Reborn as Murong Fu: This time I am the protagonist

Martial arts similar to the "Soul Transferring Technique" may sound very evil, but in fact they are quite useless. The person who practices the technique is required to have pure internal strength, and the internal strength of the person being performed cannot be too much higher than that of the person who performs the technique. Otherwise, it will be ineffective at best, and may cause backlash to the person who performs the technique.

Murong Fu glanced at Monk Chenjing lying on the ground and sighed: "It seems that the old monk at Chengtian Temple is very wary of me, 'Xiao Feng'. It is estimated that the old monk will send people to the Central Plains to inquire. Senior brother, what should I do?”

Su Xinghe smiled and said: "What's so difficult about this? Just ask Quan Guanqing to do this little thing. If he can't even do this little thing well, he will lose the many benefits you gave him, junior brother, and just let him do it." He was tortured to death by the talisman of life and death."

Murong Fu nodded and said, "I think so too. In this case, let Gong Yeqian bring a message to Quan Guanqing. Don't make it too obvious. It just needs to be true and false so that the old monk can't judge. Anyway. Now the real Xiao Feng is living in seclusion in the countryside of Gusu, and no one knows his whereabouts except you and me. Only the old monk knows that I call myself Xiao Feng, and I will not publicize it in a big way."

Su Xinghe felt slightly surprised and said, "Is this happening?"

Murong Fu smiled and said: "Of course it is. Although the old monk doubted my identity, he could not prove that I was lying. After all, my Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms are indeed not fake at all. And on the bright side, I don't have any Do anything detrimental to Xixia. Moreover, there are many masters like me with unknown origins in Yipintang. Why would the old monk completely break up with me and force me, the 'leader of the Beggar Clan', away?"

"Xi Xia and the Song Dynasty have been victorious and defeated on the battlefield in recent years. Among them, the disciples of the Beggar Clan have contributed a lot to the Song Dynasty. If they can get the help of me, the 'Leader of the Beggar Clan', they will definitely win in the future battle between Song and Xia. One more chance of winning. So next, there will be no less secret explorations, but on the surface, the old monk will still pretend to know nothing."

Su Xinghe said: "True and false, false and true."

Murong Fu sighed: "After all, Xixia is a bitter cold land in the north of the Great Wall. If it weren't for my family Yuyan's dowry, what does it have to do with me who is in power in Xixia? Alas!"

The next day, Chengtian Temple.

After listening to the disciple's story, the monk Yuan Gen just sighed and asked the disciple to go down. He gently twisted the beads with an experienced hand and thought in his heart.

At this time, in a camp thirty miles away from Chengtian Temple.

It's called a camp, but it's actually a settlement composed of a bunch of dilapidated tents and cave dwellings on loess, without even a decent fence.

Within a radius of five miles, the messy tents looked like patches on Bainai's clothes. And there were more than 50,000 people gathered in just a few square miles!

It's simply a huge ant nest.

However, judging from the so-called soldiers who appear in twos and threes in the camp, it is not an exaggeration to say it is a refugee camp.

In the bleak cold wind, many people were still wearing thin single clothes, and their faces turned blue in the cold wind. Only a few people were wearing shabby cotton-padded jackets.

Not many people were wearing armor. Looking around, there wasn't necessarily one person among a hundred people wearing even a piece of light armor. Even if there is armor, it is a walking armor in the form of the Song Army.

The proportion of young adults is very small, less than 30%. There are more elderly people and children who look to be in their teens at most, and there are also many women wearing rags.

All signs indicate that this is a team of miscellaneous fish.

No one cared about their lives or deaths because they were captive troops.

The Mongolians' so-called tactic of taking prisoners of war to lead the team was not their own. Li Yuanhao had already done this before. At the beginning of Yuan Hao's founding, in order to make up for the lack of Xixia soldiers, he organized Tibetan, Khitan, Uighur, and Han prisoners captured in previous wars into an army, named Chuang Gongzi.

Just by hearing the name, you know that it is a consumable item that is pushed out to die.

In order to prevent this army and horses from rebelling or rioting, Xixia chose to place this army and horses next to Xingqing Mansion, and stationed more than a thousand soldiers and horses in the four directions of southeast and northwest as surveillance.

It sounds unreliable to use four to five thousand people to monitor tens of thousands of people. But you must know that the thousands of people responsible for guarding are elite soldiers in full armor. But the boy who was watched was almost unarmored.

What's even more amazing is that I don't know if Li Yuanhao was inspired by Ma Su when he chose the camp. The four to five thousand people responsible for surveillance just surrounded the tens of thousands of people on a mound and controlled the water source.

There are tens of thousands of old, weak, sick and disabled people who are used as cannon fodder, and their daily access to water is restricted. What's more, this is still the hinterland of Xia Kingdom. If they choose to rebel, they may not die fast enough.

The old and weak man in ragged clothes lay lazily on his side on the ground, trying to regain some heat in the setting sun of winter. His gray eyes reflected the gray sky above the camp.

However, at this moment, the movement that occurred in the camp brought a change to this stagnant camp.

Several large vehicles covered with curtains loaded with things drove towards the camp where the young man was. The leading coachman waved his whip and drove the carriage hard, trying to make the team go faster. The convoy continued babbling all the way to a place far away from the camp where it was stopped.

"Stop, who is it? What is in the car?"

A short, dark-faced officer led a small group of soldiers to stop the convoy.

The driver got out of the car and said with a smile: "For the record, Master, the car is loaded with some beef, mutton and grain. It was sent to Prince Chuang's camp on the order of the front secretary."

The black-faced officer frowned and said: "Giving it to those Kuhaha people? Or is it the order of the front commander? Why don't I know? Is there something fishy in it?"

As he spoke, he unceremoniously pulled out his waist knife and used the tip of the knife to open a curtain. What he saw was piles of meat. He used his knife to push aside another cart, which contained sacks one after another.

The total weight of ten large vehicles is at least tens of thousands of pounds.

The black-faced officer's nose twitched, his eyes narrowed, and then he put on a ferocious expression: "What a scumbag you are. You actually gave such good food and supplies to these enemy prisoners? Do you want to rebel?"

When the coachman heard this, he panicked and protested repeatedly.

The black-faced officer smiled and said: "Our battalion brothers are here guarding these prisoners in the freezing cold. It's very hard. Let's take these few carts of grain and grass back to the camp to give our brothers teeth as a sacrifice!"

The driver couldn't stop shouting and stopped in front of the grain cart to prevent a few Xixia soldiers from getting their hands on it.

The black-faced officer was furious and cursed: "Damn it, you're so shameless! I'll chop you off!"

As he said that, the waist knife in his hand slashed at the coachman with a large blade light, scaring the coachman so much that he sat down on the ground.

Seeing that the coachman was about to bleed in the next moment, a small object flew out from the last carriage and hit the officer's knife with a "dang" sound. The force was so strong that the officer's entire arm was numb. The waist knife was immediately released.

"Kill him and fill it with your head."

A hoarse voice said lightly.

In the eyes of the black-faced officer as if he had seen a ghost, a tall general wearing heavy armor slowly got off the carriage. The armor on his body was extremely exquisite, and it looked like a high-end custom-made general's armor. What was even more frightening was the man's lifeless face like a zombie, and his eyes as cold as cold stars.