A Farm Girl: Three Acres of Fertile Land Can Be Exchanged for a Country

Chapter 101 Let's Do It

"I am the King of Dongqi. Do I need you to teach me?" he said in a deep voice, his face devoid of any smile, his eyes flashing with a fierce light.

Tuotuo covered his face and remained silent, while two men who looked like generals stepped forward to plead for him.

Meng Baobao waved her hand irritably: "Get out! All of you get out! Don't spoil my fun!"

Tuotuo'er was the first to stand up and walk away without looking back. Her steps were extremely fast, like a gust of wind, carrying with her anguish.

The others looked at each other in bewilderment and followed suit.

A guard asked, "Your Majesty, what should we do about her?"

He was referring to Yinling, who was completely naked, with a slender figure, fair and delicate skin, and tears welling in her blind eyes. She looked pitiful and extremely alluring.

Meng Baobao has never restrained himself from women, but for some reason, he suddenly lost interest today.

A woman who is too gentle is boring; she's always crying and whining. There's someone much more interesting right in front of you.

"Take her back and keep a close watch on her."

After giving his orders, he turned to Wutong with his long sword in hand, giving her a sinister smile.

The guards pulled Silver Bell, draped an animal skin blanket over her, and prepared to take her away.

Yinling, worried about Wutong, refused to leave. She crawled forward a little further, then, following the sound she had heard, grabbed Wutong's leg and cried, "Come with me, please, come with me..." Her voice trembled with sobs, "Otherwise you'll die here..."

Wutong pursed her lips, squatted down, switched hands to hold the knife, gently patted her shoulder twice, and whispered, "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'll definitely come back to see you alive."

Silver Bell raised her stunningly beautiful face: "Really?"

"real."

Only after receiving a promise did she let go of his hand, and the guards half-pushed and half-shoved her out of the palace.

In the vast hall, only the Mengbaobao and the sycamore trees remained.

The candlelight was still burning, illuminating the hall brilliantly. The whole roasted lamb sizzled, and the rich aroma of meat filled the air.

Meng Baobao and Wutong stood facing each other, less than three meters apart, on a bright red carpet that seemed to be stained with blood.

Wutong slightly raised its head, looking up at its opponent.

He was so tall that basketball players paled in comparison. His muscles were so massive, they seemed to leap out from beneath his animal-hide clothing.

His eyes were large, but because his brow bones were too high and his eyebrows were too thick, they were forced into a fierce shape, and every time his eyes moved, they concealed endless killing intent.

There is no chance of winning, not even a sliver.

Wutong was fully aware of this.

Her swordsmanship was never very good to begin with; she had only learned a few moves from Abudo on and off occasion. When facing an ordinary man, she might be able to put on a show of being fearless and fight him to the death, intimidating him with her aura.

Unfortunately, the other party was a dummy. A dummy doesn't need any skills; she can crush her to death with just her body.

It would be a lie to say she wasn't afraid; her palms were sweaty, and the salt in the sweat irritated her wounds, keeping her awake with pain.

There's no turning back now.

Meng Baobao looked at her as if she were a deer that had been driven into a corner.

He slowly stepped forward, raised the knife in his hand, and pointed the sharp side at her: "Do you know... what the consequences will be if I strike you with this knife?"

These words penetrate more deeply than insults. Wutong took a deep breath and gripped the meat cleaver tighter: "I know."

Meng Baobao laughed and asked, "Aren't you scared?"

Wutong met his mocking gaze and calmly said, "I'm afraid, but I won't regret it. Even if I lose my life, a hero should still strive to be strong."

It's normal to be afraid; everyone has fear, and fear is where there's a glimmer of hope.

Meng Baobao praised, "That's bold! Who came up with that? Was it yourself?"

Of course it wasn't her. She had lived a comfortable and peaceful life for the first twenty-odd years of her life, so how could she possibly have such thoughts?

It was Abdo who told her.

Abdo has weathered countless storms in his life, always risking his life, possessing only a knife as his only possession, yet living a carefree and unrestrained life, always ready to die a heroic death.

He got his wish; he sacrificed his life for his country.

When Wutong tried to recall his appearance, she was surprised to find that she could not clearly remember the details of his face. It seemed that apart from his full beard and tall, strong physique, there was nothing else about him.

Time flies like an arrow, day and night.

She gave a wry smile and raised the knife: "Do it."

Meng Baobao smirked, gripped the hilt of the broadsword with both hands, slowly rotated it forty-five degrees, chose the most tricky angle, and slashed down fiercely.

The blade flashed and whistled as it came. Wutong tried to parry with her own blade, but upon contact, she found the force too terrifying to withstand. She bent down to dodge and rolled away, narrowly avoiding the blade's tip.

The blade fell to the ground, splitting the carpet and floor tiles together to a depth of nearly ten centimeters.

Meng Baobao drew his knife in one go, and with a swift motion, slashed down four or five more times, as if he had inexhaustible strength.

Whether it was because he held back or because he was really that skillful, Wutong always managed to dodge by a hair's breadth; if he had been a second slower, he would have lost an arm or a leg.

Although she was still alive, she was extremely exhausted. After a few cuts, she was already out of breath, and the accompanying symptoms of wound infection also came over her, making her feel hot all over, dizzy, and her ears filled with a roaring sound.

Meng Baobao, holding a knife, looked like he was about to chop but wasn't: "How about it? Do you admit defeat?"

"I'd rather die than admit it!"

Wutong squeezed out those four words through gritted teeth, then leaped forward with a powerful push of her feet, the blade landing precisely where she had just been standing, missing her by a hair's breadth.

Dodging like this isn't a solution, but parrying isn't an option either. He tried his best to think of a way out, his gaze sweeping over the stove and the wine vat.

Got it!

She turned around and kicked over a wine jar full of wine, which rolled towards the stove with a gurgling sound.

Meng Baobao pursued relentlessly, and the knife arrived before he could reach her. Wutong narrowly dodged, finally stopping behind the stove.

Meng Baobao paused briefly, then sneered, "You think I can't do anything to you just because something's in your way? You underestimate me!"

With a sharp shout, he raised the knife above his head to the upper right and slashed down diagonally. Wutong seized the opportunity, picked up the wine jar behind him, and desperately threw it into the stove.

The bronze furnace wall collided with the earthenware wine jar, shattering it into pieces. Countless drops of strong liquor flowed into the flames, which instantly leaped up a meter or two, igniting the fur on Meng Baobao's body and the beard on his chin.

Unfortunately, the alcohol in that era wasn't pure enough; the flame only flared up briefly before going out, unable to last.

Meng Baobao was stunned by this, and stood there dumbfounded.

Wutong was not about to let this opportunity slip by. Without hesitation, she grabbed the knife and stabbed him in the chest with all her might.

*Snap!* Meng Baobao finally came to her senses and grabbed her wrist before she could kill herself.

In a life-or-death situation, a single move can determine victory or defeat.

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End of this chapter