Marrying a Disabled General and be His Wife

The clash of cold soldiers battling each other was jarringly harsh, and Tan Chuyan’s movements were swift and ruthless, targeting the vital points of the dozen men in black.

After a few exchanges, Tan Chuyan realized these men were not ordinary killers but rather well-trained death warriors. They seemed impervious to pain, driven solely by the intent to end his life.

In their eyes, killing him equaled survival; failure meant facing death.

This was the message conveyed by the lifeless gaze of these soldiers.

After a deadly maneuver, a tense calm settled. Tan Chuyan had dispatched three adversaries, but the remaining ones closed in tighter.

His face was now speckled with blood, and even the edges of his pristine white attire bore a crimson stain, resembling sudden blossoming red plums.

Tan Chuyan wiped the blood drops from the corners of his eyes with his thumb, revealing a flash of bright red.

Surveying the stoic dead soldiers, seemingly surrounded yet eerily composed, Tan Chuyan observed the chilling determination in their eyes.

“Kill!”

A dead soldier shattered the silence. His command lingered in the air as he thrust himself toward Tan Chuyan.

With a deft move, Tan Chuyan avoided a direct confrontation, using a flick of his wrist to neutralize the assailant’s force. A concealed lancet slipped from his sleeve, and with a swift motion, the dead soldier lay lifeless on the ground.

The remaining dead soldiers closed in; swords pointed at Tan Chuyan’s heart.

Raising his sword to meet the challenge, Tan Chuyan tapped his toes on the ground, leapt up, evaded the encircling blades, and sprinted toward Ling-han Pavilion.

Aware of the odds, he wasn’t reckless. Facing more than a dozen foes would be a losing battle; he was only human.

As he reached the corner of the street, another group of dead soldiers awaited, forming a human barricade.

Who sought to end his life?

Frozen in the snow, Tan Chuyan eyed the dead soldiers cautiously. Suddenly, their figures trembled, and they surged toward him like a pack of wolves converging on prey, teeth bared to strike it down.

Forced into a narrow alley, Tan Chuyan had no choice but to confront them head-on. If death awaited, he would meet it in battle.

But he didn’t want to die.

He hadn’t fulfilled the promise made to his master.

Like an eagle surrounded by a pack of wolves, Tan Chuyan fought alone, his once-proud feathers now bitten and torn.

Blocking a knife aimed at his face, he faced a second assailant swinging down.

Releasing his sword, Tan Chuyan placed his hands on the ground, bending backward in an incredible arc. With agile precision, he clamped his legs around the newcomer’s neck, twisted forcefully, and snapped the neck.

Collapsing into the snow, he stirred up a white cloud. In an instant, he rose, sword in hand, deflecting an incoming blade.

Yet, two fists were no match for four hands, and he sustained injuries of varying degrees.

What he hadn’t anticipated was that these dead soldiers mimicked unscrupulous killers, coating their blades with poison!

Tan Chuyan felt his head growing increasingly dizzy. He shook his head vigorously and bit the tip of his tongue hard, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth, providing a momentary clarity.

He had sworn that he must not die, instinctively employing the sword skills stolen from his master. Unnamed and unknown, this technique comprised thirty-six moves, adaptable to various swords.

Completing the final move, Tan Chuyan, standing against the wall, surveyed the five remaining foes. A metallic taste rose in his throat, and he pondered if there was truly no way out.

Even in death, he’d rally everyone here to support him.

Fierce determination overcame Tan Chuyan; his knuckles turned white as he prepared to unleash everything he had.

Then, a small pebble whizzed past his ear, penetrating a dead man’s head and embedding itself in the wall.

How powerful was this throw?

Tan Chuyan wasn’t sure, but in the next instant, large hands encircled his waist. The newcomer effortlessly kicked up a knife from the ground, holding it in their free hand, and led Tan Chuyan forward, dispatching the remaining four dead soldiers with swift sword strikes.

All sealed with a single sword!

Thinking it was Yan Lie, Tan Chuyan looked up and saw Feng Chilie’s unexpected face.

Rather than releasing him, Feng Chilie lifted him up and leaped onto the roof, swiftly heading towards the general’s mansion.

Safe now, Tan Chuyan’s tense nerves relaxed, and he coughed heavily, spraying black blood onto Feng Chilie’s dark clothes.

Seeing the dark stains, Feng Chilie’s expression shifted. Many unanswered questions lingered, but this man must not die!

Feng Chilie paused briefly, tapping Tan Chuyan’s thin chest to seal vital points, before resuming their journey.

Tan Chuyan retrieved a small jade bottle from his waist, pouring out a pill and swallowing it.

Feng Chilie scolded, “Don’t eat recklessly. You’ll eat yourself to death. Spit it out. Quickly.”

“You won’t die if you eat it,” Tan Chuyan weakly replied. “This is the heart-protecting pill Young Master Yan gave me. If I die, General, you must be running too slowly.”

In trouble, move Young Master Yan out!

Well done!

Feng Chilie was somewhat surprised. “He’s willing to give you such a precious thing? Are you more than just acquaintances?”

“Maybe,” Tan Chuyan replied weakly, pinching a small smile. “We might be closer than we realize.”

Who would believe it!

Despite asking Young Master Yan for it several times, Feng Chilie didn’t get the medicine. That man insisted it was a rare find, only for those destined to receive it.

Little did he expect that the chosen one would be this sickly young man. What a twist of fate!

Concerned about his other identity’s welfare, he handed the small jade bottle to Feng Chilie. “There’s another one inside. I’m giving it to the general. I hope the general—cough, cough—will save me.”

“Hey!”

“Hey!”

“Speak to me!”

Feng Chilie called out multiple times, but the person in his arms didn’t respond. Slipping beneath his feet, Tan Chuyan nearly fell from the roof.

Stabilizing himself, Feng Chilie quickened his pace. A quarter of an hour later, they finally returned to the general’s mansion.

Ji Bei approached excitedly, but Feng Chilie paid him no attention.

“Bang!”

Feng Chilie kicked the door open, turning to Ji Bei, instructing, “Go, fetch Uncle Fu. Hurry!”

Staring at the almost lifeless figure in Feng Chilie’s arms, Ji Bei was momentarily stunned before turning and sprinting away.

Feng Chilie laid the man on the bed, patting his face and issuing a threat, “Tan Chuyan, if you dare to die here, tomorrow I’ll go to the princess’s mansion, capture that little eunuch named Tianbao, and kill him. Try me.”

“You—” Tan Chuyan struggled to sit up and grabbed his hand. “Don’t touch him.”

Relieved to see Tan Chuyan conscious, Feng Chilie exhaled, but the relief almost turned into a choked breath.

Tan Chuyan fainted again, yet he clung to Feng Chilie’s hand tightly, resisting any attempt to pull away.

“General, Uncle Fu, uh—”

Uncle Fu, brought in by Ji Bei, was taken aback when they opened the door. Their general was holding someone else!