Chapter 68

If the recommendations and favorites are strong, I will update three times today, this is the second update...

******

"Ahem—" Chang Jingfan, standing nearby, coughed discontentedly, interrupting Chang Jingwang’s words and preventing him from continuing. He glared fiercely at Chang Jingwang, thinking to himself: This Zheng Biao is at least a brother in our family. Criticizing him within the family is one thing, but it shouldn’t be spread outside. When the fellow disciples asked about it, Chang Jingfan didn’t want to say much, but he never expected that the idiot Chang Jingwang would pour oil on the fire, not only embarrassing himself but also adding more fuel to the fire. Does he think that if Zheng Biao is embarrassed, he won’t be embarrassed too? If this matter spreads within the Changkong Zhaojian Sect, and it’s said that Chang Jingfan’s cousin was severely injured by a child under ten years old who doesn’t practice martial arts, do you think people will mock others? Isn’t it still embarrassing for us? I really don’t understand how there can be an idiot like Chang Jingwang in the family, and a waste of space like Zheng Biao.

"Enough talk, my junior brothers. It’s rare for us to come out, so would you mind accompanying me on this trip? If you have something to do, it’s reasonable to return to the sect first. Once this matter is resolved, I will certainly show my gratitude."

"Ah—Brother Chang, what are you saying? We came out with you leading us, how can we return to the sect without you?"

"Exactly, Brother Chang, it’s not easy for us to come out. This is a good opportunity to see the scenery and customs of Qingyang Town, and to stand up for our little cousin, showing the martial arts of our Changkong Zhaojian Sect to the remote areas—"

"Right, right—"

"Exactly—"

...

Chang Jingfan smiled slightly and said, "Very well, I will thank my junior brothers on behalf of my little cousin."

"When should we set out?" A disciple of the Changkong Zhaojian Sect turned around and asked Zheng Biao, who was hiding to one side and remained silent.

Seeing that someone finally asked, Zheng Biao quickly joined in, "Choosing a day is not as good as acting immediately. How about tomorrow?" He was afraid that if the time was too long, things might change, so he decided to set it for the next day. This way, he could complete his plan as soon as possible and send these masters away early.

Everyone looked at Chang Jingfan, waiting for the leader's opinion.

"Wait a moment—" A loud shout startled everyone. A man stepped forward and said solemnly, "Since all the senior brothers are willing to help my cousin regain his dignity, we should do it thoroughly—"

Everyone turned to look and saw it was Chang Jingwang.

"Junior Brother Chang, how do you mean thoroughly?" someone asked.

"This time, we should not only humiliate them but also show the might of our Changkong Zhaojian Sect, making the martial arts community aware of the senior brothers' fame?"

"Junior Brother Chang, what do you have in mind? How will you make our names known?"

"Senior brothers, I have already found out. Three days from now, it will be the 15th of February. At this time every month, there is a grand temple fair at Qingyun Temple. We can use this opportunity to thoroughly humiliate them. We can raise the banner of righteousness and send out hero summoning letters, gathering all the martial artists in the area, regardless of their fame or strength, to witness us trample the name of Qingyun Temple underfoot. This way, not only will we enhance the reputation of our Changkong Zhaojian Sect, but we will also showcase the skills of the senior brothers, making them famous and letting the martial arts community know the great reputation of our senior brothers—"

"Very well said—" Chang Jingwang's suggestion immediately received the support of many fellow disciples.

Chang Jingfan looked at his enthusiastic fellow disciple with some annoyance. He had always despised his character, but the method he proposed was not detrimental to him. On the contrary, it would help him establish a reputation in the martial arts world early, which could even lead to him being taken under the wing of an elder in the sect. Considering this, although he felt some aversion, he allowed his fellow disciple to act freely, believing that although his character was detestable, he would not do anything to disgrace the sect or embarrass him.

"Very well, I will leave this matter to you. When you are ready, we will set out. Remember, do not do anything to disgrace the sect."

"Brother, rest assured, I will not act rashly—"

"Very well—my fellow brothers, rest for now. Qingyun Temple, hah, a minor sect, this time I will trouble you to come with me."

"Very well—" everyone responded loudly.

Zheng Biao, standing to one side, bowed and nodded, but inside he was extremely excited. Come on, bastards, fight to the death. No matter who wins or loses this time, I, Lord Zheng, will be very happy—

******

February 15th, the day of the Qingyun Temple Fair.

On this day, the weather was particularly pleasant, with clear skies and a cool breeze, a rare cool day in Yunzhou.

Qingyang Town is small, and although there is a designated market in the town, it is limited in scale and consists mainly of regular shops, without a place for villagers to set up stalls and exchange goods. The temple fair at Qingyun Temple, on the other hand, has become a monthly gathering place for farmers from the surrounding villages to exchange essential items. This has also attracted a large number of traveling merchants and vendors, making the temple fair quite large. From the entrance of Qingyun Temple to the top of Qingsong Slope, a distance of about a thousand meters, the area is crowded with people, bustling and lively.

There are markets for trading large animals like horses and mules, as well as vendors selling mountain goods and local specialties, hunters selling furs and game, and merchants selling clothes, shoes, bedding, and kitchenware. There are also villagers setting up tents to sell steaming hot tea, rice noodles, and other snacks...

Near the temple gate of Qingyun Temple, there are several stalls, with people writing letters for others and fortune-tellers...

At this moment, the area is the most lively, with a large crowd surrounding a circle. Looking inside, it turns out to be a martial arts performance, a rare sight at the Qingyun Temple Fair.

On this day, Qingyun Temple is the busiest. Apart from the on-duty young Taoists, all other disciples are allowed a day off. After all, the way of the scholar and the martial artist involves both tension and relaxation...

The third-generation disciples of Qingyun Temple finally have some free time, and they all swarm out of the temple gate, wandering around the market. Just as the temple gate is a rare sight, a group of acrobats has come, drawing a small crowd of young Taoists in blue robes, all around ten years old, laughing and chatting as they watch the show.

Qingyang Town is in a remote area, and it is rare for acrobats to come here to earn a few coins. No one knows where this family has come from. A couple with three children, the oldest a teenager of about sixteen or seventeen, a girl of about twelve or thirteen, and a small boy of about four or five, thin and dark.

On a plot of land several dozen feet in size, nine wooden posts, each more than half a person's height and as thick as a bowl, are set up. In the center of the field stands a large banner, about fifteen feet high, with the words "Wudao Qiankun" (Martial Arts Universe) in black with red edges and gold inlay. Eighteen copper bells hang from the edges of the banner, ringing in the wind.

Under the banner stands a man in his forties, with a loyal and honest face, a short beard, and a muscular build, with his muscles bulging like dragons. His limbs are strong and powerful, making him look extremely imposing.

The woman, in her thirties, is not particularly beautiful, but her figure is graceful, clearly trained in flexibility.

The teenage boy, with an ordinary appearance and a sturdy build, resembles his father. He is currently preparing various weapons, weighing and testing them, carefully checking the equipment that will be used in the performance. A four- or five-year-old child sits on a box nearby, looking around, his eyes fixed on the food in the hands of the surrounding crowd, sucking his thumb with a smacking sound.

A crowd of over a hundred people has gathered, forming a circle about twenty feet in diameter. These people are standing around the field, but let's not talk about them for now.

At this moment, in the center of the field, a twelve- or thirteen-year-old girl is practicing with two knives. She is wearing a red silk jacket, and her two braids sway with her movements. "Swish, swish, swish," the knives flash, and she leaps and jumps, displaying her skills, drawing cheers and applause from the crowd.

After a short while, the little girl stops, stands steady on both feet, her face covered in sweat, and holds the guards of the knives, bowing slightly to the crowd.