all along. I, Zhao Zhijing, have been nothing but a pawn in your game from beginning to end!"

He finally realized that his secret contacts with the Mongols and his efforts to win over followers had not escaped Liu Zi's notice at all. The so-called "surprise attack" was nothing more than a trap set by the other side, and he was the fool who walked right into it!

Zhao Zhijing suddenly looked up, the last trace of hesitation in his eyes turning into madness, and pointed his long sword directly at Yin Zhiping.

"Today's events will either see me seize power, or we all perish! No one will get away unscathed!"

Before he finished speaking, he darted out like an arrow, his sword moves ruthless and unparalleled. A white rainbow pierced the sun and went straight for his heart. The "Going with the Flow" technique contained hidden sinister energy, completely devoid of his usual upright and peaceful demeanor. Since he had been ambushed, he might as well go all out and fight to the death!

Upon seeing this, Batu smirked and slashed at Qiu Chuji with his curved blade.

"So what if you're one of the Seven Immortals of Quanzhen? Today, I'll make sure you all perish here!"

Two top-tier Mongolian masters behind him also made their moves simultaneously. One of them entangled Wang Chuyi, while the other restrained Hao Datong. The three of them engaged in a fierce battle with Liu Zi's Heavenly Dipper Formation.

Batu, a master of the highest level, possessed an exceptionally powerful and heavy sword technique. Each strike seemed to cleave the air. When it clashed with Qiu Chuji's longsword, sparks exploded in the mist, causing the surrounding fog to churn. The other two first-class masters also displayed their strengths, their moves fierce and valiant, managing to suppress the Heavenly Dipper Formation's offensive to some extent.

The battle instantly descended into a fierce stalemate.

Zhao Zhijing focused his attacks on Yin Zhiping, each sword strike deadly, completely disregarding his own defense.

Overwhelmed with grief, Yin Zhiping watched as his former fellow disciple, Zhao Zhijing, became frenzied. Though his swordplay remained precise, he hesitated at crucial moments, allowing Zhao Zhijing to relentlessly press him. His left arm and shoulder were repeatedly injured, and blood dripped from his fingertips, staining the longsword in his hand.

"Senior Brother Zhao! Turn back before it's too late! Master and your senior brothers haven't given up on you!"

Yin Zhiping roared, his eyes filled with heartache, but Zhao Zhijing just laughed wildly, his sword strikes becoming increasingly ruthless.

"Turn back? I have nowhere to retreat!"

Su Yan had already rushed out of the library. Using his lightness skill, he moved through the battlefield like a willow catkin.

His eyes were calm, but his mind was racing.

The Mongolian experts were far stronger than expected. One top-tier martial artist, Batu, and two first-tier warriors were holding back the six disciples, while over twenty second-tier martial artists were slaughtering the other disciples. If their formation wasn't disrupted quickly, the disciples' casualties would only increase. He was just about to rush to the main hall's aid...

The top-tier expert Batu sensed the threat and stepped forward, his curved blade sweeping across, the wind from the blade carrying a surge of energy, aiming straight for his vital points.

"Boy, spare your life!"

Batu roared, his moves fierce and powerful, his blade heavy and fierce, spreading out the aura of a top-tier realm, attempting to suppress Su Yan with his momentum.

Su Yan remained unmoved, only glancing indifferently at the curved blade the other party was swinging. In his perception, this seemingly swift blade strike was full of flaws.

He moved with the grace of the Nine Palaces, his body turning as if in a leisurely stroll, perfectly avoiding the sharp edge of the curved blade. At the same time, his wrist flicked, instantly merging the fluidity of the Quanzhen Swordplay with the ferocity of the Destroying Divine Claw. His left hand formed a claw, not grabbing his opponent's wrist, but instead precisely gripping the back of the curved blade, unleashing a burst of finger strength.

A "click" sound.

He actually pinched five finger marks on the back of the fine iron knife; his right hand thrust the long sword forward, the tip of the sword only an inch away from the opponent's lower abdomen, but suddenly stopped, a powerful internal force overflowing from the tip of the sword, causing the opponent's blood and qi to surge.

"Is that all you've got?"

Su Yan spoke calmly, and with a slight exertion of force on his wrist, Batu felt a tremendous force coming from the back of the blade, causing his tiger's mouth to crack and the curved blade to almost slip from his hand.

He was utterly horrified. He never imagined that this seemingly young Taoist priest would be so terrifyingly powerful. His all-out attack was easily neutralized by the other party, and he was even suppressed instead.

Su Yan was too lazy to get entangled with him. He lightly touched the ground with the toe of his left foot, activated his lightness skill to the extreme, and suddenly closed in. He released the back of his knife with his left hand and slapped the other's chest with his palm.

This seemingly gentle palm strike contained the fierce power of top-tier internal energy. Batu was struck as if by a heavy blow, spitting out blood and flying backward, crashing into the artificial hill. He struggled to get up, but found that his dantian was in disarray and he could no longer muster any internal energy.

In just three moves, a top-tier Mongolian expert was easily defeated, without any chance to fight back.