In a vast sea of emerald bamboo, a young man with a hair-bun and his eyes bound in black cloth stood quietly.
Tied around the lower left of the youth's waist was a Flying Dagger pouch the size of a palm, inside which rested three Flying Daggers. Slung diagonally across his back was a treasured sword wrapped in white cloth.
The youth's breathing was steady, his youthful face wearing an expression of steely resolve. His calloused hands hung loosely at his sides, and his straight posture was set off by his dark, coarse martial attire.
Five paces away from the youth stood a one-armed elder with white hair and a white beard.
At that moment, a gentle breeze brushed past, and the entire sea of bamboo instantly rustled.
"Strike!" The elder gently stroked his frost-white beard and spoke calmly.
With a crisp snap, a bamboo tree ten zhang away from the youth gained a Flying Dagger, with only the hilt remaining visible as the blade buried itself completely into the trunk.
"Strike!" The elder's expression turned stern, and he commanded in a grave voice.
The sound of a blade burying itself into bamboo rang out once more, accompanied by a slight tremor through the entire stalk.
The second Flying Dagger struck firmly into the trunk, precisely one finger's width directly below the first.
"Strike again!" The elder shouted loudly.
With a loud *crack*, the bamboo split cleanly in half and fell outward to both sides, exposing the white pith within.
As it turned out, the third Flying Dagger had also struck precisely one finger's width below the second.
Unable to withstand the force, the bamboo had been cleaved right through the middle by the Flying Daggers.
"The art of the Flying Dagger relies above all on surprise; it must always catch the enemy unawares. When fighting others, this will be your final trump card!
From now on, remember to keep your dagger pouch concealed! Never let anyone know your foundation. You have passed the test for the Flying Dagger; next comes the test of swordsmanship." The elder nodded with satisfaction and emphasized the point once more.
With that, the elder turned and walked away.
The youth tore off the black blindfold and walked over to the green bamboo now split in two.
He bent down to pick up the three fallen Flying Daggers, tucked them back into the pouch at his waist, and headed in the direction the elder had taken.
Before long, a few bamboo huts came into view, with a small stream flowing gently past their front doors.
Vast patches of bamboo shadows swayed all around. In front of the stream was a patch of flat ground about an acre in size, where the white-haired elder and the youth now stood facing each other.
"Master, watch out!"
The youth drew the treasured sword from his back, casually twirled a sword-flower, and charged forward with his waist and stance united as one.
The elder smiled faintly, called out "Well struck!", and engaged the youth in combat.
***
Several days later, inside a bamboo hut containing only a crude bamboo chair and a dilapidated bamboo bed.
The white-haired elder leaned against the bamboo chair, his face bearing the pallor of death, while the youth knelt before him.
"Yu'er, you have been here learning martial arts from me for more than five years. Back then, although I successfully avenged my deep-seated blood feud, I ended up with a severed arm and severe internal injuries.
You have already attained a certain mastery over my Flying Dagger art and swordsmanship. Though you possess a measure of self-preservation, the martial world is treacherous and human hearts are fickle. I hope you will remain vigilant in all things hereafter and proceed with caution everywhere."
When the elder finished speaking, his frame shuddered, followed by a fit of violent coughing.
"Master, your injuries have flared up again. I'll go decoct the medicine first." The youth scrambled up with a sorrowful expression, preparing to leave to brew the medicine.
"There's no need. My internal energy has been used to suppress my internal injuries for too many years now, and it is finally exhausted."
Leaning back in the bamboo chair, the elder spoke in an extremely faint voice.
"Master... you!" The youth dropped to his knees once more, sorrow deepening on his face.
"My disciple, no feast lasts forever. When I took you in as my disciple back then, it was because I did not want my Flying Dagger arts to be lost forever.
Now that you have acquired my true legacy, I have no regrets left!"
With great effort, the elder used his remaining right hand to pat the youth's shoulder.
"The bond between master and disciple that we share feels almost fated. After I took my revenge back then, my heart turned to ash, and I had no wish to linger on in this world.
Yet I met you, who were likewise left with no home, and so I decided to take you in, teach you to read, and impart martial arts to you.
Today your apprenticeship is complete, and my days are numbered. Since our ties have come to their end, you must not grieve. In the life that lies ahead of you, you must experience this mortal world well on behalf of this old man!"
The elder wore a look of gratification as he gazed at the disciple who, through scorching summers and bitter winters over the past five years, had studied diligently without complaint. At the same time, he could not help but reflect.
Over the past five years, fearing he might run out of time to pass on his entire martial repertoire, he had been strict in his teaching and demanding in his standards.
Yet this disciple had executed every single task meticulously and without a single word of complaint.
Moreover, his natural talent and comprehension were exceptionally high; otherwise, it would have been impossible for him to master the Flying Dagger art and swordsmanship in just five years, alongside acquiring no small amount of internal energy.
"Perhaps he can go venture into a different world and make his own mark?" The elder pondered inwardly.
The one-armed elder was named Situ Kong.
In his youth, he had been known in the martial world of Anyuan County as one of the Five Supremes, his swordsmanship renowned far and wide.
Yet only those who died by his hand knew that the elder possessed a secondary art of Flying Daggers, which was the true reason people met their doom with eternal regret.
However, because he had offended numerous enemies in his youth.
As he reached old age, his enemies judged that the time was ripe, and colluding with over a dozen men, they ambushed him, resulting in the destruction of his family.
Though he relied on his own martial arts and his ghostly Flying Dagger technique to slay the majority of his attackers.
He lacked the strength to keep his wife and child safe, losing an arm himself and suffering severe internal injuries in the process.
In the end, he forced himself to chase down the fleeing enemies, successfully dispatching them in the mountain forests.
Yet his wife and child were already gone. With his heart turned to ashes, he decided to let his internal injuries flare up, bleeding from his severed arm as he followed his wife and child in death.
Right as he lay unconscious from severe wounds, he encountered Li Yu, who had been begging everywhere since childhood.
When Li Yu was six years old, a mountain torrent struck his home village. He happened to be away in another patch of forest gathering wild fruit and thus miraculously escaped with his life.
Upon returning to the village, he discovered it had been buried by a mudslide, leaving him instantly like a rootless duckweed with nowhere to settle, forced to beg for a living.
Several years of beggar life had taught him the full warmth and coldness of the world.
He had been chased and bitten by wild dogs, beaten by fellow beggars, and mocked by the children of wealthy families—bitterness and suffering too deep to recount to others.
Before meeting the elder, having heard that kind souls were distributing rice gruel in Huai'an City, he had crossed mountains and ridges intending to take a shortcut there, only to run right into Situ Kong at death's door.
Using a tattered cloth belt, he bound and stanched the bleeding of Situ Kong's severed arm, gathered some common herbs he had learned of during his beggar days, crushed them into juice with stones, and fed it to Situ Kong, thereby saving his life.
Afterward, Situ Kong returned home, dismissed the surviving servants and maids, buried the remains of his wife and child, and set fire to his old estate.
Only then did he take Li Yu as his disciple, finding a sea of bamboo where he taught Li Yu literacy and martial arts down to the present day.
Looking at the weeping disciple before him, though the elder's heart ached with reluctance, there was nothing he could do. His lamp had run out of oil, and he could no longer accompany him as he grew. Stilling his cough, the elder spoke in a gentle voice.
"Your master's time has come to an end, so you need not grieve too deeply. I have roamed the martial world all my life and even traveled across the various regions of Chu Country, so I can consider this life not wasted.
Tomorrow morning, simply bury my remains on the back mountain beside your mistress. You may go out now!"
The elder wearily waved his hand, dismissing Li Yu.
Li Yu wiped away his tears. How could he not know the state of his master's health? With reluctant steps, he turned and left the bamboo hut.