The Great Condor Hero

“What marvelous swordsmanship!”

Though Li Mochou was under attack, she could not help but offer her praise, thinking to herself that this young man’s Quanzhen swordplay had reached a level of near-perfection. Despite his youth, he was already a formidable opponent. He could not compare to the likes of Qiu Chuji among the Seven Masters of Quanzhen, yet he was certainly on par with Sun Buer, the Quiet Wanderer.

It should be known that Sun Buer, despite her advanced age, had yet to truly master the inner workings and swordplay of the Quanzhen Sect. For a man of such youth to perfect the Quanzhen sword technique to this degree was a feat that even those of lesser talent could scarcely accomplish in a lifetime.

Though Li Mochou voiced her admiration, she showed no mercy in her attacks. She stepped sideways, her horsetail whisk sweeping in a sudden arc. In an instant, the silken strands of the whisk danced, slashing left and right, sweeping in from all directions toward her opponent.

The young man was startled. Though his martial skills were considerable, he had little real combat experience, and now, faced with a powerful adversary, he summoned all his focus and skill, executing the Quanzhen sword technique to its fullest.

In the space of a few breaths, the two had exchanged more than thirty moves! Sword light and silken whisk intertwined, power radiating in all directions.

Ultimately, Li Mochou’s skills were superior, and her attacks drew ever closer. The young man’s sword circle shrank smaller and smaller. Though he defended with utmost concentration, defeat was inevitable.

Those watching the duel each harbored their own thoughts. Master Xuanzhi wondered to himself when the Quanzhen Sect had produced such a prodigy: so young, yet his skills rivaled the Seven Masters. Given time, he was sure to achieve greatness.

Tang Xuan thought that if he himself were to take the young man’s place, the outcome would likely be much the same. Yelu Qi’s inner strength might not match Tang Xuan’s own mastery of Shaolin’s “Arhat’s Thousand-Pound Technique,” for inner strength often required years of diligent cultivation. Yet Yelu Qi’s level was much higher than Tang Xuan’s sixteenth, and his attributes superior.

As for martial skills, Tang Xuan’s mastery of Shaolin Arhat Fist, the lost Five Tigers Gate-Splitting Saber, and Wood-Cutting Needle techniques might not surpass Yelu Qi’s consummate Quanzhen swordplay by much.

Elsewhere, Yang Guo, Cheng Ying, Wanyan Ping, Hong Lingbo, Lu Wushuang, and two middle-aged beggars were also watching the match. The young woman accompanying Yelu Qi was likely his younger sister, Yelu Yan.

Li Mochou had secured the upper hand and was certain of victory. As she fought, she laughed and asked, “And who is your esteemed master in the Quanzhen Sect?”

Unless absolutely necessary, Li Mochou had no wish to make mortal enemies of the Quanzhen Sect. If the Seven Masters were to pursue her with all their might, it would be no trifling matter.

“I am Yelu Qi, indeed a disciple of Quanzhen,” Yelu Qi replied.

Li Mochou pressed on, “Is your master Ma Yu or Qiu Chuji?”

“No.”

“Which of the Seven Masters, then?” she asked again.

“None of them.”

They continued their exchange, both in words and in combat. Li Mochou sneered inwardly. Since the founder Wang Chongyang’s death, only his seven disciples—the Seven Masters—remained to lead Quanzhen. This youth, so young yet so skilled, claimed to be a disciple of Quanzhen but not of any of the Seven Masters?

She had forgotten that Quanzhen had another master—the “Old Mischief” Zhou Botong, Wang Chongyang’s junior. Yet Zhou Botong was a roaming eccentric, rarely seen and little known. It was no wonder that not only Li Mochou but even Master Xuanzhi looked puzzled. Who else in Quanzhen could train such a remarkable young disciple?

For that matter, among the Shaolin’s younger generation, only the lay disciple Qiao Feng could best this youth. But Qiao Feng was already in his thirties, while this young man was just over twenty. In sum, only his own newly accepted disciple, the outsider Tang Xuan, could vie with such a youth.

As for the other sects—the Five Mountain Sword Sects, the Qingcheng, Emei, Kunlun, and so on—none among the younger generation could compare. Even the Seven Heroes of Wudang were no longer young; in their youth, they might have matched him, but they were trained by Zhang Sanfeng himself.

“Hiding your true master, are you? Take this!”

Seeing the youth’s refusal to name his teacher, Li Mochou grew impatient. She thought, “If I grievously wound him now, the Seven Masters cannot blame me, for I have already asked his lineage and he refused to answer!”

Li Mochou attacked with deadly intent. Yelu Qi was on the verge of defeat and injury when suddenly a loud shout rang out:

“Brother Yelu, allow me to assist you!”

A masked young hero, with a sudden movement, appeared beside Hong Lingbo. With a swift motion and a metallic ring, he drew Hong Lingbo’s sword from her side.

Though Hong Lingbo’s skills were not insignificant—on the open road, she was a second-rate master, a match for the heads of minor sects—she had long followed Li Mochou and had ample experience in battle. Yet this masked young hero’s martial arts were far superior; before she could react, her sword was in his hand.

This young hero was trained in a peerless art: the Nine Yin Manual! Though his current level in the Nine Yin Manual was not yet high, he was already a match for the top masters of the realm.

With sword in hand, he advanced to aid Yelu Qi. The two now joined forces, and Li Mochou found herself facing doubled pressure.

With several swift strokes, he forced Li Mochou back, then removed his mask and said with a smile, “Aunt-Master, Yang Guo greets you.”

This address left many onlookers bewildered. Yang Guo opposed Li Mochou, yet called her “Aunt-Master”? And in all her years roaming the land, Li Mochou had never once mentioned her sect, nor to which school she belonged.

Li Mochou was secretly shocked to recognize Yang Guo, surprised at the speed of his martial progress and wondering what extraordinary art he had mastered. Could it be the skills from the Jade Maiden Heart Sutra?

Though inwardly taken aback, Li Mochou betrayed nothing, merely smiling faintly. “Ah, and how is your master?”

Though surprised at Yang Guo’s progress, what Li Mochou truly feared was his master, Xiaolongnü. As long as her junior was not present, no matter how rapidly Yang Guo advanced, Li Mochou was confident she could handle these young people. Did her reputation as the “Scarlet Serpent Fairy” count for nothing?

Hearing Li Mochou mention Yang Guo’s “master,” Tang Xuan’s eyes lit up. That could only be the famed Xiaolongnü, one of the most exquisite beauties in all the martial world. The “Young Hero Yang” was indeed Yang Guo. With his admission, the words “Yang Guo, Level ???” now hovered above his head.

At the mention of his master, Yang Guo was instantly reminded of the missing Xiaolongnü, and his heart ached. Normally sharp and resourceful, he could not help his reaction, for Xiaolongnü was ever on his mind.

Li Mochou saw Yang Guo’s expression and knew at once that Xiaolongnü was not nearby. She sneered, “And where is that wonderful junior of mine? It’s been so long since we last met!”

Yang Guo replied stubbornly, “My master is close at hand. Wait but a moment, and she will appear.”

Li Mochou only sneered silently, clearly unconvinced.