Guo Fu's Arrival
Yang Guo could tell from Li Mochou’s expression that his “empty fortress strategy” had failed. He sighed and said, “My master pleads with you, elder, to let Sister Lu go.”
Li Mochou replied coolly, “Lu Wushuang is my disciple. I discipline my own disciple—what does that have to do with your master?”
Before Yang Guo could respond, Li Mochou smiled faintly and continued, “You break all rules of propriety, committing unspeakable acts with your master, yet in front of others you call her ‘master’ this and ‘master’ that—have you no shame?”
Hearing her insult the Little Dragon Maiden, Yang Guo was instantly furious, his blood surging. He thrust his sword at Li Mochou with all his might.
Li Mochou sidestepped nimbly and laughed lightly, “You can do such disgraceful things, but you fear others talking about it?”
Yang Guo’s rage grew; he attacked fiercely and relentlessly. His swordsmanship was formidable, no less than the Little Dragon Maiden’s, as he had mastered both Quanzhen Swordplay and Jade Maiden Swordplay.
Yang Guo’s talent and aptitude were exceptional, surpassing even Yelü Qi. He had long since attained mastery in both sword arts.
Li Mochou dared not be careless. Her horsetail whisk swept about, countering every move. Inwardly, she sneered; after all, he was young and easily provoked, so it was simple to lure him into rash action.
She defended herself while continuing to taunt and hurl vile insults, her words incessant.
Yang Guo heard her increasingly outrageous remarks. If she had only berated him, he would not have cared, but her slander of the Little Dragon Maiden drove him into a frenzy, causing him to lose control of his swordplay.
With a clang, Yang Guo’s sword was knocked from his hand by Li Mochou’s whisk. She instantly swung the whisk to strike at his crown.
“Watch out!”
Yelü Qi, seeing the peril, thrust his sword at Li Mochou with full force, swift as lightning.
Li Mochou could have killed Yang Guo with a single blow, but she would have suffered a sword through the chest herself—if not death, then serious injury.
She had no wish for mutual destruction. Her whisk swept to block Yelü Qi’s sword.
Yang Guo, narrowly escaping death, regained his senses and cursed loudly, “You vile woman! From this day forth, I’ll never acknowledge you as elder!”
He darted forward, retrieved his sword, and pressed the attack.
Li Mochou now faced both adversaries, her whisk dancing as she parried their assault.
As their battle raged, the tables and chairs on the second floor of the tavern were scattered and broken, dishes smashed, and the patrons had long since fled.
Only Cheng Ying, Wanyan Ping, Yelü Yan, Hong Lingbo, Lu Wushuang, the two middle-aged beggars, Master Xuanzhi, and Tang Xuan remained.
In truth, this was the best moment to join forces against Li Mochou.
But the martial world had its rules.
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When others are engaged in combat, unless victory is already decided or necessity dictates, outsiders rarely interfere.
Earlier, Master Xuanzhi had been ready to act against Li Mochou, the notorious demoness, but seeing Yelü Qi take the initiative, he stood aside and watched, not joining the fray.
Yang Guo, too, had watched from the sidelines, only stepping in when Yelü Qi was about to be defeated and injured.
Yelü Qi behaved similarly; when Yang Guo faced Li Mochou, he did not intervene until Yang Guo nearly suffered defeat and death.
Now, Yang Guo and Yelü Qi together fought Li Mochou in an intense struggle.
Master Xuanzhi could not act; it was the code of the martial world.
He watched quietly from the side, waiting for Li Mochou and the others to settle the outcome.
With Master Xuanzhi still, Tang Xuan remained motionless as well.
Though he wished to join the attack on Li Mochou, he could not.
Otherwise, Shaolin’s reputation would be tarnished!
Violating the martial code, using numbers against the few, especially against a woman, would disgrace the ancient Shaolin Temple.
If such a thing occurred, Tang Xuan would face disciplinary action upon return to Shaolin.
As a player who had entered Shaolin, punishment was no trivial matter—such as deduction of virtue points.
He had not yet established any virtue points; if they were deducted, he’d be in the negative!
Moreover, with Master Xuanzhi watching, Tang Xuan would not be allowed to sully Shaolin’s name.
Gradually, Li Mochou, Yang Guo, and Yelü Qi fought from the second floor of the tavern out onto the main road.
Everyone moved to the edge of the terrace to continue watching.
Even the two middle-aged beggars, full of loyalty, remained. Though Li Mochou had no time for them, they never left, refusing to flee.
These two youthful heroes had fought Li Mochou fiercely for their sake; if the beggars fled first, their conscience would trouble them, and even the Beggar Clan’s reputation would suffer. They would face disciplinary action upon return.
Suddenly, a series of screeching cries echoed overhead.
The sound was loud!
Suddenly, two giant eagles swooped down from the sky, their wings stirring the dust, creating an impressive spectacle.
The eagles’ target was right above Li Mochou on the main road.
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Yang Guo, locked in combat with Li Mochou, recognized the pair of eagles as those raised by Guo Jing and his wife. In his childhood on Peach Blossom Island, he had played with the twin eagles. He thought, since the eagles are here, Guo Jing and his wife must be nearby.
Guo Jing had once sent him to Quanzhen Sect, from which he later rebelled, so Yang Guo did not wish to meet Guo Jing.
He hurriedly took out a human-skin mask and put it on.
The twin eagles darted left and right, swooping and diving, their wings and beaks attacking Li Mochou.
Years ago, the eagles had suffered from Li Mochou’s Icy Soul Silver Needles and held a grudge ever since.
Spotting her from afar in the sky, they immediately flew down to fight, but still feared her deadly needles. Whenever she raised her hand, they would soar upward.
Yelü Qi was secretly astonished by the sudden appearance of the two giant eagles as allies.
Just then, the sound of hoofbeats drew near—a rider galloped swiftly toward them.
The horse was remarkably fast; at the first sound it was already at hand—tall, long-legged, its coat a brilliant red, extraordinary in spirit.
Everyone’s eyes lit up at the sight—a magnificent steed!
On the horse rode a young maiden in red. Both rider and mount resembled a blazing ember, with only her snow-white face not colored crimson.
She pulled the reins, and the red horse stopped abruptly.
The horse, charging at full speed, halted instantly, neither rearing nor neighing, calm and composed.
Soon after, more hoofbeats sounded—two more horses approached.
One was blue, the other yellow, both fine breeds, but compared to the red horse, they paled.
Each horse carried a young man, both dressed in yellow robes.
Tang Xuan, observing the arrivals, guessed their identities.
Guo Jing and Huang Rong’s daughter, Guo Fu.
And Guo Jing’s two disciples, the brothers Wu Dunru and Wu Xiuwen.
That divine steed Guo Fu rode was surely the blood-sweating horse Guo Jing had acquired in Mongolia.
Once a colt, it was now middle-aged, but a creature of legend, unlike ordinary horses; though aged, its bones remained strong, its legs powerful, its bearing unmatched.
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