Book 2 Chapter 3

Please don't touch him.

Zhang Wugang had complaints, and lots of them.

That frustration is now building and building inside of him, and it's starting to build up.

Now, half a step away from exploding, the

It was a very serious situation.

His dissatisfaction began to accumulate when, after returning home from a New Year's vacation at the temple, he followed this course. As is so often the case with young people, especially those in their vigorous twenties, their minds are hardened and hard to work with, and their pride, which is a combination of arrogance and conceit, is so high that they do not recognize their own fractions.

Sometimes people ask me what the difference is between pride and arrogance, and the only answer I can give is that it's a world of difference. Arrogance is having an arrogant attitude, and pride is having an arrogant boast. Some people might ask if that's all there is to it, but it is what it is. So let's not talk about it anymore.

The case of Zhang Wuqiang, who is currently suffering from agoraphobia, is not far off from this. This is an incurable condition called "fearlessness" or "hepatosplenomegaly," which you may recognize from the description above.

He really couldn't understand it. The fact that his father was groveling under the weight of a fetid, milk-stained, grassy child who couldn't have been more than twenty years old was a disgrace that he could not and would not tolerate. Even as he sat holed up inside the gate deep in the mountains, Zhang Wugang's ears prickled with rumors about his father's kingdom, and all he could hear were tales of greatness, brilliance, and pride.

"Invincible," "Guardian of the Hidden Treasures," "Destroyed 2 out of 72 Green Forests!", "Absolute Safety," "Tissues in the Trash, Marks in the Zhongyang Marks!", and so on, all of which were great and amazing rumors that delighted his ears and filled his heart with pride. The rumors were so lush and vigorous that it was even said that the first of the Zhongyuan teenage markers would soon be the Zhongyang marker.

It is said that rumors are always inflated, so it is necessary to cut them down three times and listen to them, but even if they were cut down three times, it would still be surprising. But Zhang Wugang, who heard and believed it straight away, saying, "It will happen!" without any refinement or reduction, how high was his pride?

With the spreading of rumors and the rise of his status, Zhang Wugang's own nose had become increasingly high, and his heart had become filled with arrogance and conceit, to the point where it was now overflowing. When he descended Qing Sheng Mountain with his master's permission to celebrate the New Year, his heart was still filled with this arrogance and conceit.

Zhang Wugang, he was a disciple of the Qing Sheng Sect, one of the nine major schools of thought and a major power in Sichuan. His father, Zhang Wuyang, had sent him away from the Ami Sect to the distant Qing Sheng Sect in order to expand his power and strengthen his background within Sichuan, and he was now training in the Qing Sheng Sword under the tutelage of the current priest of Zhang Wenyin.

But when Zhang Wugang arrived home, something seemed very wrong and out of place. It was an unavoidable instinct to feel that something wasn't right. No matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn't shake the feeling. It was a kind of premonition, an uneasiness. The unpleasant feeling that was nagging at his mind, and it was all because of a marksman who was taking his time and fooling around.

It was clear that he was no ordinary marker. He had heard from his father that he was only following this marker to Namchang. However, his pride wouldn't allow him to be cautious when talking about him. His pride was about to explode when his father told him that he must never show disrespect to that bastard. Besides, since the beginning of his career, he hadn't done anything but follow the marks. He doesn't walk like the other marksmen, he doesn't guard the marks, and he doesn't stand guard when he sleeps. They do not walk with their feet on the ground, but ride in carriages drawn by others, and lie down, idle, idle, and stretched out, doing no other meaningful work. There was much grumbling among the newcomers about this. Everyone resented the fact that the nerd was getting special treatment.

In their humble eyes, which had never seen a mark destroyed, there was no reason for him to be treated as special. As far as they, the newcomers, and Zhang Wukang were concerned, he was just another child marksman, and yet his father, the other marksmen, and the senior marksmen had not uttered a word of reproach or admonition. As for him, they all seemed to have made a promise. On the contrary, everyone seemed to be cautious around him.

Zhang Wugang could sensitively feel the strange air currents flowing throughout the tableau, and at the center of it all was the brat. He really didn't like him. He didn't do anything, but he was treated with the utmost respect. He always sat down to eat with his father, the head of state, Zhang Wuyang, and the diet and quality of the food were always top-notch.

I told him never to touch it, but Zhang Wugang wouldn't have it. He didn't like the way the man seemed to think of the Zhongyang Marker as some sort of errand boy. He didn't think it was possible for him, a disciple of the Great Qing Sheng, to be inferior to that young man. Although he had given up his dreams of entering the Heavenly Martial Academy after failing five times due to his lack of skill - which he claimed was due to a lack of luck - he had still mastered the secret techniques of the Great Qi, and he couldn't imagine himself being defeated by a nameless brat. Now, Zhang Wugang was waiting for the right moment to show him the error of his ways.

Zhang Wugang's eyes, filled with dark discontent and flesh, turned to the child sprawled out on the ground beside him, his poisonous, salmosa-like gaze fixed on the wandering fungus like it was something to chew on. It was a glare that could pierce rocks, a fierce momentum that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment.

But there was someone behind him looking at him with concern. It was Deng Yeho, the younger brother of the head of the Zhongyang Stamp Bureau and the deputy head. His eyes were filled with worry and impatience as he looked at Zhang Wugang, who was writhing like a bomb that could explode at any moment. Behind Zhang Wugang's back, Deng Yuhao cautiously called out to his small state.

"Confucius?"

"Why?"

Zhang Wugang's bloodshot eyes glared back at him. Even though Zhang Wukang was the son of the sovereign Zhang Wuyang, unless he held a special position within the state, he could not be this rude to the vice-head of the state, who held the highest position within the state by virtue of his birthright. Ryuyeonchang, he was the man in the position of Deputy Grand Master, the man who was actually in charge of the markers of the Zhongyang Marking Bureau, almost all of them. Currently, his elder brother, Liu Qiang, remained at the Sichuan Zhongyang Bureau as the acting head. The reason for this was that in the absence of the head of the state, someone would be needed to take over the running of the state. Therefore, the head of the state would remain in the state and the younger brother would accompany him on this trip. Even if he was the son of the head of the state, he was not to be taken lightly. From this, it is easy to conclude that Zhang Wugang was a rude man who had a very poor grasp of manners.

"Hang in there."

"What?"

It was obvious that this young man was far from having learned the four characters of etiquette when his elderly superior gave him such a flippant reply to his gentle advice to take care of himself. If Zhang Wugang is not superior to him in the feudal state, then -Small state is not a real position. It's just a formal title, a minimum level of courtesy that must be upheld. Even if he was the son of a sovereign, this would not change. Deng Xiaoping, who had watched Zhang Wugang since he was a child, could tolerate this level of disrespect. Deng Xiaoping wrote the character for forbearance three or four times in his heart, and said to Zhang Wugang: "I will not tolerate you.

"You know, with all that energy and liveliness in your eyes. You could use a little restraint."

"Why would I do that, why would I kowtow to a kid like that?"

"But, Confucius, everyone is getting restless. The current atmosphere may turn into a state of panic. Don't you see, Mr. Confucius, be patient. The marksmen are anxious too."

"Why should I care about how they feel?"

"It's a natural attitude for someone who is going to be on top of the country."

Deng's words were obvious, but Zhang Wugang was unwilling to agree.

"I don't like it, I don't like it, I don't like it, why are all the people in the country bowing down to that bastard Fang, why are they having a hard time with him, who the hell is that Nosabu guy… Ugh!"

At that moment, Deng Xiaoping hastily covered Zhang Wugang's mouth.

"Be careful what you say. I'm afraid you'll get in trouble."

It was a plea for nationalistic restraint.

"Uhhh… woohh… woohhh… woohhh……."

"Don't say it out loud. You'll get in trouble. There are some things you shouldn't say."

Deng Xiaoping looked at Zhang Wugang with a cautious gaze, and he shut Zhang Wugang's mouth even more firmly. This was to give him time to compose himself.

"…………"

"………"

"……"

"…"

Zhang Wugang's face was turning redder and redder. But as time went on, his once reddened face was now beginning to show a hint of blue.

"Ouch!"

Suddenly realizing that his hand, the size of a pot lid, was covering Zhang Wugang's mouth and nose at the same time, Deng Yuhao hastily removed it.

"Fuhua, heck, heck, heck. Shu… I almost choked to death. Who the hell is he and why is everyone freaking out, hex hex hex."

Zhang Wugang asked as he spat out the breath he had been holding. Fortunately, asphyxiation was not an ugly way to die, so Deng's actions were limited to attempted murder.

"Just."

"Eh?"

Deng Yeo-ho had a colorful past, when he and his brother, Deng Yeo-woon, fought against Bi Ryuyeon, who was dressed as Nosabu, and was knocked unconscious by a blow to the nape of the neck with a capital. Behind every victory, there are lessons learned and experience gained. Ever since then, fear and a bit of reverence for the Ministry of Labor had been germinating in the back of his mind, and the relationship between the government and the Ministry of Labor was something he couldn't reveal. There was an order from the king to never tell his son. It came from the father's heart that he didn't want his son to know the shameful part of his life. But the son, not knowing the speed of his father's ride, had no intention of submitting to his modest pride, and it was frustrating to watch from the sidelines.

"You mean to tell me that I should be polite to that freakin' fungus, for some lame reason, tell me!"

'Because we are all concerned for the safety of our country. And by extension, your lives!'

But she couldn't bring herself to say what was really on her mind, so she remained silent, and their conversation quickly fell into a lull. It was a conversation without any progress or gain.

Deputy Grand Vizier Deng Yeoho had accompanied him on the last Goryeo celadon tour. It's hard to believe that the most skilled man in the country would miss such an important performance. On that occasion, his life had been saved by a disciple of Nosabu. The hordes of bandits were pouring in, and 16 men stood toe-to-toe and held them at bay. But even this ironclad line of sixteen had a weakness: they were outnumbered. Against the advancing enemy, who had bypassed their small force, he and his brother, Liu Qiang, fought at the head of the line. It was a natural responsibility and duty for a man of his caliber to demonstrate his skills in a place worthy of his pay and worth. It was a natural responsibility and duty.

But their skill was no match for the waves of the People's Sea, which kept coming at them like a pack of dogs. When he was exhausted from fighting his enemies, when he lost the spear in his hand in the mistake of a lifetime, when he was in absolute desperation and waiting for death, a stone flew by and saved his life. Deng Xiaoping never learned his name, but it was a stone thrown by Tang Chul-ying, and it flew through the short line of the bandit who had brought down his seemingly ignorant greatsword to bring death to him.

Sure enough, the bandit collapsed with a lone scream, and he was able to grab his spear and get back to his feet. It was a lifesaver, and a life-saver for him. He had seen first-hand their skill in such a life-and-death situation.

Although arrogant, the man lying there was also a disciple of Mr. Nosa's. So he couldn't help but be worried about the situation where the small lord was so determined. It wasn't hard to imagine what the outcome of a fight with him would be. So Deng Xiaoping had no choice but to talk him down. She couldn't let him relive the nightmare again.

But the burden of being in his late 40s was too heavy to control the boiling blood of his 20s. The sword named Yan Lian and the shield named Nai were rusty antiques, like tigers with missing teeth, to quell the blood of a twenty-something. Deng Yuhao's efforts ended in a futile struggle, and Zhang Wugang continued to glare at Bi Ryuyeon with malice in his eyes, still burning with useless enmity born of arrogance and pride.

Xiao Yanchang carefully untied the blue furoshiki around his waist, and brought the small pill inside to his mouth, carefully chewing and swallowing it. As he swept his hand across his chest,……. The pill was a specially ordered pill from the Huang Family Secret Huang Family Stomach Pill, a pill that he had requested from the Huang Family Councilor Huang, whose cultivation skills were the best in Sichuan and who had now become the regular physician of the sovereign Zhang Wuyang.