Legacy of the Blade

The child "kindly" reminded the old man:

"Don't even think about going back on your word! Otherwise, you'll meet a terrible fate. The moment you get near that iron chain, you'll trip and fall straight into the well. And don't think I'll drag your body back for anyone. Or worse, lightning might strike out of nowhere, fry you to a crisp, and then I'll smash you into bits with a rock, piece by piece..."

The old man rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on after listening to the kid spew an endless stream of curses. He quickly said, "Alright, alright, I'll show you. But tell me, where did you learn to talk like that?"

The child replied firmly, "From my mom!"

The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "No wonder they say this land breeds extraordinary people."

The child suddenly stopped in his tracks, frowned, and asked, "Wait... are you insulting me? I've heard some people like to say the opposite of what they mean, like Song Jiuxin!"

The old man waved his hands hurriedly. "No, no! I wasn't insulting you. Anyway, back to the point—do strange things happen often around this town?"

The child nodded seriously.

"Tell me about it," the old man prompted.

The child pointed straight at the old man and declared, "For example, you said your bowl was empty but wouldn't let people put money in it. Before you even finished your story, my mom said it was pretty good—except it made no sense, like a con artist's tale. She told me to give you a few coins, but you wouldn't take them. So what's really in that bowl, huh?"

The old man couldn't help but laugh.

Earlier, after finishing his storytelling under the locust tree, the old man had let the child drag him to a well in Apricot Blossom Alley. Initially, the child wasn't interested, but the old man had insisted that his bowl held something extraordinary. The boy, naturally nosy and mischievous, couldn't resist finding out.

This was a kid who'd stand in the sun for half an hour without moving just to catch an eel or loach. His parents always joked he must've been born backward—feet first—because he was trouble from the start.

When the old man claimed the bowl contained something mysterious, the kid bit the bait immediately.

Even when the old man made an odd request—asking the boy to lift the bowl to see if it weighed forty catties—the boy agreed without hesitation. After all, lifting a bowl wouldn't hurt him, right?

But things didn't go as expected. The old man tried lifting the bowl five or six times with his frail arms but couldn't budge it. The kid glanced at the old man's skinny frame, shook his head, and thought, "Even poor Trần Bình An has more strength than this guy."

Despite his disappointment, the kid kept quiet. After all, in this town, he ranked third in bickering. Second was the bookworm Song Jiuxin. And first? His mother, of course.

The old man approached the ancient well but didn't sit on its edge.

The well, made of moss-covered green bricks, had an air of history about it.

The old man's breathing grew heavier as he looked around.

Meanwhile, the kid climbed onto the edge of the well, turned his back to it, and leapt up, landing perfectly on the narrow rim.

The old man's heart skipped a beat. If the kid slipped, he'd fall straight down. With how deep this well was, retrieving a body would be no easy task.

The old man stepped closer cautiously, squinting at the iron chain secured to the well's wheel.

"This place... a land of fortune," he muttered, his emotions a mix of awe and unease. "But who will claim this treasure in the end?"

He glanced at his palm, tracing the lines etched across it. A new crack had appeared, snaking its way through like a fracture in porcelain.

To a mystic, a palm was like a map of mountains and rivers. But this old man seemed to be searching only for his own fate.

Sighing, he muttered, "Half a day, and things are already this dire. I wonder if the others are doing any better."

The kid, still perched on the edge of the well, hands on his hips, shouted, "Hey, old man! Are you going to show me what's in the bowl or not?!"

The old man gave in, saying, "Alright, alright, get down from there, and I'll show you."

The boy hesitated for a moment before hopping off.

The old man sighed, then turned serious. "Kid, since fate brought us together, I'll show you what's in the bowl. But you have to promise not to tell anyone—not even your mother. If you can do that, I'll show you something amazing. If not, you can break my back for all I care, but I won't show you a thing."

The boy narrowed his eyes and replied, "Alright, let's see it!"

The old man stepped up to the well, placed his fingers on the bottom of the bowl, and began tilting it ever so slightly.

The boy waited and waited, seeing nothing happen.

Just as he was about to shout, a thin stream of water as wide as a finger began trickling from the bowl into the well. It fell silently into the depths below.

The boy's frustration vanished in an instant. His face shifted from annoyance to shock, then to confusion, and finally to fear.

Without a word, he turned and bolted straight home.

Unbeknownst to him, the water pouring from the bowl could have filled a large basin long ago, yet it continued to flow.

The boy thought to himself, Did I just see a ghost in broad daylight?

Meanwhile, Liu Tiandong, holding a newly plucked branch, practiced swordplay. He spun wildly like a wheel, kicking up clouds of dust as his new shoes got scuffed and dirty.

A tall youth was walking southward, leaving the small town. Once he crossed the bridge built by Lord Song, he'd reach the Nguyễn family smithy after three or four more miles.

Though proud by nature, Liu Tiandong had nothing but respect for Master Nguyễn, who once said:

"We came to this place for one purpose—to forge swords."