Yang Bao, utterly exhausted, had tried every possible direction to find a way out of the Peach Blossom Garden, but the endless expanse of trees offered no escape, each path leading back to where he started. After hours of fruitless searching, he sank down beside a blossom tree, hoping for a moment's rest. Just as he began to drift, a voice, clear and resonant, startled him awake.
"Young man, what are you doing in my garden?"
Yang Bao sprang to his feet, turning to face a white-haired, white-bearded old man whose presence radiated an ancient, immense power. "This is your garden, Senior?" he asked, awe in his voice as he approached the elder, bowing respectfully. "What should I call you, Senior?"
The old man smiled, his eyes twinkling with a knowing light. "Zhao Rong," he replied, his voice gentle.
"Senior Zhao," Yang Bao said, a flicker of recognition, a connection made. "You and my Second Master have the same surname. My name is Yang Bao."
Zhao Rong's smile deepened. "Young man, since you are here, please help me."
"How could I help, Senior?" Yang Bao asked, genuinely puzzled, eager to assist.
"Come with me," Zhao Rong instructed, turning and walking deeper into the garden, his steps light. He suddenly stopped, turning to look at Yang Bao, his expression serious, a hint of warning in his eyes. "Be careful, she's nearby. The nine-tailed fox fairy."
Yang Bao looked left and right, seeing only the single path they were on, flanked by miles upon miles of peach blossom trees stretching as far as the eye could see. "Senior, she? Who?" he asked, bewilderment in his voice.
Zhao Rong turned back, his gaze piercing. "Nine-tailed fox fairy," he stated, his voice grim. Without warning, Zhao Rong swiftly retracted the sword from the scabbard on his back and swung it to the right. A wave of immense power erupted from the blade, tearing through countless trees with a deafening roar, leaving a swathe of destruction. Then, a loud bang echoed from deep within the garden, a sound of impact. "This way!" Zhao Rong commanded, rushing through the thick, shattered trees, his pace swift.
"Senior, wait for me!" Yang Bao shouted, scrambling to catch up with Zhao Rong, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement.
As Yang Bao finally broke through the dense, broken trees, he emerged into an open field bisected by a small stream. He saw Zhao Rong standing on one of the rocks, his sword held aloft, its blade glinting. Yang Bao's eyes fell upon the blade, and his breath hitched – blood was dripping from the tip of the sword onto the ground below, a chilling sight.
Yang Bao rushed towards Zhao Rong. "Senior, did you kill the fox fairy?" he asked, a tremor in his voice, his stomach churning.
Zhao Rong glanced down at Yang Bao, his expression unreadable. "Yes. Come here quickly, young man."
Yang Bao walked to the rock and saw a small white puppy staring intently at Zhao Rong, its tiny body trembling with rage, its eyes blazing with fury. The puppy glared at Zhao Rong and let out a fierce growl, a sound far too big for its small body. Zhao Rong, with a casual flick of his wrist, sent a talisman flying towards the puppy, knocking it several yards away from the rock. Yet, the puppy, defiant, still stood up, roaring at Zhao Rong, refusing to surrender, its spirit unbroken.
Zhao Rong smiled, a cold, almost cruel twist of his lips. "You evil being, how dare you choose to wander in my garden? This is sacred ground." He flew off the rock, pointing his sword directly at the puppy, ready to strike.
Yang Bao, acting on pure instinct, hurried forward, drawing his own sword to parry Zhao Rong's onslaught, a desperate defense. The force of Zhao Rong's blow was immense, sending Yang Bao sliding many yards away, forcing him to one knee, his arm screaming in protest. Yang Bao slowly pushed himself up, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "Senior Zhao," he pleaded, his voice raw, "please let this little fox go! He's just a child! He means no harm!"
"He will grow into an adult," Zhao Rong stated, his voice firm, unyielding, "and then he will attack people. It is their nature."
"You don't necessarily know that!" Yang Bao retorted, raising his voice, a desperate plea in his tone, his passion rising. "You can't judge him before he's done anything!"
"I've seen a lot, young man," Zhao Rong replied, his voice flat, his gaze distant, "more than you can imagine."
"But that doesn't mean every fox is bad and evil!" Yang Bao insisted, his passion rising, his conviction unwavering. "You can't condemn them all!"
"How do you know, young man?" Zhao Rong challenged, his gaze piercing, testing his resolve.
"I know," Yang Bao declared, his voice filled with conviction, his eyes fixed on Zhao Rong, "because I live with one. My Senior Brother is different from me, but he is not a bad person. He is living proof that everything the eyes see may not be true. He is a celestial being, but he protects humans." Yang Bao looked at the small white puppy, his heart aching. "Then let me raise him. I want to prove you wrong, Senior Zhao. I want to show you that kindness can change nature."
"If I let you raise him," Zhao Rong said, his voice laced with skepticism, "it means I let him kill innocent people in the future. I would be responsible for his actions."
"The future is an unseen thing," Yang Bao argued, his voice unwavering, "but I promise you that if... as long as he becomes bad, I will kill him myself. I will take responsibility."
"Promise is just empty words," Zhao Rong scoffed, a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Then what does Senior Zhao want?" Yang Bao asked, desperate for a solution, for a way to save the puppy.
Zhao Rong's eyes gleamed, a cruel test in their depths. "In order to make sure that you truly want to raise this evil fox, exchange the three fingers of your right hand for the chance to raise him." He reached into his belt, pulling out a knife, and threw it onto the ground with a clatter, its blade glinting. "Do you dare, young man? Will you make this sacrifice?"
Yang Bao's gaze flickered from the tiny puppy to his own right hand, then to the gleaming knife. If he cut off three fingers, his right hand would be useless; he could never hold a sword again. All his hard-won training, all his efforts, would be in vain. His dream of becoming a great swordsman would be shattered.
Zhao Rong watched him, a smirk playing on his lips, a cruel satisfaction. "You don't dare, do you? Little friend, trade your fingers for someone you just met, not to mention he's not even human. He's a beast." He extended his long sword, aiming its sharp tip directly at the white puppy, ready to strike.
With a sudden, desperate resolve, Yang Bao grabbed the knife with his left hand, his face grim. He placed the palm of his right hand flat on the ground, and with a single, agonizing slice, cut off three of his fingers. Yang Bao screamed, a raw, guttural sound of pure pain, his body convulsing. Zhao Rong turned, his eyes wide with surprise, looking at Yang Bao, utterly shocked.
"Why do you exchange your fingers with someone you don't know?" Zhao Rong asked, his voice tinged with genuine astonishment, a hint of respect.
Yang Bao, tears streaming down his face, his body trembling from the agony, forced out the words, his voice raw but resolute. "I want to prove you wrong, Senior Zhao! I want you to see, I can train him to be a good fairy who doesn't attack humans but protects humans! I will show you!" He sneered bitterly, a mix of pain and defiance in his voice. "Also, my left hand is still here. I can train it to hold the sword again. And..." He gasped, a fresh wave of pain washing over him, his vision blurring. "My First Master is an excellent doctor. He can treat me... he can heal me."
Zhao Rong slowly sheathed the sword on his back, his expression unreadable, a profound shift in his demeanor. "Okay... you raise that fox," he said, his voice quiet, a reluctant acceptance.
Yang Bao looked at Zhao Rong, a profound gratitude swelling in his heart, his tears still flowing. "Thank you, Grandmaster," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
"Do you know who I am, young man?" Zhao Rong asked, a hint of curiosity.
"Yes, you are Grandmaster Zhao, and my Second Master is your only disciple," Yang Bao replied, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering.
"How do you know?" Zhao Rong pressed.
"The sword on your back is the Morality Sword," Yang Bao explained, his gaze fixed on the ancient blade, recognizing its power. "This is how I know that you are my Grandmaster. Only you would wield such a weapon."
Zhao Rong smiled, a warm, genuine smile that transformed his face, a profound satisfaction in his eyes. "Renshu is really lucky to have a disciple like you, Ah Bao. You have a good heart." He looked at Yang Bao, his voice serious once more. "You'd better take good care of your fox. If he turns evil, I'll come for him. And I will not hesitate."
"Thank you, Grandmaster, for your mercy," Yang Bao said, his voice filled with sincere promise, his gaze steady. "I won't let you down. I will train him well." Zhao Rong slowly walked away, disappearing into the depths of the garden. Yang Bao then stretched out his hand to the small white puppy, his bleeding fingers trembling. "Come... I'll take you home."
The white puppy slowly walked towards Yang Bao, its eyes fixed on him, a cautious curiosity. When it reached Yang Bao's bleeding hand, it suddenly opened its mouth and bit Yang Bao's injured hand fiercely, a sharp, piercing pain. Yang Bao screamed in pain, a raw, guttural sound.
Hearing Yang Bao's screams, Guozhao Zhiqiang instinctively rushed forward, but was stopped by Guo Baiyu's firm hand. Guo Baiyu looked at him, his gaze unwavering. "Where do you think you are going, Zhiqiang?"
"Ah Bao may be in trouble!" Guozhao Zhiqiang insisted, his voice laced with urgency, struggling against his master's grip.
"He is with your Second Master," Fang Yaoting said calmly, "so there is no trouble. Besides, we are in Peach Garden, and no evil spirit dares to break in. It's a protected place."
"Be patient, Zhiqiang," Guo Baiyu advised, holding Zhiqiang back firmly.
Ping'an and Lee Dachin walked towards the three of them. Ping'an looked at Guo Baiyu. "Baiyu, it's time for lunch. Everyone is hungry."
"We are still waiting for Renshu and Ah Bao," Guo Baiyu replied.
"Then let's wait for them together," Lee Dachin suggested, a gentle smile on his face, understanding the importance of the moment.
Suddenly, Yang Bao's eyes widened, and he gasped heavily, a sound of pure shock escaping him. He looked at his left hand and found a worn-out sword clutched in his grasp, its hilt warm against his palm. His gaze shifted to his right hand, where he was now holding a worn-out scabbard, and his fingers, miraculously, were still attached and completely unharmed. He spun around, his mind reeling, unable to comprehend what was happening or why he suddenly held both the sword and its scabbard. Across the space, he saw his second master shaking his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a knowing smile playing on his lips.
"You saved the fox, kid?" Zhao Renshu asked, his eyes twinkling. Yang Bao nodded, still dazed, unable to speak. "Then why were you screaming, kid?"
"He bit me!" Yang Bao exclaimed, bewildered, still feeling the phantom pain.
Zhao Renshu chuckled softly, a warm, genuine sound. "Let's go back. It's almost time for lunch. I'm sure your Shimu is preparing something good for us." He looked up at the sky. "It's almost time for lunch. I'm sure your Shimu is preparing something good for us." He turned and began to walk away, a knowing smile on his face.
"Second Master," Yang Bao asked, utterly confused, "how do you know that I saved the fox? And what happened to my fingers?"
Zhao Renshu scratched his chin with his left thumb, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I tried it once, but I didn't save the stupid fox. I helped the master kill the fox, but I lost half of my spiritual energy. At that time, I finally understood that it was the sword that was testing me, and it took half of my spiritual energy away from me to teach me a lesson. Since then, I was never able to pick up the sword again." He waved a dismissive hand. "Stop talking, it's time to eat. We'll talk more later." He turned and began to walk away.
Yang Bao followed closely holding the old sword in his hand, his mind reeling, trailing behind Zhao Renshu out of the garden. When he reached the open space, he saw Guo Baiyu, Ping'an, Fang Yaoting, Lee Dachin, and Guozhao Zhiqiang waiting for him, their faces filled with anticipation. He smiled, a profound, heartfelt smile, at the people waiting for him. He knew in his heart that the persons standing in front of him were the ones who would never abandon him, his true family.
As the old memories slowly fading away one image at a time, back in the quiet of his room, Yang Bao began to fold the red-stained white handkerchief. As he carefully smoothed the fabric, he reminisced about his youth with Guozhao Zhiqiang; how they had traveled together, how they had won their titles. He blew out the oil lamp and lay on the bed, the Morality Sword resting beside him. Lying quietly in the darkness, he murmured, his voice filled with a deep, abiding gratitude, "Without them, I would have died on that street seventeen years ago. Thank you, for never abandoning me. Thank you, for giving me a home and a family."