Chapter 77

Boom—

When their palms and claws met, Zhen Zhibing instantly felt his palm heat up; a mighty, vigorous force surged straight into his arm, causing incessant soreness.

Zhen Zhibing, over forty, was an outstanding disciple among the third generation of the Quanzhen Sect; certainly not an ordinary person, yet he was unexpectedly challenged by a youth and found himself at a disadvantage, filling him with shock and anger. He immediately stepped with an extraordinary maneuver, dodging three feet.

With a clang, a bright, three-foot-long sword appeared in his right hand, pointing obliquely at Feng Yi's wrist, yet he did not strike, and exclaimed in surprise, 'Sir, why do you attack?'

He considered himself superior; seeing that Feng Yi was young, though his internal strength was notable, he leaned on a wooden crutch under his right armpit. How could this renowned Quanzhen Sect warrior, famed across the four seas, possibly fight someone who might stumble just walking? If word spread, wouldn't it bring shame upon the Quanzhen Sect and himself?

Feng Yi observed his dodge just now—his footwork was exquisite, subtly aligning with profound principles—and felt an itch of anticipation; he thus held back a smile and said, 'Why? To learn the Quanzhen Sect's supreme techniques—is that reason enough?'

Zhen Zhibing couldn't help but start; he had no wish to engage Feng Yi, this young man, for no reason, but having been taken under Qiu Chuji's tutelage since childhood, he owed his master deep gratitude, and the opponent openly challenged him.

How could the world-renowned Quanzhen Sect flee without fighting? Thinking this, Zhen Zhibing brandished his sword, which hummed, his heroic spirit soaring, and he shouted, 'Then please draw your weapon!'

Feng Yi clapped his hands, chuckling lightly, 'My skill lies entirely in my hands; I'm not versed in weapons, so just come at me.'

Zhen Zhibing understood that martial arts are easy to learn but hard to master, so people of the jianghu each have their strengths: some possess deep internal energy, some excel in fists and kicks, some are adept with weapons, and some specialize in concealed weapons.

Even a grandmaster who has mastered all major schools of martial arts will still have a particular aspect in which he is relatively stronger.

Given Feng Yi's age, saying this surely isn't meant to belittle himself; he immediately lowered his wrist, pointing the sword tip downward, and said, 'Please excuse my intrusion!'

Zhen Zhibing swiftly turned his body, circling behind Feng Yi, and suddenly thrust a sword at his back.

Feng Yi did not turn around; he flicked his sleeve backward, producing a hum, and deflected the long sword.

Zhen Zhibing's feet never stopped; with a swish-swish-swish, he thrust four swords in succession. Though each thrust was a single move, the shake of his wrist split it into three techniques—swift yet forceful, the techniques exquisitely subtle.

He feared Feng Yi's deep internal strength, so he rapidly turned and employed lightness skill, circling Feng Yi while thrusting his sword.

In the Quanzhen Sect, each disciple, upon reaching the appropriate level in martial arts, must practice this lightness skill so that, when later training the 'Big Dipper Heavenly Gang Formation,' they can seize their positions.

Having studied under his master for a long time, Zhen Zhibing had learned much of Quanzhen martial arts, practicing them to great purity; the sword technique he now displayed was the Quanzhen Sect's supreme 'One Qi Transforms into Three Purities' sword art, each move capable of transforming into three.

He was seen dashing like lightning, as if his feet never touched the ground; a white flash appeared, and he thrust his sword at Feng Yi's entire body eighteen times, as if delivering fifty-four strikes.

Feng Yi saw that each of his swords was as fast as the last, his steps concealing profound secrets, and he secretly rejoiced, thinking: 'The Quanzhen Sect's most formidable skill is the Big Dipper Heavenly Gang Formation; today I am fortunate to encounter this old fellow—I might as well take it slow with him, so I can slowly observe the mysteries of the heavenly gang steps!'

Feng Yi then directed his internal energy to match Zhen Zhibing's level, merely using a left palm and a right palm to shake the opponent's sword blade askew.

Hong Lingbo already knew of Feng Yi's abilities, but seeing Zhen Zhibing employ such methods, she could not help but be secretly startled, thinking: 'No wonder the Quanzhen Sect's name resounds; even my master, so proud, admits he cannot match Qiu Chuji, and thus seeks to seize the Jade Maiden Heart Sutra.'

His disciple has already become like this; can the master know?

Zhen Zhibing, however, seeing Feng Yi's strong internal force and superb martial arts, felt his apprehension grow; he instantly hardened his resolve, pushed his master's transmitted heart method to the extreme, quickened his steps, and thrust his sword in an unbroken, continuous barrage.

Feng Yi merely stood still, waving his hands and watching, and thus rendered all attacks invisible, merely contemplating his footwork.

If there were anything unclear, he even deliberately slowed his speed, giving Zhen Zhibing an opportunity to exploit, so he could observe his attacking footwork.

When Zhen Zhibing's long sword thrust arrived, he would dodge close to his body, each move passing by a hair's breadth, appearing perilously swift.

In fact, Feng Yi observed his sword technique and footwork, gradually discerning some patterns, calculated Zhen Zhibing's sword direction and force, and avoided with perfect timing—not claiming that Zhen Zhibing's strength was exhausted, for even if he wished to change even a little, he could not; even if he could alter his moves on the spot, Feng Yi also had a way to overcome the enemy and secure victory.

After all, their martial cultivations differed vastly.

Feng Yi felt immensely pleased: 'Haha, today I first got a rough idea; once my leg heals, I will certainly meet the Big Dipper Heavenly Gang Formation, to see how this formation, touted as invincible under heaven, achieves its invincibility!'

Zhen Zhibing had already exerted his full strength, yet he never expected Feng Yi to show no trace of tension; instead, his brows danced with color, his face full of anticipation. Unable to guess what the other was thinking, he thought it was a sign of contempt for himself.

Considering that the opponent was twenty years younger than himself and still disabled, he, as a Quanzhen Sect elite, having suffered a crushing defeat today, how could he face Zhao Zhijing again in a contest of supremacy? Zhen Zhibing estimated that his martial arts were roughly equal to Zhao Zhijing's; the latter had once led the Big Dipper Heavenly Gang Grand Formation and still lost, but his opponent was Guo Jing.

Guo Jing had been renowned for many years; his strength could almost be called the best under heaven. Losing to him was not considered a disgrace for Zhao Zhijing.

But to be defeated by a young disabled person left him with no face to contend with Zhao Zhijing thereafter; thinking this, he felt a suffocating heaviness in his chest, and his attacks became disordered.

The Quanzhen sword technique is subtle and marvelous, and the heavenly gang steps are even more profoundly mysterious—truly a first-rate martial art—but if the practitioner lacks extremely profound internal energy, it is difficult to exert its due power.

If it were Zhou Botong instead, Feng Yi, even with his full effort against him, would lose more often than win; how could he have the leisure to examine the marvel of his opponent's footwork?

Zhen Zhibing's internal strength was ultimately limited; moreover, since seeing Xiao Longnv, he has been distracted and scattered in thought all day, his sect's quietude practice long faded. After a prolonged battle without victory, his mind in great turmoil, his techniques became ever more chaotic.

Feng Yi at this moment truly intended to harm Zhen Zhibing's life; even if there were ten of him, they would all be slain, yet he thought: 'This fellow's martial ability is limited, and now he has lost his value, but to kill him outright would be improper; I can only do it this way!'

In the midst of his thoughts, seeing the long sword flash like lightning, Feng Yi turned his wrist, extended his left hand's index, middle, and thumb to pinch the opponent's sword tip, then pulled it back and pushed forward.

With a hum, Zhen Zhibing was pulled by an immense resisting force, involuntarily halted, and blood poured from his tiger's mouth.

Zhen Zhibing startled and lost color; he had not expected the opponent's internal strength to be so profound—even his martial uncle might not match it—and before he could react, Feng Yi shoved the sword hilt into his chest, striking heavily upon the 'Qi Hu' acupoint.

Forced to release his sword, Zhen Zhibing fell heavily, and a mouthful of blood surged up at once.

Feng Yi laughed heartily, reached out his right hand from his sleeve, seized the sword hilt, and placed the blade across Zhen Zhibing's neck, coldly saying, 'Daoist Zhen, your martial skill is so sparse—are you devoting all your thoughts elsewhere?'

With a blade at his neck, Zhen Zhibing's face flushed blood-red; he coldly stared at Feng Yi, saying nothing.

His martial arts were transmitted directly from the Quanzhen Sect's foremost master, Qiu Chuji; within the sect, even if not described as mighty in all directions, he still held standing and reputation.

Unexpectedly suffering such a crushing defeat today, it truly felt a hundred times worse than being beheaded or stabbed in the chest; if his limbs were not immobilized, he would rather have slit his throat with a single sword strike than seek a crack in the earth to crawl into.

'How?' Feng Yi frowned, asking, 'Still wanting to play the tough guy?'

At this moment, Zhen Zhibing finally caught his breath, stiffening his neck and said, 'If you want to kill me, kill me; if you want me to beg for mercy, forget it!'

Feng Yi's face sank, he lowered his body, and spoke softly: 'We have no grudge or enmity; don't you want to know why I am making things difficult for you?'

Zhen Zhibing blurted out, 'How would I know!'

Feng Yi glanced at the pack on his shoulder, smiled, and said softly, 'At midnight you loitered outside the ancient tomb, bringing gifts to Xiao Longnv—do you want me to now lay it all out for the shopkeeper to hear, or go tell Daoist Qiu of the Quanzhen Sect?'

'Pa! Pa! Pa!'

His voice was extremely low, and at the same time he reached out and gently patted Zhen Zhibing's shoulder three times in succession, muffling his words.

In an instant, Zhen Zhibing's forehead beaded with sweat, his complexion drastically changed, as if encountering a ghost or monster, and he cried out, 'You're talking nonsense!'

Feng Yi still spoke softly: 'Whether I am speaking nonsense, you know it in your heart.'

As the saying goes, if you want others not to know, you must not do it yourself; Zhao Zhijing knows this, Yang Guo and Xiao Longnv also know, you have sworn oaths—why aren't you alert? Must you really let yourself suffer ruin and disgrace, dragging Daoist Qiu and the Quanzhen followers into humiliation?

Zhen Zhibing suddenly realized, feeling both astonished and grateful; he fixed his gaze on Feng Yi and said, 'So you were there last night as well—may I dare ask your exalted surname and name?' His tone unexpectedly became courteous.

Last night, Zhen Zhibing and Zhao Zhijing mistakenly intruded upon Yang Guo and Xiao Longnv's practice ground, causing Xiao Longnv to be injured; he and Zhao Zhijing swore an oath to heaven not to reveal this to outsiders.

But hearing Feng Yi's account so convincing, they assumed he had been present at the scene at that time.

Considering that he had been under Qiu Chuji's tutelage since childhood, owing his master deep gratitude, if this were spread abroad, the reputation of the Quanzhen Sect would surely plummet in the martial world.

The Quanzhen Sect that shook the world would be defeated by its own doing—that is absolutely unthinkable; thinking of this, a chill ran down his back.

Feng Yi smiled and said, "My name is of no importance; you must remember that Zhao Zhijing's oath may hide a treacherous plot—your every move is within his surveillance. What he intends to do, you figure out yourself!"

Zhen Zhibing said blankly, "He's watching me?"

Feng Yi snorted coldly, "Go back and check it yourself; meanwhile, cultivate your body and nature, become a true Quanzhen."

"If you keep loitering around the ancient tomb, I'll go straight to find Qiu Chuji—you decide for yourself."

He casually slipped his long sword into the opponent's scabbard, then, with the momentum, slapped Zhen Zhibing once, sending him out of the inn.

Zhen Zhibing suddenly felt a warm current like water within his body; while midair, his sealed points were opened, his feet landed, and he stood steady, as if someone had gently set him down.

Only then did Zhen Zhibing realize his luck was extraordinarily good—he had encountered another youthful expert who could stand shoulder to shoulder with Guo Jing.

Genghis Khan once invited Qiu Chuji to journey far to the western regions, and he was one of the eighteen disciples who followed; at that time Guo Jing and Feng Yi were about the same age, and he had personally witnessed the strength of their martial arts.

Knowing full well such a master, he realized he could never win even after a lifetime of practice; feeling helpless, he bowed and turned to leave.

Hong Lingbo spat, "The Quanzhen Sect is truly undeserving of its name! What orthodoxy of martial arts under heaven!"

Feng Yi let out a silent sigh, a faint smile curling his lips, while a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.

At that moment he was conflicted, and also helpless.

For when Feng Yi had just spoken those words that pierced Zhen Zhibing's innermost thoughts, he slapped his shoulder three times—the first blow shattered his lower yin meridians, the next two infused him with Divine Illumination true qi; in his ensuing mental confusion, Zhen Zhibing was unaware that someone had secretly tampered with him.

Feng Yi knew full well that Zhen Zhibing had not yet defiled Xiao Longnv; to harm his life over this would be unmartial.

Yet this man had already fallen into a demonic obsession with Xiao Longnv, beyond any hope of resolution.

That was a love even more infatuated than Li Mochou's for Lu Zhanyuan.

The only recourse was to deprive him of his manhood; even if he wished to reenact the original plot, he would be incapable—this was the solution Feng Yi had considered.

As for whether this act was right or wrong, Feng Yi followed his heart in all things, thus he felt no concern.

Feng Yi had just sat down and was about to drink when he saw Hong Lingbo's expression suddenly change; in the blink of an eye a green shadow flashed, and Zhen Zhibing ran back into the shop.

Feng Yi said lightly, "Why have you come back again?"

Zhen Zhibing glanced at Feng Yi, then said solemnly, "I have a matter weighing on my chest that I must speak of, yet I fear offending you; therefore I dare to ask you to dispel my doubts."

A guilty conscience is inevitable for a thief.

Even with Feng Yi's ability, it was the same; his heart pounded wildly as he thought, "Could my Divine Illumination skill have gone awry?"

Feng Yi thought that Quanzhen internal energy might be formidable, and his Western mirror might be exposed, but his lapse lasted only a moment; he quickly regained his composure and said, "Speak freely."

He thought that if it were discovered, he would openly admit it—who let his skill be inferior?

Unexpectedly, Zhen Zhibing's old face flushed red, and he stammered, "Please don't blame me, sir; may we step aside to talk?"

This left Feng Yi utterly bewildered, unable to make heads or tails of it,

Hong Lingbo could not hold back her laughter, covering her mouth as she giggled.

Feng Yi had no choice but to rise, leaning on his crutch, and follow him into the inn.

The inn's wing rooms formed a quadrangle with a courtyard in the center; the two walked into the yard, where Zhen Zhibing silently circulated his internal energy, surveyed the surroundings, then looked up at the night sky and said softly, "Your martial arts are superb, and I admire them greatly; however, why have you appeared deep in the night on Zhongnan Mountain? May I ask your purpose?"

After he had just left, his hidden worries grew even heavier.

He thought that such experts sneaking into Zhongnan Mountain at night must be spying on the sect, waiting for an opportunity to act.

Even if Zhen Zhibing were worthless, he could not allow himself to be caught with a handle; thus he could not ignore this and insisted on getting to the bottom of it.

Feng Yi's pupils contracted sharply; he had not expected Zhen Zhibing to ask such a question.

In fact, he was relying on his foreknowledge, bluffing his way through—when had he ever been to Zhongnan Mountain?

He didn't even know how to get to Chongyang Palace on that great mountain, let alone reach the place where Yang Guo and they practiced.

But he could not say this outright, so he found himself speechless, unable to answer.

Zhen Zhibing turned his head and said calmly, "Don't blame me for being blunt, but I must get to the bottom of this. Your martial arts are excellent, worthy of ten years of training; if you have any grievance with our Quanzhen Sect, speak of it, and I can lend a hand or two in return for your mercy."

If the matter proves serious and I cannot resolve it, then the next time we meet, I will offer my life in thanks for today."

His words were sincere, utterly without pretense; Feng Yi was startled, thinking, "This fellow actually has some backbone—no wonder he would never betray the sect, the sort of person who could block a fatal blow for Xiao Longnv."

Feng Yi knew this man had spent his life cultivating his body and nature, keeping himself pure, yet he had made a grave error concerning Xiao Longnv, leading to his ruin; thus, while he had not yet committed that act, Feng Yi wrestled with how to deal with him—if he were truly a lecher, a simple killing would suffice, no need for scheming.

Feng Yi drew a deep breath, fixed his gaze on Zhen Zhibing, and said slowly, "I have no grudge against your sect; I went up the mountain at night merely out of longing for Xiao Longnv, and had no choice but to resort to this scheme."

"What?" Zhen Zhibing stared wide-eyed, unable to believe his own ears, and exclaimed in shock, "You—what do you mean?"

Feng Yi gave a bitter smile and said, "Daoist, Xiao Longnv is like a celestial maiden—who wouldn't like her?

You pine for her in your dreams, and I, by a fortunate coincidence, also had the luck to see her once..."

Saying love's arrival is like a stone tossed into a calm lake, mine is a boulder plunged into the water, instantly raising monstrous waves that I cannot escape; yet the maidens of the Ancient Tomb Sect are all aloof, unattainable despite longing.

My deep affection ultimately ended in vain.

But once love arrives, wisdom flees with it, so I can only shamelessly linger in the Ancient Tomb grove, just to catch a glimpse of her."

His nonsensical ramblings were precisely the long-suppressed feelings Zhen Zhibing harbored—he had never voiced them, yet hearing them from Feng Yi made his face flush, his fists clench, his eyes grow distant; he could not help recalling that night in Chongyang Palace when Xiao Longnv entered in a white robe, leaping and soaring, an image that filled his thoughts day and night, soul entwined, her graceful figure seeming like a heavenly being.

He had thought he was the only one who felt this way, not expecting another; he could not help feeling a sense of kinship.

As for Feng Yi's fondness for Xiao Longnv, he had no doubt—she was peerlessly beautiful, and even those who had cultivated the Dao for decades had broken their precepts for her; how could a youthful, vigorous Feng Yi not be moved? Reading his expression, Feng Yi understood his thoughts and snorted inwardly, "It seems disabling you was the right call."

He said, "Daoist, our thoughts are the same, but I am a commoner—can you return to secular life for a woman?"

Zhen Zhibing did not want him to say that, and his heart jolted violently.

Feng Yi said coldly, "Daoist, I have no fear in telling you—I am Feng Yi, and I still intend to make a name in the jianghu; speaking of this would truly be disgraceful, a loss of a man's bearing.

But seeing you as a high-ranking Daoist of your sect, upright in character, we share the same plight, which is why I have laid everything bare before you—just as your oath with Zhao Zhijing forbids, this must never be spoken to outsiders, lest it ruin my and Longnv's reputation.

Furthermore, if you again make a rash move toward the one I cherish—even if it is merely the way you look at her—I will not like it.

Should either occur, I will openly challenge the Quanzhen Sect and broadcast your conduct to the world, so that the sect and you alike shall suffer shame."

Zhen Zhibing suddenly realized—this was a man stepping forward for the woman he loved, hence his challenge to me.

In his bout with Feng Yi, he finally understood that his own strength was insufficient to rely on, and Guo Jing's ability showed that the Quanzhen School itself was not reliable.

When a sudden mishap occurs, the vast foundation of the All-True Sect is nothing but a fleeting dream.

After all, Wang Zhongyang has passed away, the Seven Masters of the All-True Sect are down to six, the Heavenly Guard Formation is incomplete; breaking it poses no difficulty for a top-tier expert!

Especially, Feng Yi just now acted against me, displaying skill nothing less than Guo Jing's when he stormed the Double Yang Palace that day.

Although I do not yet know which sect he belongs to, if he were to take offense at my sect because of my infatuation with Xiao Longnv and launch a named challenge, as our sect is the orthodox lineage of martial arts under heaven, how could we not fight?

But if we were to fight, who could match him? Thinking of the honor of my master's lineage and my teacher's deep kindness, Zhen Zhibing broke out in a sweat all over, as if he had walked a full circle from life to death and back to life. He immediately bowed and said, "I, a humble Daoist, truly do not know your intentions; my rash offense, I beg your forgiveness."

Regarding today's matter, I, a humble Daoist, will surely keep my lips sealed, just as last night, and thereafter I dare not ever again go seek Miss Long; with that, I take my leave.

Having spoken, he flicked his sleeve and left; who would have thought that upon exiting he tripped on the threshold, with a "click", shattering the threshold, and he himself immediately fell.

Yet Zhen Zhibing, being highly skilled in martial arts, braced himself with both hands, halted his fall, and darted out again.

Feng Yi saw that despite his strong martial arts, he could trip while walking—sign of a greatly disturbed mind—and smiled faintly, feeling quite pleased.

Surely, after this incident, Zhen Zhibing's desire to be intimate with Xiao Longnv will surely be completely erased.

This calamity I brought upon myself is considered broken!

Feng Yi placed his hands on his hips, laughed heartily, walked into the inn, sat back down, and said, "Lingbo, after this meal we'll return to Chang'an!" As he spoke, he picked up a bite of vegetables and put it in his mouth.

Hong Lingbo, however, was utterly bewildered; she did not know what the two had said, while Zhen Zhibing seemed to have lost his soul, and Feng Yi no longer went to the ancient tomb. She poured him a cup of wine and said, "Are you not going to block my master anymore?"

After Feng Yi swallowed the cup of wine, he sighed, "Silly girl, with my injured leg, going to the ancient tomb to block her is not at all the fundamental purpose."

Hong Lingbo wondered, "What is that purpose, then?"

What Feng Yi fears is that Li Mochou will run off and spout nonsense, thereby causing Xiao Longnv, just as in the original plot, to leave the ancient tomb and be taken advantage of by Zhen Zhibing.

This matter would be condemned by thousands; if I did not intervene, it would be Xiao Longnv's fate, and it would be none of my business.

But since I have already intervened, it is different; if this comes to pass, all cause and effect would be of my own making, and he does not wish to bear it—that is why he wants to go to the ancient tomb to desperately prevent it.

Now Zhen Zhibing has already been subdued by me; even if he wished, he lacks the strength—why would he still run to the ancient tomb? Having the Five Poisons Secret Transmission is a stroke of luck.

If not, it is no great harm.

What damned system task? Following his own heart is the greatest happiness.

He wants to do whatever he pleases, unrestrained—that is what he ought to pursue.

All other external things are merely icing on the cake; they hardly count as anything at all.

As for Li Mochou going to tell Xiao Longnv that her master was killed by Ouyang Feng, that you have accepted his adopted son as a disciple, and whether this will affect Xiao Longnv and Yang Guo's romantic development, Feng Yi could not care less.

After all, Xiao Longnv, who does not partake in mortal worldly affairs and has a self-centered nature, acts on whim; even without this, something else would arise. Yang Guo wishes to be good with her, but there is always some entanglement.

I am not merely bored, running to serve as an emotional caretaker for Yang Guo and Xiao Longnv.

With this time, holding Hong Lingbo close to nurse my wounds and, along the way, explore life's mysteries—wouldn't that be nice? Yet I cannot say this to Hong Lingbo.

Feng Yi set down his wine cup and smiled, "Li Mochou is a remarkable person, skilled in martial arts and intelligent, yet she is trapped by love."

He said this, then let out a faint sigh: "I want to bring her to do something great, not be overly obsessed with damned love, and secure a path of survival for her."

"Do not let her head toward a dead end with no burial place, a regrettable waste! But she stubbornly refuses to heed my words, so let her toss and turn as she wishes."

"I see." Hong Lingbo then poured Feng Yi another cup of wine, her voice hoarse, saying, "Actually, I have long been unable to understand: my master is so beautiful, her martial arts so high, why did Lu Zhan yuan change his heart?"

Feng Yi scoffed, "What is there not to understand about this?"

The problem lies precisely in her high martial arts.

Just consider: Lu Zhan yuan comes from a renowned martial arts clan, while Li Mochou is overbearing and domineering; when they first met, men were bewitched by her beauty and naturally could accept her such character.

But as time passed, Li Mochou's nature fully revealed itself; her words and deeds naturally made everyone heed her commands.

Her martial arts are formidable; men cannot defeat her, so they must not only submit wholeheartedly but also say, "You are right!"

Who could bear such a thing in his heart? Whenever a beautiful woman appears, she gives a feeling ten times better, or more—how could one not change his heart?

Feng Yi, well-versed, has heard all sorts of messed-up love stories; speaking casually, it made Hong Lingbo feel embarrassed, and she stammered, "Your words are wrong—how can one change heart when liking someone? That would be fickle-minded and unfaithful!"

Feng Yi laughed freely, "Lingbo, you must never believe any damned love story; it is nothing more than the mating urge of males and females at work."

Among the myriad people in this world, but truly in the so-called realm of love, how many can persist steadfastly and not change heart?

I say again: you must not think that Li Mochou's way is loving someone, that it is sacred love; she is merely an obsessive madman, indulging in one-sided affection.

Hong Lingbo had long felt her whole body shake violently; her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and for a moment she could not speak.

Feng Yi immersed himself in all the love stories he had heard, feeling deeply moved, and did not notice her abnormality.

Suddenly, a shout came from outside the door: "Master, martial uncle, that brat is right here; I reckon he hasn't left yet!"

The two recognized the voice as Lu Qingdu's, and exchanged a glance.

Feng Yi saw her eyes reddening, and felt suspicious: "What does she have to cry about?" Thinking this, he felt deeply displeased.

But a solemn voice coldly said, "Qingdu, do not lose propriety!"

Suddenly, several whistles sounded, and four figures rushed in, all young Daoists in yellow caps and gray robes, one of whom was precisely Lu Qingdu.

At this moment, Feng Yi's anger flared; upon seeing this person, with anger surging to his head, he coldly stared at him.

Lu Qingdu, however, looked left and right, as if searching for something.

Suddenly, a few cold chuckles sounded, and a long-bearded Daoist in a yellow cap and blue robe walked in first from the door, hands behind his back, followed by two Daoists to his left and right; he looked about forty, with a stern appearance, and judging by his bearing and steps, his martial arts were not weak.

"Master, he is not here."

Lu Qingdu reported to this long-bearded Daoist.

That Daoist was slightly taken aback, looking left and right.

Feng Yi knew this person must be Zhao Zhi jing, who was looking for Zhen Zhibing.

Zhao Zhi jing had been monitoring Zhen Zhibing all along, hoping to use the Xiao Longnv affair to grab a handle on him to force compliance, or to ruin his prestige, so as to become the chief disciple of the third generation.

But seeing no one he sought inside the inn, he felt extremely disappointed, narrowed his icy gaze and swept it over Hong Lingbo, then, as if nothing had happened, bowed to Feng Yi and said, "I am Zhao Zhi jing, foremost disciple of the Jade Yang True Person; may I ask your esteemed name?"

Having said that, he saw Feng Yi and Hong Lingbo neither rise; both remained calm and composed, with no intention to stand, and his anger welled up.

Feng Yi drank a cup of wine, then said faintly, "Your not worthy to ask my name; if you are sensible, disappear at once."

The tall Daoist who had entered earlier stepped forward, sneered, "You dare to cause trouble for the All-True Sect at the foot of Mount Zhongnan—what harm is there in leaving your name?"

Feng Yi gave a faint smile and said, "I have no intention of making things difficult for the Quanzhen Sect, but if my name were heard by despicable scoundrels, I would feel utterly disgusted."

Several people flew into a rage, and the tall Taoist shouted, "You are so arrogant; if we don't teach you a lesson, you'll think Chongyang Palace is full of incompetents."

In the midst of speaking, he even stabbed Lu Qingdu.

He whooshed out his long sword, made a tiger leap, arrived before Feng Yi, his sword swaying, stepping through the Qimen gates, taking an angled approach, and with a move "Parting Flowers, Brushing Willows" thrust toward Feng Yi's ribs.

Feng Yi secretly wondered, "I've shown a bit of martial skill; how dare this person still act like that?"

How could he know that people who have lost a fight generally don't tell the truth, especially someone narrow-minded like Lu Qingdu, who only wants his master to vent his anger for him—how could he speak the truth? Moreover, this is his own fellow apprentice, so he certainly wouldn't.

When his sword arrived, Feng Yi slightly shifted his body, letting the thrust miss, lightly reached out and grabbed, seizing the opponent's wrist,

The tall Taoist instantly went limp on one side.

Plop, he knelt before Feng Yi.

Feng Yi smiled and said, "I don't know whether Chongyang Palace is all incompetents, but I see you're just like Lu Qingdu—both of you are pus-filled sacks. Do you agree?"

"You brat…… ah…… ow……"

As the Taoist was about to curse, Feng Yi exerted a little force, causing his face to twist in pain, he let out a loud wail, and sweat droplets like soybeans streamed down his forehead.

Zhao Zhijing secretly marveled, staring at Feng Yi.

His disciple is also a skilled fighter; even if he himself could not remain seated motionless, a single move would subdue him.

His attack's precision and the cleverness of his force are both formidable; moreover, as Qingdu said, he used a wooden staff to shatter his weapon, clearly showing he is a true master.

Zhao Zhijing laughed and said, "You've been sitting all along; could it be that your legs are inconvenient?"

A gleam flashed in Feng Yi's eyes; he snorted, "You'll find out if you try!" He gave a hum, kicked out with his left foot, and the tall Taoist, like a scarecrow, whooshed and flew toward Zhao Zhijing.

The Taoist only felt the wind whistling past his ears, momentarily unable to control himself, and cried out in a shrill voice, "Master, save me!"

Zhao Zhijing knew Feng Yi was testing him, and he could not let his disciple go unsaved; he immediately bent his knees slightly, assumed a horse stance, and raised his hands diagonally.

Zhao Zhijing is the foremost expert among the third generation of Quanzhen, which is why Qiu Chuji had him teach Yang Guo martial arts; this move "Heavenly Flying Mountain" combines hardness with softness, storing yin within yang, and is truly formidable.

"Pa!"

When Zhao Zhijing's palms just touched the disciple's body, he had no time to deflect and release the force, only feeling a dark energy erupt from the person's body, surging like a rushing torrent.

Zhao Zhijing involuntarily had his horse stance wobble, stepped back one step, his face slightly flushed, and his body swayed a bit.

Suddenly he shouted loudly, his horse stance suddenly sank, barely stabilizing; just as he was about to retract and retreat, a great force surged again, forcing him to involuntarily stomp back three steps, his chest felt suffocated, and he fell seated on the ground,

Zhao Zhijing's heart was momentarily shocked; with his martial skill, he could easily catch any formidable hidden weapon, yet the opponent's casual kick left him unable to neutralize the force, leaving him awestruck.

Feng Yi coldly snorted, "With just this bit of ability, you also want to be the Quanzhen sect leader? Hah, you're out of your mind—get lost, old man!"

He knew what kind of person Zhao Zhijing was, and also knew he was the foremost among the third-generation disciples of the Quanzhen sect, which is why Qiu Chuji had him become Yang Guo's master; previously he thought these third-generation disciples were all useless; however, after exchanging moves with Zhen Zhibing and another, he deeply knew the opponent's inner strength was indeed exceptional— in the whole world, only the Southern Four Odds and their ilk are stronger than him; the Quanzhen sect's internal energy truly lives up to its reputation! Upon hearing this, Zhao Zhijing gritted his teeth, his eyes showing resolute determination, he set down his disciple, and in a deep voice said, "It turns out you are actually a master; I, the poor daoist, have been blind!"

Zhao Zhijing's heart's desire was to become the sect leader; with Yang Guo's defection before and today losing face like this, how could he give up! As his words fell, he let out a long cry and shouted, "Form the array!"

Then came the clashing of weapons; Zhao Zhijing and six Taoists, each holding a long sword, displayed their techniques—four on the left, three on the right—encircling Feng Yi and Hong Lingbo.

Feng Yi's heart tightened, and he slowly said, "The Big Dipper Heavenly Gang Formation!"

Zhao Zhijing shook his long sword and said, "You originally had a lame leg; we, as orthodox sects, should not make things difficult for you."

But you bullied my disciples at the foot of Zhongnan Mountain and later insulted me, the poor daoist; if you do not go with me to Zhongnan Mountain to await the sect leader's judgment today, then please try the Big Dipper Heavenly Gang Formation!

The inn's staff, though unfamiliar with the formation, had heard of it; they moved the surrounding tables aside, cleared an open space, and watched the world-renowned formation.

Feng Yi was also delighted in his heart and said, "Very well, I too am not yet satisfied; then I shall not decline."

But he well knew the formation's fame; although they said only Zhao Zhijing and two others had decent skill, he himself had after all lost a leg, and did not dare to be overconfident; he leaned on his crutch, slowly rose, extended his right hand to Hong Lingbo, and said, "Lend me your sword for a moment!"

Hong Lingbo was about to draw her sword for him when suddenly a voice called, "Hold on!"

(End of chapter)