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

Lin Yuan grasped Huang Rong's hand.

That hand was soft and fair, yet it sent chills down his spine even more than Li Mochou's Ice Soul Silver Needles.

He had no way out. The blood-written words on the suicide note still echoed in his mind.

Going to Peach Blossom Island means death, but refusing now would be tantamount to tearing off the mask of civility and telling this woman, who is the most intelligent woman in the world, "I know you want to kill me."

How can a lowly pup who doesn't even recognize the secret codes of the Beggars' Sect possess the fear of foreseeing the future?

So he had no choice but to board the ship. To carve out a way to survive in a seemingly hopeless situation—that was the only survival rule those three suicide notes taught him.

Before dawn, Guo Jing found Ouyang Feng and Yang Guo in a desolate graveyard three miles outside the city.

The old poison master, like a mad bear protecting its cub, held Yang Guo and slept soundly, the toad-style internal energy causing the withered grass on the grave to tremble. Guo Jing was about to snatch him away when Huang Rong held his arm down.

"He's a mad dog now; if he gets really angry, he'll tear the child apart."

Huang Rong's method was bloodless. She applied a layer of rosemary balm, specially made by Peach Blossom Island, to Yang Guo's nostrils, and while the old man and the child were fast asleep, Guo Jing quietly carried Yang Guo back.

When the old poisoner woke up, all that was left in his arms was a handful of yellow earth.

Early morning at Jiaxing Wharf.

The river wind was sharp, carrying the fishy smell of the water as it rushed into the awning boat. Three well-dressed children stood on the deck. The Wu brothers were pointing and gesturing at the unconscious Yang Guo, while Guo Fu, with her hair in double buns, covered her nose in disgust and backed away, saying, "Father, this little beggar stinks!"

"Fu'er, how dare you be so rude!" Guo Jing scolded her sternly.

Lin Yuan walked at the back. He was hunched over, his steps unsteady, each step on the plank making him sway as if he were about to fall into the river. A sickly man who had been beaten, starved for three days, and kept alive by only one pill, should have been breathing in broken, fragmented breaths.

He perfectly blended himself into the shell of a "weakling," not allowing Huang Rong to catch a single flaw out of the corner of her eye.

The ship left the shore and sailed into the fog.

Lin Yuan huddled in the darkest corner of the stern, like a bag of moldy rice. The damp deck felt bone-chillingly cold. He closed his eyes, seemingly asleep, but in reality, all his consciousness was undergoing a brutal suppression within his body.

Inside the dantian, two ferocious beasts were locked in a fierce battle.

The Toad Style's true energy is sinister and domineering, like a lurking black python; while the trace of masculine energy drawn out by the incomplete One-Finger Divine Skill, though as weak as a thread, is like a red-hot iron nail, firmly nailed to the python's head, refusing to yield an inch.

Last night, he forcibly pushed his meridians open using the aftershocks of the duel between the two masters, which was like drinking poison to quench thirst. His body is now like a broken porcelain bowl full of cracks; if he's not careful, it will explode into a pile of mangled flesh.

In the afternoon, footsteps stopped in front of me.

Huang Rong, holding a bowl of hot porridge, looked down at him and said, "Lin Yuan, have something hot to drink."

Lin Yuan opened his eyes, took the porridge with both hands with trepidation, and gulped it down. There was meat in the porridge, but he didn't even dare to chew it, swallowing it whole.

He knew that Huang Rong hadn't left.

"Let me see the wound on your back." Huang Rong's voice was extremely soft, like a spring breeze in Jiangnan, without a trace of worldly concern.

Lin Yuan did not refuse; to refuse would be a sign of guilt. He put down the broken bowl, turned his back, and slowly lifted the tattered shirt that reeked of sourness.

A pair of warm fingers touched his spine.

The fingertips are extremely soft, and the force is very light, sliding down the spine inch by inch.

This isn't an injury examination; it's a bone-checking and pulse-examination procedure!

Lin Yuan felt every hair on his body stand on end. The Falling Blossom Sword Palm of Peach Blossom Island was known for its finger techniques, and her "going with the flow" move could transform internal energy into invisible threads, cutting into every meridian of his body and thoroughly investigating him!

Lin Yuan had been waiting for this moment.

The instant Huang Rong's finger force touched the Lung Meridian of Hand-Taiyin, Lin Yuan did not hesitate to ruthlessly forcefully push the chaotic Toad Style True Qi within his body into the deepest corner of his dantian, as if swallowing shattered glass!

The entire meridian was instantly drained, leaving it withered like a dead old tree.

Huang Rong's fingertips paused on his back for two breaths. She felt the abnormal expansion of his meridians—they had been forcibly torn apart by the aftershocks of his internal energy last night, and could not be hidden at all. But inside the meridians, they were empty, without the slightest sign of internal energy flowing through them.

Retract your fingertips.

"Your meridians were affected by the palm strike of a top-tier master. Fortunately, your foundation was too weak, and you didn't retain your true energy, otherwise you would be dead by now. You'll recover in a few days."

"Thank you... thank you, Madam Guo," Lin Yuan replied in a trembling voice, then retreated back into the shadows.

He lowered his head and clenched his teeth tightly. His stomach churned violently, a terrifying backlash from the forceful suppression of his inner energy. A mouthful of purplish-black blood welled up in his throat, but he forced it back down his esophagus without even daring to move his Adam's apple.

As night fell, a thick fog blanketed the river, and the oil lamps flickered dimly.

When Guo Jing's steady snoring came from inside the cabin, Lin Yuan finally couldn't hold back any longer.

At midnight, the two streams of true energy went completely berserk!

The Qi sensation of One-Finger Divine Skill transforms into a blunt knife, cutting wildly through the meridians; while the true Qi of Toad Stance is like thousands of ice needles, radiating from the Dantian and exploding into the limbs and bones.

Lin Yuan instantly curled up like a boiled shrimp. His forehead pressed tightly against the cold ship's plank, and he forced the sound of the impact back down by biting his lip.

"puff!"

A mouthful of foul-smelling black blood finally sprayed onto the deck, gleaming with an eerie purple light in the dim light.

His meridians were severed, and his internal energy was flowing backward. His body was being torn apart from the inside!

In the last second before his consciousness was about to be completely shattered by the excruciating pain.

Deep within his mind, the fragments of those three blood-written suicide notes suddenly erupted in a blinding crimson! The handwriting frantically disintegrated, reassembled, and collided, like a shattered mirror tearing open a pitch-black rift in the center of his consciousness.

There were no door frames, no light, only an abyss that swallowed everything.

A terrifying force that transcends martial arts instantly seized Lin Yuan's soul, violently pulling him towards the door!

Falling. An endless fall.

In his ears, thousands upon thousands of voices converged into a torrent that sent shivers down his spine. Men and women, young and old, their voices carrying a desolate, dimensional-transcending intensity, exploded simultaneously in his mind:

"By the time you read this letter, I will already be dead!!"

boom!

The moment my consciousness re-established, the icy, biting rain pelted my face like iron filings.

There was no misty rain like in Jiangnan, only a devastating downpour like the Milky Way pouring down.

Lin Yuan suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils contracting sharply.

Beneath his feet, the swaying wooden boat was no longer in motion, but on a rough, hard asphalt road. A glaring white dotted line stretched forward, flanked by stainless steel railings. A huge green metal sign swayed in the gale, bearing simplified Chinese characters that he recognized all too well:

[Hu-Min Elevated Road, towards Minhang]

On the distant horizon, a steel jungle of steel and glass pierced the clouds. A jet-black rotorcraft helicopter swept low overhead, its searchlight's cold white beam tearing through the rain, the roar of its massive engine causing the puddles to throb wildly!

This is not the Southern Song Dynasty. This isn't even any ancient world from the era of cold weapons!

"bite."

A crisp, metallic mechanical sound suddenly resounded deep within my mind.

Immediately afterwards, ripples appeared in the void. A heavy, black and gold rectangular box fell from the sky, crashing into the puddle at Lin Yuan's feet with a "bang," splashing water up to half a person's height.

The surface of the box was covered with bizarre and intricate World Tree totems. In the very center, a dark gold plaque was embedded, its inscription resembling freshly spilled blood:

The Remains of Lin Yuan (Dragon Clan Dimension) in a Parallel World

Lin Yuan knelt on one knee in the torrential rain and slowly stretched out his hand.

The moment the fingertips touched the surface of the box, a scorching power, hot enough to incinerate the soul, shot straight up from the fingertips to the top of the head!

That was neither true qi nor internal force.

That is a higher-dimensional life form, the ultimate fuel forged in billions of years of brutal evolution with slaughter and blood!

The lid of the square box pops open automatically without any wind.

There were no ashes inside.

It was a single crystal, about the size of a fist, its surface covered with dark red dragon scale patterns. It pulsated extremely slowly, yet with tremendous force, in the rainwater.

Like a living heart.

Rainwater struck the crystals and was instantly vaporized into white wisps of air by the terrifying heat.

Just then, a series of extremely steady footsteps pierced through the roar of the helicopter and the noise of the downpour, coming from the end of the overpass.

Lin Yuan suddenly looked up.

Within the water curtain, a tall, slender figure in black is slowly walking towards you, holding a black umbrella.

With each step he took, the puddles beneath his feet seemed to automatically recede to the sides as if guided by a divine force.

The person slightly raised the edge of the umbrella.

In the pitch-black night and torrential rain, a pair of pure gold vertical pupils, seemingly flowing with molten lava, were fixed on Lin Yuan with a cold, divinely wrathful gaze.