I add points to Indian martial arts.

Chapter 77: The Young Woman Qin Keqing?

Thinking of this, Dali sighed. His son had excellent bloodline and good talent, but his temperament was not good. He was too ambitious but lacked practical skills and was impetuous.

When he was alive, Muwei City could still be defended, but now that he's dead, how can his successor possibly resist Li Wei?

Li Wei is very young; he definitely can't outlast Li Wei!

"To be old and have such a young enemy appear, I wish I were twenty years younger..." Andali shook his head and sighed. If he were twenty years younger and his energy hadn't declined, he was even confident that he could counterattack Tuli Town and have a good fight with Li Wei.

You are a young and promising talent, but who hasn't been young before?

Humuhe returned home in a rage. He did not live with his father, Andali. His house was on another street, a luxurious mansion where he and his wife, Jihulan, lived.

Inside the room, Jihulan sat on the bed, quietly taking a Pashmina shawl. Her fair hands held a needle and gently embroidered on it, tattooing her favorite patterns on it.

She has a gentle and soft appearance, but her figure gives off the vibe of a flirtatious young woman. Her eyes are rare light blue pupils. Just looking at her face, you would think she is a gentle woman like the ocean, especially her light blue pupils, which give people a sense of peace.

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But looking at her figure, she exudes a bright and youthful charm that is completely different from her facial features and temperament, like a ripe peach.

She lay quietly on the bed, embroidering. Her sari was tucked into her waist, revealing a glimpse of her lower abdomen. The dark blue fabric clung tightly to her hips, tapering upwards to create a soft, resilient indentation. That indentation held a sweet scent and contained the unique fragrance of a young woman.

She accidentally dropped the needle on the ground and bent down to pick it up.

As she bent over, the top of her sari loosened.

In just a moment, the full curve was outlined by the dim light of the room. It was not the aggressive bulge of Westerners, but the Indian style, like a fruit offered before a deity, heavy and with the firmness and softness of a mango that is not yet ripe.

Below her collarbone, a small patch of skin seemed to breathe, its thin layer revealing bluish veins. As she straightened up, that patch of skin was covered again by her sari, leaving only a fine bead of sweat at the base of her neck, slowly sliding into the unseen depths.

"Madam, why don't you go to the temple or have a gathering with the other ladies in the city?" A young maid walked in; her skin was somewhat dark, clearly indicating she was of a lower race.

Seeing the young maid enter the room, the woman with light blue eyes smiled gently: "I'm quite good at embroidery at home. I'll make a shawl for Humuhe."

After speaking, Jihulan continued to quietly embroider with her needle. The sunlight shone on her face, giving her an extraordinary sense of tranquility. The maid watched with envy. Her mistress was gentle, easy to talk to, and so beautiful. She was also very good at managing the household and had such a noble status. She even embroidered for her husband herself.

Jihulan is Humuhe's wife. When the maid heard that she was the future city lord's wife, she insisted on embroidering by hand despite her noble status. She was simply a perfect wife.

Suddenly, the sound of Humuhe angrily scolding the servants and smashing utensils came from outside. The little maid's face changed, and she was panicked. Jihulan smiled gently, indicating that she did not need to panic. She took the little maid's hand, got up, and pushed open the door, urging her to leave quickly. The little maid looked at her mistress gratefully and walked nervously to the west side of the corridor. Compared to her mistress's gentleness and good temper, Humuhe was a man with a bad temper, especially now that he seemed to be venting his anger.

After a while, the little maid disappeared on the west side of the corridor, and Jihulan sat quietly on the bed again. It was at this moment that Humuhe came into the room angrily.

"Why are you angry, my husband? Getting angry will harm your health." Jihulan walked up to him with concern like a gentle wife, picked up the copper bottle on the table, poured a cup of water, and handed it to Humuhe. Humuhe snorted coldly and did not take it. He looked at Jihulan coldly.

Jihulan felt a sting from that gaze, and forced a smile: "Husband, if you don't want to drink, then don't." Then, she happily returned to bed, picked up the shawl she had just been embroidering: "Husband, what do you think of this shawl? I embroidered it for you."

As she spoke, she was about to considerately drape the shawl over Humuhe's shoulders, but Humuhe snorted coldly and pushed Jihulan away.

Jihulan's face was pale, but she quickly managed a gentle smile: "If my husband doesn't like this shawl, that's fine, I'll make another one."

This woman seemed to have no concept of resistance; she accepted everything passively. Even when Hu Muhe treated her coldly, she remained submissive.

"Do you know why I married you? You are nothing but a fallen Kshatriya family fleeing from war. I broke off my engagement with the daughter of the city's general to marry you. Your family is of no help to me whatsoever."

Humuhe looked coldly at Jihulan, a hint of reluctance in his eyes, but it quickly turned into determination. Those who do great things don't concern themselves with trifles. The plan must be implemented as soon as possible. There are plenty of beautiful women out there; we can find another one later.

"My husband, I know our family is humble, but I will try my best to be a good wife to Humuhe and be worthy of you." Jihulan's face was pale. She knew that her family was weak, so she had always kept to her place after marrying into the family and never went out. She treated the servants kindly and tried her best to be a good daughter-in-law of the Muji family.

Hu Muhe remained silent, then coldly asked, "Did you study the material in that book I told you to study?"

"I have learned it." Jihulan's face was unnatural. On their wedding night two months ago, Humuhe did not touch her, but instead gave her a book and told her to learn what was in it.

She read it; the book contained secret techniques for dual cultivation. Although she came from a fallen Kshatriya noble family, her upbringing was excellent, and she naturally didn't want to learn these things. But then she thought, what right did she have not to learn them? As Humuhe's wife, it was her duty to do everything she could to serve him.

"Don't worry, my husband, I will serve you well after I learn it," Jihulan said, her head bowed, her face flushed.

"Serve me?" Hu Muhe sneered. "I didn't teach you to serve me; I taught you to serve my father!"

Upon hearing this, Jihulan's face turned deathly pale. The needle in her hand unconsciously pierced her pale fingers, drawing blood, but she was completely unaware. Her face was filled with unprecedented panic and fear: "Husband, what did you say? Make me serve you—"

Hu Muhe said expressionlessly, "Otherwise, why would I marry a woman like you who can't help me at all? Three years ago, I found a treasured portrait in my father's study. The woman in the portrait was a woman with light blue eyes. Later, I learned that this woman was the one my father admired back then, but she passed away from illness. Four months ago, your father and you were just fleeing here. When I saw you by chance, I was amazed to find that there could be such a woman in this world who looked exactly like you. You are simply the woman in the portrait brought to life!"

"Didn't you notice the strange look in my father's eyes when I introduced you to him?!"

Hu Muhe spoke each word in a cold and calm manner, but with each word he uttered, Ji Hulan's face paled a little more, until finally, her face turned deathly pale!