# Chapter 160: And Who Remembers Fengxian Zhang!
The crowd turned at the sound and saw a tall youth, handsome enough in feature, save that a savage look lurked in his eyes. He did not seem easy to offend. And the direction in which he glared was toward a different youth—one who shrank and cowered.
One glance was enough for everyone to understand why the tall youth was picking a quarrel. For this person before them had but the cultivation of the eighth-grade Zhou Heavenly Circulation Realm! Everyone present had stepped onto Heavenly Treasury City treading the Heaven-Access Realm. Either they came of celebrated families, or they had clawed their way through fierce contention, seizing a slot out of the hands of heroes gathered from every corner of the land. And this youth was not only weak in cultivation, but had not a single elder at his side—clearly no illustrious origin. Worse, he was timid and timid-hearted, devoid of any bearing, and repelled a man for no reason at all.
"The one calling out is Gao Jing, of the Jinghai Gao clan," Chongxuan Sheng explained to Jiang Wang. "As for that Zhang fellow, I cannot say I know him."
Jiang Wang looked at the youth named Gao Jing. For Chongxuan Sheng to remember him especially, his strength must surely be extraordinary.
Beside Gao Jing stood a silent youth. This meant that in this expedition into the Heavenly Treasury Secret Realm, the Gao family held two exploring slots. From this one could see the foundations of the Jinghai Gao clan, pressing close upon the Chongxuan clan itself.
The Chongxuan clan, the foremost celebrated house of Qi, held fully three exploring slots.
As one of the core scions trained by the main family for the next generation, the exploring party was formed about Chongxuan Sheng at its center, and his opinion carried the greatest weight. Thus he could spare a slot to give to Jiang Wang. Apart from Jiang Wang, the other was a death-sworn retainer who had grown up at his side. A retainer without a name, known only as Fourteen. He was armored head to foot, his face hidden within his helm, standing silently behind Chongxuan Sheng, uttering never a word. Yet the very fact that he could stand behind Chongxuan Sheng was proof enough of the trust Sheng placed in him.
The mood on the field by now was tense. The crowd watched the youth of the Zhang family, waiting for him to make a fool of himself. Scions of the great houses would not stand beside a nameless nothing, and those who had fought hard for their slots resented all the more that he sat idly by and reaped the benefit.
The youth hung his head and mumbled: "I—I am of the Fengxian Zhang clan."
"What? Who are you? What Zhang?" Gao Jing was plainly bent on humiliating him. "You cannot even speak clearly, and you still presume to covet the Heavenly Treasury Secret Realm? That slot of yours—did you buy it with silver?"
"No!" The Zhang youth looked up in confusion, revealing a face still green and callow. "I am Zhang Yong... this slot—it has been handed down from my ancestors."
Even in his anger, he dared not clash openly with Gao Jing.
Just then, of a sudden, a voice came ringing in from outside the walls, soaring high.
"To the death they cling to wealth and ease, a nameless general dies for the state!" "All the world sings Shimen Li—yet who remembers Fengxian Zhang?"
All were struck speechless. Gao Jing's face changed violently. For all the world knew that the rise of the Jinghai Gao had followed upon the favoring of that bewitching and beautiful Jing Imperial Consort. Both were "death"—one clung to death in the bedchamber, the other died in battle on the field. Yet the outcome had been that the former enjoyed wealth and long life, while the latter's renown slowly faded. Such naked mockery plainly dishonored the Gao family's name. Not only Gao Jing himself, but the Gao elder who had come with him was furious as well, ready to see who dared spout such wild talk, lest a washing in blood be called for.
With the voice, three people walked past the high walls. Though they were but three, they moved with a sweeping, thundering momentum.
On the far left walked a man in Confucian robes with an extraordinarily high forehead. Even as he walked he said: "In those years, when the Jiangs lost their state and the royal blood fled abroad, it was the Li and Zhang clans who joined forces to support Jiang Wujiu's restoration. First the Zhang clan's ancestor fought nine battles and came back nine times, until he died of exhaustion. Then the Li clan's ancestor loosed ten arrows to shatter a mighty city, and routed the rebel army. Only then could Jiang Wujiu restore the kingdom!
"Now the heroes are rotted bones, and the great houses have withered. All the world says the Shimen Li have given rise to heroes without number—but who still remembers the Fengxian Zhang, who fought nine battles and returned nine times, whose armor was soaked through with blood, yet who shielded Jiang Wujiu intact?"
It was none other than Xu Xiangqian, whom Jiang Wang had met in the Kingdom of You—and to think they would meet again here.
All were silent. The great houses had withered, and the deeds of heroes had been blown and battered away by wind and rain. For such was the renown of the Fengxian Zhang in their day that in this Heavenly Treasury Secret Realm they would surely have held more than a single slot. Yet after years of inheritance, only one remained. And even that one was held by a lowly youth of the Zhou Heavenly Circulation Realm, come alone with no elder at his side to watch over him. The decline of the Zhang clan could be seen at a glance.
Yet could the descendants of heroes be insulted without cause?
The field fell into silence, save that Zhang Yong wept streaming tears.
Gao Jing, shifting his target, ground his teeth and said to Xu Xiangqian: "Did you write that poem?"
At this, Chongxuan Sheng leaned in and whispered to Jiang Wang: "This fellow should be a hired helper that the Shimen Li brought in. The one beside him is called Li Longchuan—he is our second-greatest opponent! And Li Longchuan's uncle, Li Zhengshu, has come too; he is a famous Confucian scholar of the Qingya Academy."
The Shimen Li were worthy of their name as a great and noble house. The Qingya Academy was one of the four great Confucian academies acknowledged by all the world. To their left, a mighty family of Qi; to their right, an academy of the realm. No wonder that even a house as arrogant as the Jinghai Gao handled a stranger like Xu Xiangqian with such prudence.
Yet to their surprise, it was Xu Xiangqian who grew angry: "I, Xu Xiangqian, pride myself on my talent for poetry, and I would never deceive the world for empty fame! That poem was composed by my master, moved by what history stirred in him. Only, it fit the moment so well that I could not resist reciting it aloud."
"Then who is your master?" Gao Jing's elder pressed, his fury boiling, plainly meaning to seek him out.
Li Zhengshu was a middle-aged man of tall and graceful bearing. Though flecks of grey touched his hair, he carried extraordinary charm. On hearing the question, he smiled lightly: "Xiangqian is the disciple of Mo Ya, my sworn friend. He has entrusted the boy to my care for this expedition into the Heavenly Treasury Secret Realm. I ask that Elder Gao treat him with leniency."
In words he bade them show leniency, but with a "sworn friend" here and a "entrusting to my care" there, he was plainly standing up for Xu Xiangqian. And the great Confucian Mo Ya of the Qingya Academy was famous for his quick temper in gratitude and vengeance alike. For him to write satirical poems, even to curse someone in verse, was hardly any novelty at all. The day he stopped his cursing—that would be the wonder.
Gao Jing's elder's face went from white to red by turns, until at last, grinding his teeth in frustration, he could only sweep his sleeve: "Since he is but a junior, Elder Li would do well to keep him in hand a little!"
The poem Xu Xiangqian had recited struck almost directly at the face of the Jinghai Gao. But they could provoke neither the Shimen Li nor the Qingya Academy, and so could only swallow their anger.
But though the Jinghai Gao clan was willing to let the matter drop, Xu Xiangqian had no intention of stopping.
"Speaking of pride in poetic talent—I, too, have been moved to verse!" Xu Xiangqian cleared his throat, apparently set on composing one on the spot.
"What are you thinking? What is there to be moved by?" Li Zhengshu clapped Xu Xiangqian on the shoulder, beaming.
And squeezed the whole belly of rhymes back down inside him. Though the Shimen Li did not fear the Jinghai Gao, there was no need to offend them to death.
"Fine, fine, fine—I have no inspiration." Xu Xiangqian feared nothing under heaven, except these dratted great Confucian scholars. He had already come of age, and still they rapped his palm at a single disagreeable word. Where was the justice in that? He could not argue them down, either.
His head hung low, his eyes darting every which way, until of a sudden his face lit up: "Ah! Brother Jiang!"
...
...
ps: Reading History, Moved (the third) — Mo Ya, after wine To the death they cling to wealth and ease, a nameless general dies for the state! All the world sings Shimen Li — yet who remembers Fengxian Zhang?