Book 12 Chapter 17

The encounter between the Zhongyuan and Zhongyang markers

- Tight

When I returned from my outing with an unexpected companion, I found myself in front of the plum blossom shop in the center of the three-way intersection of the main street, and the whole town was in an uproar.

The more curious among the villagers were already rushing to the center of the commotion. The attention of the natural Bi Ryuyeon was also drawn there.

It was a procession. Several warriors on sturdy brown horses led a long procession, and judging by the number of carts that followed, and the spear-armed men who walked alongside them in a protective circle, it was clear that they were the representatives of a prominent nation.

They had flags on each of their carts to show their affiliation and status. A lotus flower and sword embroidered on a blue background. Bi Ryuyeon and her companions were familiar with the flags and knew which country they represented.

Leading the procession on horseback at the head of the line was an imposing middle-aged man, unmistakably Zhang Wuyang, the sovereign of the Eighteen Swords of the Zhongyang Marked Kingdom.

"You're a little late."

As she watched, Bi Ryuyeon muttered to herself, but then her eyes narrowed slightly. Bi Ryuyeon's head tilted slightly. The man riding alongside Zhang Wuyang was someone who hadn't been in their group in the first place. Since they had met and parted ways, the Sun Moon's route hadn't changed more than thirty times, so she remembered it clearly.

He must be an old man, judging by the silver beard swaying in the shadow of the lamp. And it looked like a beard I remembered seeing once. I had a strong feeling that I had met him somewhere in the past, that he was somehow out of place.

"Who?"

Bi Ryuyeon had been searching through her memory books for some time. Then, once again, a raucous commotion began on the other side of the boulevard, on the opposite side of the street from the Zhongyang Bureau procession.

Moreover, this time the clamor was much louder and more raucous than at the Zhongyang marker, with dozens of carriage wheels rolling over the ground, echoing faintly like the sound of waves. The thickness of the sound in the distance was enough for me to realize that the procession approaching from the other side was nothing out of the ordinary.

At the center of the three-way intersection, Zhang Wuyang raised his right hand, and the Zhongyang Bureau slowed to a walk. Zhang Wuyang walked slowly, side by side with his son behind him, waiting for something to happen.

Soon the faint sound of the waves began to echo higher and louder. A handful of horses' hooves were heard, followed by the sound of many human feet. The sound of unified footsteps, like an army march, was powerful and intimidating.

As they emerged through the din of the crowd from the opposite west boulevard, their colors were a dead ringer for the Zhongyang flag. Judging by their appearance, it was clear that they were from either country. However, they were even more colorful and more powerful than their Zhongyang counterparts.

The man at the head of the line was very young, clad in a gorgeous robe of gold, his waist studded with precious stones and wearing a gleaming sword inlaid with gold and silver, and riding a white horse as white as snow.

"Is he just trying to show off his money?"

Bi Ryuyeon looked at the young woman with an ugly gaze.

For Bi Ryuyeon, who believes that "money is not meant to be flaunted, but rather to be secretly accumulated as a reserve of power!", such an outfit was both a luxury and an unnecessary pretense. For her, it was a luxury and an unnecessary exteriority, for a sword is never stronger with gold and silver jewelry on it.

Their black flag, fluttering in the wind, was embroidered with a very special symbol: a golden bull. The golden bull, embroidered with gold threads on a black background, was the solemn emblem of the Zhongyuan emblem, the first emblem of Zhongyuan.

Each of the marksmen guarding the cart was tall and stout, with energy radiating from their bodies. It was a prayer that could hardly be considered ordinary.

"Heh, heh, heh, it must be a waste of manpower to have people like that as marks, how valuable are they to you?"

They were the kind of people who, if they went out into the world, would be able to go to any country and make a good living. Gradually, both sides of the table, which was approaching the plum goblet that Bi Ryuyeon and her companions were tying up, stopped at the same time.

The street was narrow and the procession was large, which meant that the street was too narrow for two processions to pass at the same time. The northern boulevard remained, but no one seemed to want to go there.

"This is where it gets interesting!"

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she focused her attention on the events that were about to unfold. This was a battle of pride between two factions. Feeling the tension rising, Bi Ryuyeon decided to leave the silver-bearded old man for now and think about him later.

Leaving his companions behind, the young man on the white horse and a thief who seemed to be assisting him rode out together. As if determining his position, the thief took up a position half a pace behind the young man.

Zhang Wuyang looked back at his son and said.

"That's a small state, you get out!"

It was impossible for a sovereign to defeat a small state. No matter how small it was compared to the Zhongyuan state, it was now a Zhongyang state that had become one of the four representative states of the Zhongyuan. It could not be ignored or devalued. Of course, there was no denying that there was a sense of victimization behind this behavior.

When Guk Joo's son Naemi took his place, the face of Jongmu Yoon, the heir to the throne, frowned slightly in displeasure at being ignored, but it quickly straightened again.

"Hahaha, it's been a while, Zong Feyu."

On the jousting board, Zhang Wugang addressed Zhong Muyun, a small state lord of the Zhongyuan state, and said. Sons and daughters of sovereigns engaged in the same business of marksmanship, even if the other is the son of a sovereign, do not call each other "small state" or "Confucius" or "small state," but without exception address each other as "marksman". This status is more symbolic than actual.

"It's been a long time, Zhang Feidu. I hope Lord Zhang is well, too. I believe this is the first time since your father's last seventy-second feast?"

Apparently, Zhang Wugang was nothing more than a passing breeze to this small state. Dong Ma returned Zhang Wugang's greeting dryly and quickly struck up a conversation with Zhang Wuyang. He didn't give a damn about Zhang Wugang.

"You were a great treat then, thank you."

I couldn't help but answer the question, so I reluctantly answered. Zhang Wugang's face burned as hot as coal. Zhang Wuyang restrained him with a glance. She felt that she was still not up to par with this young master.

Her son, Zhang Wugang, was a complete and utter failure. Zhang Wuyang felt that he would never be able to escape the shadow of the Zhongyuan family, and he secretly vowed to give his son a more thorough and rigorous education.

"But what about him?"

Zhang Wuyang pointed to a tall, solidly built warrior standing beside Zhong Muyun, his body exuding an aura of strength. Judging by his stance, he was at least the second in command. Only after being pointed out did Jong Mu-yun realize his mistake and hastily introduced himself.

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm late in introducing you, but this is the head of our Zhongyuan Clan, Song Bei, the Sectarian Sword, the Song Clan."

Zhang Wuyang looked surprised.

"Ah, one of the Eight Marks of Zhongyuan, I have heard of your fame."

"You're too kind."

Songbei replied politely. But somehow, his voice was quite blunt. The Zhongyuan Clan, currently recognized as the number one clan in the country, had eight heads of state who stood above all the other clans in their country (including the Bunta Clan). Each one of them had a reputation for being so high and powerful that their martial arts were recognized as first-class. They were far more prestigious in the industry than the heads of state of most small and medium-sized countries.

They were what you might call a marker's dream. Once they set out to mark, they were so good that they never failed (whether they did or not is beside the point).

"I've heard that people don't even bother to show up at all these days unless it's an extraordinary act, so what kind of treasure trove is he carrying?

Zhang Wuyang didn't feel comfortable. He was curious, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. They were competing with the Zhongyuan Marking Bureau for speed, not for the value of the goods inside.

Another thing that bothered me was the fact that Songbuk, an industry tycoon, had been taking a half-step back like an aide, leaving all conversations to Jong Moo-yoon. Moreover, there was no indication that Jong had any complaints about being in control of the situation.

'Is this microstate so good that we can be impressed and truly serve it? Or is it simply the brilliance of the Middle Kingdom?'

But Jong Moo-yoon was not the least bit intimidated by having one of the Seven Eight Princes as an aide. He couldn't help but be compared to his own son, Naemi, who was still not good enough. His enthusiasm and desire for education immediately doubled.

Zhang Wuyang, who had been on a training frenzy for a while, looked at Zhong Yuan's behavior and suddenly noticed something strange. His eyes lit up.

"Hehe, there must have been an accident, draw?"

When I closely examined the markings of the Zhongyuan Marking Bureau, the front of the procession seemed to be fine, but the further back the carts were scorched, and some of the flags were burned to a crisp.

Jong Moo-yoon scratched his head and said.

"Hahaha, that was a tough one, because we got caught in a big forest fire on the way there. It could have wiped out the entire marker, so I'm very lucky that it ended up with such minor damage."

On the outside, he was smiling in embarrassment, but on the inside, he was not.

"Why, you must be upset that our trophies were not all destroyed.

Although his heart was different from his outward appearance, he did not easily reveal his true feelings as a young man. At such a young age, he had already mastered the martial art of not being the same on the outside as on the inside. This was an essential martial art for a man of business.

It was the same for Wu Yang Zhang.

'Yeah! How come it didn't burn all the way down? It's such a shame, such a shame……. A little more fire, a little more fire…….'

But the words that came out of my mouth were liquidation.

"Well, well, well. That must have been a penance. You could have gotten yourself in a lot of trouble. A little more effort and you could have been lying on the street as a beggar, I suppose, Grimm. Hehehehe!"

The Fiery Floating Divine Gong had demonstrated that Zhang Wuyang's cultivation was no slouch, but his final strike was sharper, as if he were more seasoned. Zhang Wuyang's sneer caused one of Zhong Muyun's temples to twitch slightly.

"More than that, I've heard through the grapevine that you encountered the King of the Green Forest on your way here, are those amazing rumors true?"

Zhang Wuyang was briefly surprised by the intelligence of the Zhongyuan Marking Bureau, as they were traveling in the opposite direction and would not have been able to get information easily.

"Heh, heh, heh, it happened, and I'm just so proud of my marks that they were able to meet that no-mark-country-can-evade green king in the mountains and escape without any damage to their marks, and soon there won't be a powerhouse in the world that doesn't know about this amazing feat and proven credibility."

Not only that, but Zhang Wuyang secretly bragged about the achievement, attributing it to the strength of their own Zhongyang clan alone. This arrogant petty state, full of pride in its own flag, could not help but feel resentful.

"Hahaha, since your country was unharmed by the dreaded Green Forest King…, your luck must have reached the heavens, and you should thank the gods of heaven and earth."

It's a very polite way of saying don't complain because it's not luck, it's skill.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, it seems that the bell head is still young. In this world, only results matter, and no matter how loudly the narrow-minded chatter, it doesn't change the fact that we, the Zhongyang Marksmen, met the King of the Green Forest and delivered the marks safely."

"Zhang Guozhu wins, tsk tsk, leave the good sword, why are you talking about it in conversation……."

Jang Hong receives Bi Ryuyeon's spectator review.

"Indeed, old ginger is a spicy, spicy corporation."

The smile on Zhang Wuyang's lips as he spoke confidently turned into a sneer in Zhong Muyun's eyes. His fists clenched in humiliation. He had to struggle to hold back the surge of life.

'Old raccoon!

'You fox!

Gaze met gaze, sparks flew. The flames of the fight were still burning, unquenchable.

"Look, how long are you guys going to keep this old man on the street?"

When the two men's fires were not extinguished, an old man in a hat riding a horse beside Zhang Guizhou grumbled.

"Oh, no. I apologize. I don't mean to be rude, Mr. Noh, but this young fellow is blocking my way and won't let me go. I've been rude beyond words."

His whole demeanor exuded sincere respect and admiration. The old man seemed to be having a very difficult time with him, to the point where he was almost pouting. Zhong Muyun's gaze naturally turned to the old man. He was curious about the identity of the old man that the old raccoon was showing such respect for.

"Hey, young man, stop that floundering right there, you're making my eyes roll back in my head. You youngsters are getting more and more arrogant by the day. You don't even know how to respect an old man. Isn't that right, Zhang Guizhou?"

The old man faintly calls out to Zhang Wuyang.

"You're right, Mr. Noe. You have a point."

Seeing Zhong Muyun's astringent expression as if he had chewed on a worm, Zhang Wuyang smiled with great pleasure. In his heart, he thanked the old man.

The young man, unaccustomed to humiliation, wanted to scream out in shame, but he didn't dare. For a sovereign of a single country, and nowadays a rival, Zhang Wuyou, who even dared to challenge the reputation of the Zhongyuan Clan, to have such a high regard for him, he couldn't be an ordinary person.

"What are you doing so far away? Get out of the way, we're busy people on our way."

At the old man's urging, Zhong Muyun almost shouted, but quickly swallowed it down, then forced the leather of his cracked face to straighten up and said with a forced smile.

"Haha…, wouldn't it be much more streamlined and easier if Lord Zhang, who has a smaller following than us, would use his goodwill to get out of the way?"

To Zhang Wuyang's ears, it sounded like the Zhongyang Bureau, which was no match for the Zhongyuan Bureau in terms of scale, should naturally know the subject and retreat.

"Hehehe, really, why do young people these days have no manners……. Tsk, tsk, tsk, when did the children of the Zhongyuan Clan lose their manners so badly! Even your grandmother, Chen Fei Zhongmu, wasn't so rude in front of me. Didn't she teach you to treat people with respect?"

"Did you know my…, my great-grandfather?"

With his jaw hanging open, Jong Moo-yoon replied in a shaky voice.

"What? Was that your great-grandfather? I've known him since he was traveling with Zee Abby. He used to come to our mountain a lot."

By now, I was so stunned that I didn't have the energy to freak out anymore.

"No…, no seniority is……?"

"You're a very curious young man. I don't have a name for you. You'll have to ask your great-grandfather later."

"Well…, he's already been dead for ten years, right?"

"Oh, yes, I did. I forgot, yeah. Well, why don't you just keep fussing about it and then go ask the world?"

It was hard to tell if he was joking or serious. The old man leaned closer to Jong Muyun and whispered in his ear.

"People call Nobu, …. You're probably well……."

I was about to say I don't know, but before I could, a reaction popped up.

"Heehee!"

Hearing the old man's short whisper, Zhong Muyun was frightened to the point where he thought his soul was being ripped out by the roots. It was a miracle that he didn't fall backwards, stunned. He must have been stunned.

"Who is it really?"

Bi Ryuyeon was still on the edge of her seat.

"Surely, surely, surely, it's that old man! I think I've met him before somewhere……."

Bi Ryuyeon muttered in a small voice. She seemed to have more and more worries.

"I'm pretty sure we didn't meet in a previous life…, but it's not the afterlife either……."

It was definitely not an out-of-body experience; it was definitely a temporal connection.

"What's going on?"

The old man, who, like Bi Ryuyeon, had been watching the tension between the two sides, asked.

"Oh, it's nothing, I just feel like I've seen that old man before for some reason."

"I'm sure…, now that you mention it, Nobu feels like he's met that guy somewhere."

The old man was sincere. He actually felt like he had met the old man before. But Bi Ryuyeon's contemplation of the old man's suspicions was interrupted by another disturbance.