Chapter Six: Is There a Quanzhen Disciple Who's Colluding with the Mongols?

"Zhijing, don't be rude!" Wang Chuyi finally couldn't hold back and rebuked him.

Although Qiu Chuji also felt Zhao Zhijing had gone too far, he had to admit that the challenge had stirred his curiosity and competitive spirit. He wanted to see for himself what real skill this rising star, whose name was famed throughout the martial world, possessed.

"Forget it." Lin Xuan shook his head, still wearing a gentle smile. "Since Priest Zhao believes that reason should be settled with swords, I, Lin Xuan, will gladly oblige. But blades have no eyes, so let's stop as soon as one of us has the advantage. My martial arts are only mediocre; if anything goes wrong, I hope Priest Zhao will forgive me."

"Hmph! What an arrogant claim!" Zhao Zhijing was thoroughly incensed by Lin Xuan's nonchalant manner. He gave a cold laugh, flicked his sleeve, and led Lin Xuan to the training ground outside Chongyang Palace.

The training ground stretched a hundred yards in every direction, paved with gray bricks and lined with green pines and cypresses.

Quite a few Quanzhen disciples had already gathered there, hurrying over to watch.

Wang Chuyi and Qiu Chuji followed them and sat on the stone steps at the edge of the training ground, watching the two men in the center with solemn expressions.

Zhao Zhijing stood proudly in the middle of the grounds. His long sword slid fully from its scabbard with a hum, its blade reflecting a dazzling, icy gleam beneath the sunlight.

His eyes were sharp, and he pointed the sword tip straight at Lin Xuan. His voice rang with a taunt. "Please, go ahead. Don't say I'm bullying you."

Lin Xuan was still empty-handed, his hands clasped behind his back. His green robe fluttered in the wind.

He smiled faintly, his voice clear and bright.

"After you, Priest Zhao."

Seeing how casually Lin Xuan took the challenge, Zhao Zhijing burned with even greater anger, convinced that Lin Xuan was looking down on him.

With a furious shout, he darted forward like lightning. The long sword in his hand abruptly became a shooting star, thrusting straight at Lin Xuan's face!

His opening move was one of the Quanzhen Swordplay's exquisite killing strikes. The sword's momentum was fierce; he clearly meant to defeat Lin Xuan in one move and humiliate him in front of everyone.

The sword wind howled as it rushed toward Lin Xuan's face.

Yet Lin Xuan stood motionless where he was.

Only when Zhao Zhijing's blade was about to touch his clothes did Lin Xuan's body suddenly slide less than half a foot to the left.

The movement made no sound. He was like a wisp of smoke or a breeze—so fast it was almost impossible to follow, yet without so much as a whisper of air being cut.

Zhao Zhijing's sword tip skimmed past the very tip of Lin Xuan's nose!

The force of the wind lifted a few strands of hair at Lin Xuan's temple, yet the sword didn't even touch the hem of his robe!

Zhao Zhijing was horrified. He had practiced swordplay for years and had never seen such an uncanny footwork!

Though shocked, he didn't hesitate. He turned the momentum of his sword, striking toward Lin Xuan's ribs with his left palm while his right hand swept the sword low, aiming for Lin Xuan's legs.

But Lin Xuan moved even faster.

He used no technique at all—only speed, perception, and an extraordinarily precise command of his body.

His footwork was like willow fluff in the wind or a fish in water. Each dodge was effortless and perfectly timed.

He didn't even need to strike. A slight shift of his body was enough to turn Zhao Zhijing's attacks aside, making every sword thrust and palm strike hit nothing but air. Zhao Zhijing's attacks had force, but nowhere to land.

The Quanzhen disciples watching from around the grounds had their eyes wide with shock.

They had never seen Senior Uncle Zhao's swordplay look so "clumsy." He couldn't hit even a single unarmed youth.

"You... You can only dodge?!"

Zhao Zhijing was so furious his eyes nearly bulged. He felt his dignity had been trampled like never before. Gripping his sword with both hands, he drove his Internal Energy to its peak and unleashed the strongest move in the Quanzhen Swordplay—"Nine-Nine Return to Origin."

Sword light cascaded like a waterfall, tracing nine afterimages through the air and sealing off every escape route around Lin Xuan!

A trace of amusement finally flashed through Lin Xuan's eyes.

At the instant Zhao Zhijing's sword reached its peak, when his old strength was spent and his new strength had yet to gather, Lin Xuan slipped to his side like a ghost.

Zhao Zhijing hadn't even seen him move when he suddenly felt a numbness in his wrist.

Clang!

His long sword clattered to the ground, the crisp sound ringing across the training grounds and seeming especially loud.

In the very next moment, Lin Xuan caught the falling sword securely in his right hand.

Then he turned his wrist and pressed the sword tip against Zhao Zhijing's throat.

It had all happened in the blink of an eye.

The movements had been so fluid and swift that none of the watching Quanzhen disciples had even seen what he did.

The training grounds fell utterly silent.

Everyone stared at the dramatic scene in shock. Zhao Zhijing's tall frame stood rigid, his eyes filled with disbelief, fear, and humiliation.

Lin Xuan's expression remained calm. Looking at Zhao Zhijing's face, twisted with fear, he let the faintest trace of mockery curl his lips.

"Priest Zhao, you let me win."

He withdrew the sword, slid it back into its scabbard, and handed it to Zhao Zhijing with unhurried ease.

Zhao Zhijing's hands trembled. When he took the sword, it felt as though he were accepting a thousand-pound burden—and with it, boundless humiliation. He wanted to say something, but his throat felt blocked. He couldn't utter a word.

Wang Chuyi and Qiu Chuji both sprang to their feet, their eyes full of astonishment and admiration.

Just how powerful was this young man?

Qiu Chuji had a fiery temper, but he had always respected the strong. His prejudice against Lin Xuan vanished, replaced by deep respect and admiration.

"Your martial arts are extraordinary, Young Master Lin. This old priest is impressed!" Wang Chuyi gave Zhao Zhijing, who stood there in shame, a sympathetic glance before speaking to Lin Xuan with genuine sincerity.

Lin Xuan merely cupped his hands modestly. "You flatter me, Priest Wang. I was just lucky."

He turned to Qiu Chuji and cupped his hands again. "I came here for Brother Yang Guo. Since he's no longer with your sect, I'll go find him myself. That will also let me give my master's husband an explanation."

Lin Xuan didn't linger. He bowed to Wang Chuyi and Qiu Chuji, then turned and walked toward the gate of Chongyang Palace.

He walked with an easy grace, his robes fluttering. In the eyes of all the Quanzhen disciples, his retreating figure seemed all the taller and more mysterious.

Chapter Six: Is There a Quanzhen Disciple Who's Colluding with the Mongols?

After leaving Zhongnan Mountain, Lin Xuan didn't hurry to set out.

He took Shuang'er to an inn in a small town at the foot of the mountain, where they stayed for several days.

Lin Xuan enjoyed himself during those days. He sent people up the mountain to look for the entrance to the Ancient Tomb Sect, while enjoying Shuang'er's attentive care.

Shuang'er had come to see herself as Lin Xuan's possession in every way.

During the day, she washed and folded his clothes, made tea, and prepared his meals. Every frown and smile of hers was gentle and obedient. When Lin Xuan strolled around town, she followed quietly behind him like a shadow in jade green, carrying the books or snacks he had just bought. Her clear eyes held only his image.

At night, she became a pool of spring water, letting Lin Xuan have his way with her. She would take off her clothes of her own accord and warm his bed with her soft, hot body. With the inexperience and ardor of someone new to intimacy, she clumsily did everything she could to please him.

After each night of passion, her face flushed with satisfaction, she would curl up in Lin Xuan's arms like a docile kitten and fall asleep to the steady beat of his heart. Her wholehearted dependence and devotion deeply satisfied Lin Xuan's masculine desire for control and conquest.

One afternoon, the sun shone warmly through the window lattice, casting mottled patterns of light and shadow across the room. Its quiet warmth filled the otherwise still space.

The faint fragrance of sandalwood mingled with the scent of tea, soothing the senses.

Lin Xuan sat with his eyes closed, regulating his breath. The acupoints throughout his body opened slightly, like countless tiny whirlpools greedily drawing in the spiritual energy drifting through the world. He turned his awareness inward, feeling his true energy surge through him.

Shuang'er had gone out to the street to find some fresh fruit for Lin Xuan.

She was always like that, putting Lin Xuan's preferences first. Whenever he happened to mention something—even in passing—she would quietly remember it and do her best to provide it.

She was thoughtful and attentive, always making sure everything was taken care of before he even needed it.

A pot of tea on Lin Xuan's desk sent up wisps of steam, its warm, rich fragrance filling the air. Shuang'er had brewed it especially for him before he began his meditation.

She knew Lin Xuan liked to have tea while meditating, so she had carefully prepared everything. Then she had quietly slipped out, careful not to disturb him. Even her footsteps had been so light they were almost inaudible.

Just then, a soft but rhythmic knock sounded at the door.

"Knock, knock!"

The sound was faint, but carried a distinctive force and rhythm. Lin Xuan slowly emerged from his meditation. He recognized the Beggar Sect's secret signal.

Lin Xuan slowly opened his eyes, a glint of understanding in them. His gaze was deep and calm, as if he could see through everything in the world.

He answered quietly, "Come in." His voice wasn't loud, but carried an unquestionable authority that clearly reached the person outside.

The door opened gently, and a figure entered, bowing.

He was a man in a gray, coarse-cloth shirt. Though plain, his clothes were freshly washed and neatly pressed, without a single crease. He had a plain face, dark skin weathered by years of hardship, and a lean, capable air.

His eyes were sharp and wary, clearly those of a seasoned martial artist who had spent years traveling the jianghu. His waist bulged, suggesting he was carrying a weapon. His steps were steady, his breathing controlled, and he was plainly no ordinary man.

He was a messenger for the Northern Beggar's Sect, travel-worn after a long journey. His face bore the unmistakable marks of wind and hardship, but his eyes remained shrewd and alert.

As soon as he entered, his gaze swept quickly around the room before settling on Lin Xuan. Deep respect showed in his eyes.

Seeing Lin Xuan, he clasped his hands in greeting, his posture respectful and proper. "Greetings, Young Master Lin! I have come on behalf of Chief Qiao of the Northern Beggar's Sect to deliver a letter!"

His voice was low and strong, with the directness of a man of the jianghu, yet it also carried genuine respect for Lin Xuan.

Lin Xuan nodded and raised a hand slightly, signaling that the messenger needn't stand on ceremony. He said nothing, merely gesturing with his eyes for the man to present the letter.

The messenger understood at once and didn't dare delay. He respectfully took a bamboo tube sealed with wax from inside his robe. Its surface was smooth and lustrous, clearly polished and carefully maintained.

The wax seal was intact and meticulously applied, showing how important the contents were. He presented it with both hands, as solemnly as if he were holding not a simple bamboo tube but a weight of a thousand pounds.

Lin Xuan took the tube, his fingertips brushing against its surface as he felt its texture and the warmth of the wax seal. At his glance, the messenger understood, clasped his hands once more, and silently withdrew.

He closed the door behind him with a gentle hand, making not a sound, and left Lin Xuan alone in the quiet room.

Silence settled over the room once more. The only sounds were Lin Xuan's fingertips brushing the bamboo tube and his deep, steady breathing.

The sunlight was still warm, and the tea fragrance still filled the room, but the air had grown heavier.

Only then did Lin Xuan calmly break the wax seal. He deftly picked away the wax, his movements elegant and unhurried, without a trace of impatience.

As the wax came away, he gently removed the lid and took out a thin sheet of silk. It felt soft and smooth to the touch, clearly made from fine silk.

It was a confidential letter written in Chief Qiao Feng's own hand.

Lin Xuan unfolded the silk and quickly scanned it. He read at a glance and soon took in the letter's entire contents.

Qiao Feng's handwriting was bold and forceful, each stroke as sharp as an iron hook. Even through the page, one could almost feel his unrestrained spirit and upright character.

Every character radiated a stern righteousness that inspired admiration.

Before leaving Xiangyang, Lin Xuan had written Qiao Feng a confidential letter, asking him to investigate Murong Fu, whom Lin Xuan suspected of colluding with the Mongols.

In his reply, Qiao Feng described the results of his investigation clearly and concisely: after receiving Lin Xuan's secret letter, he hadn't dared delay and had immediately ordered the Beggar Sect disciples scattered across the land to conduct close surveillance.

In this world, the Beggar Sect was divided into northern and southern branches, led by Chief Huang Rong of the Southern Beggar's Sect and Chief Qiao Feng of the Northern Beggar's Sect. The Northern Beggar's Sect under Qiao Feng's command had disciples throughout the land, with eyes and ears everywhere and an intelligence network that covered every corner of the jianghu.

Its efficiency was unmatched, making it the foremost intelligence organization in the martial world.

At Qiao Feng's command, countless eyes turned toward Murong Fu. From the smallest details of his daily life to his secretive movements and hidden dealings, nothing escaped the Beggar Sect's web of informants.

They discovered that Murong Fu's movements were indeed suspicious. His dealings with certain unknown individuals were unusually secretive and frequent. They often met in secluded places late at night.

Their words were guarded and their behavior furtive, clearly suggesting they were engaged in some unspeakable business. These unknown individuals were of various sorts: wandering martial artists as well as mysterious figures dressed in foreign clothing. This only deepened the suspicion that Murong Fu was colluding with the Mongols.

Even more astonishingly, Qiao Feng's subordinates had discovered that Murong Fu seemed to have secret dealings with someone at the Quanzhen Sect on Zhongnan Mountain who had ulterior motives!

Lin Xuan raised his brows slightly, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes.

Qiao Feng described the man in his letter as someone of considerable standing within the sect, whose position was far from low. He seemed to get along perfectly with Murong Fu, and there were signs they were working together.

Though there was no conclusive evidence that the man was directly colluding with the Mongols, his suspicious behavior, frequent contact with Murong Fu, and the secret messages they exchanged had made Qiao Feng uneasy. He believed the man was not to be underestimated.

Qiao Feng's letter conveyed his grave concern. If they really were using an insider within the Quanzhen Sect to secretly collude with the Mongols, the matter was of the utmost importance.

This concerned not only personal interests but also the very foundations of the Central Plains Martial Arts World. The Quanzhen Sect was an orthodox sect with immense influence and countless disciples scattered across the land.

If it were infiltrated, the consequences would be unthinkable. It would bring disaster, and might even undermine the Central Plains Martial Arts World's efforts to resist the Mongols.

Qiao Feng advised Lin Xuan to start with this person in the Quanzhen Sect. Perhaps he could sever the secret connection between Murong Fu and the Mongols, striking at the root and completely unraveling their scheme.

At the same time, he warned Lin Xuan to be cautious and not alert them, lest he cause unnecessary turmoil and put the enemy on their guard, making the investigation even more difficult.

At the end of the letter, Qiao Feng expressed his trust and support for Lin Xuan. His words were full of bold confidence, and he promised that no matter what Lin Xuan decided, the Beggar Sect would give him its full support and work together to protect the peace of the Central Plains Martial Arts World.

After reading the letter, Lin Xuan's lips curled into a knowing smile, and a grin he could barely suppress spread across his face.

"Someone in the Quanzhen Sect is colluding with the Mongols... How interesting..." he murmured, his tone amused, as though savoring a delicacy.

"Who in the Quanzhen Sect could be colluding with the Mongols? That's a tough one!" Lin Xuan's smile widened, and a crafty glint appeared in his eyes.

As a transmigrator, he knew all too well who this person with ulterior motives was. Other than Zhao Zhijing, who could it be?

That narrow-minded, power-hungry man would do anything for his ambition. In the original story, Zhao Zhijing had colluded with the Mongols, trying to seize the position of Quanzhen Sect's leader and even going so far as to betray Yang Guo.