Yang Guogong's third grandson, Yang Zhan, is a well-known master of entertainment in Beijing.

Because he is the youngest grandson, he has been loved by the Yang family since he was a child, and he is pitied by the queen's aunt, who has been stubborn since he was a child, and he is a famous overlord in Beijing, handsome, but he usually does things that hurt the sky and reason, but no one dares to offend him.

This river lantern feast was held by him, in fact, this cruel idea was also what he thought.

He was tired of just having fun, and only bloody games could get him excited.

"Haha, according to the rules, there will be a river lantern shooting competition in a while, each person has ten arrows, whoever shoots the river lantern the most wins, all the slaves in the river belong to him, and there is a bounty of five thousand taels." Yang Zhan smiled at a group of children of nobles in Beijing.

Those aristocratic children are also masters of fun, and they are naturally ready to play this exciting game.

One by one, they gathered around the painting boat, showing excited expressions.

Yang Zhan looked at his cousin who was still sitting at the table, bored and drinking, and couldn't help laughing:

"Eighth prince, don't you come to play, your archery skills have always been very good, if you play, they are not your opponents at all."

"I'm not interested in this kind of killing game, arrows don't need to be on the battlefield, killing people doesn't need to be on killing enemies, but on this group of Yunluo people, what kind of heroes are they." Dongfang Tuo snorted disdainfully, looking lacking in interest.

It's just going to take a bunch of powerless guys to shoot and kill, this bunch of wretchedness.

If you throw them into battle, you will be in trouble.

Dongfang Tuo couldn't help but think of the scene of the world-famous battle in northern Xinjiang, riding a purple shirt, standing awe-inspiring in front of tens of thousands of enemy troops, fearless, and taking the life of the main general.

That picture is the real peerless elegance, that is the real hero.

Dongfang Tuo's heart fluctuated, thinking of the picture of the purple clothes facing the wind, he admired it infinitely, but he couldn't help but feel melancholy.

Because he felt that after returning to Beijing, Hazy Snow no longer exuded the amazing momentum of the battlefield.

Seeing her being held by the stars, the spring breeze on her face was proud, and she became more and more beautiful and extravagant, but she felt more vulgar, and the wind and bones at the moment of the battlefield seemed to have disappeared from her.

He really hoped that he could see her once again.

"The Eighth Prince seems to look down on our vulgar game, so it's not reluctant." Yang Zhan was a little dumbfounded, if the second person dared to sarcastically mock him like this, hmph, let him kill him a long time ago.

However, this cousin has a noble status, so naturally he can't be offended.

The relationship between them is not good, seeing that the eighth prince seems to be depressed recently, he wants to pull him to play and win over the feelings, who knows that he will kick the iron plate.

Soon the game was almost ready.

The maid took out a silver basin with a row of ten arrows on it.

And the sons and brothers who participated in the competition also gathered around the bow of the boat, and the others were lively onlookers.

"I'll come first." Yang Zhan picked up an arrow, pulled out his bow and aimed it at the front of a large pile of river lamps in the distance, his bloodthirsty eyes flashing with excitement.

As soon as he put it in his hand, the arrow flew out, straight to the river lantern that was fluttering forward.

Yang Zhan is a master of fun, and he is average in literary and martial arts.

So the archery technique is not very good, and the arrow is obviously crooked.

The pig friends and dog friends on the boat all laughed playfully.

"Brother Yang, you shot crookedly and couldn't hit the light, but people can definitely hit it."