The Return of the Condor Heroes: Starting with a Suicide Note and Conquering All Realms

"Grandma, bring them in."

The sound drifted out from the depths of the white mist.

Ethereal and cold, without a trace of emotional fluctuation, as if the person standing deep in the fog is not a living person, but an ice sculpture.

Lin Yuan slowly turned his left hand, and the wisp of dark red "Monarch Flame" that had been dancing at his fingertips was instantly extinguished.

However, the pure golden vertical pupils in his eyes did not fade, and two golden rays, as if they were tangible, were fixed on Qiu Chuji's face.

"Sect Leader Qiu, if the Quanzhen Sect wishes to continue silencing us, I, Lin, am ready to oblige at any time."

Lin Yuan spoke in a calm tone, as if he were discussing the night scene.

Qiu Chuji's entire right arm was still spasming violently, and his charred palm was throbbing with excruciating pain.

He stared intently at the gray-robed youth before him, his heart churning with turmoil.

This young man's internal energy was extremely domineering and intense, unlike any martial art from any school in the Central Plains. That last palm strike wasn't even delivered with his full strength.

If a war were to break out here, the Quanzhen Sect, which had just suffered a night attack by Huo Du and suffered heavy casualties, would be severely weakened today, and might even face annihilation.

Qiu Chuji's gaze shifted with difficulty, landing on the deathly pale Zhao Zhijing and Qingfeng's corpse on the ground.

Should we preserve the sect's last shred of honor, or protect a wicked and wicked disciple?

This choice is not difficult for a sect leader.

Qiu Chuji closed his eyes, his chest heaved violently, and when he opened them again, only a resolute look remained in his eyes.

"Go, pull open Qingfeng's Taoist robe."

He gave the order, his voice hoarse.

Two Quanzhen disciples immediately stepped forward and tore open Qingfeng's clothes from the back.

There was no external injury, and the skin was intact.

Qiu Chuji stepped forward, placing his left hand on Qingfeng's back, and a wisp of Quanzhen internal energy probed into his palm. A moment later, his face turned completely ashen. The break in his heart meridian was perfectly smooth; it was undoubtedly a mark of being instantly severed by extremely condensed Quanzhen internal energy, something that could never be caused by external shock.

Ironclad evidence.

"Master, spare my life!"

Zhao Zhijing's mental defenses completely collapsed. He fell to his knees with a thud, frantically kowtowing. His forehead slammed heavily against the bluestone slab, blood streaming down his face. "This disciple was confused for a moment! This disciple knows his mistake!"

Qiu Chuji didn't waste another word.

He suddenly turned around, raised his left palm with a strong wind, and slammed it mercilessly into Zhao Zhijing's lower abdomen.

"Bang!"

A muffled sound of true energy exploding within the body rang out.

Zhao Zhijing let out a bloodcurdling scream, his entire body collapsing to the ground like a lump of mud. His dantian and qi sea were completely shattered; decades of arduous cultivation had been destroyed in an instant.

"Take him to the dungeon and await his fate."

Qiu Chuji turned his back and refused to look at this wicked disciple who had brought shame upon the Quanzhen Sect.

Lin Yuan, from beginning to end, didn't even lift his eyelids once, completely ignoring Zhao Zhijing, who was rolling on the ground and groaning in pain.

He slowly suppressed his aura, the golden pupils in his eyes disappearing like the tide, and the dark golden internal energy flowing around his body retreating back to his dantian. Then, he turned around and walked straight to Granny Sun and Yang Guo.

"Let's go."

Lin Yuan spoke softly.

He strode across the boundary marker of Quanzhen Temple that read "No Entry for Outsiders".

Yang Guo followed closely behind, the young man straightening his chest, turning back to glare fiercely at the Quanzhen Sect members, clenching his fists, and engraving these hypocritical Taoists into his mind.

Fifteen Quanzhen disciples stood frozen in place, longswords in hand. No one uttered a sound, and no one dared to step forward to stop him. They watched helplessly as the figure in the servant's robe walked into the swirling white mist, their breaths subconsciously suppressed.

From this day forward, this sickly servant who used to sweep the floor right under their noses became a sword hanging over the entire Chongyang Palace.

Deep within the white mist, jade bees hovered like clouds.

Grandma Sun led the way. She took out a porcelain bottle from her sleeve and sprinkled pale yellow powder along the path. The jade bees smelled the scent and immediately scattered to both sides like well-trained soldiers, making way for a safe passage.

As they walked, Granny Sun couldn't help but frequently turn back to look at Lin Yuan.

That palm strike from the young man just now completely shattered her understanding. The Ancient Tomb Sect and the Quanzhen Sect had lived next to each other for decades, and she knew Qiu Chuji's martial arts skills all too well.

To be able to force Qiu Chuji into such a wretched state with a single palm strike—such strength is rare even in the entire martial arts world. But what truly terrified Granny Sun was the young man's unfathomable cunning. Feigning illness to sweep the floors at Chongyang Palace, enduring countless cold stares, he could still reveal his true colors at the most critical moment, delivering a fatal blow.

Ahead, at the end of the white mist, a huge stone wall blocked the way.

Grandma Sun walked to the stone wall, precisely pressed her hands on a protruding bluestone, and pressed down hard.

"Click-click-click!"

A dull, grating sound of machinery churning echoed from within the stone wall. The heavy, broken stone gate slowly rose, and dust that had accumulated over countless years fell away, revealing a dark, deep passageway.

The moment the stone door opened, a bone-chilling cold that seemed to freeze to the bone rushed out from the depths of the passageway as if it were a tangible force.

This was the extreme yin cold accumulated from the ancient tomb's long-standing darkness and deep burial underground. Even a single breath from it would freeze an ordinary martial artist's hands and feet, and obstruct their internal energy flow. Yang Guo was the first to be affected, shivering violently and hugging his arms tightly.

The cold air aggravated the sword wound on his left arm, causing a sharp, piercing pain.

However, Lin Yuan remained calm and stepped into the passageway without hesitation.

The eerie chill greedily seeped into his body through his pores.

The extremely cold Yin Qi, which was enough to stagnate the true Qi of ordinary martial artists, was instantly devoured and refined by the "Monarch Flame" lurking deep within as soon as it seeped into the meridians, turning into strands of pure energy that were fed back into the dark golden Qi Sea.

Lin Yuan walked steadily, his breathing even and long, and not even a corner of his clothes was frozen by the cold.

Grandma Sun, who was walking ahead, was secretly alarmed.

The ancient tomb was extremely cold; even internal martial arts masters from the Quanzhen Sect had to constantly circulate their internal energy to resist it.

But the young man showed no fear whatsoever, not even a trace of his true energy leaking out. He seemed to have become one with the coldness of the ancient tomb.

The passageway winds and twists, with fine water droplets seeping from the stone walls. The water droplets hit the bluestone slabs, producing a clear and crisp echo.

The three of them passed through three heavy stone doors and finally entered the main burial chamber.

The tomb chamber was extremely spacious, with several pine torches sticking out of the walls, casting a dim and flickering light. The air was filled with the faint scent of heather and the lingering stench of earth. In the center of the tomb chamber stood five enormous stone coffins.

In front of the stone coffin on the far left, a person stood quietly.

She wore a light white veil, as white as snow. Her appearance was exceptionally beautiful, yet she had a sickly pallor, as if she had never seen the sun.

She didn't look at the wounded Yang Guo, nor at Granny Sun who was leading the way. Her cold, empty gaze, seemingly devoid of any human emotion, pierced through the dim firelight and landed directly on Lin Yuan.

The moment she looked at him, the temperature inside the tomb seemed to plummet again. This wasn't a physical cold, but rather the aura of some kind of cultivation technique that severed all emotions and desires and was extremely exclusive.

Little Dragon Girl.

Lin Yuan stopped in his tracks. He stood calmly in place, meeting the cold gaze head-on without flinching.

"Grandma," the girl in white spoke slowly, her voice as still as a deep winter spring, without a ripple, "you've forgotten the ancestral precepts. No man is allowed in the ancient tomb except for the dead."

Before he finished speaking, without any preparatory move or the slightest hint of killing intent, he made no move.

The girl's wide white sleeves billowed without warning. Two snow-white ribbons, like venomous snakes spitting their tongues, instantly covered several meters, their sharp, tearing sounds aimed straight at Lin Yuan's throat!