After dinner, everyone except Fang Yaoting gave Guozhao Zhiqiang his birthday presents. Fang Yaoting excused himself from the table. A few minutes later, Fang Yaoting returned with a large, ornate case.
"This is for you," Fang Yaoting said, placing the case before Zhiqiang.
Guozhao Zhiqiang opened the case carefully. Inside lay a magnificent dragon sword. The dragon sword was one yard long with intricate dragon designs etched on both sides of the scabbard. The cross-guard of the sword was shaped like the head of a dragon, its eyes glinting.
"This sword was one of three made by a very famous swordsman two hundred years ago for his favorite students," Fang Yaoting explained. "During one of their hunting trips, his three students were killed by his opponents. The sword master was so devastated and unwilling to let go of his students; he cast a powerful spell and sealed their souls in these three swords. There are only three dragon swords in the world."
"I've heard my master mention about these swords," Zhao Renshu murmured, scratching his chin. "These swords, they will choose their owner. Once it tastes the blood, it will determine whether the sword bearer is worthy."
"If the sword tasted the blood but decides not to pick that person?" Ping'an asked, curious.
"It will seal itself, making it impossible to be drawn again," Fang Yaoting replied.
Guo Baiyu looked at Fang Yaoting, a realization dawning on him. "Your sword is one of the three?"
"Yes," Fang Yaoting confirmed.
"No wonder I couldn't touch it back then," Zhao Renshu muttered, recalling past attempts.
Guozhao Zhiqiang, intrigued, unsheathed the sword about two inches, but the blade would not go further. He carefully touched the edge of the blade, purposefully cutting his finger. As soon as the sword tasted his blood, it automatically sealed itself, refusing to budge further.
"Try to unsheathe it," Fang Yaoting instructed, his voice firm.
Guozhao Zhiqiang's hands were shaking. The sword had a history, a legend. This was a one-of-a-kind sword, possessing the power to choose its master. He wanted to know, but hesitated, wondering whether he was truly worthy of being the owner of such a legendary sword. He was a nobody. Can a nobody become the owner of such a legendary sword? He picked up the sword with a trembling hand and tried to unsheathe it, but he couldn't. On the contrary, he felt all the energy in his body being drained from him. He closed his eyes and tried very hard to unsheathe the sword, his entire being focused on the task.
"What happened?" Ping'an asked, worried. She stretched out her hand to awaken Guozhao Zhiqiang, but Guo Baiyu stopped her hand.
"The sword is testing him," Guo Baiyu explained calmly.
"He had better pass the test," Zhao Renshu worried. "If not..."
"If not, so what?" Lee Dachin asked, concerned for Zhiqiang.
"Otherwise, he will lose all the spiritual energy he accumulated in the past year," Zhao Renshu revealed, the gravity of the situation clear.
"Yaoting, why give him such a weapon?" Lee Dachin asked, surprised by the extreme challenge.
"Dachin, great weapons always come with a catch," Zhao Renshu explained. "Take Baiyu as an example. He spent three years learning how to shoot one arrow." He laughed. "Or Ping'an, she spent two years to learn how to use her whip at will."
"If he passes," Fang Yaoting added, his gaze fixed on Zhiqiang, "with this sword as his company, he will become a very powerful hunter."
"Da Shixiong hang in there!" Yang Bao encouraged, leaning forward. He turned to Guo Baiyu. "Master, is there such a weapon in medicine?"
"Yes," Guo Baiyu replied.
Yang Bao frowned sadly, "What?"
"The Human Nervous System and Acupuncture Needles," Guo Baiyu clarified.
Yang Bao's face brightened, understanding the profound power in those tools.
Guozhao Zhiqiang opened his eyes, and he was no longer in the familiar dining room. He was in a dark, damp, cold room. He could smell a strong, musty odor. He stretched out his hand, and the clanging sound of chains frightened him. He felt his two wrists bound by chains. He moved his feet and found that his two ankles were also bound by chains.
Guozhao Zhiqiang stood up and shouted, his voice the high-pitched voice of a child, "Shimu! Shimu...Help me!"
The door swung open, and an elder lady in her fifties walked inside. The lady stood at the door and ordered her servants, her voice sharp. Guozhao Zhiqiang knew who she was: Madam Su, who owned the brothel where his birth mother worked.
"Drag the bastard out," Madam Su commanded.
The two servants dragged Guozhao Zhiqiang out of the dark room, up a creaking set of stairs, and walked to the backyard of the brothel. When he was lying on the ground, a servant poured cold water on him, shocking his senses. He tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. He couldn't see clearly because his eyes were still adjusting to the blinding sunlight. His lips ached sharply.
Madam Su's right foot stepped on Guozhao Zhiqiang's right face, pressing down hard. "How dare you? How dare you hit customers?" she snarled. She pressed harder. "Black boy," she shouted loudly, her voice filled with contempt. "You should know your place! You are a dishwasher boy, and your place is inside the kitchen!"
Guozhao Zhiqiang was puzzled as to why he had returned to the place where his sad life began. This was not right. He was at home, having dinner with his Shimu, his three masters, his teacher, and his juniors, or was it all just a dream? Some made-up dream accompanying him while being locked inside the dark room?
"I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here," Guozhao Zhiqiang murmured, tears stinging his eyes.
"Then where should you be?" Madam Su said, a cruel smile on her face. "You grew up here and will die here!" She chuckled. "You two, tie him to that tree. No food or water for two days."
The two servants dragged Guozhao Zhiqiang and tied him to a tree, binding him from his ankles then up towards his neck, leaving him exposed.
Guozhao Zhiqiang screamed at the top of his lungs, "No...No... Shimu, help me!"
Guozhao Zhiqiang opened his eyes again. This time he was walking on a familiar street. He saw three boys talking, laughing. Then the boys threw stones at him.
"What are you looking at, black boy?" the first boy sneered.
"Fatherless child!" the second boy added. "Your mother slept with so many men, that's why you look like that!" The three boys laughed and pointed their fingers at him, mocking him relentlessly.
He clenched his fists tightly, a burning rage building within him. He looked at his right hand; it appeared he was holding the dragon sword, its hilt warm in his grasp.
A voice, deep and seductive, whispered, "Kill them. Kill them."
The temptation to kill those boys, to unleash his fury, was very strong, almost overwhelming. But deep in his heart, a different voice, echoing his master's words, kept telling him that "today's pain will make you stronger."
"Kill them," the seductive voice urged again.
Guozhao Zhiqiang closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting the urge. "I can't... I swear to protect the innocent and the weak. I must follow the Guozhao Principles Philosophy." He closed his eyes tightly, counting his breaths to calm himself down, to fight the darkness.
Then he felt the rain hit his face, so he opened his eyes. He stood in the middle of the dirt road in the mountains. The scene was very familiar. It was not his second master standing on the road, but it was him standing on the dirt road, holding the dragon sword in his right hand. He flipped the dragon sword, piercing the sword into the bad man on the ground's abdomen, and then glided the sword up to the bad guy's head, splitting the dead man in half, blood spurting. Holding the dragon sword in both hands, he flew over and began to slice the bad guy without arms and then cut him off at the waistline. He felt very satisfied, a dark, primal pleasure filling him.
Suddenly, everything turned black. When he started to see again, he was standing on a small platform, a desolate rock formation. His upper body was tied tightly with a rope, and only his right hand was free. He looked down; it was boiling red lava, bubbling menacingly. He raised his head to the right. It was the dragon sword, tied to a rope, and to his left was an unknown young man, about twenty years old, also tied to a rope. Then suddenly, both ropes became loose. Both the dragon sword and the young man fell down towards the hot lava. He, without hesitation, flew to his left, grabbed the young man by the collar, and then flew back to the small platform, saving him. The dragon sword, however, plunged into the boiling lava and was consumed.
"Thank you for saving me," the young man said, gasping for breath.
"Don't mention it," Guozhao Zhiqiang replied.
"Why give up the sword?" the young man asked, bewildered. "That is the dragon sword!"
"It is a beautiful sword," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice firm, "but it is only a man's accessory."
"Do you regret it?" the young man pressed.
"I assure my masters," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice resolute, "I will stand for what is right with a clear conscience, without regret."
The young man smiled at him and hugged him, a gesture of profound acceptance. The two men stood face to face on the small platform.
The young man looked at Guozhao Zhiqiang. "Let us become one," he whispered, and then kissed Guozhao Zhiqiang's lips and wrapped his arms around Guozhao Zhiqiang's waist.
Guozhao Zhiqiang was so shocked that he opened his eyes abruptly. He found himself back at the dining table, and he saw that he had completely drawn the sword from the scabbard, the legendary blade now fully revealed. He looked around the table and saw his three masters, his Shimu, his teacher, and his juniors, their faces filled with smiles and pride.
"Hey kid, I knew you could do it!" Zhao Renshu cheered.
"You deserve to be my student," Fang Yaoting said, a rare compliment.
"What happened?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked, still disoriented.
"The sword is testing you," Guo Baiyu explained, his eyes warm. "To see if you are worthy it master."
"Did I pass?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked, hope in his voice.
"Have you drawn your sword out of the scabbard?" Zhao Renshu asked playfully.
"Yes," Guozhao Zhiqiang replied, looking at the gleaming blade in his hand.
"Then you pass," Zhao Renshu grinned.
"This means that from now on, you must work harder," Fang Yaoting added, his sternness tempered with pride.
Guozhao Zhiqiang knelt before his three masters, his heart filled with gratitude and determination. "I promise, I will work extra hard, so I will be worthy as your student."
There was loud banging at the door. It was Ma Tong banging and yelling for Fang Yaoting, interrupting their celebratory moment.