Chapter 169 The Grandeur of a Great Nation
After Qin Mo was conferred the title of Prince, he had his own honor guard. This honor guard was not a military guard, but rather a procession for official duties, complete with flags, banners, and parasols. However, due to secrecy, he did not bring his honor guard to Singapore this time. Therefore, upon arriving in Malacca, he had to reduce his procession again and again, but even this scaled-down version of the procession still dazzled everyone else.
Qin Mo only brought four ships with him. Three escort ships anchored outside the harbor and did not enter. A huge three-masted galleon slowly docked at the Malacca pier.
The moment the gangplank touched down on the dock, the long neighing of horses nearly startled an old acquaintance who had come to greet them—Sura, the messenger of Balimisura.
A jet-black steed with white hooves leaped down from the narrow ramp. The magnificent horse and the figure on it finally captivated the messenger's heart, which yearned for the Great Xia.
"Hmm? Sura, why are you the only one who came to greet me? I am a powerful figure, aren't I? How can you be so rude?"
Qin Mo, mounted on horseback, wore the "flashy" armor crafted by Ximan. He wasn't wearing a helmet, and a purple-gold crown gently held back his jet-black hair. His handsome appearance left the crowd of onlookers on the dock speechless.
"Honorable guest, the Sultan and the Prince and General of Majapahit are waiting at the palace. They specially sent Sula to prepare a carriage to welcome you." Sula pointed to the oxcart behind him with embarrassment. Looking at the piece of silk on the oxcart that had made the Sultan's heart ache, and then at the magnificent armor and clothing on Qin Mo, he couldn't help but lower his head, feeling ashamed.
"Hehe! That's true, ignorance is no excuse! That's fine too! Lead the way."
Sura quickly got into the carriage and ordered the driver to head towards the palace, when he heard a gasp behind him.
One after another, fine horses emerged from the cabin and, ridden by knights, filed off the ship. If one looked closely, one would notice that the horses' eyes were blindfolded as they disembarked, a testament to the skill of the riders.
Thirty knights, arranged in a formation flanking Qin Mo, followed the oxcart slowly toward the palace. The knights on horseback were unforgettable to the onlookers for a lifetime; even years later, they could still recall the knights' handsome appearance and extraordinary bearing.
Sultan Parameswara stood below the steps at the entrance of the palace, while Prince Wirabhumi stood above them. It appeared that the Sultan was in front, but in fact the prince was standing the highest.
The Sultan was also stunned by the magnificent cavalry, but after all, he had been a prince and Sultan for many years, and he quickly recovered, taking a few steps ahead of Qin Mo's horse to take the reins and stirrups.
"Halt!"
Two elven attendants stepped forward and blocked the Sultan's path. The cold glint in their eyes, combined with the longbow on their backs and the longsword at their waists, created an invisible aura that made the Sultan stop abruptly and retreat, completely bewildered by their tactics.
Qin Mo's tactics were indeed extraordinary. Several elven followers quickly took out short poles from their horses and assembled them into a frame in no time. Then, a gorgeous silk cloth covered the frame, forming a hidden, independent space, with Qin Mo in the very center of the space.
As Bairimisula watched all this, her mouth opened and remained open. Compared to the silk fabric on the frame, the hundred bolts of silk fabric that once belonged to her were rubbish, with huge differences in both pattern and color.
The silk cloth was quickly removed, and then the Sultan saw a completely new Qin Mo.
The robe, devoid of any vibrant colors, shimmered with intricate dark patterns as he moved. The simple jade ornaments emitted a warm glow. Combined with Qin Mo's signature smile and handsome face, both the Sultan and the Prince felt a strong urge to deny it: "Am I really such a country bumpkin?"
"Hehe! I have long admired the Sultan, but we have never met. Today, my wish has been fulfilled. What a fortunate thing!"
Taman, Qin Mo's lackey, clicked his teeth in frustration. He didn't know how to best translate Qin Mo's sarcastic remark until Kaihime beside him snorted coldly, at which point he hurriedly tried his best to translate it.
"Your presence is an honor to our humble abode. I, the Sultan, am deeply grateful for your hospitality and hope you will forgive my inconvenience!"
Translating Taman Chinese into its native language is very difficult, but translating it in reverse is not a problem. After all, although Chinese is complex, its meaning is precise, unlike the casual and crude nature of the native language. It's not difficult to translate it in a more elegant way.
Qin Mo and Su Dan kept rambling on, leaving the prince on the steps waiting. He couldn't just come up and say hello, nor could he just stand there waiting.
"Have you all had enough? We're here to talk business, not to waste time." In the end, it was the loyal Bramiden who stepped forward and lost his temper, ruining the pleasant atmosphere.
Qin Mo's smile vanished, her hands were clasped behind her back, and the coldness in her eyes was palpable to everyone around her. For a moment, no one spoke.
"Who are you?"
Kaihime, dressed entirely in Hanfu, took half a step forward and coldly questioned him. Her eyes were already filled with murderous intent, which made Bramiden shudder.
“I am Bubatan of East Java in the Majapahit Empire. His Highness is waiting for you, yet you do not come to pay your respects. This is utterly unreasonable.”
Bramiden, who had also killed many on the battlefield, eventually managed to shake off Kaihime's murderous intent and brought up the prince to bolster his courage.
"This is Malacca. The Sultan is the host, and I am a guest. Your prince is also a guest. What kind of audience do you have?"
Before Taman could translate, Qin Mo gestured for the Sultan to enter first.
"How dare you!"
Bramiden flew into a rage. Years of habit made him unconsciously place his hand on the sword at his waist. In the past, when he made this gesture, the people opposite him would kneel down and beg for mercy. Occasionally, he would use those who did not beg for mercy to test the sharpness of his sword.
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