Fang Heng nodded slightly and was about to turn around when he caught a glimpse of a tall horse standing at the entrance of the village.
He immediately turned around, bowed, and said respectfully, "Mother, rest assured, I will be careful while I am away and will absolutely not let the Tartars discover our village."
Jiang Wu could only smile kindly, "Good child, be safe and sound."
The two turned around one after the other, and there was a hint of maternal love and filial piety between them.
The Tartars at the village entrance nodded, confirming that there were no experts or people capable of resisting in the village, and finally left with peace of mind.
The third day.
Jiang Yi, playing the father, leaned down to listen. As the vibrations grew louder and louder, he jumped up excitedly, exclaiming, "It's here! It's here!"
I've never so longed for the Tartar invasion.
Everyone who was working until they were sick of it, from missing their loved ones to reminiscing about their battles, glanced at the spot where the knife was hidden and worked even harder.
When the Tartars arrived, they found a thriving and prosperous scene.
Women take care of children, men till the fields, the elderly bask in the sun, and teenagers chase and play.
This is the current situation in every village in northern Xinjiang, and also a past that countless people can never return to in their dreams.
They were nothing more than fat sheep to be slaughtered in the eyes of the Tartars, women and granaries, and battlefields for wanton slaughter.
Someone raised their arm, seemingly shouting "Charge!"
Hundreds of strong men on horseback charged in, their first strike aimed at the heads of adult men.
If this weren't a village of life, if this weren't a place where soldiers are portrayed, then this head would fly into the sky, fall back to the instep, and be buried with the body until it decays.
Fortunately, this is the place.
The Tartar with his sword did not cut off the head; the working man drew his long sword, nimbly avoiding injury, and then stabbed the horse in the belly.
As the horses neighed and reared up, the arrogant Tartars fell to the ground, where they were met with long swords aimed directly at their necks.
The once peaceful village was now engulfed in battle, but this time, it was not the people of Dayu who were slaughtered.
Instead, it was the unsuspecting Tartars!
Kill! Charge! How much blood must be shed before the enemy trembles in fear?
Slash and chop, how many heads must be chopped off before the enemy trembles?
As the sun sets, the village finally returns to tranquility. Beneath everyone's feet lies no longer mud, but a pool of crimson blood and the Tartars who cannot close their eyes.
Fang Heng sheathed his long sword, gazed in the direction of Fengjing, and said in a calm tone, "Next."
From the New Year to the fifteenth, and from the fifteenth to February.
They disguised themselves as four villages, massacred more than 800 Tartars, and captured more than 600 warhorses.
What an impressive record, what a glorious achievement!
Not only did the general leading the team express his approval, but the Tartars were also terrified. The once most enjoyable massacres of villages were now avoided at all costs.
Fang Heng breathed a sigh of relief and was finally able to ask for leave to visit his family. He then set off for Fengjing in a grand procession with six personal guards.
They rode on horseback, their youthful vigor unable to conceal their heroic spirit, their tragic grandeur unable to suppress their surging emotions.
They bid farewell to the soldiers, waved to their friends, and nodded to their elders.
They slowly turned around under the gaze of countless people.
It comes to fashionable and naive teenagers.
They returned as iron-willed frontier men.
"We've arrived, Fengjing!"
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