Chapter Twenty-Six: A Chance Encounter

For the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers, it was hard to say whether fortune or misfortune had favored them—before the conflict in the royal palace could escalate, Her Majesty the Queen, whose health had always been robust, awoke in time to suppress everything.

It was certainly a relief that no bloodshed had broken out, but this peace was always only temporary. Now that the strife had come to the surface, the undercurrents once hidden had risen plainly to view. If there had been any chance of a bloodless coup before, that hope was now gone. Even if the Queen were to name the Second Prince or the Third Prince as heir, neither the faction supporting the Second Prince nor the nobles would yield without a fight.

Yet all of this was still far removed from Liu Tian, a secret martial arts practitioner who was not even a true fighter—how could he possibly have a hand in the power struggles of a kingdom?

On the first day after Liu Yun’s return, eager to see his wife and kin after a long absence, he pulled Liu Tian along on the long journey back to their homeland.

In truth, it was not so very long. As one of the three largest and most powerful nations on the planet, the Chiyun Empire had, decades prior, established civilian flight routes with nearly every kingdom and major power in the world.

But the distance from the easternmost Chiyun Empire to the western edge of the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers was truly vast. Even by plane, one had to change flights several times and spend more than three days to reach the capital of Chiyun. And after arriving, they would need to take a train directly to Pei County, the Liu family’s stronghold.

The journey was exhausting, but fortunately, Liu Yun and Liu Tian, with their conspicuous physiques, were clearly not men to be trifled with. Coupled with the Chiyun Empire’s characteristic black hair and yellow skin, they attracted no trouble along the way.

At least, not until they boarded the green train bound for Pei County.

“So, Dad, why did you insist on dragging me back with you this time?” Liu Tian asked. He disliked long journeys and had coped with the tedium by alternating between horse stances and napping. Now, finally able to relax on the train without further transfers, he remembered to ask why he’d been brought along.

“Your mother is about to give birth. Don’t you want to see her? To be the first to know whether you’ll have a little brother or sister?” Liu Yun replied from across the aisle, holding a small suitcase containing some clothes and currency for the Chiyun Empire.

The case was about the size of a high schooler’s backpack, carrying only three sets of clothes and money.

There really was no need to bring much clothing—these days, with money, one could go anywhere, and if need be, simply buy more on the spot.

“I’m really not that interested. Sooner or later I’ll find out anyway—it’s not like knowing a little earlier will make any difference,” Liu Tian shrugged. He’d rather spend his time handling relics from the Lost Empire.

After all, unlike the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers, which neighbored the Dawn Alliance, the Chiyun Empire and the Dawn Alliance were separated by the Morningstar Alliance. The Gaiyen family was among the elite in the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers, while the Liu family was only mid-tier in Chiyun. So Liu Tian held little hope of finding any significant relics here.

Besides, while Chiyun was closer to his previous life’s home, the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers was where he was born and raised in this life. Thus, he felt little urge to return for a family visit. All things considered, traveling thousands of miles just to see a younger sibling a bit sooner—and possibly getting entangled in all those so-called “family ties”—was not something Liu Tian wished for.

“You rascal, don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Liu Yun chuckled, pretending to rap Liu Tian on the forehead. “There’s another reason for this trip. In a month, your grandfather turns one hundred. Though we’ve been away for so long, we must return for such an occasion. Besides, your second uncle, who once led troops as an officer in the Dawn Alliance, may have collected some interesting relics from the Lost Empire—there might be a surprise for you…”

“Oh,” Liu Tian replied, neither warm nor cold.

“Excuse me, but based on your language, are you from the Kingdom of Hundred Flowers?” a voice suddenly interjected during their conversation.

Turning, Liu Tian saw a boy, about middle school age, his face alight with excitement. He had the typical black hair and eyes of the Chiyun Empire and wore a student’s uniform.

“Crimson eyes, I’ve never seen that before!” The boy became even more excited seeing Liu Tian turn. “My name is Liu Wenqian, a student from Pei County First Primary School. Next semester I’ll be attending Xiangjun Academy. It’s nice to meet you.”

It was the standard, textbook way of speaking.

Even if he shared some blood with this boy, Liu Tian had no desire to converse. Without looking back, he replied in the Chiyun dialect his father had taught him: “You’re mistaken. I’m actually an unknown lifeform from Nebula 78, here by accident. We’re not meant to meet. Please, forget I exist.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” The boy’s disappointment was palpable, and he seemed about to say more, but two sharp coughs interrupted him.

“Don’t get carried away, little brother.” The clear, crisp voice belonged to a girl about Liu Tian’s age.

“Wenhan…” The boy, clearly in awe of his elder sister, immediately deflated at her words and slumped back into his seat.

“Wen…” Liu Yun seemed to notice something, murmuring under his breath, “Shou, De, Chuan, Zheng, Wen, Guang, Zhen, Xi, Ji, Shi, Hong, Chang. The Wen generation—just the same as you, son.”

“Wait, we have generational names in our family?” Liu Tian was startled.

“The Liu family claims to be a house of scholars, of course we’ve always had generational names,” Liu Yun explained. “I was rebellious in my youth—since I left, I wanted to cut ties, so I dropped the ‘Zheng’ from my name. That’s why I didn’t follow the generational order when naming you.”

“Liu Wentian… it doesn’t sound grand at all. Liu Tian is much better,” Liu Tian commented. “So here, I should call you Liu Zhengyun, and you’d call me Liu Wentian?”

“My son, you’re learning fast,” Liu Yun nodded approvingly. “Wentian.”

“I’d rather just call you Dad, and you can call me Son—so much less hassle,” Liu Tian retorted, unwilling to play along.

“Fine, fine, let’s not make things complicated. Zhengyun, your father—tsk, let’s just get this over with…” he muttered.

As their conversation faded, the train’s whistle sounded, iron wheels clattered to a halt, and they arrived in Pei County.