Sword Arrives

The child had already climbed to the edge of the well, hands on hips, pointing at the old man and shouting, "Are you going to show me the white bowl or not?!"

The old man sighed, "Come down, come down. I'll show you the big white bowl right now."

The child was skeptical but eventually jumped down into the well.

The old man hesitated for a moment, his face turning solemn. "Little one, we are fated to meet. I don't mind showing you the mystery of this bowl, but after you see it, you must never speak of it to anyone—not even your mother. If you can keep this secret, I will let you witness it. If not, I won't even let you glance at it, no matter how much you beg."

The child blinked, then said, "Start."

The old man, serious as ever, stepped forward to the edge of the well. He looked down, only to find that the little rascal had shifted and now sat with his legs spread wide at the well's edge. The old man began to regret dealing with this unruly child.

He shook off his distractions, turned to face the well, and grasped the base of the large white bowl with his five fingers. His palm began to tilt slightly, with the movement so subtle it was nearly imperceptible.

The child waited for what seemed like a long time, yet the white bowl above his head showed no sign of movement. The old man remained perfectly still.

Just as the child's patience was about to run out and his nose was on the verge of dripping into his mouth, something happened.

A stream of water, the thickness of a finger, poured silently from the bowl, falling deep into the well without a sound.

The child bared his teeth, about to shout out in frustration.

He suddenly shut his mouth, a look of surprise on his face. Moments later, the child's expression shifted from shock to confusion, and then to fear. In an instant, he snapped back to reality, leapt from the edge of the well, and fled toward home.

It turned out that the old man had poured so much water into the well from that white bowl that it had long surpassed the capacity of a large water jar.

But water kept pouring out from the bowl without end.

The child felt certain he must have seen a ghost in broad daylight. 

————

Liu Xianyang casually picked a fresh sapling from the roadside, using it as a sword as he practiced. He spun around wildly, like a rolling wheel, not caring at all about the new boots on his feet. Dust flew up from the path in all directions.

The tall young man left the small town, heading south. After passing the covered bridge funded by Supervisor Song, he walked another three or four miles to reach the blacksmith shop run by Master Ruan and his daughter. Liu Xianyang had always been proud and arrogant, but just one sentence from Master Ruan left him completely in awe: "We're here only to forge swords."

Forging swords sounded perfect. Liu Xianyang couldn't help but feel excited at the thought that one day, he would hold a real sword. Throwing away the sapling, he started running and shouting, howling like a ghost.

As he thought about the few martial stances Master Ruan had secretly taught him, he began practicing them, and to his surprise, he didn't look too bad—his movements were sharp and vigorous.

The boy drew nearer to the covered bridge.

At the top of the steps on the northern end of the bridge sat four people. A plump, graceful woman held a boy in a bright red robe in her arms. The boy lifted his chin high, as if he had just returned from a victorious battle. At the bottom of the steps sat a tall old man with a head full of white hair, speaking softly to a little girl beside him. She was puffed up with indignation, her skin delicate and flawless, like the finest porcelain doll in the world. Her youthful skin gleamed in the sunlight, so translucent that you could see the veins beneath it clearly.

The two children had just finished arguing. The little girl was on the verge of tears, while the boy seemed even more smug.

The elderly man was stout, like a small mountain. The woman standing beside him cast an apologetic glance, but the stern elder ignored her completely.

At the bottom of the stairs, there stood a young man surnamed Lu. He was the eldest grandson of the Lu family's head, named Lu Zhengchun. Perhaps it was truly the local soil that could nurture local people; those born and raised in the small town always seemed to possess a better appearance than others from different places. But Lu Zhengchun had long since squandered his health on wine and indulgence, and now, in the eyes of the four seated figures, he appeared even more pitiful. The Lu family's royal kilns, both in number and scale, were unparalleled in the town. They were also the most prominent family, with many of their members leaving the town to branch out and establish themselves elsewhere. However, the once imposing Lu Zhengchun, who had enjoyed great prestige in the town, now looked nervous and pale, his whole body tense as if any misstep might lead to his family being eradicated.

The boy spoke in a language that the townspeople couldn't understand, "Mother, is it true that this little pest's ancestors were really..."

Just as he was about to utter the name, the woman immediately covered his mouth, "How many times has your father told you before we left? Here, you mustn't name anyone directly."

The boy pried her hand away, his eyes burning with curiosity, and whispered, "Did his family really pass down the treasured armor and sword manual for generations?"

The woman lovingly patted her young son's head, her voice soft as she replied, "The Lu family has half of their clan's genealogy to vouch for it. Both treasures are hidden in that boy's home."

The boy suddenly started to act coquettishly, "Mother, mother, can we swap treasures with the Xiaobai? The treasured armor we've been planning for is just too ugly. Mother, think about it, if we get the sword manual instead, we could use a flying sword to take someone's head in our dreams. It would be so stealthy, no one would know! Isn't that far superior to some turtle shell?"

Before the woman could explain the source of the plan, the girl next to them snapped angrily, "What makes you think you can lay your hands on our long-lost mountain treasure? We're here to get back what rightfully belongs to us, not like some shameless people who act like bandits, thieves, or even beggars!"