Yang Guo: I defied death and reached the heavens in The Return of the Condor Heroes

Lu Qingdu returned to his residence.

Sitting listlessly on the edge of the bed, the more I thought about it, the more unwilling I became.

They finally caught Yin Zhiping sneaking out late at night, but in the end, they found no substantial evidence.

Based solely on a verbal report that "Uncle Yin rushed to the back mountain in the middle of the night," Zhao Zhijing might not entirely believe it.

After much deliberation, a bold idea suddenly popped into his mind:

While Yin Zhiping was not in the courtyard, they quietly sneaked into his room and searched it.

Perhaps we can find some clues or useful information.

The moment this thought crossed his mind, he couldn't help but feel a jolt of surprise.

Trespassing on the residence of a fellow disciple is a serious crime in the Quanzhen Sect.

If exposed, the punishment ranges from being caned to being expelled from the sect.

But then he thought to himself, "Fortune favors the bold!"

If he could find something to use against someone, Zhao Zhijing would surely reward him handsomely.

In the future, his status within the Quanzhen Sect will also rise accordingly.

He gritted his teeth, got up, pushed open the door, and quietly made his way to Yin Zhiping's courtyard under the cover of darkness.

Yin Zhiping's courtyard was empty at the moment, and the door was ajar.

Lu Qingdu stood outside the door for a moment, straining his ears to listen intently—the room was deathly silent.

He took a deep breath, gently pushed the door open and slipped inside, then slowly closed the door behind him.

The room was furnished very simply, with only a bed, a table and a chair.

On the desk were several scrolls of Taoist scriptures and several pieces of plain silk, and on the wall hung a long sword; there was nothing else.

Lu Qingdu dared not light a lamp, and could only carefully search around by the faint light that seeped in through the window cracks.

He first carefully examined the Taoist scriptures on the table, and then unfolded the several pieces of plain silk, all of which were handwritten scriptures, and there was nothing unusual about them.

After thoroughly inspecting the wardrobe and bookshelves, all I found were ordinary clothes and books; I couldn't find anything suspicious.

He gradually felt frustrated, realizing that he had overthought things.

Just as he was about to leave, his gaze inadvertently swept towards the headboard—there seemed to be something under the wooden pillow, with a small corner of a piece of paper peeking out.

A thought struck him, and he slowly stepped forward, reaching out to gently pull the object from under the pillow.

It turned out to be several sheets of drawing paper folded neatly.

The drawing paper was somewhat worn, with slightly yellowed edges, suggesting it had been handled countless times.

Lu Qingdu slowly unfolded the first painting and, using the dim light filtering through the window, focused intently on it—in the painting stood a woman in white, standing sideways, her clothes fluttering, her black hair cascading down like a waterfall.

Although her face was only sketched with a few strokes, her charm was fully revealed, ethereal and otherworldly, like a fairy descended to earth.

He was suddenly jolted and hurriedly spread out the second sheet.

The painting still depicts the same woman, sitting alone on a green stone by the stream, head bowed, playing the zither, her brows slightly furrowed, shrouded in a faint sense of loneliness and desolation.

In the third painting, the woman stands under the moonlight, suddenly turning her head, her aloofness and coldness between her brows are depicted with remarkable realism.

Lu Qingdu held several sheets of paper, his hands trembling slightly.

Despite being a monk, Yin Zhiping secretly kept several portraits of a woman under his pillow.

He knew perfectly well what this meant.

No wonder Yin Zhiping disguised himself and sneaked into the back mountain late at night—wasn't that forest the territory of the Ancient Tomb Sect?

Although he had never seen the woman in white in the painting before, her aloof and otherworldly aura was exactly the same as that of the female leader of the Ancient Tomb Sect as rumored in the streets.

He hurriedly folded the drawing paper back to its original state, stuffed it under his pillow, and put all the objects in the room back in their original positions.

After confirming several times that no trace had been left, he tiptoed out of the room.

Stepping out of the courtyard, he realized that his back was already soaked with cold sweat, his clothes clinging to his spine, emitting a chill.

He leaned against the door frame for a moment, trying his best to calm his rapid breathing.

But my heart was still pounding in my chest, as if it were about to jump out of my throat.

He dared not linger, and although Yin Zhiping had gone far to the back mountain, there was no way to predict when he would return.

If someone were to see me stepping out of his room, I would be unable to clear my name even if I jumped into the Yellow River.

Lu Qingdu took a deep breath, suppressing his panic, and quickly walked through the winding corridors, jogging all the way back to his residence.

Only after the door was closed did he let out a long sigh of relief, leaning against the door for a long time to calm himself down.

His hands were still trembling slightly, not from the cold weather, but from his lingering fear.

The secrets hidden in the painting that we just saw, if leaked out, would be enough to cause a huge uproar throughout the Quanzhen Sect.

He was merely a fourth-generation disciple, yet he inadvertently stumbled upon such a secret.

It is both an opportunity to climb and a huge problem.

He sat alone in the darkness for a long time, repeatedly considering the words he would use to report to Zhao Zhijing.

To put it mildly, the other party might think I'm making a mountain out of a molehill.

If he spoke too harshly, he feared that Zhao Zhijing would lose his temper and drag him into an even bigger vortex of conflict.

After much deliberation, he decided to tell the truth.

Anyway, if the sky falls, Zhao Zhijing will handle it; I'm just a messenger.

Having made up his mind, he didn't wait until tomorrow. He got up, pushed open the door, and headed towards Zhao Zhijing's courtyard under the cover of darkness.

In the middle of the night, he knocked on Zhao Zhijing's door.

Zhao Zhijing had not yet gone to bed and was sitting alone in front of the lamp, reading a Taoist scripture.

Then Lu Qingdu pushed open the door and entered, looking flustered.

He frowned slightly, slowly closed the book, and asked in a deep voice:

"What's the matter that you're in such a panic?"

Lu Qingdu swallowed hard, his throat bobbing slightly, and then lowered his voice to recount the events of the night:

How did Yin Zhiping change into his ordinary short clothes in the middle of the night and quietly leave the courtyard, sneaking off to the back mountain?

After losing track of him, she took advantage of the fact that no one was in the courtyard, sneaked into Yin Zhiping's room, and found the portraits under his pillow.

When discussing the content of the painting, his voice became increasingly low, as if he feared someone might be eavesdropping from the other side of the wall.

After hearing this, Zhao Zhijing remained silent for a long time.

He didn't immediately show any surprise; he simply leaned back in his chair.

His gaze was fixed on the flickering candlelight, lost in thought.

The flickering candlelight cast dappled shadows on his face, making his expression inscrutable.

After a long pause, he slowly spoke:

"Are you sure the woman in that portrait is a member of the Ancient Tomb Sect?"

Lu Qingdu nodded repeatedly:

"Although this disciple has never personally seen the leader of the Ancient Tomb Sect."

"But there have long been rumors within the Quanzhen Sect that the leader of the Ancient Tomb Sect is a young woman, extremely beautiful, always dressed in white, and rarely steps out of the Ancient Tomb."

"The woman's clothing and demeanor in Uncle Yin's painting perfectly match the rumors."

"Besides..."

He paused briefly and continued in a low voice:

"Furthermore, Uncle Yin disguised himself and went to the back mountain late at night..."

"Besides the Tomb of the Living Dead, what else is there in that back mountain that would warrant such seclusion and solitary travel for a monk?"

Zhao Zhijing did not respond. His fingertips tapped lightly on the armrest of the chair, and his gaze drifted unfocused to the deep night outside the window.

The night sky was moonless, only a thick, inky darkness remained, like some kind of ominous sign, heavily shrouding the Zhongnan Mountains.

Zhao Zhijing's mind raced with a thousand thoughts.

Yin Zhiping was Qiu Chuji's most beloved and cherished disciple.

He was the most respected third-generation disciple of Quanzhen. He was humble and upright in his daily conduct, and extremely strict with himself. He was always respected by everyone in the sect.

How could this person harbor feelings for Xiaolongnu of the Ancient Tomb Sect?

If this is confirmed, Yin Zhiping's reputation, built up over half a lifetime, will be ruined in an instant.

Its status within the Quanzhen School will plummet, and even Qiu Chuji's reputation will be humiliated.

If Zhao Zhijing were to seize this handle, it would be as if he held a powerful tool that could pry open the power of the Quanzhen Sect.

From now on, if he wants to compete for the position of sect leader, no one will be able to stop him.

But he did not immediately become overjoyed.

Zhao Zhijing understood perfectly well that such a secret matter should not be rushed.

If this matter were made public rashly, Yin Zhiping could easily deny it outright.

Those portraits could be excused as imitations of the works of court ladies from previous dynasties, and have nothing to do with the Ancient Tomb School.

What he needs is irrefutable evidence, preferably caught red-handed.

When Yin Zhiping was unable to defend himself and could no longer deny it.

Then, with a sudden strike, he firmly pierced the opponent's vital point with the sharp blade that had been hidden for so long.

He stopped clicking his fingers, and a slow smile appeared on his lips.

That was by no means a joyful laugh; rather, it was sinister, concealing a long-planned expectation.

"Qingdu".

His voice softened slightly, and his tone became gentler than before.

Upon hearing this, Lu Qingdu inexplicably shivered.

"You did a good job. This matter is known only to heaven, earth, you, and me, and absolutely no third person can know about it."

Lu Qingdu quickly bowed and nodded:

"This disciple understands and would never dare to divulge even a fraction of it."

"Keep an eye on things from the shadows."

Zhao Zhijing spoke slowly.

"If he goes further into the back mountain, come and report to me immediately. Remember, do not alert him or reveal any trace of him."

Lu Qingdu bowed and accepted the order, then quietly left through the door.

The door closed again, leaving Zhao Zhijing alone in front of the lamp.

He picked up a Taoist scripture from the table, ran his fingertips over the pages, but never turned a single one.

The flickering candlelight reflected on his face, revealing a pair of deep, still eyes, like an unfathomable ancient well, concealing countless schemes.

......