Sword Arrives

In Apricot Alley, there is a well known as the Iron-Chained Well. Year after year, a thick iron chain, as sturdy as the arm of a young adult, hangs down into the well. No one knows when this well and its iron chain were first put in place, or who had done such a bizarre and seemingly pointless thing. Even the oldest person in the town cannot provide a clear answer.

It is rumored that once, a meddlesome individual in the town tried to find out how long the iron chain was. Ignoring the warnings of the elders about the old saying, "For every foot of chain pulled out of the well, a year of one's lifespan is lost," he didn't take it seriously at all. After struggling to pull the chain for an hour, he had pulled out a large pile of chain but still saw no end in sight. Exhausted, he left the chain coiled around the well's windlass and said he would return the next day, determined to prove the saying wrong. Upon returning home, the man began bleeding and died a sudden and violent death on his bed, his eyes refusing to close no matter how hard his family tried to shut them. Finally, an elderly person who had lived near the well for generations advised the family to carry the body to the well. As the body watched intently, the elderly person returned the chains to the well. Only when the entire chain was once again straight and submerged in the deep water of the well did the body finally close its eyes.

An old man and a young child walked slowly towards the Iron-Chained Well. The child, still with two dangling snot strings, spoke clearly and coherently about the story, unlike a rural child who had only been in school for half a year. Looking up with big eyes like black grapes, the child sniffled and the snot strings retreated. Gazing at the storyteller who held a large white bowl in one hand, the child pursed its lips and said, "I've finished my story. Now it's your turn to show me what's in your bowl, right?"

The old man chuckled and said, "Don't worry, young one. Once we sit down next to the well, you'll see it all you want."

The child "kindly" reminded him, "No backing out, or you'll die a bad death. You'll fall into the Iron-Chained Well as soon as you get near it, and I won't retrieve your body. Or maybe a thunderbolt will strike you, turning you into a piece of charcoal. Then I'll take a rock and smash you into pieces, bit by bit..."

The old man winced at the child's rapid-fire string of unlucky remarks without repetition, and quickly said, "I'll definitely show you. By the way, who taught you to say such things?"

The child replied firmly, "My mother, of course!"

The old man sighed, "This place truly is a land of outstanding people, nurturing talent in some kind..."

The child suddenly stopped in his tracks and frowned, saying, "Are you insulting me? I know some people like to say nice things in a sarcastic way, like Song Jixin!"

The old man quickly denied it and then changed the subject, asking, "Does weird stuff happen often in this town?"

The child nodded.

The old man asked, "Tell me about it."

Pointing at the old man, the child said solemnly, "For example, you're carrying a big white bowl but won't let anyone put copper coins in it. Before you finished your story, my mother said it wasn't bad, but it was so confusing that it was obvious you're used to deceiving people. So, she asked me to give you a few coins, but you refused steadfastly. What's really in that bowl?"

The old man didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

It turned out to be the storyteller who had just finished telling a story under the old locust tree, asking this child to lead him to the well in Apricot Alley. At first, the child was unwilling, so the old man said that his big white bowl was very special and contained something rare and wonderful. The child was naturally lively and restless, often described by his parents as completely impatient. From a young age, he loved to wander around with Liu Xianyang and his gang of rogues. However, to catch a single eel or loach, this little kid could stay motionless under the scorching sun for half an hour, displaying an astonishing level of patience.

So when the old man asked what was in the white bowl, the child immediately took the bait.

Even when the old man first made an odd request, saying he wanted to try lifting him to see just how heavy he was, wondering if he weighed twenty kilogram, the child readily nodded in agreement, thinking it wouldn't hurt to be lifted a few times.

But what made the child roll his eyes repeatedly happened—with the bowl balanced in his left palm, the old man strained with all his might to lift him with his right hand, five or six times, yet failed to budge him even once. Finally, the child glanced askance at the old man's scrawny arms and legs, shook his head, and thought to himself that even though they were both skinny sticks, Chen Ping'an, that penniless fellow, had much more strength than this old man. Yet, realizing he hadn't yet seen what was inside the white bowl, the child, seemingly innately precocious, refrained from saying anything that might embarrass the old man. After all, in the vicinity of Mud Bottle Alley and Apricot Alley, when it came to arguing and hurling insults, especially in a sarcastic manner, this child ranked third, with Song Jixin in second place, and his mother topping the list.

The old man approached the well, but did not sit on its edge.

The ancient well was constructed with grey bricks.

And somehow, the old man's breathing grew heavy.

The child walked over to the well, turned his back to it, hopped backwards, and landed squarely on its edge with his bottom.

This sight made the old man break out in cold sweat, thinking that if he hadn't been paying attention, the little rascal would have plummeted straight down. Given the ancient history of this well, retrieving the body would have been nearly impossible.

The old man took a few slow steps forward, squinted, and bent down to examine the iron chain, one end of which was tied in a dead knot at the bottom of the well's windlass.

"The land of feng shui, the best in the entire continent."

The old man looked around, emotions surging within him. He thought, "I wonder who will ultimately possess this precious artifact?"

The old man extended his free left hand and gazed intently at his palm.

The lines on his palm were varied and intricate.

However, a new line was slowly appearing, stretching out like a crack in porcelain.

A divine person observing one's palm is like surveying mountains and rivers.

Yet, at this moment, the old man was merely scrutinizing himself.

Furrowing his brow, the old man murmured in awe, "In just half a day, it's already come to this. Could it be...?"