Zhang Rongfang suddenly understood and stopped talking, then began to change the topic.
Zhao Yanting saw this and smiled slightly, bringing up another major force in Citong.
"Speaking of which, we have another local problem. These troubles support each other with the Chain Gang, and it is precisely within the jurisdiction of Zhang Shoujiao."
"Is it about the Rebel Sect?"
"Exactly."
Zhao Yanting nodded and continued, "In Citong, there have always been two secret sects operating in the dark.
One is called the White Ten. The other is called the Rebel."
"The White Ten Sect? The Rebel Sect?" Zhang Rongfang repeated, "Could the White Ten Sect be related to the Black Ten Sect?"
"Indeed, the White Ten Sect is extrely large in scale and is the state religion of many Western countries. It’s said that even their kings must first undergo a ceremony held by their Pope before ascending the throne."
Zhao Yanting explained.
"And the Black Ten Sect originally was a branch of the White Ten Sect, which developed solo after submitting to our Great Spirit.
As for the Rebel Sect, compared to the White Ten Sect, it’s much weaker. Its destructive power is also weak, but no matter how we try to eradicate it, it’s like a bone in the throat, impossible to remove.
The urgent task is to suppress the power of the White Ten Sect first."
"I believe the Commandery Princess must have already planned for this, so the governor need not worry. It shouldn’t take long to see so results." Zhang Rongfang comforted.
"Naturally, since Princess Yongxiang herself is here, such petty criminals will certainly be like clay chickens and pottery dogs, washed away by the waves."
Zhao Yanting nodded with a smile.
Of course, that’s what he said, but what he really thought, only the ghosts would know.
These experts have long mastered the art of acting to perfection.
Zhang Rongfang, lacking experience, couldn’t discern the truth from the falsehood.
As they were chit-chatting.
The long convoy slowly started to approach the city.
When still a few hundred ters away from Citong, Zhang Rongfang caught sight of the scenery ahead.
On the vast flat ground stood a boundary-less city of various colors, heights, and architectural styles.
There were no city walls, just clusters of buildings like pieces of a puzzle.
Many of them were architectural styles that seed familiar from his past life.
European, Arabian, minimalist Nordic styles, stone fortresses, churches, and much more.
Pointed tops, round tops, flat tops, polygonal tops, various types of buildings reflecting different hues under the sunlight.
It was a sowhat dazzlingly colorful city.
The official road grew wider and the road surface gradually turned into thick white stone slabs.
On both sides were trees of unknown species planted proportionately, their shade providing a resting spot for many passersby.
Zhang Rongfang took a deep breath, noticing a marked increase in moisture in the air, with a faint salty tang.
As they got closer to the city area.
Buildings began to appear in patches on the flat land outside the official road on both sides.
Most buildings were residences, while others were inns and restaurants.
As the distance beca shorter, roads rged and the flow of people increased.
Officials at the front began to beat gongs, reminding pedestrians to make way.
Sitting on the carriage, Zhang Rongfang gazed along the route.
Where he looked, there were people with white skin, black skin, and yellow skin intertwined, surprisingly, not predominantly yellow-skinned.
Many had curly blonde hair, or red hair, brown hair, blue eyes, green eyes, clearly possessing the physical traits of Westerners and Huxi people.
"By the way, there’s a joke about our Citong," Zhao Yanting began beside him.
Seeing Zhang Rongfang look at him, he continued, "It’s said that a wealthy rchant from Italy ca to our Citong for the first ti. He hired a translator and stayed in an inn.
That night, he was suddenly woken up by hunger and decided to go out and look for food.
You know, our Great Spirit doesn’t have a curfew.
So he went out.
Before leaving, the hired translator, being too sleepy, marked a street for him to find food, lest he get lost.
"The rchant agreed," Zhao Yanting chuckled. "In the end, he went out and found that the food on that street wasn’t to his liking.
But across the street, the aroma from a small shop was enticing, so he thought, ’I’ll just go over for a bit and co right back.’
And so, he went..."
"And what happened?" Zhang Rongfang asked.
"In the end, the rchant didn’t get to eat anything," Zhao Yanting laughed.
"Why is that?"
"Because the language spoken there was completely different, one he didn’t understand. The people there only sold food to those who spoke their language," Zhao Yanting explained.
"This is the current situation in Citong. Lord Zhang may not know, but throughout the Citong area, we have 132 languages logged.
The saying ’a gathering of a hundred nations’ is indeed true, and might even be an understatent.
Within these people coming and going, there are many powerful individuals, who, once they commit a cri and succeed, disappear without a trace, making them impossible to catch or guard against."
Zhang Rongfang nodded in understanding.
He had a preliminary grasp of the chaos in this place. Truly, such an area is extrely difficult to govern...
But what does that have to do with him?
He was just here for a supporting role, only needing a place to practice alchemy and cultivate.
Setting aside these thoughts, Zhang Rongfang continued chatting amiably with the governor.
The convoy slowly entered the city of Citong.
The feeling was like entering an international exhibition, with a mix of different architectural styles everywhere along the roadside.
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