A sickly fellow ridiculed by the entire army? I'll be the most beautiful woman in the barracks!

Zhao Daxuan curled his lip; this time, the Tartars had learned their lesson quite a bit.

Unfortunately, what good is splitting into five teams when faced with absolute strength?

It's just a clever trick.

Zhao Daxuan slowly stood up and picked up the Sun Chasing Divine Bow and two quiver of arrows from the side.

His actions immediately made him the focus of the entire camp.

When everyone saw Zhao Daxuan pick up the Sun Chasing Divine Bow again, they exchanged knowing smiles, knowing that more Tartars had come to deliver warhorses.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, and all eyes were on him.

The soldiers digging trenches leaned on their shovels, while the men setting up barricades stopped hammering...

Even the riders patrolling the area seemed to sense something, reining in their horses and turning back to look at where Zhao Daxuan was in the center of the camp.

Although everyone believed that since the Tartar scouts had come here, they would not escape Zhao Daxuan's arrow range.

But a suffocating sense of anticipation still welled up, and everyone stared intently at Zhao Daxuan, even slowing their breathing.

Zhao Daxuan's eyes were cold as he slowly raised the Sun Chasing Divine Bow in his hand.

Drawing the bow and nocking the arrow, all in one smooth motion!

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!..."

Lock onto all targets within the perception field, then fire two waves of arrows in each of the five directions, for a total of ten waves!

However, as he fired the final volley of arrows, his fingertips twitched slightly, and one of them quietly veered off course, missing its vital point.

After Zhao Daxuan fired the arrow, without his command, the riders patrolling the area immediately understood and automatically formed five teams, riding their warhorses towards the direction where the arrow had disappeared.

In a short while, each team brought 10 strong and healthy warhorses, making a total of fifty!

Surprisingly, there was one survivor, a Tartar scout whose arm had been shot off and whose face was contorted in agony.

"Sir, we've found a survivor!"

A city guard roughly dragged the man with the missing arm by the hair and threw him at Zhao Daxuan's feet.

The soldiers around Zhao Daxuan looked at him with even more fervent eyes.

After leaving their warhorses at the camp, the others spurred their horses onward and galloped toward the location of the Tartar corpses.

They also had to collect and dispose of the Tartar corpses; the weapons and silver found on them were spoils of war and couldn't be wasted!

Zhao Daxuan squatted down, looking coldly at the prisoner in front of him.

The one-armed Tartar, with a full beard and a strong muttony smell, was now pale, his lips trembling, and his forehead dripping with cold sweat.

The look in his eyes as he looked at Zhao Daxuan revealed a hint of resentment and malice, but beneath that resentment and malice lay a trace of fear that was hard to conceal.

Zhao Daxuan frowned, too lazy to waste words, and asked directly, "How many troops do you have in your rear?"

One-Armed Tartar: "&%#@^～"

Zhao Daxuan was speechless. He realized that he couldn't understand the other person's gibberish at all, so he helplessly looked up at the other people around him.

"Does anyone understand his bird language?"

Everyone fell silent and shook their heads.

Suddenly, a thin, middle-aged man with a limp squeezed out of the crowd.

She was one of the seven people from Wangbei Village who volunteered to stay and help.

"My lord, I have some knowledge of the Hu language," the middle-aged man said, clasping his hands in greeting.

Zhao Daxuan smiled slightly upon hearing this, "So you're from Wangbei Village. May I ask your name?"

"My name is Chen An," the middle-aged man said, looking at Zhao Daxuan with admiration.

"Uncle Chen, tell me what this guy just said?" Zhao Daxuan nodded and said.

Chen An answered truthfully without hesitation.

He said, "Damn two-legged sheep."

Zhao Daxuan's face darkened upon hearing this, a murderous glint flashing in his eyes. "Ask him how many troops are behind them. He'll die if he doesn't answer!"

Chen An nodded and immediately conveyed Zhao Daxuan's message to the Tartar.

But the Tartar was surprisingly tough. After saying a cold remark, he turned his head away and said nothing more.

Chen An frowned and turned to Zhao Daxuan. "Sir, this Tartar says he would never tell, even if he died. He also said that we killed so many of their people, so we should just wait to have our village massacred."

Zhao Daxuan's face darkened. He glanced coldly at the one-armed Tartar and spoke in a chilling tone.

"If that's the case, then die."

After saying that, his foot moved, like a bolt of lightning, turning into a blur and flicking upwards like the tip of a whip.

The toes struck precisely at the junction of the other person's chin and skull.

"Click!"

A short, crisp sound, like the snapping of a dry branch, rang out.

No screams were heard, but the severed-armed Tartar's head suddenly snapped backward, causing his body to rotate unnaturally half a circle.

Then, like a lump of boneless mud, it slumped softly to the ground.

Even in death, his eyes still held a trace of lingering resentment.

"Take him away and dispose of him, but remember to collect the spoils!"

Zhao Daxuan turned around and went back to his original chair, lying down and continuing to bask in the warm sun, as if he had just done something insignificant.

Then everyone resumed their unfinished work.

Li Erlong approached with a fawning smile. "My lord, you're truly amazing, but you always handle things by yourself, which makes us feel quite useless!"

Zhao Daxuan looked at Li Erlong with a strange expression. "I'll leave it to you to handle. Can you manage?"

Li Erlong scratched his head and gave a dry laugh.

"Hehehe, sir, that's not what I meant. I just meant that next time there's an opportunity, let us come in and play a role!"

"Don't worry, you'll definitely have your chance to step in. Just don't wet your pants!" Zhao Daxuan said with a smile.

Only then did Li Erlong turn around and continue working, satisfied.

For the next five days, everyone worked from dawn till dusk.

Those digging trenches sweated profusely, those erecting barricades swung their arms, and those felling logs went deep into the forest.

The newly added fifty warhorses were divided into two groups, working in shifts with the original three groups, to patrol around the camp.

Every day, while working, Li Erlong would occasionally glance northward, his eyes filled with anticipation, even a hint of anxiety.

The three waves of Tartar scouts that Zhao Daxuan shot down a few days ago not only left him with an unforgettable shock, but also ignited his strong desire to kill enemies on the battlefield.

He hoped that he could also use his talents to kill the Tartar warriors on the battlefield.

But for five whole days, there was absolutely no unusual activity coming from the north.

"Strange! Could it be that the Tartars were scared away by the lord?"

Li Erlong muttered to himself, his tone a mixture of self-righteousness and disappointment at the Tartars' cowardice.

Despite the lack of activity these past few days, people have not let their guard down; on the contrary, they have become even more vigilant, as if there is a calm before the storm.

The construction of the fortifications was no longer accelerated and was completed on the eighth day after arriving at Wangbei Village, leaving at most some cover measures.

So Zhao Daxuan ordered his soldiers to continue training in three shifts to hone their strength and skills.

On the tenth day after arriving at Wangbei Village, instead of the Tartars from the north, the group encountered a caravan from the south.