Chapter 68

After accepting the Xiao Wu Xiang Gong that Guo Jing handed them, Ke Zhen’e couldn’t help sighing: “Back then, the seven of us made a wager with Master Qiu: eighteen years later, we’d have you and Yang Kang duel at Zui Xian Pavilion.”

“Now it’s clear that though your martial skill far surpasses Yang Kang’s, the seven of us taught you nothing—this wager is lost by us seven.”

The other six immediately nodded, for indeed they had taught Guo Jing nothing.

Nie Huaishang quickly spoke up:

“Master Ke, please don’t say that. Master Qiu Chuji’s martial skill may be on par with yours, but as a teacher, he’s beyond words.”

Guo Jing didn’t refute Nie Huaishang’s words—he too thought Qiu Chuji’s three disciples were beyond words.

“How so?”

The Seven Jiangnan Masters immediately asked upon hearing Nie Huaishang.

“If Qiu Chuji’s three disciples had been under Master Ke’s tutelage, your nature would’ve led you to purge them from the sect at once.”

After sighing, Nie Huaishang recounted the later deeds of Qiu Chuji’s three disciples.

After hearing his account, they felt they never should’ve wagered against Qiu Chuji—he was utterly unfit to be a teacher.

What kind of disciples did he produce? Yang Kang, the eldest, need not be mentioned—they simply wanted to ask: Master Qiu, after eighteen years of teaching Yang Kang, did you never tell him who his real father was?

Think of it: the descendant of Yang Zaixing, the venerable elder, now serves the Jin.

As for the second disciple, Yin Zhiping, though he upheld righteousness and died resisting when Mongol warriors attacked Chongyang Palace, leading the Quanzhen disciples in fierce battle against the invaders and traitors within, his act of violating an innocent’s purity while they were unaware remained utterly despicable.

Seeing their somber expressions, Nie Huaishang joked to Guo Jing: “Guo Jing, I recall Yin Zhiping will, in two years, be sent by his master to Mongolia to deliver news—and to test your martial foundation. When that time comes, won’t you castrate him? He’s a monk anyway—he doesn’t need that thing, and we’ll prevent him from sinning later.”

Upon hearing this, their expressions turned grim—surely such a brutal punishment was excessive. Though he later failed to resist temptation, it was still too harsh.

As they sighed, Tuo’er Bu Hua reported at the tent entrance: “My Lord Khan, Your Majesty, we’ve found the bodies of our missing herdsmen.”

“What? Bring the bodies here—I want to see who killed our people.”

Nie Huaishang flew into a rage: whoever dared kill their people—even Wang Han or Temujin—would pay dearly.

Soon the bodies of the missing herdsmen were carried up. Seeing them, each corpse bore five holes in the forehead, as if gouged by fingers.

Nie Huaishang reached out and tested the holes—his five fingers fit perfectly: the thumb’s hole was larger, the little finger’s smaller, as if meticulously carved to match each digit.

At that moment, both Nie Huaishang and Guo Jing understood fully: their missing herdsmen had been killed by Chen Xuanfeng and Mei Chaofeng. Guo Jing, enraged, shouted:

“We were focused entirely on Temujin, yet you two provoked us. Huaishang, you stay at camp—I’ll take Zhebie and my father to capture Chen Xuanfeng and Mei Chaofeng and execute them publicly.”

Zhebie’s martial talent was decent; after practicing Xiao Wu Xiang Gong, he could defend himself against the Black Wind Pair. Guo Jing’s father, Guo Xiaotian, had also practiced Xiao Wu Xiang Gong, and Guo Jing had taught him Wu Lei Zhengfa—but only half of it.

Guo Xiaotian could not practice Yang Lei; he could only practice Shui Zang Lei. Yet even half the Thunder Art made him superior to the Black Wind Pair, let alone Guo Jing, who had mastered the full version.

Upon hearing Guo Jing mention Chen Xuanfeng and Mei Chaofeng, Ke Zhen’e flew into a rage and immediately demanded to join them in capturing Mei Chaofeng—but Guo Jing refused on the spot:

“Master One, Chen Xuanfeng and Mei Chaofeng have completed the Nine Yin White Bone Claw. Their martial strength is unfathomable—both surpass Master Qiu. In the original timeline, Master Five died at their hands.”

Guo Jing then set off with Guo Xiaotian and Zhebie to the desolate mountain where the Black Wind Pair trained, arriving at Hai Shi San Ke—11:45 PM.

Under the moonlight, a bulky black shadow sped across the desert, swift as lightning. In moments, it neared the small hill—now discernible as two figures pressed tightly together, making them appear unusually large.

Guo Jing knew the man was Mei Chaofeng’s live target for training. He roared at her: “Put the man down!”

As Guo Jing charged toward Mei Chaofeng, he unleashed “Kang Long You Hui,” striking her with a palm force like a tidal wave. Mei Chaofeng paled—she knew she couldn’t block it head-on, yet had no choice but to join both palms and brace with all her strength.

After the palm clash, Mei Chaofeng staggered back several steps, thinking inwardly: “Thank heaven this boy is young—his inner power isn’t deep. Otherwise, I’d have been severely wounded.”

Seeing Mei Chaofeng charge at him, Guo Jing didn’t immediately use Wu Lei Zhengfa—he wanted to test how far his own inner power had come.

After dozens of exchanges, Mei Chaofeng gradually gained the upper hand. Though Xiao Wu Xiang Gong was a supreme Daoist art, Guo Jing’s practice was too shallow to match a master like her.

After forcing Mei Chaofeng back with one palm, Guo Jing sighed. Mei Chaofeng, pushed back, suddenly emitted a piercing, shrill howl—sharp yet full of vigor, carrying far into the distance.

During the fight, Mei Chaofeng had recognized his Daoist inner art—how could a child so young possess such formidable inner power unless he wielded the full Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms?

But she doubted she could defeat him alone—she needed her husband’s help.

At that moment, a distant howl echoed—identical to Mei Chaofeng’s, chilling and faint. Instantly, a second howl rose, much closer now.

Guo Jing looked down the mountain and saw a black shadow racing toward them faster than a galloping horse, howling as it ran.

“Wife, how’s it going?” Chen Xuanfeng shouted as he arrived.

“Husband, we must capture this boy alive—he carries a supreme Daoist inner art. After we take him, force him to surrender it.”

Mei Chaofeng shouted to Chen Xuanfeng.

Hearing her, Guo Jing sneered: “Capture me?”

“You still don’t understand your situation.”

As Guo Jing spoke, white light began to glow around him—dark night instantly turned as bright as noon.