Insufficient balance

  "Sorry, our young master is not in! Or... you can come back later!"

  Abdul Matin met with a cold reception from the smiling gatekeeper, and he also found that the Zhao family seemed to look down on these Arabs.

  Although they knew he was the son of the city guard and although they were all smiles, Martini felt the contempt in their bones.

  Zhao's west courtyard gate watched the person leaving, disdainfully shaking his head.

  "What's wrong with the son of the castle owner, isn't he just a Hui boy? Where can he compare to our Zhao family in the celestial capital?"

  Yes, even if they are reduced to being beggars in a far-off land, they are still people of the Celestial Empire.

  Martini didn't understand the reason, but he felt a mocking gaze in the cold eyes of the gatekeeper. In his heart, there seemed to be some anger-like thing, but thinking of the Zhao family's status in Huangsha City, he could only force a self-deprecating smile.

  "What's the point, Zhao family... Sigh, let's just look at the next young master instead, he can't be that stupid too!"

  Whenever mentioning Zhao's family, hatred arises in my heart.

  According to his father's words, he must become friends with the young master of the Zhao family, which would be very helpful for his future.

  "Do I need such a future? Hmph, let you all understand today, I Martini am not here to beg for anything from you!"

  The young man's temperament was always proud and unwilling to admit defeat, with a desire to challenge, he came to the east house of the Zhao family.

  As soon as he looked up, he saw the big signboard, the earthen wall of the stable and the original but tattered wooden door, which was in harmony with this newly made golden sign.

  "What the hell is this tech park?!"

  This sign is really a kind of postmodern surrealist nonsense. But it doesn't matter, anyway this place also has no one knows what "technology" is.

  Before he could knock, the old wooden door creaked open by itself with a "creak...". The person revealed behind the door was someone Martini recognized - it was actually the most outstanding maid who had just handed him the purse at San Niang's place.

  By her side was a tall, flaxen-haired and blue-eyed man who looked like a Mameluke.

  "Could it be that the other young master of the Zhao family is actually a Mamluk? I thought I heard my father say that the mother of this young master was a Persian woman...?"

  As soon as the news of participating in the martial arts conference came out, Shu Yiner rushed over to deliver a message to Zhao Fubo. At this time, Zhao Fubo, who was busy learning foreign languages inside, asked Mu Ke to send her out, which caused Martini's misunderstanding.

  As soon as he opened it, he saw a person with long hair draped over his shoulder, but it wasn't the young master of the Mu family. Shu Yiner hastily paid her respects and, fearing that Mu Ke wouldn't recognize her and slow him down, called out to him by name.

  "Your Excellency, Lord of the Manor!"

  Shi Baoli gave Mu Ke a look, and Shu Yiner hastily bid farewell and left. She was the eldest daughter of the family, after all, and couldn't be away from the inner house for even a moment.

  Mu Ke sent Yu'er away and then turned around to bow to Martini, who was standing aside, saying only four words.

  "Please come in!"

  Abdul Matin's heart was filled with suppressed anger once again, and he cast a cold sideways glance at Muk.

  It was disappointing to find that his anger towards this guy was like playing a zither to a cow.

  His calm blue eyes looked at him, just like a cold and collected assessment of his opponent's strength on the battlefield.

  As soon as Martini walked into what was called a "Technology Park", he was quickly stunned by what he saw.

  "The longbow is said in English and French respectively as follows......"

  At this time, in the empty space next to the laboratory of "Science and Technology Park", Martin was leading Zhao Fu Bo to practice archery. At the same time as practicing archery, Little John was teaching Zhao Fu Bo English and French on the side.

  But Martini's arrival did not affect their activities. Even Zhao Fubo, who was preparing to shoot an arrow, didn't move at all, his slightly bitter face showing that the sounds rolling around in his mouth were almost choking him.

  "Little City Master!"

  Mukk brought Martini here and only said three words to everyone, and coincidentally pointed out the target he was talking about, then took his own bow.

  "Don't put down your bow! He won't let you put down your bow until he says the word 'longbow'!"

  Little John's eyes slanted towards the newly arrived "Young City Master", and then a command came out of his mouth. This made Zhao Fubo, who had just wanted to avoid him, give Martini an apologetic look instead.

  Abdul Matin made a gesture, indicating that they didn't need to mind him, and they could do as they pleased. At the same time, he curiously began to examine this place full of novelty.

  Before Martin could make out whether he was a friend or foe, he didn't want him to see more of this, so he spoke up and called out.

  "Please sit down, young master!"

  Martin was sitting in a wheelchair at the side, with a large square table specially brought out for him. On it were spread out drawings, rulers and various drawing tools.

  As if to pour tea, Martin naturally stacked the unfolded drawings together and even naturally covered the drafting tools on the table with the drawings.

  These things were just common stuff in his high school backpack, but here they are the most advanced systematic scientific tools.

  Abdul Matin politely averted his gaze to look at the people walking ahead. Although he didn't know what other courtyards in Zhao's house looked like, this one was strange everywhere.

  Let's take the people shooting arrows in front of us, for example. The first one is a mixed-blood guy. Although he's not very old, he's quite strong. Apart from him, there are two Mamluks, a Crusader archer, a cripple and another young man.

  "Master of the manor, please wait for a moment. The young master is in the middle of his training, you know these things can't be disturbed. That maid who just went upstairs is here to urge him on!"

  At this time, Zhao Fubo was still in agony, repeatedly saying the word "longbow" in English and French. It seemed that if he didn't get it right, the fully drawn bow would not be allowed to relax.

  Abdul Matin couldn't help but frown on behalf of Zhao Fubo. To know that the fully drawn bow had tremendous strength, and maintaining this posture for a long time was an extremely difficult task.

  "Longbow...... Longbow......"

  At this time, Zhao Fubo finally translated the word "longbow" into English and French. Little John, acting as a teacher, did not pay attention to his bitter face, but instead issued another command.

  "Draw your bow and shoot! Draw your bow and shoot......"

  Little John repeated it, first in Chinese, then in English, and finally in French. At the next command, the archers relaxed their bows. Then they nocked an arrow again and drew to full draw.

  But they still couldn't shoot the arrow out, even though they had already aimed at the target. Everyone looked at Zhao Fubo with their eyes, and he frowned again.

  This was just a plan thought up by Martin, which allowed Zhao Fubo to learn foreign languages and practice his arm strength and archery skills.

  Abdul Matin looked on curiously, at least he had never seen such a training method before. He also hadn't seen the strange-looking objects in their hands that resembled English longbows.

  "He asked Martin with some confusion: 'Martin, why is it a longbow?'"

  Martin had by now poured Abdul-Matin a cup of scalding hot tea, and tossed in the "Tea Companion", which contained milk powder and sugar - or at least that was what Martin intended to call it when he came to sell it.

  "That's not a longbow, and I think you didn't come here to discuss bows!"

  For weapons, people like Abdul Matin who yearn to be brave have a natural attraction. Eyes fixed on the bow in their hands, Martin's question was answered with just one sentence.

  "There's no need to tell a slave the purpose of my visit!"

  Martin certainly understood what the other party meant, but the word "slave" was really hard for him to accept.

  "No, I think you've misunderstood, my name is Martin, and I'm... uh... sort of an underling to the young master!"

  "Underling?"

  Abd al-Matin asked a strange question: Were the Mamluks and Crusader soldiers not all slaves?

  "No, we are not slaves, everyone here is a free man!"

  Abdul Matin repeated a strange sentence, saying that if these people were free, they would not stay with this unimpressive-looking master.

  "A free man?"

  Martin reiterated once again with affirmative evidence.

  "Yes, free man!"

  Abdul Matin shrugged, the strange free man in this strange garden didn't arouse anyone's interest at all, he just looked at the bows in Zhao Fu's hands.

  The bow's appearance is similar but not quite, at first glance it looks a bit like a longbow, but upon closer inspection it's completely different.

  It has a hollow arrow handle (the middle of the bow body where you hold your hand), and the two sides have quite wide bow arms connected to the bow handle, which are clearly not an integral whole.

  There is actually another short rod on the bow holder, I don't know what it's used for. There is a square-shaped thing standing in front of the rod.

  What makes it even more incomprehensible is that at both ends of the bow, there are actually two wheels. The bowstring seems to have wrapped around the two wheels and connected them together.

  "Draw your bow and shoot! Draw your bow and shoot......"

  Just as he was in doubt, Zhao Fubo finally correctly recited the English and French words for the two characters. What's more touching is that Little John also gave the command "Fang, Fang, Fang" at this time.

  What a pity, this command is still read out in the order of Chinese, English and French. Without a doubt, Zhao Fubo's bitter face shows that if he doesn't learn this word, his bow will remain taut.

  Seeing them maintaining the bowing posture for so long, Abdul Matin was worried about their arms while observing with interest.

  "My God, their arms must be aching to death."