Huang Rong from The Return of the Condor Heroes: Brother Jing, let's get a divorce.

Lu Wushuang almost spat out the naan bread in her mouth.

"What are you looking at, beautiful women? Where would you find any beauties in this desolate place?"

"Is it possible that the beautiful woman is sitting in that corner?" Yang Guo pointed with his chin towards the innermost part of the shed.

Lu Wushuang followed his gaze. In the corner, the scholar in the blue robe was looking down at a book, turning the pages very slowly.

"That's a man," Lu Wushuang said with certainty.

But for no reason, I felt a lump in my throat.

This man never stops, and in the time it takes to drink a bowl of tea, he doesn't even spare the people in the corners.

"Is that so?" Yang Guo smiled and said nothing more.

That smile made Lu Wushuang very uncomfortable. She recognized that kind of smile.

Yang Guo always makes this expression whenever he's certain he's right but too lazy to argue with anyone: a slight curve to the corner of his mouth and a "you just wait and see" look in his eyes.

After finishing their tea, the two continued on their journey.

The scholar in the blue robe went ahead of them, carrying a small book box, and headed south along the official road.

After walking about three miles, a village appeared ahead.

At the village entrance stands a stone tablet inscribed with the three characters "Qingshui Village". On the tablet, someone has drawn a line of large characters with charcoal: "Those who fail to pay their military pay will be killed without mercy."

Yang Guo's eyelid twitched.

Have the people of Guanzhong been reduced to this state? The Mongols haven't even invaded yet, and their own people are already driving the common people to their deaths.

A cacophony of shouts and cries erupted from the village.

Yang Guo reined in his horse and dismounted. Lu Wushuang followed him down.

The two men led their horses into the village.

A large crowd had gathered at the village's threshing ground. Villagers squatted around the perimeter, their faces ashen. In the center stood seven or eight burly men dressed as servants, carrying sticks.

In the very center of the venue, a fat man dressed in brocade sat on a grand chair brought from a villager's home, with his legs crossed and a folding fan in his hand, the fan painted with a picture of a lady.

Two concubines stood behind the fat man, one massaging his shoulders and the other feeding him grapes.

Yang Guo's gaze lingered on the two concubines for a moment longer. One was seventeen or eighteen years old, and the other was no more than sixteen. Their faces were heavily made up, and their eyes were empty, like two marionettes.

An old man knelt in front of the fat man, his forehead covered in blood from kowtowing.

"Master Li, it's really all gone. We paid last year's grain tax, and they came again this spring. They came to collect it the day before yesterday, and there's only half a jar of coarse rice left in the house. If they take it all away, the whole family will starve to death."

The fat man spat the grape skins onto the old man's face.

"Starve to death? When the Mongols attacked, your whole family didn't even have a chance to starve. I, this wealthy man, am raising funds for the imperial court and protecting you peasants from the ravages of war. What is your half-jar of rice worth?"

The old man knelt on the ground, trembling, his lips moving but unable to speak.

Standing next to the fat man was a skinny man who looked like a clerk, holding an account book and speaking in a sarcastic tone.

"Wang Laosan, your family has four people. Calculated per person, each person is entitled to five dou of grain per month. You owe three months' worth this year, totaling six shi. If you can't pay the grain, you'll have to pay with land. If you can't pay with land, you'll have to pay with people. Your eldest daughter is fifteen this year, isn't she? Send her to Master Li's mansion to be a maid, and this debt will be settled."

The old man's body suddenly tensed up.

"My daughter is no good! She's only fifteen!"

The fat man laughed. The laugh was greasy and grating, squeezed out from deep in his throat, like a pig's squeal.

"Fifteen is too young? My seventh concubine was only thirteen when she entered the household. Your daughter is incredibly lucky to be able to serve in the Li family."

He pointed with his fan at the concubine next to him who was massaging his shoulders.

"Look at you, dressed in fine silks and satins, eating chicken, duck, and fish. It's a million times better than your shack. And you, you're being offered such good fortune and you don't even want it?"

A girl of about fifteen or sixteen was dragged out of the crowd by two servants. The girl struggled desperately, her mouth was gagged, and her face was covered in tears.

The old man crawled over and hugged his daughter's leg, but the servant kicked him in the ribs, sending him rolling two steps backward.

None of the surrounding villagers dared to utter a sound. Several young men clenched their fists, but when they saw the sticks in the servants' hands and the knives at their waists, they loosened their fists.

Yang Guo stood on the periphery of the crowd and saw the whole scene clearly.

He didn't move immediately.

It's not that I don't want to take action, it's that I need to see the situation clearly.

These local bullies are almost always backed by powerful figures.

Taking action is easy, but cleaning up the mess is a hassle. Yang Guo patted his behind and left, but the villagers still had to go on with their lives.

He turned to look at Lu Wushuang.

Lu Wushuang's hand was already on the hilt of the knife, and her lips were pursed into a thin line.

Yang Guo knew what she was thinking. Lu Wushuang had been dragged out of her home like this when she was a child, except the person who dragged her was named Li Mochou. She knew better than anyone what it felt like to have your manhood held and be unable to move.

"Owner……"

"Wait a minute," Yang Guo stopped her.

His gaze fell on the other side of the threshing ground.

The scholar in the blue robe arrived sometime earlier. He placed his book box at his feet and held a long sword in both hands. The scabbard was made of bamboo, and the hilt was wrapped with old strips of cloth.

The scholar stood at the edge of the crowd, his expression cold.

interesting.

Is this "young brother" also planning to draw his sword when he sees injustice? No, I mean, his blade.

Yang Guo's interest was immediately piqued.

He wanted to see just how capable this woman disguised as a man really was.

The fat man was still yelling over there.

"Qingshui Village is short fourteen shi of grain and six taels of silver for this month's military pay. Make up the difference within three days. If you can't, I, the master, will personally lead people to collect it. Anyway, remember one thing."

He stood up from the armchair and tapped the shoulder of the servant next to him with his folding fan.

"Sacrificing you commoners for the greater good of the nation is your blessing. When the Mongols attack, who will stand in your way? It will be me, the wealthy man. What does it matter if a few of you peasants starve to death? Dying under the Mongol's sword is a wasted death. Dying while procuring food is called sacrificing yourself for the country, bringing glory to your ancestors!"

He spoke with great enthusiasm, his face radiating righteous indignation.

Yang Guo almost burst out laughing.

This fat man lives a life of luxury, with a harem of concubines, accumulating wealth at the expense of the common people, all while spouting tales of national righteousness. When the people starve to death, he claims they lack a sense of righteousness. He enjoys his own life of luxury with three wives and four concubines, calling it sharing the burdens of the court.

I've traveled through so many years and seen plenty of despicable people, but there aren't many who are this despicable.

"bass."

The sound of a sword being drawn.

The book came to life.

The longsword in its bamboo sheath was drawn, its blade narrow and thin, flashing briefly in the afterglow of the setting sun.

The scholar moved with light steps and agile movements, and in three steps he was in front of the fat man, the tip of his sword pointing directly at his throat.

"Release them." The scholar's voice remained low and hoarse.