His adoptive father's words were naturally only a joke. After all, as the saying went, "The Heavenly Halberd is made to slaughter adoptive fathers"—hardly an auspicious phrase.
Of course, only transmigrators like them understood the reference. Any native hearing it would certainly take it at face value.
After all, unlike in the modern world, taking adopted sons was commonplace in this world. Especially among prominent figures of humble origins who lacked the backing of great clans—they were particularly fond of adopting sons.
Of course, under the Great New dynasty, because of Zhao Cheng's warnings, his subordinates had been relatively restrained in this regard. It was now nearly impossible to find anyone with more than a hundred adopted sons.
In this era, it was impossible to eradicate such matters entirely. After all, in wartime, "I shall raise your wife and children if you fall" was no empty promise.
Among many of Zhao Cheng's generals, those with close ties had even made agreements long ago: if either died in battle, the other would take his son as an adopted son. That spared them many worries.
Yet with that joke, the initial distance between the three of them was abruptly reduced by more than half.
"Old Zhao, when did you transmigrate here?"
The palace was brightly lit, and from afar, it carried something of the splendor of blazing trees and silver flowers.
Palace attendants passed along the way. Whenever they saw Zhao Cheng, no matter what they had been doing, they would first retreat half a step, lower their heads, and bow slightly. Only after Zhao Cheng's group had passed would they resume their work.
Compared to the kneeling rites of old, such etiquette was undoubtedly far simpler.
This change, too, was a matter of balance. Many feudal rites were undesirable, but abolishing