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

Yang Guo walked up to the fat man and squatted down.

The fat man's wrist was twisted to one side and swollen all around.

Sweat streamed down his greasy cheeks from his forehead, dripping onto his brocade robe and leaving a trail of watermarks.

"Master Li, is that right?" Yang Guo asked in a calm tone.

"You just said you were raising funds for the imperial court, so you should have the grain requisition documents issued by the prefecture. Show them to me."

The fat man's lips trembled slightly. "The...the clerk is at the manor..."

"No official documents." Yang Guo straightened up and glanced at the villagers gathered around the threshing ground. "Fellow villagers, has this Master Li ever produced any official documents from the prefectural government when he comes to collect grain?"

The field was quiet for a while.

Wang Laosan, who was kneeling on the ground, raised his head and wiped the bloodstains from his face with his sleeve.

"No. Every time he comes, his clerk flips through the account books and reads aloud, saying it's an official government job. We farmers, who dares to ask him any questions?"

Yang Guo turned around.

"Did you hear that? Using the name of the imperial court to plunder the people's grain. You should weigh the charges yourself."

He held up three fingers and broke them off one by one.

"According to the laws of the Great Song Dynasty, impersonating the imperial court to collect grain is punishable by eighty strokes of the cane and exile for three thousand li. Forcibly abducting women is an even greater crime. Oppressing the innocent is another offense. All three combined are enough for you to eat your way to old age on Shamen Island."

The fat man didn't know where Shamen Island was, and his face was completely drained of color.

Yang Guo opened the account book he had taken from the clerk and spread it out in front of the fat man.

My finger hovers over the expense details on the last page.

"Of the ninety shi of grain, you used sixty shi for the banquet. Where did the remaining thirty shi go?"

"In the warehouse..."

"Alright." Yang Guo closed the account book and tucked it into his waistband. "Before nightfall today, bring back the exact amount of grain from the warehouse, not a single grain missing. Make up for any over-harvested grain. Convert the pile of brocade and gold bracelets in your mansion into silver and distribute it to every household in Qingshui Village."

The fat man opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something in his defense.

Yang Guo raised his right index finger, and a faint golden light shone from the tip of his finger.

The fat man closed his mouth.

"Also," Yang Guo said, taking half a step forward.

"That fifteen-year-old girl, from now on, pretend she never existed. If you dare to make a move on her again, I'll break your little brother for you. From now on, you can forget about ever touching a woman again."

He spoke with a smile, but his tone gradually declined.

When the last word was uttered, the fat man shrank his neck considerably.

"Got it?"

The fat man nodded frantically, the fat on his neck jiggling with each step.

Yang Guo patted his head. "Go on. I'll wait here until dark. If you're even a grain of rice short, don't bother coming back to Chang Le Town."

Several servants, supporting and dragging the fat man along the floor, ran away.

He ran in a disheveled state, staggering out of the village road, his brocade robe covered in mud. Lu Wushuang threw the advisor on the edge of the threshing ground, his face bruised and swollen, lying on the ground without even the strength to turn over.

The villagers were stunned for a long time.

Wang Laosan was the first to recover, and he pulled his daughter to kneel on the ground.

Yang Guo reached out and grabbed his elbow.

"Stop kowtowing, you can't take that." Yang Guo's tone softened. "If this kind of person tries to act tough again, don't be afraid of him. Just go to the county and file a complaint, and I'll naturally back you up."

He casually pulled out five taels of silver from his sleeve, grasped the old man's hand, and stuffed the silver into his hand.

"Buy some fabric for my daughter and make her a new dress. She's a young girl, don't make her suffer."

Wang Laosan clutched the loose silver coins, his lips trembling so much he couldn't utter a coherent sentence, only repeating the words "benefactor" over and over again.

His daughter behind him also cried, burying her face in her father's back, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

Yang Guo waved his hand, not lingering any longer, and turned to walk towards the edge of the threshing ground.

While it seemed like he could get this done quickly, he was already planning what would happen next.

The fat man had said that "my uncle works in the prefecture government," and it's hard to say how much of that was true or not, but local tyrants and bullies all have some connections, more or less.

What if you beat someone into submission with your fists today, but they come back to seek revenge a few days later?

We need to get Liu Cunhou to put in a good word and bring Qingshui Village under the care of the Quanzhen Sect.

Anyway, it's not far from Chang Le Town, so it's no trouble at all.

There's another layer.

Yang Guo thought of the order to deploy the Mongols' secret agents.

The Mongol army reinforced its troops at both Nanyang and Sanguan, launching a pincer attack on Xiangyang.

At this critical juncture, local powerful families in Guanzhong were still desperately exploiting the people. As the people's hearts sank, when the Mongols attacked, they couldn't even recruit any able-bodied men to help defend the city.

Why not deal with this kind of person?

Their steps slowed as they reached the edge of the threshing ground.

The scholar in the blue robe was still standing in the same spot.

The longsword was sheathed.

The left hand rests on the hilt of the sword, while the right hand hangs naturally at the side.

His face didn't show any extra expression, but his eyes hadn't left the fat man since Yang Guo squatted down to interrogate him.

Yang Guo stopped opposite the scholar. There were five steps between them.

"Young man, are you hurt?" Yang Guo glanced at the scholar's wrist. The skin where his sword had been knocked away by the servant's stick was red, and there was a faint swelling around his wrist bone.

"It's alright."

He kept his voice low, holding it in his throat and refusing to let it out.

Yang Guo didn't press the matter. He changed the subject.

"Your swordsmanship just now was quite impressive. The rapid, quick thrusts—was it in the style of the Southern Sword School?"

The scholar raised his eyelids slightly. "You have excellent eyesight."

"Not bad. After practicing martial arts for a few years, I can at least see the basics." Yang Guo smiled. "My surname is Yang, and my given name is Tuo. I've traveled all over the country, and my friends in the martial arts world call me Yang Tuo. May I ask how I should address you, young brother?"

Yang Tuo.

Lu Wushuang listened from three steps away, and her face twitched.

This pseudonym is so perfunctory; they couldn't even be bothered to add a couple more characters to the real name. "Tuo" and "Guo" are worlds apart, but the way he said it made it sound so natural, like he was reading his real name from a household registration document.

The scholar fell silent for a moment.

"My surname is Chen. Chen Ping'an."

Chen Ping'an.

Yang Guo snorted inwardly.

A woman named herself "Peace," and it goes without saying what she was praying for.

"Is Brother Chen traveling alone?"

"Yes."

"Where to?"

"South."

Two words.

They were so straightforward that they didn't even bother with a reason.

"What a coincidence." He tilted his head towards Lu Wushuang. "We're heading south too. That's my wife, her surname is Lu, and her name is Lu Xiaomei."

Lu Wushuang was drinking a bowl of cold water that she had begged from the villagers when she heard the name "Lu Xiaomei" and almost spat out all the water.

Lu Xiaomei?

She glared at Yang Guo, her eyes clearly saying, "Are you sick?"

But he couldn't lash out in front of outsiders, so he could only force a smile with a stiff face.

"Greetings, Young Master Chen."

The scholar nodded, his gaze sweeping over Lu Wushuang.

The scan was neither too fast nor too slow, but the places it covered were carefully considered.

Yang Guo witnessed everything from the side.

When an ordinary man looks at a woman, the first thing he notices is her face, and then her figure.

This "Chen Ping'an" is different. She first looked at the whole thing, then her gaze fell on Lu Wushuang's left leg.

It wasn't just a random sweep; it paused for two breaths.

The angle we were looking at was from when Lu Wushuang was standing, her body slightly to the right.

Lu Wushuang's leg injury has healed, and she can walk and run without any problems.

However, the posture developed from years of limping cannot be completely corrected in just one or two months.

When she stands for a long time, her center of gravity will subconsciously tilt slightly to the right.

This is a detail that the average person wouldn't notice.

Unless the person looking at it was previously close to the lame person, or is already paying attention to this feature.

Yang Guo remained silent, his face still showing his easygoing demeanor, and continued the conversation.

"Brother Chen, you just stepped in to help the villagers, and I admire you greatly. But you were too naive. You put your sword to someone's neck right away, leaving no room for maneuver. In these kinds of situations, you need to have a backup plan before you act. Otherwise, if the other side has a lot of people around, one person will be at a disadvantage."

The scholar tucked his chin slightly. "Thank you for the pointers."

You're too kind, you're too kind.

He was polite in his words and even more so in his actions.

He didn't move forward even half a step, and the hand resting on the sword hilt never let go.

Yang Guo didn't care.

This isn't the first time he's tried to build rapport with someone; he's never the one who gets impatient.

He looked up at the sky. The sun was already setting, and the afterglow cast long shadows of the people on the threshing floor.

"It's getting late. I arranged to inspect the grain with that fat man before dark, which will take at least two more hours. Brother Chen, if you're not in a hurry, why don't you sit down and have a simple meal together?"

The scholar did not answer immediately. She was weighing her options.

"No need. I have other matters to attend to."

"Tsk, don't be so formal." Yang Guo took a step forward. "You stood up for the villagers just now and got beaten up. I helped you out, and you won't even offer to treat me to a meal? That'll sound terrible if word gets out, people will think you think I'm ugly."

Lu Wushuang rolled her eyes.

Are you ugly? If you're ugly, then there are no good-looking men in the world.