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

Zhao Daxuan's expression darkened, and his perception field instantly spread out across the village like a tidal wave.

The sensory field instantly swept over the fence of the newlyweds' house, where a wooden door adorned with large red double happiness symbols was wide open.

At the entrance of the house, a young Han Chinese man was being pinned to the ground by two burly men dressed as Tartars, who were stepping on his back.

The Han Chinese man had a long gash cut open on his shoulder, exposing raw flesh that was dripping with blood.

However, the Han Chinese man ignored the pain, gritted his teeth and struggled desperately, his neck veins bulging, his eyes bloodshot, staring intently into the room, and letting out a beast-like roar.

The two Tartars, who were stepping on the backs of the Han Chinese man, laughed loudly, their eyes full of mockery, and excitedly watched the scene inside the house.

At this moment, the woman's cries came from inside the house again, mixed with the sound of fabric being torn.

"Sizzle~ Sizzle~"

Zhao Daxuan's expression darkened again. He squeezed his feet together, and his galloping warhorse instantly reared up. Then, it stomped down heavily, kicking up clouds of dust, and came to a stop.

Zhao Daxuan pushed off his horse, his figure soaring into the air. With two light steps, he flipped over the fence and entered the courtyard.

The two Tartars at the door heard the sound of horses' hooves and were wondering where the sound came from in the middle of the night. Just as they were about to turn around to check, they heard a dull thud behind them.

Turning around, they saw a burly young man in a large felt robe, who looked like a Han Chinese. The two Tartars immediately looked angry.

"&%&#@…"

Zhao Daxuan ignored him, drew his curved sword from his waist, and with a flick of his wrist, swung the sword forward at a subtle angle.

"Pfft!"

Two heads flew high into the air. This was already the umpteenth head he had chopped off tonight. Zhao Daxuan was quite experienced at beheading people with a single stroke.

Dodging the blood splattered from the two headless corpses, Zhao Daxuan slipped into the house.

Inside the house, on a bed, a stout Tartar man was straddling a half-naked Han Chinese woman.

The woman's clothes had been mostly torn off by the Tartars, leaving only a bodice clinging tightly to her body, which she held tightly and refused to let go of.

The woman was crying out in despair, making futile resistance, with tears streaming down her face.

At this moment, the fat Tartar on the bed was unaware of the strange situation outside the house. He was grinning maliciously as he pressed down on the woman, about to take the next step.

Suddenly, a chill ran down his neck; the unique feel of metal sent a shiver down the fat Tartar's spine, and a cold feeling rose in his heart.

He glanced to the side and saw a long sword hanging around his neck. The fat Tartar man stiffened and uttered a broken Chinese sentence in a trembling voice.

"Good sir, spare my life!"

The fat Tartar slowly turned around, a pleading look on his face. His eyes glanced at the two headless corpses outside the house, and his terror deepened.

The obese man scrambled off the bed, knelt on the floor, and kowtowed repeatedly to Zhao Daxuan.

"Hero, spare my life! Hero, spare my life!!"

A trembling plea for mercy came from the fat Tartar's mouth.

Zhao Daxuan turned to look at the woman on the bed. She was huddled in a corner, clutching her chest, her face still showing signs of shock.

He sighed softly, grabbed the bedding from the foot of the bed, and tossed it onto the woman.

"Cover yourself with the blanket first."

At this moment, the Han Chinese man outside the house struggled to his feet, rushed into the house, and hugged the woman, crying bitterly.

"Ah Juan, I'm so sorry, I'm so useless! Waaah..."

Upon hearing the man's voice, the Han woman slowly came to her senses, gritted her teeth, shook her head, and choked out a sob.

"Ah Liang, I don't blame you. If anyone's to blame, it's our bad luck."

Ah Liang held Ah Juan tightly when suddenly, the handle of a knife was thrust in front of them.

Ah Liang looked up and saw Zhao Daxuan holding the knife upside down by the tip and extending the hilt in front of him.

With his other hand, he pointed to the kneeling Tartar and said calmly, "Do you want to take revenge yourself, or should I help you?"

Ah Liang was taken aback at first, then looked up at Zhao Daxuan, only to see Zhao Daxuan looking at him with a calm expression, as if it was up to him whether to accept or not.

A hint of hesitation flashed across Ah Liang's face, but after glancing at the two headless corpses at the door, a resolute look appeared on his face.

He reached out and grasped the hilt of the knife in front of him, slowly stood up, and was about to walk towards the fat Tartar kneeling on the ground.

But suddenly, a pair of slender hands tugged at the hem of her clothes from behind, followed by Ah Juan's trembling voice.

"Ah Liang, don't go..."

Ah Liang turned to look at Ah Juan behind him, his voice filled with determination.

"Ah Juan, I'm sorry, I have to go. I'm the one who's wronged you. I can't let our benefactor down again!"

He then walked forward with his knife in hand. The fat Tartar kneeling on the ground watched as A Liang, covered in blood, slowly walked towards him. His pupils contracted, and he pushed himself back with his hands on the ground.

Suddenly, he felt a hard object beside him. He glanced at it and saw it was the sword he had just casually thrown on the ground. He was overjoyed, picked up the sword, and was about to stand up.

However, Ah Liang had already noticed the long sword behind the fat Tartar, and a cold glint flashed in Ah Liang's eyes when the fat Tartar touched the long sword.

Before the fat man could stand up, Ah Liang ignored the pain in his arm, gripped the knife handle tightly with both hands, the veins on the back of his hands bulging, and with a roar, slashed down heavily.

Before the fat Tartar could even stand up, Ah Liang slashed his neck with a single blow.

The sharp blade instantly tore through the skin on the fat Tartar's neck, rupturing the artery on the side of his neck, and the blood in the blood vessel gushed out impatiently.

"Cough...cough cough..."

The fat Tartar collapsed to the ground, coughing up blood continuously. He clutched the wound on his neck tightly with both hands, and blood kept seeping out from between his fingers.

In the blink of an eye, he was barely breathing and exhaling more. Still not satisfied, Ah Liang stepped forward and stomped on him a few more times, stomping the fat man, who was on his last breath, to his death.

Ah Liang stomped on him for a while, and only when he saw the fat Tartar's body slumped on the ground like a lump of mud did he feel a little relieved.

After letting out a long breath, A Liang turned around to look at Zhao Daxuan, his face filled with emotion. Then, with a thud, he knelt down in front of Zhao Daxuan.

"Thank you so much, young master! I am deeply grateful and have no way to repay you! But now that I have killed these Tartars, I have brought great trouble upon myself. You should leave quickly, young master!"

"These people were all killed by Ah Liang, and Ah Liang shall bear all the blame! If there is an afterlife, Ah Liang will surely repay your great kindness by repaying your kindness in the name of a virtuous young master!"

Zhao Daxuan's expression softened slightly, and he was about to speak when he heard a resolute voice from outside the house.

"Young master, you cannot leave!"

Zhao Daxuan turned his head and saw a middle-aged man leading several villagers into the courtyard, looking at Zhao Daxuan with a wary expression.