Chapter 24: Shrouded in Mist (Part I)

"Zhang Yongzhao, how dare you!" Clearly not expecting Zhang Qian to show such blatant disregard for the founder of the sect, the middle-aged Taoist’s face turned livid with rage, his challenge spilling out instinctively.

Zhang Qian did not deign to respond. He simply leaped onto the carriage and urged Zhang Gui to hurry home, as if looking at the man for one second longer would cost him hundreds of strings of cash in extortion.

"Zhang Yongzhao, are you trying to betray your master and destroy your sect?" The middle-aged Taoist, Luo Huaizu, grew desperate. He chased after the carriage for a few steps and grabbed the door frame. "You see the Ju-Zi Token, yet you refuse to acknowledge it!"

The carriage door could not withstand the force of his grip and swung wide open. A smooth bronze rod, an inch and a half thick and over four feet long, immediately thrust out from inside, pointing directly at his chest.

Zhang Qian, his hand gripping the wooden handle at the end of the bronze rod, remained silent. He stared quietly at the middle-aged Taoist, his gaze cold, hard, and leaving absolutely no room for negotiation.

"You..." Luo Huaizu did not recognize what exotic weapon the bronze rod might be, but he instinctively sensed mortal danger. In a flash, his hair stood on end, and he decisively let go of the door.

"Bang!" Zhang Qian lowered the bronze rod and reached out to pull the carriage door shut. From start to finish, he did not waste a single word on the man.

It wasn't that he felt guilty like a fraud caught in the act; rather, from the moment the man revealed his intentions, he was not worth the effort of a conversation.

Setting aside the fact that his identity as the "Head Disciple of the Qin Mohists" was a fabrication, even if it were true, as someone who had received at least five scam calls every day in the twenty-first century, he would never believe everything a stranger said just because they brandished a steelyard beam.

Moreover, when the middle-aged Taoist produced the rod, he had assumed such a condescending air! Zhang Qian’s life might not be perfect, but it was comfortable enough—why would he go out of his way to find himself a "father" he didn't need?

"Master Zhang! Junior Nephew Zhang! I am not a scammer; I truly am the current Ju-Zi!" As Zhang Qian sat shaking his head with a cold sneer, the middle-aged Taoist caught up once more, panting as he explained. His attitude and tone were far more humble than before.

In consideration of the fact that the man had previously helped him fend off Wang Maozhong, Zhang Qian did not aim the bronze rod at him again. However, he remained unwilling to engage, treating the man’s voice as nothing more than the chirping of crickets.

The "Mohist disciples" were a fantasy Zhang Qian had invented on the spur of the moment. In truth, he didn't even know how long the Mohists had existed after entering the Qin State, or how many generations the lineage had survived.

Even if his bluff had somehow hit the mark and the Mohists had indeed survived, nine hundred and fourteen years had passed between the fall of the Qin Dynasty and the third year of the Shenlong era of the Great Tang. If relatives with the same ancestor nine hundred years ago could not be considered family, how could a follower of a master from nine centuries ago still be considered a fellow disciple?

"Junior Nephew Zhang, Junior Nephew Zhang! This is the Ju-Zi Token. It is definitely authentic; you can take it and verify it yourself." The dirt road was riddled with potholes, making it impossible for the carriage to move very fast. The Taoist possessed great stamina and managed to keep pace. As he ran, he held the rod up high with both hands.

Zhang Qian felt a flicker of curiosity. Through the glass pane embedded in the carriage window, he cast a quick glance at the Ju-Zi Token. He couldn't help but chuckle.

It didn't just look like a steelyard beam; the so-called "Ju-Zi Token" was, in fact, a steelyard. It was marked with measurement scales and featured three rows of gold-inlaid stars, which symbolized fair trade.

"Though it is bent, it is not broken!" Even through the carriage door, the Taoist could not hear Zhang Qian’s laughter, but he saw the smile through the glass pane. His face flushed red, and he explained eagerly, "This object is forged from heavenly black iron; it is extremely resilient and cannot be replicated by ordinary men. Since you have entered the world as the Head Disciple of the Qin Mohists, you must have heard of the miraculous nature of the Ju-Zi Token within the sect!"

*Black iron?* Hearing this, Zhang Qian felt a surge of interest. He looked through the window again, his eyes fixed on the rod.

In martial arts novels, "black iron" was legendary. Although the golden age of such novels had faded by the twenty-first century, the works of Master Jin Yong were constantly adapted.

Thus, Zhang Qian was well-versed in the tales: the unfathomably dense Black Iron Heavy Sword; the peerless Dragon-Slaying Saber that had been forged in the fires of the Haisha Gang for three days and nights without scorching the *Nine Yin Manual* hidden inside; the Heaven-Reliant Sword, sharp enough to cut like a laser; and the black iron shackles that could stretch like taffy without ever snapping.

But even the most skilled counterfeiters of the twenty-first century could not invent a metal with the properties of "black iron," let alone sell such items online.

So, upon hearing that the Ju-Zi Token was made of black iron, Zhang Qian felt an itch of curiosity. Yet, after a closer look, he couldn't help but laugh again.

"Black iron," my foot! Not only had it been bent by the impact of Wang Maozhong’s gourd-shaped hammer, but the spot where it had collided with the hammer was also covered in dents. It was obvious that this "black iron" was merely a metal rod with relatively good flexibility, or perhaps some accidentally smelted alloy. It had nothing to do with anything "mystical."

"After heating it up, one can use a hammer to straighten it out," the middle-aged Taoist said, his face turning even redder, his voice hoarse as he emphasized, "Ordinary iron or copper rods would have snapped long ago under such a blow. But the sect’s Ju-Zi Token has never broken. It has been passed down since the time of the Founder himself."

*That’s just because you’ve never had it repeatedly struck by a heavy hammer!* Zhang Qian muttered to himself and simply closed his eyes.

If one only sought flexibility, then in the twenty-first century, aluminum, copper alloys, and even certain low-carbon steels could achieve astonishing results. Compared to those, the "black iron" in the Taoist's hand was not mystical at all.

However, upon reflection, he realized that the era of Mozi was the end of the Bronze Age, when iron weapons had only just been born. Zhang Qian had a sudden realization.

The so-called "black iron" was likely an iron meteorite that had fallen from the sky. Because of its high purity and low carbon content, its inherent flexibility was quite remarkable. In Mozi’s time, charcoal was used for smelting, and furnace temperatures were hard to raise. Thus, by a stroke of luck, the iron meteorite was forged into a form of low-carbon steel. Its flexibility was far superior to that of ordinary iron swords, and its hardness far exceeded that of bronze!

"Junior Nephew, Junior Nephew, please stop the carriage. Listen to me! I have no ill intent. If you don't believe me, you can take the Ju-Zi Token and examine it yourself!" The middle-aged Taoist’s voice continued to drift through the carriage window, his tone and posture even lower than before.

Zhang Qian could not be bothered to open his eyes, feigning deafness to the man's words.

It wasn't that he was arrogant; it was just that he had only ever seen a "Ju-Zi Token" in internet novels. In reality, he had never even heard of such a thing.

The middle-aged Taoist asking him to verify the authenticity of the token was like asking someone to verify the authenticity of Bitcoin with a counterfeit banknote detector. How could he possibly tell the real from the fake?

Moreover, even if the token were real, he had no desire to get tangled up with this middle-aged Taoist.

First, his life was going well, and he didn't need some "senior fellow apprentice" riding on his back and barking orders. Second, the man’s background and motives were unclear, and Zhang Qian did not want to invite disaster upon himself.

"Junior Nephew, Junior Nephew, surely you recognize the Ju-Zi Token?"

"Junior Nephew, have the Qin Mohists truly forgotten their own Founder?"

"Junior Nephew, it doesn't matter if you don't recognize me as your senior, but the Ju-Zi Token is the symbol of our Mohist school..."

"Junior Nephew, I come to you today with no ill intent. I do not wish to make things difficult for you. Our school is withering away; we need someone to take up the Ju-Zi Token and restore our prestige..."

...

The middle-aged Taoist’s words grew softer and more desperate as he spoke.

Zhang Qian found the noise unbearable and regretted not using the government-allocated funds to hire seven or eight personal attendants and bodyguards.

While they might be useless in the face of true danger, they could at least save him from such harassment in his daily travels. Especially when dealing with someone like this Taoist, who insisted on clinging to him like a burr, he could simply have them toss the man to the side of the road and save himself the endless buzzing of a fly.

Just as his annoyance peaked, the sound of rapid hoofbeats suddenly came from behind the carriage. Following closely, the mocking laughter of Wang Maozhong rang out: "You old goat, don't you have any shame? The man clearly doesn't want to acknowledge you as a fellow disciple, yet you keep clinging to him like a tick!"

"You!" The middle-aged Taoist, breathless from chasing the carriage, had no strength left to fight back. He could only turn around and glare at Wang Maozhong.

Wang Maozhong ignored the Taoist’s fury. He urged his horse forward a few steps to ride alongside the carriage. "Inspector Zhang, shall I help you get rid of this suspicious priest? Just give me the word, and I would be happy to oblige!"