Take, for instance, the Ming Sect’s Sun Moon Flag with its three-fire emblem.
Or the White Lotus Sect’s White Lotus Flag, featuring the head of Maitreya Buddha.
Unfortunately, these riverboats bore no insignia at all... at least Yang Ge couldn’t recognize any.
’Guess I’ll have to ask someone,’
he thought to himself, pulled up his handkerchief to cover his cheeks, slightly bent his knees, and, like a large bird spreading its wings, he glided gracefully over a distance of two zhang across the river’s surface and landed on the prow of an iron chain-linked riverboat docked at the riverside.
He saw a group of rowdy men in disheveled clothes, sitting together in bunches, eating meat and drinking wine, shouting and bellowing, oblivious to his boarding.
"Hey."
He had to proactively speak up to break into the men’s indulgence: "Who’s in charge here, come out and let’s have a chat."
All the underlings turned their heads upon hearing the voice and stared at him.
The next moment, a barrage of cursing and the sound of swords being drawn rang out collectively.
Seeing this, Yang Ge, without looking back, slapped the water on the side of the riverboat with his palm.
"Boom."
A rumble, like thunder, erupted, sending water splashing over three zhang high, leaving the fierce underlings drenched and thoroughly chilled.
They suddenly weren’t so fierce anymore, nor were they cursing.
Everyone stood frozen in place as if struck by the Binding Skill, holding their gleaming swords, neither daring to advance nor retreat, with their necks shrunk and faces full of terror as they stared at Yang Ge, helpless, pitiful, and weak like a flock of quails.
With the atmosphere thus set, Yang Ge had to scare them a bit; otherwise, he’d not do justice to the handkerchief on his face: "Don’t be afraid, I’m not exactly a good guy."
Dozens of burly men forcibly contorted their faces into stiff smiles, not daring to fully show their amusement, foreheads glistening...
Yang Ge took a look around and spoke again: "Who’s in charge here, come out and let’s have a chat."
No one moved.
Seeing this, Yang Ge slowly raised a palm and then slowly drew it back to his chest: "Is there really no one in charge?"
"Clang."
A steel knife forcefully hit the ground, and a robust man dressed in silk and satin with a pudgy white complexion walked out from the crowd with profuse sweat, clasping his hands together in salutation: "Gong Cheng, a minor steward of the Jiangdong the Xiang Family, pays respect to the hero."
An ordinary opening line, yet it contained two meanings.
The first meaning was: I am a member of the Jiangdong the Xiang Family.
The second meaning was: You shouldn’t strike a dog without looking at its owner...
"Jiangdong the Xiang Family, huh!"
Yang Ge suddenly realized and said with great interest, "No wonder you’re so brazen... Is Xiang Wudi around? Tell him to come over for a chat."
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Seeing that Yang Ge was not intimidated upon hearing the name of the Xiang Family but seemed even more interested, Gong Cheng’s undershirt was nearly soaked with cold sweat.
He was an old hand in Jianghu, he had seen the world, and he knew that despite the soft speech and faint smile of the man before him, just one wrong word, snap, and heads would roll...
He bowed even lower, straining to be respectful as he responded, "To answer the hero, our young master is not present. If the hero wishes to meet with our young master, please grant us your name, and I will report to our family so that our young master can come and meet with you. If the hero is willing to move, I am also willing to lead the way for you."
"Not here?"
Yang Ge cleaned his ear and, with a powerful flick of his finger, sent the man tumbling across the space like a rolling gourd: "Not here and you still dare to be so arrogant? Do you really think just because your surname is Xiang, you are the King of Chu?"
As soon as his words fell, a deep and forceful voice came from the other side of the river: "I’ve heard it said that after Lu Bu’s death, every man displayed the bravery of Lu Bu... After the defeat of my ancestor, anyone, be it human or dog, can lightly talk of the King of Chu!"
Yang Ge looked in the direction of the voice and saw a colossal figure, like a towering iron tower, approaching with a large spear in an overhand grip, covering several zhang in a single stride.
Yang Ge cocked his head, looking at him unapologetically: "I came here to reason with you, it’s best you don’t talk tough. I’m afraid I might lose control and kill you!"