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

After two days of sailing on the Han River, the outline of Xiangyang City finally came into view.

Cheng Ying stood on the deck, her hands gripping the hem of her clothes tightly, staring at the distant city walls, her heart pounding.

During the past few days on the ship, she served tea and water and cleaned the cabins during the day, and at night Yang Guo would call her into his room to "regulate her meridians".

The man never used violence, nor did he need to utter a single harsh word. He simply used the yang energy of the Qiankun Technique to manipulate the remaining marks in her dantian.

That bit of true energy was like a key; all the gateways in her meridians were rendered useless in its presence.

Each time, she would kneel at his feet, her face flushed, head bowed in resignation.

Xiangyang is now right in front of us.

My senior sister Huang Rong lives in the city.

Cheng Ying was both looking forward to going to the city and terrified.

She hoped that her senior sister would see through the deception and rescue her from this cage.

What she feared was that Yang Guo would reveal what happened in the woodshed that night—that she had untied her own clothes and pressed her body against him herself.

If Yang Guo were to say these things, she, the last disciple of Peach Blossom Island, would lose all face.

"What are you thinking about?"

Yang Guo's voice rang in my ears.

Cheng Ying shuddered.

She didn't hear any footsteps; this person's lightness skill had reached such a high level.

Yang Guo somehow found himself behind her, his chest pressed against her back, and his right arm around her waist.

His fingers precisely slipped into the gap in the belt, pressing against the skin in the waist hollow, and his fingertips felt a slight warmth.

A wisp of pure Yang energy seeped in.

The amount of true energy is extremely small; others wouldn't be able to sense it at all.

But as soon as it entered Cheng Ying's meridians, it immediately matched the frequency of the Qiankun Technique imprint remaining at the edge of her Qi Sea.

The two streams of yang energy, originating from the same source, attracted each other, stirring up a feeling of restlessness in her lower abdomen.

Cheng Ying's knees buckled, and she bumped into Yang Guo's arms.

My dantian was churning, my skin was burning hot, and my waist ached so much that I couldn't muster any strength.

"Master... not here..." Cheng Ying whispered.

Yang Guo brought his mouth close to her earlobe, his warm breath brushing against her flushed earlobes.

"When you arrive in Xiangyang and meet your dear senior sister, do you know how to respond?"

"I know..." Cheng Ying bit her lower lip, desperately swallowing back the muffled groan that rose in her throat. "I'll just say that we encountered danger on the way and were saved by the sect leader... I won't say a single word."

Yang Guo increased the pressure on his fingers.

Cheng Ying clasped her hands behind her back on Yang Guo's forearms, her ten fingers digging into his sleeves.

Her legs were already giving way, and she only managed to stay upright on the deck because Yang Guo was supporting her.

"Remember who you are."

Yang Guo's voice was very low, each word carefully inserted into her ears.

"You are no longer a disciple of Peach Blossom Island, but one of my people, Yang Guo's. If your senior sister asks you why your internal energy is unstable, just say you suffered internal injuries and know nothing else."

He paused for a moment, then said, "If you dare to utter another word of nonsense, I will tell Guo Jing in front of him every single one of how you begged me these past few nights."

Cheng Ying's eyes filled with tears.

She nodded repeatedly, her lips pressed into a thin line, unable to utter even a single word of "hard".

"My lord! The boat has reached the shore!"

Lu Wushuang ran over from the bow of the ship, carrying a large bundle in her hand and a willow-leaf scimitar hanging at her waist, her steps light and quick.

Her left leg had fully recovered, and she could walk just like a normal person.

Yang Guo released his grip.

Cheng Ying staggered two steps and grabbed the gunwale for support.

With her back to Lu Wushuang, she quickly wiped her face with her sleeve, cleaning the water droplets from the corner of her eyes.

"Let's go, get off the boat." Yang Guo dusted off his robes and strode towards the gangplank.

Lu Wushuang followed behind and reached out to tug at Cheng Ying as they passed by.

"Cousin, why are your legs so weak? Are you still feeling unwell after being on the ship for so long?"

"Hmm... I'm a little seasick."

Cheng Ying lowered her head, her voice weak.

The heat emanating from her body hadn't completely dissipated, and with each step, the fabric of her skirt rubbed against her skin, making her movements extremely awkward.

The three of them disembarked from the boat via the gangplank.

Yang Guo led the way, holding three horses, Lu Wushuang was on the left, and Cheng Ying followed half a step behind on the right.

It's still seven or eight li from the ferry to Xiangyang City.

The further south you go, the denser the crowds become.

Groups of refugees surged toward the city gate, with old men leaning on canes, women carrying children on their backs, and men pushing wheelbarrows loaded with pots and pans.

Some people were walking along when they suddenly collapsed on the roadside and never got up again.

Flies buzzed around the corpses by the roadside, the foul stench of sweat mingling together, impossible to dispel even in the wind.

Lu Wushuang covered her mouth and nose with a handkerchief, her face turning pale.

Yang Guo walked along, observing the situation on the road.

His gaze lingered on the refugees for a moment, then shifted to both sides of the official road.

The makeshift thatched sheds stretched for a long distance; some had collapsed roofs, and others were crooked and looked like they would fall apart in a strong wind.

"Where did these people come from?" Lu Wushuang asked in a low voice.

"Most of them are from Guanzhong, but some come from Henan," Yang Guo replied.

He noticed some strong, agile men mixed in with the crowd. They were dressed in civilian clothes, but their strides were even and their footsteps were silent, clearly indicating that they had practiced martial arts.

These people were scattered in twos and threes among the refugees, walking for a while and then stopping, their eyes not on the road, but only on the people.

Scouts.

Yang Guo made a mental note of it but didn't say anything.

He had experienced the Mongols' methods firsthand: before their army pressed in, they would send spies into the city to find out the city's defenses and food reserves.

Xiangyang was the most important military stronghold on the western front of the Southern Song Dynasty, and the Mongols must have had many spies planted there.

When they arrived at the gates of Xiangyang, the scene became even more chaotic.

The city wall was much higher than he had expected.

A thick layer of rammed earth bricks has been newly laid outside the main wall. It is not completely dry yet, and the color is two shades lighter than the old wall.

Everywhere you look, there are laborers carrying bricks and soil, their shouts and work chants mingling together.

Three trenches were dug outside the moat, filled with countless sharpened wooden stakes.

Behind the trench, a row of barricades was built, with wire wrapped around the wooden frame and rusty bells hanging from the wire.

This is an old method of defending the city; if someone crosses the moat at night, the bell will ring as an early warning.

There were three checkpoints at the city gate, and people were crowding into the city in long queues.

"Husband, why is the city gate in such a mess?" Lu Wushuang frowned.

"Xiangyang is now a large military camp, and the checks for entering and leaving are very strict."

Yang Guo replied, leading his horse and the two men to the back of the line, while his gaze swept over the defenses on the city gate tower.

There were two groups of people checking people at the city gate.

One group consisted of government troops in uniforms, armed with standard rifles and ring-pommel swords, who stood in groups of three at the checkpoint, checking travel permits and packages.

Another group consisted of about twenty martial arts practitioners dressed in various colorful outfits, armed with weapons, scattered on both sides of the city gate.

The positions of these martial arts figures are carefully considered.

The government troops guarding the inner checkpoints were responsible for checking documents, while the江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the martial arts world) people on the outer circle kept an eye on suspicious faces and pedestrians hiding weapons.

The two groups had clear divisions of labor and cooperated fairly well.

Yang took a second look.

It was Guo Jing's doing to incorporate wandering martial arts practitioners into the city's defense and patrol system.

The regular garrison in Xiangyang was insufficient, so martial arts practitioners who came to help were organized into patrol teams to make up for the manpower shortage.

This method isn't new, but the fact that it can be spread out on such a large scale shows that Guo Jing's influence in the martial arts world is truly remarkable.

"What's going on up ahead?" Lu Wushuang stood on tiptoe to look ahead.

The refugees at the front of the line started to riot.

Several elderly and infirm people were pushed out of the line and fell to the ground, while a woman sat by the roadside holding her child and crying.

The group of martial arts practitioners were led by two young noblemen.

The two men were dressed in elegant blue long gowns made of fine Lu silk, which stood out conspicuously at the muddy city gate.

He had a long sword hanging from his waist, with copper ornaments inlaid on the scabbard.

The one on the left is taller, with a square face, and looks to be in his early twenties. He's holding a riding crop and cracking it loudly.

The one on the right has a fairer complexion, with just some downy hair growing on his lips. He's younger, but he's quite ruthless when it comes to whipping people.

Yang Guo observed the two men's gait and the way they held their whips.

He has a stable lower body and uses his waist strength when whipping the opponent, showing some skill, but his foundation is not very deep.

He was probably a second-generation disciple of some sect, who came to Xiangyang with his master to help fight, and was given the job of guarding the city gate.

"Hurry up! What are you dawdling for! I'm talking to you, open your bundle and take a look!"

A fair-skinned young man lashed an old man on the back with a whip.

The old man cried out and fell to the ground, scattering his tattered clothes from his bundle all over the floor.

Yang Guo saw that the old man had a bloody welt on his back from being whipped, and the skin was torn off.

The refugees queuing nearby were silent, not daring to utter a sound.

The tall young man gave a cold laugh.

"Xiuwen, why waste words with these poor wretches? Master ordered us to guard the city gates to prevent Mongol spies. These refugees should be sent directly to the refugee camp outside the city; don't let them into the city and get in the way."

Lu Wushuang's hand was already on the willow-leaf dagger at her waist. She turned to look at Yang Guo, her eyes filled with anger.

"My lord."

Yang Guo did not respond immediately.

His gaze shifted from the two young men and swept across the top of the city gate tower.

Several armored officers standing on the city wall were talking in hushed tones, unaware of what was happening below.

He pressed down on the hilt of the knife that Lu Wushuang had pressed back down on.

"Don't rush, let's go into the city first."

Yang Guo reached into his robes and touched Wang Jian's travel permit.

This document was issued with the official seal of the military. You can take it out and go directly through the military channel without having to argue with these two minor figures.

But he didn't intend to reveal it directly.

He wanted to see whose disciples these two young masters guarding the city gate were.