C8 (1/2)

In the winter of 1220, before the end of the Jin Dynasty, a funeral procession of the royal family of the Jin Dynasty made its way slowly to Liangzhou in the sandstorm of Gansu Province.

The troop was led by the cavalry of the Golden Kingdom, but most of them were elderly, women, and children.

They were Shuyue's ancestors, the clansmen of the Golden Kingdom.

The last years of the Jin Dynasty were filled with monsters. After the fourth emperor of the Jin Dynasty killed the son of Yan Ji, Cheng Yan Han, the remaining masters had a premonition that the Jin Dynasty was about to reach its end.

Therefore, the clan decided to move one of their clansmen along with the old tribe to Liangzhou in the name of Jianling.

Although the Jing Chuan had been the first major city in Chang'an since ancient times, it gradually became desolate as the capital moved eastward.

The wind and sand obscured the direction of the procession, and when they reached the catafalque, the first person fell ill.

After several days of watery diarrhea, his back muscles and veins were in disorder, his limbs were twitching, and his body was feeling weak and hot. After that, his Profound Qi ran out and he died.

Cholera, a disease that could be cured with a random injection of a vaccine in modern medicine, was incurable in ancient times.

As the epidemic spread, the number of people quickly fell by half, and even the son of the clan was infected.

The Shamans and Witch Doctors from the Great Prairie were powerless. The Grandmaster Elder knelt in front of the Nine Furnace Plum Blossom Mountain and swore that if the Heavens could give a sign of life to the Duke of Mystical Kingdom, he would definitely strike the drum and summon the spirit to pay tribute.

On the Nine Cauldron Plum Blossom Mountain, the Queen Mother of the West seemed to hear the pleas of this pagan nomad. In the midst of the sleet with hail, another group walked out from the other side of the mountain.

It was a group of fugitives.

The Tibetan leader cut his wrist with a scimitar and fed his blood to the bedridden and sickly Yan Zong's son in one night. At this point, the Warrick Family had retained their lifeline.

In that time of smoke outside, two teams of different nationalities made a vow in the secluded Nine Top Lotus Ridge.

A single force from the Yan family would forever be used by the Hidden Alliance. From now on, regardless of prosperity or the fires of war in troubled times, the two races would always protect each other and survive. The eldest daughter of the clan will marry the eldest son of the Tibetan for generations to come, in order to have a good relationship with him for generations to come.

However, this Tibetan team didn't explain where they came from nor why they were fleeing. The leader of the group told Yan Zong that they were the direct descendants of the God, and that they had the closest blood to the God.

They had no last names, but their names were the same as their ancestors': Turgu.

After hundreds of years, the Turgu tribe gradually became Han, and the two tribes moved to Jiangnan gradually in the late Qing dynasty.

After the Republic, the Turgu tribe gradually changed their name to disciple.

”Your father's surname is Disciple.”

I didn't say anything.

First of all, I think feeding blood or something can cure cholera, just like indigowoad root can fight cancer.

Secondly, due to a few mouthfuls of blood, the ancients were able to easily arrange the marriage of their descendents that they were unable to achieve anything on. On what basis? If you want to screw yourself, then just do it. Why do you still need others to take the blame for you?

Especially if the eldest son of another clan looks like Wu Dalang, then I'd rather be exterminated at that time.

When you made that vow, did you ever think about the feeling of a fertilized egg in five hundred years?

If I'm not wrong, my father should be the one who married Yan's parents. My mother said he was the eldest son.

If it's my mom, then Zhang Zhonghua is a fake. My mom should at least be called Wang Zhonghua or something.

I quickly asked, ”Then is my mother's surname Wang?”

As expected, Shuyue shook her head.

She walked over to the photo, pointed at the woman in the white qipao and said,

”She's your grandmother. Her name is Wang Yumo. Back then, she received a new wave of thought from the Republic of China and fought back with all her might to marry your grandfather and disciple, Ji Yinian.”

Shuyue pointed to the man dressed in Tibetan robes on the right of the white cheongsam:

”Later on, when he couldn't withstand the coercion from the two families, he gave birth to your father after marrying your grandfather, so it could be said that he completed his mission. Your grandmother divorced as soon as New China was established, and in 1970 she married your father to this foreigner in the United States. ”

Needless to say, I know this foreigner is the white suit on the left side.

I don't know why, but I understand my grandmother's choice.

Any woman who, for the sake of an unscientific and persuasive legacy from their family, wanted to marry this country bumpkin from next door would have risked their lives to resist.

Furthermore, looking at the clothes, my grandma is an exquisite beauty from the Republic of China. My grandpa seems to be a farmer who cultivates farmland, and his thoughts and values are not the same as Level's.

Chinese people always say that the words of the matriarchal matchmaker, the moral integrity of the couple, are actually thousands of years on the road to women. Even if tomorrow the Earth is going to perish, it's not worth for us women to sacrifice ourselves, OK?

Although the foreigner next door also had a beer belly, few hair, and a face that didn't look much better.

But history books are taught that in 1970 they were unable to eat at all in China.

If I follow a foreigner, at least I'll be able to eat my fill. I don't think there's any problem.

There was no love. It's too bad for a beautiful woman to have no love and no steak.