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

The entire room fell silent for a moment.

Yang Guo mentally gave this person a score.

The timing of the sword strike was good; it was launched when the fat man stood up and had no cover around him.

The first three steps are small, continuous steps, following the style of the Southern Sword School, with a solid foundation.

But there's a problem: she's too hasty.

They revealed their trump card right away, holding a sword to the fat man's neck. What about the remaining seven or eight servants?

The fat man's face fell.

He took two steps back, plopped back into the armchair, and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"What are you standing there for! Beat them!"

Seven or eight servants surrounded them.

The scholar's swordsmanship was light and agile, his steps quick and swift, his figure weaving between the servants. The sword blade drew several arcs, slicing through the sticks held by two servants.

As expected. Yang Guo sighed.

Instead of making a cut on the fat man's neck to establish her authority, she insisted on adhering to the code of the underworld and stopping short of causing serious injury. This girl is kind-hearted, but kindness can be deadly in this situation.

There are many servants.

They didn't follow any martial arts rules or techniques; three or four of them pounced on each other, some grabbing legs, others swinging sticks.

The scholar was injured three times and retreated to the sidelines.

My breathing has become rapid.

Yang Guo could tell that the scholar's swordsmanship was not bad, and his footwork was also agile.

However, her internal strength wasn't deep enough, and her true energy couldn't last long. With seven or eight people taking turns fighting her, her stamina was already declining.

Lu Wushuang panicked. "Master!"

Her fingers clenched white on the hilt of the knife. The sight of the scholar being surrounded and beaten made her heart clench.

One person against a group of people—no one can help, and there's no way to escape. She was all too familiar with this situation.

"Don't rush. Let's take another look." Yang Guo repeated those three words.

It's not that he doesn't want to play; he's just waiting for the right moment.

If you act too early, the scholar might still have the strength and not appreciate it. If you act too late, he'll be ruined.

The most opportune moment is when the opponent is about to give up but has not yet been seriously injured.

The key to the story of a hero rescuing a damsel in distress lies in the word "rescue".

The more desperate the rescued person is, the deeper their gratitude will be.

The scholar's swordplay began to falter. A servant circled around from the side and struck her wrist, the one holding the sword, with a club. The longsword flew from her hand and embedded itself in the mud.

Another servant pounced on the scholar from behind and pinned him to the ground.

almost.

The fat man patted the armrest of the armchair, stood up, walked to the scholar, and squatted down.

"Kid, where did you get your connections? How dare you interfere in Master Li's business?"

He reached out and pinched the scholar's chin, lifting it upwards.

"Hmm? He's quite fair-skinned." The fat man's gaze swept over the scholar's face, and he licked his lips. "Even more so than my concubines..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

A strong gust of wind swept through the crowd from outside.

Pale golden light shone on the hand that was pinching the scholar's chin.

"Smack."

The fat man's wrist bones cracked, and his five fingers snapped open. He screamed, clutched his wrist, rolled back two steps, and collapsed to the ground.

Everyone's eyes turned to the outside of the crowd.

Yang Guo withdrew his right index finger and blew on the tip of his finger.

He only used 20% of his strength in that strike. It wasn't that he couldn't aim; he deliberately controlled it. The bone was broken, but not completely severed, and it should recover in about six months.

The goal is to make sure that every time this fat guy tries to touch a woman, his wrist will ache slightly. This is more educational than simply crippling him.

"You really have the guts to attack your own people!"

His steps faltered, and he began to move with the agility of a snake and the elusive power of a fox.

He slid through the gaps in the guards' encirclement.

The speed was ridiculously fast; before the seven or eight servants could even react, Yang Guo was already beside the scholar.

He reached down with his left hand and grabbed the scholar from behind.

His palm was placed on the scholar's waist.

Extremely thin. Extremely soft. The muscles below the belt are taut, but the curve and the feel are definitely not those of a man's waist.

Yang Guo felt a sense of relief. She really was a woman.

And she's not an ordinary woman.

He had a wealth of experience in touch. Xiaolongnu's waist was like cold jade, Huang Rong's waist was supple and elastic, Li Mochou's was alluring to the bone, and Lu Wushuang's waist was narrow and strong.

The sensation of this waist is different from any of the previous ones.

Small frame, well-proportioned muscles, and a thin layer of fat under the skin; a hand can be easily grasped and fills the palm perfectly.

Women who practice martial arts have excellent figures.

Yang Guo lifted the man up from the ground, wrapped his left arm around the scholar's waist, and flicked his right index finger forward.

The two servants who rushed at him were repelled by the wind, each taking a blow to the chest, and staggered away.

The remaining servants stopped and looked at each other in bewilderment.

Yang Guo helped the scholar to his feet, his hand still resting on the other's waist, his thumb intentionally or unintentionally pinching the side of the waist.

"Young man, your back is incredibly flexible." Yang Guo's lips were close to the scholar's ear, his voice just loud enough for the other to hear. "What kind of martial arts do you usually practice? Jujitsu?"

As he said this, a thought flashed through his mind: if Lu Wushuang heard this, he would surely get a beating with a willow-leaf dagger on his way back.

But it was worth it.

When it comes to gathering intelligence, no special methods are needed.

The scholar's face changed from white to red, and then from red to purple.

She forcefully pushed Yang Guo's arm away, took two steps back, and grabbed the longsword on the ground to shield herself.

She pushed him hard, but Yang Guo could feel her hand trembling.

It wasn't just anger; there was also a sense of panic after someone exposed his disguise.

This woman has been disguising herself as a man in the martial arts world for quite some time now, but today is the first time someone has caught her, and in such a shameless way at that.

"You...you let go!"

When he got anxious, his lowered voice couldn't hold back, and the last syllable rose slightly, revealing a bit of his original clarity.

Lu Wushuang stood at the edge of the crowd and heard the last syllable.

Her eyes darted back and forth between the scholar and Yang Guo, and the expression on her face changed from anxious to something very subtle.

She recalled what Yang Guo had said in the teahouse: "Look at the beautiful women."

That bastard was right.

Yang Guo heard it clearly, and the corners of his mouth curved up slightly. He didn't say anything more.

He turned around and looked at the fat man who had fallen to the ground.

The fat man, clutching his broken wrist and covered in sweat, looked at Yang Guo with a mixture of shock and anger.

"Do you know who I am? I'm from the Li family of Chang Le Town! My cousin works in the prefectural government! You dare hit me..."

Yang Guo walked over, grabbed the fat man by the collar, and lifted him up.

"Where's your advisor? Give me the account books."

The advisor had already run away.

Yang Guo threw the fat man to the ground and turned to shout at Lu Wushuang.

"Chase."

Lu Wushuang couldn't hold back any longer.

She darted out from the crowd, using her serpentine and acrobatic movements to disappear at the end of the village road in just a few steps.

Yang Guo looked down at the fat man.

"Raising funds for the army? How much grain have you raised and handed over to the government?"

The fat man stubbornly insisted, "This...this is a matter for the imperial court, what does it have to do with you..."

Yang Guo raised his right index finger, a faint golden light emanating from the tip, and touched the fat man's nose.

The distance was less than an inch.

"I'll ask you one more time. Of the grain you procured, how much was handed over, and how much went into your own granaries?"

The fat man stared at the glowing finger, a wet patch appearing between his legs.

From the direction of the village entrance, Lu Wushuang dragged the clerk back. The clerk was still clutching the account book in his hand, and Lu Wushuang grabbed him by the back of the collar and dragged him back to the threshing ground.

Yang Guo took the account book and flipped through a few pages.

His finger remained on the last page, motionless.

That page recorded the Li family's expenditure details: thirty bolts of brocade, four pairs of gold bracelets, one hundred taels of silver for a concubine's dowry, and sixty shi of grain for the banquet.

In Qingshui Village, 90 shi of grain were confiscated from 120 households over three months.

Of the ninety shi of grain, sixty shi were used to prepare a banquet.

Yang Guo closed the account book and glanced at the scholar.

The scholar in the blue robe stood three steps away, his chest heaving, his left hand gripping the hilt of his sword. She was staring at Yang Guo's face, her gaze filled with both wariness and something else.

Yang Guo grinned at her.

"Young man, don't go. Let's settle this score together."