Exile with Storage Space: Family Fortunes in the Barren Lands Chapter 730 - 683: A Familiar-Looking Youth (2)

Although it was nightti, under the illumination of the snowlight, one could vaguely see the densely packed tents in the valley ahead, stretching out as far as the eye could see.

Although the camp at the farthest left corner was the easiest to infiltrate, if they alerted others, it would be difficult to escape if surrounded by a group.

Xiao Shan and his group, filled with pride in the village, began to feel timid upon seeing the real military camp.

"Brother Mu, how confident are you in capturing Lang Feihua?" Xiao Shan squinted his eyes and asked quietly.

"Absolutely confident," Mu Yuanxiu replied nonchalantly.

"Absolutely?" Xiao Shan widened his eyes, looking at Mu Yuanxiu in utter astonishnt, "Are you saying the person in that tent is definitely Lang Feihua?"

"That’s right! Dare to co with ?" Mu Yuanxiu said, "I’ll subdue Lang Feihua, and you gather the items in his tent. Let’s split the tasks."

Seeing his calm deanor, Xiao Shan nodded and said, "Alright, since we’re at this point, whether or not we catch Lang Feihua, we have to make a move. At worst, we burn his tent and infuriate him half to death."

"We will burn the tent, but after capturing him," Mu Yuanxiu patted the two wine gourds hanging on the horse’s back, "I brought kerosene."

With that, he gave a sly smile.

Xiao Shan’s eyes lit up, "Good brother, you’re truly sothing. Let’s raid the camp!"

The noise from moving with horses was too loud, so Mu Yuanxiu suggested they secure the horses behind the hillside and proceed on foot.

Everyone agreed to this plan.

Xiao Shan arranged for four people to guard the horses, while he and fifteen others followed Mu Yuanxiu to quietly approach the camp.

In the desolate and snowy night, the north wind howled like a pack of wolves, one after another.

The sound of the wind covered the noise of everyone’s footsteps on the snow.

There were campfires in the gaps between tents, illuminating the encampnt area.

Occasionally, a small patrol unit passed by, holding large knives and lifting torches.

Mu Yuanxiu led them to about twenty steps away from the camp and stopped.

They lay hidden behind a clump of wild grass.

After the patrolling soldiers walked away, Mu Yuanxiu said to those beside him, "I’ll go in first, and when I co out, you all rush in to search for items."

Xiao Shan nodded, "Alright, Brother Mu, it’s up to you!"

Mu Yuanxiu took a cloth from his pocket and covered his face. After glancing left and right, he bent down and suddenly ran forward.

Mu Yuanxiu was as nimble as a swallow, making a swift leap into the camp.

"Who?" a cold voice suddenly rang from inside the tent.

This cold shout went unheard by Xiao Shan and the others.

The neighboring tents were still ten steps away and couldn’t hear it either.

But there was only one low shout, and then silence.

Mu Yuanxiu swiftly struck, taking down two guards in the tent.

He had found silver needles laced with anesthetic in Li Yuzhu’s backpack.

He thought it was a good item and had asked Li Yuzhu for it many tis, but the mischievous girl refused to give it.

She claid it was a dangerous item, fit only for a doctor.

But today, with an important task at hand, Mu Yuanxiu couldn’t tell her directly, so he took it secretly.

The two needles, each aid at a different guard.

Only one managed to ask a question; the other was pricked in the neck before he could make a sound.

Both fell instantly.

Mu Yuanxiu pulled out the silver needles and approached the small army bed in the tent.

On the bed lay a thirty-sothing man sleeping in his clothes.

Mu Yuanxiu took a rope from under his clothes, prepared in advance, and looped it around the man’s neck.

"Ah, who?" the man awoke in shock and asked in a cold voice.

Mu Yuanxiu grabbed a sock from the floor and quickly stuffed it into the man’s mouth. Then he flipped the man over and tied him securely.

A campfire burned inside, brightly lighting the tent.

The tied-up man, upon seeing the young man before him, widened his eyes in shock, "Mmm, mmm—"

Although the youth’s face was covered, the visible half was sowhat familiar. Who was this?

"Are you Lang Feihua?" Mu Yuanxiu dragged over a chair and sat in front of Lang Feihua, looking at him blankly.

Lang Feihua was horrified. The masked person before him was dressed like soone from Zhao Country, speaking in a southern Zhao accent. How did he get in?

How did he know this was the Central Army Tent?

The person’s brows and eyes looked familiar. Who exactly was he?

Lang Feihua didn’t answer as he couldn’t, with a cloth stuffed in his mouth.

"Mmm mmm—" Lang Feihua lowered his head, pointing at his mouth, indicating protest and reminder.

Mu Yuanxiu said, "When I ask, just nod or shake your head, no need to speak."

Lang Feihua glared at him in anger, neither nodding nor shaking his head.

Mu Yuanxiu picked a letter from the table, examining it, "This letter is addressed to you. If you’re not Lang Feihua, who are you?"

Lang Feihua was even more shocked. This southern Zhao youth recognized the ancient Beiyang script?

Although the Beiyang people also learned Zhao’s writing, spoke Zhao’s language, and emulated Zhao in everything, the ancestors of Beiyang had created their own script. The ancient Beiyang script, popular only among Beiyang nobility nowadays, wasn’t taught to the common Beiyang people, who wrote in Zhao’s script and weren’t qualified to learn the ancient Beiyang script.

"You won’t answer, but I’ve guessed correctly, haven’t I?" Mu Yuanxiu read through the letter and tucked it into his coat, "How’s your Empress Dowager Hui doing lately?"

Lang Feihua looked at Mu Yuanxiu, bewildered, blinking to show he didn’t understand why Mu Yuanxiu asked about Empress Dowager Hui.

"I ask, you answer. If you want to live, obey," Mu Yuanxiu drew out a knife and placed it before him.

Lang Feihua had no choice but to nod, "Mmm mmm."

Mu Yuanxiu sneered and asked again, "Who devised the plan to bring fifty thousand troops to harass Zhao Country?" He took out a pen, wrote several surnas on a paper, "As I point to each, respond with ’mm’ when I reach the right one."

He wrote eight surnas, pointing them out one by one, and at the fifth surna, Lang Feihua nodded.

That surna was "Hui." Most Beiyang empresses ca from this family.

Mu Yuanxiu sneered again, crumpled the paper, rubbed it into fragnts, and threw it away.

"Let’s go!" he hoisted Lang Feihua and walked towards the tent entrance.

Not far ahead, Xiao Shan and his group saw him erge and imdiately charged towards the tent.

Mu Yuanxiu handed Lang Feihua to Xiao Shan, "Take him away and hide him first. Everyone else, co in and gather items, quickly!"

Following the prearranged division of labor, Xiao Shan waved at two people to take Lang Feihua, bound hand and foot, and hide him under the dirt mound ahead.

He led away the horse tethered in front of the tent.

The horse’s coat was glossy, its form beautiful, undoubtedly the Ferghana Horse.

Mu Yuanxiu, with ten others, packed the docunts and materials from the tent into several bags.

Two people pulled down the White Tiger Skin draped over the bed and carried it. Under Mu Yuanxiu’s lead, they quietly left the tent and returned to the hillside ahead.

They checked the numbers, none missing.

Mu Yuanxiu waved to everyone, "Let’s return!"