Huang Rong from The Return of the Condor Heroes: Guo'er, calm down.

Life at Chongyang Palace was so dull it was practically nonexistent.

Yang Guo stared at the bowl of thin, watery soup in front of him. A few yellowed vegetable leaves lay at the bottom, much like the old Taoist's withered face. The rice soup was so thin that you could see your reflection in it, and you couldn't even see a drop of oil.

"Have a meal."

Yin Zhiping sat at the head of the table, closing his eyes to rest, without touching his chopsticks.

The main hall was quiet, save for the sounds of dozens of Taoist priests chewing, even the swallowing sound was kept extremely low. The rules here were paramount: one must not speak while eating or sleeping, walk quietly, speak softly, and even fart must be held back.

Yang Guo cursed under his breath.

Yesterday he was in the warmth of a boudoir, today he's in the quiet of a Buddhist temple. The contrast is like falling from the clouds into the mud. He stirred the bowl of porridge with his chopsticks, his mind filled with the roast duck he hadn't finished last night, and the pleasant fragrance emanating from Huang Rong.

"What's wrong? Can't you eat?"

A strange, sarcastic voice came from the side.

Zhao Zhijing, holding his bowl, glanced sideways at Yang Guo. He had a long face, high cheekbones, and looked mean-spirited. Ever since Qiu Chuji betrothed Yang Guo to Yin Zhiping, Zhao Zhijing had never given him a kind look. Everyone knew that among the third-generation disciples of the Quanzhen Sect, Yin and Zhao were the most fierce rivals.

Yang Guo immediately put on a fearful expression and shrank his neck, saying, "Replying to Uncle Zhao, this disciple... this disciple has never eaten such bland food before, and is not used to it for a while."

"Delicate."

Zhao Zhijing snorted coldly, "What kind of hero is Guo Daxia? How could he send such a pampered coward? I wonder if he is Yang Kang's son. He was born to be a pleasure-seeker."

That's extremely hurtful.

Yang Guo lowered his head, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. He could curse him, he could even curse his dead father, but this old bastard shouldn't have used Guo Jing to intimidate him.

"Senior brother," Yin Zhiping opened his eyes, his brows furrowing slightly, "You shouldn't talk while eating. Have you forgotten what Uncle Qiu said?"

"I'm just disciplining him on behalf of Master Guo." Zhao Zhijing slammed the bowl down. "Our Quanzhen Sect is a place of quiet cultivation, not a haven of wealth and comfort. If you want to enjoy life, you'd better get off the mountain as soon as possible."

Yang Guo didn't say anything, picked up the bowl, and gulped down the thin porridge that looked like dishwater in a few big mouthfuls.

"Thank you for your guidance, Senior Uncle Zhao."

Yang Guo put down his bowl, wiped his mouth, and smiled憨厚ly, "This disciple is a rough man and doesn't know the rules. If I do anything wrong in the future, please forgive me, Uncle Master."

Zhao Zhijing felt like he'd punched cotton, and his heart felt even more aggrieved. He had originally wanted to provoke the kid into talking back so he could seize the opportunity to lash out, but he hadn't expected the kid to be so slippery.

"snort."

Zhao Zhijing turned and left.

After breakfast, it's time for morning classes.

Hundreds of Taoist priests sat cross-legged in the square, chanting the Tao Te Ching with the lead priest.

"The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao..."

Yang Guo sat cross-legged, humming along, his mind already far away.

The martial arts of the Quanzhen Sect emphasize gradual progress and a solid foundation. To put it bluntly, it's slow. Following the teaching methods of these old Taoist priests, even after ten or eight years of practice, one would only reach a second-rate level. He didn't have the time to waste on that.

Within his dantian, the internal energy of the Toad Style was stirring restlessly.

The martial arts passed down by Ouyang Feng are extremely domineering, completely opposite to the internal energy cultivation of the Quanzhen Sect. If these Taoist priests were to discover this, they would probably cripple him on the spot.

Yang Guo carefully suppressed the heat, pretending to be drowsy.

"Yang Guo!"

A sharp shout.

Yin Zhiping stood before him, holding a ruler, his face ashen: "Looking around during morning lessons, what kind of behavior is this?"

Yang Guo was startled and quickly stood up: "Master, this disciple...this disciple's legs are numb."

A few snickers came from the surrounding area.

Those were several disciples of Zhao Zhijing, who were looking at him with schadenfreude.

Yin Zhiping was exasperated. He had intended to properly guide this descendant of his old friend, but although Yang Guo seemed clever, he lacked any sense of self-control and couldn't even sit still on the first day.

"Go and copy the 'Fifteen Treatises on the Establishment of the Teachings by Chongyang' ten times. You are not allowed to eat lunch until you finish copying it."

Yin Zhiping said a few words and turned to leave.

Yang Guo curled his lip.

Copying books?

I spent several years copying books on Peach Blossom Island, and I've long since mastered it.

He strolled leisurely to the library and found a corner to sit down. He laid out his brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, but didn't rush to write.

He took the small porcelain bottle out of his pocket.

Jiuhua Jade Dew Pills.

That was left to him by Huang Rong.

Yang Guo uncorked the bottle and brought it to his nose to smell. A clear, crisp medicinal fragrance mingled with a faint, almost imperceptible body scent.

"Rong'er, oh Rong'er."

Yang Guo toyed with the porcelain vase, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "What are you doing right now? Thinking of me too?"

Just then, footsteps came from the doorway.

Two young Taoist priests carried in a basket of scriptures, muttering to themselves as they walked.

"Have you heard? Uncle Zhao is throwing a tantrum in the back mountain again, saying that Lu Qingdu is too stupid and can't even master the 'Golden Goose Skill'."

"Shh, keep your voice down. That Lu Qingdu is arrogant and domineering because he is Uncle Zhao's eldest disciple. We can't afford to offend him."

Yang Guo's ears twitched.

Lu Qingdu?

That Taoist priest who's as fat as a pig?

Yang Guo's eyes darted around, and a plan came to mind.

He tucked the porcelain bottle into his pocket, picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and began writing rapidly on the paper.

The handwriting was messy and illegible.

What he wrote was not "Fifteen Discourses on Establishing the Teachings on Double Ninth Festival," but rather a doggerel.

"The Quanzhen Taoist priests don't eat meat, and their stomachs rumble with hunger. If they see a beautiful woman, they'll throw down their whisks and lose their souls."

After finishing writing, Yang Guo blew on the ink and chuckled.

The water in the Quanzhen Sect is too clear.

You have to stir things up before you can catch a fish.

……

Half a month passed in the blink of an eye.

Yang Guo thrived in the Quanzhen Sect—of course, this refers to his slacking off.

Besides eating and sleeping, he was punished by copying books and sweeping the floor every day. Yin Zhiping wanted to teach him martial arts, so he first taught him a set of introductory mental techniques from the Quanzhen Sect. Yang Guo memorized it after hearing it once, but when it came to actually practicing it, he pretended to be stupid.

"Gather your Qi in your Dantian... Ouch, Master, I've choked on my Qi, my stomach hurts."

"Hold fast to your core... No, no, I'm dizzy."

Yin Zhiping was so angry he had no temper left. He could only think that the student was dull-witted or hadn't laid a good foundation before. He could only let him do odd jobs first to temper his temper.

That afternoon.

Yang Guo, holding a broom with bald bristles, swept the fallen leaves across the plaza behind the palace.

It's less like sweeping and more like drawing talismans.

"Hey, isn't this Junior Brother Yang?"

A greasy voice rang out.

Yang Guo didn't even need to look up to know who it was. Lu Qingdu. Zhao Zhijing's eldest disciple, a tyrant among the third-generation disciples of the Quanzhen Sect. This man had a fat head and big ears, and his Taoist robe made him look like a tightly wrapped rice dumpling, his flesh jiggling as he walked.

Lu Qingdu, accompanied by two followers, swaggered over and kicked over a pile of fallen leaves that Yang Guo had just swept up.

Splash!

Dead leaves fluttered in the air.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry," Lu Qingdu said with a forced smile, "I didn't see it."

Yang Guo, holding the broom, straightened up. His face showed no anger, but instead a fawning smile: "Senior Brother Lu, what are you saying? It was I who was blind and blocked your way."

"You're smart to know what's good for you."

Lu Qingdu snorted smugly. For the past two weeks, he'd caused Yang Guo no shortage of trouble. At first, he was worried the kid might have some skills, after all, he was sent by the great hero Guo. But after a few tries, he found the kid was just a coward, never fighting back or arguing, and his courage grew.

"I heard that Uncle Yin taught you for half a month, and you still haven't developed any Qi perception?"

Lu Qingdu circled Yang Guo, clicking his tongue in amazement. "What a waste. If I were you, I would have already smashed my head against a block of tofu to save face for the Quanzhen Sect."

"Senior brother is right," Yang Guo said meekly.

"What's the use of just talking?" Lu Qingdu's eyes darted around, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "I've recently mastered a set of 'Quanzhen Swordplay,' and I need a sparring partner. Since you're free anyway, why don't you spar with me for a couple of moves?"

They called it a sparring match, but really they just wanted to find a punching bag to vent their anger on.

Several young Taoist priests passing by quickly moved away, fearing they might be caught in the crossfire.

"This... Junior Brother doesn't know martial arts." Yang Guo looked troubled.

"What's there to be afraid of if you don't know martial arts? Senior brother will stop short of a fight."

Lu Qingdu didn't give him a chance to refuse, drawing his longsword with a clang, the tip pointing directly at Yang Guo's nose. "Take this!"

Before he finished speaking, the longsword had already pierced out like a venomous snake.

Although this sword strike wasn't particularly skillful, it was incredibly powerful. If it had landed, it would have drawn blood at the very least.

A hint of mockery flashed in Yang Guo's eyes.

That's it?

Even Fu Mei's farming skills are inferior.

He exclaimed in surprise, "Oh my god!"

His body seemed to freeze in fear; his legs went weak, and he fell backward.

This fall, though seemingly awkward, actually allowed him to avoid the sword's edge.

Lu Qingdu's sword missed its mark, and unable to stop his momentum, he lunged forward.

Just then, Yang Guo "accidentally" lifted the broom in his hand upwards.

Snapped!

The dusty broom head landed squarely on Lu Qingdu's face.

"Ptooey, ptooey, ptooey!"

Lu Qingdu got a mouthful of dust, his eyes were glazed over, and then Yang Guo tripped him with his outstretched leg.

Pfft!

That 300-pound ball of flesh crashed to the ground like a mountain, landing face-first in the dirt.

The square was deathly silent.

Then a few suppressed laughs erupted.

Lu Qingdu lay on the ground, unable to get up for a long time. His fat face was swollen to a liver color, and his nose was covered in blood mixed with dust; he looked utterly pathetic.

"Yang Guo! I'm going to kill you!"

Enraged, Lu Qingdu got up and was ready to fight back.

"Senior brother, spare my life!"

Yang Guo scrambled backward, still waving the broom in his hand, shouting, "I didn't mean to! I really didn't mean to! I just slipped!"

"stop!"

A sharp shout rang out.

Zhao Zhijing and Yin Zhiping happened to come out of the corridor and saw this scene.

Zhao Zhijing's face was extremely ugly. His eldest disciple had actually been reduced to this state by a mere novice, a good-for-nothing. It was as if he had utterly humiliated him.

"What's going on?" Zhao Zhijing walked over with a gloomy face.

"Master!" Lu Qingdu cried out as if he had seen a savior, pointing at Yang Guo and sobbing, "That brat attacked me! He hit me in the face with a broom!"

Yang Guo looked completely innocent, shrinking behind Yin Zhiping: "Master, Senior Brother Lu insisted on sparring with me. I told him I didn't know any martial arts, and he tried to stab me with his sword. I got scared and fell down, and then... who knew the broom would just stop obeying my commands."

Yin Zhiping glanced at Lu Qingdu's miserable state, then at Yang Guo's terrified face. He wanted to laugh, but he kept a straight face: "Senior Brother Zhijing, children are bound to bump into each other when they're playing. It seems Qingdu needs to work on his lower body skills."

That's a complete slap in the face.

Even someone who doesn't know martial arts can trip him up. Has the Quanzhen Sect's kung fu been wasted?

Zhao Zhijing trembled with rage, glaring fiercely at Lu Qingdu: "Disgraceful wretch! Get back here!"

Lu Qingdu covered his face, glared at Yang Guo with resentment, and slunk away.

"Yang Guo".

Zhao Zhijing turned his head, staring coldly at Yang Guo, "Good, very good. It seems you are a martial arts prodigy, even wielding a broom with such superb skill."

"Uncle-Master, you flatter me." Yang Guo smiled shyly. "I guess I was just lucky."

"Luck?" Zhao Zhijing sneered. "I hope your luck continues to be this good. Next month is the sect's grand competition. I'll see if you still have such good luck then."

After speaking, he walked away.

Yin Zhiping sighed and turned to look at Yang Guo: "Guo'er, you..."

He wanted to ask if it was intentional, but seeing Yang Guo's bewildered look, he thought it was impossible.

"Stay away from them in the future," Yin Zhiping could only advise.

"Yes, Master."

Yang Guo nodded obediently.

After Yin Zhiping had walked away, Yang Guo straightened up and dusted himself off.

He looked in the direction Zhao Zhijing had left, his eyes gradually turning cold.

A grand competition within the gate?

You want to take this opportunity to cripple me?

Sure.

Let's see who crippled whom.