Snowflakes danced delicately down from the heavens like goose feathers, covering the earth with a serene blanket of pure white, silent and harmonious. A biting, cold wind broke the tranquility of the landscape, lifting flurries of snowflakes into a wild fury as if venting its dissatisfaction with the world.
"Grandpa, Grandpa, I found some food!" An emaciated child rushed in, opening the door and letting the biting wind rush in with him, bringing a swirl of snowflakes. Taking a look at the boy, one could see nothing but snow on his hair and a face turned red from the cold. His clothing was in tatters, and it was clear to anyone who laid eyes on him that he was a street urchin. His hands were swollen from the freezing cold, yet they held on tightly to two hard, dry buns.
The room was devoid of a bed, with a thick layer of straw spread on the floor instead. An old man lay there motionless as if dead. On closer examination, one could see a thick layer of scars on his wrists and ankles. It was clear they were the result of severed tendons and veins.
The little boy was feeding the old man one of the buns, and once it was gone, he gave him some water to drink. Only after this did he start to devour the remaining bun in his hand. Within a few bites, nothing was left, indicating how starving he was.
Once his meal was finished, the little boy lay down next to the old man and fell asleep immediately. The harsh coldness should have made sleeping difficult, yet the boy slept so soundly as if unbothered by the freezing temperatures.
The old man looked at the boy huddled beside him, his normally ruddy face now turned pale as though he were sick. To see such a young boy enduring so much hardship hurt the old man deeply. He blamed himself for being careless and falling into the cunning trap of his enemies, hence leading to their current predicament.
The old man couldn't sleep. He and the boy had no blood relation. The boy found him badly injured and abandoned in the wilderness by his enemies, saved his life, and had been taking care of him ever since. The boy had no name; he was an abandoned child.
At first, the old man found it odd that the boy spent such little time looking for food and rested most of the day. Gradually, he realized that the poor boy was missing a soul and a spirit — a congenital deficiency — which could explain his lethargy. Individuals with such incomplete souls typically could not live for very long.
There was almost no hope for this illness to be cured. However, the old man remembered a possible solution, but he immediately dismissed the idea. Given his current circumstances, how could he possibly help?
As winter quietly passed, and spring started to bloom, the chirping of birds announced the arrival of the season and melted the heavy snow. Tiny blades of grass timidly emerged, and even the modest willow excitedly sprouted new buds, coyly hanging its branches as if showboating its elegance.
With a creak, the boy opened the door of their dilapidated shack. Wearing his tattered clothes, he quickly ran out to look for food. They had survived such harsh winter — was it divine favor or just another cruel joke from the heavens waiting for them to slip?
Spring symbolized hope. The old man refused to surrender to death without a fight, nor could he bear to see the hapless boy tossed around by fate. An idea took seed in his heart. Although he had lost his martial arts abilities, the techniques were still embedded in his mind. But fate chose to play a cruel joke – the boy by his side was an incomplete soul, struggling even to survive, let alone practice martial arts. There was a sliver of hope, a possible solution – home. According to him, returning home was the key.
One day, the boy returned home and fed the old man. However, instead of eating his share, the old man let out a deep sigh. "Child, would you take me home? Once we're home, I could find a cure for your illness. I don't want to die out here." The young boy didn't say a word, just nodded his head — he wanted to live more than anyone, enjoying what the other children his age were: playfulness, affection from parents. Who would want to die if they had the chance to live?
The very next morning, with a rope which he seemed to have found somewhere, he managed to secure the old man onto his back. They set off without packing anything — they had nothing. Despite the old man being light, the boy felt a heavy burden. Thus, this extraordinary procession of a young beggar carrying an old beggar through alleys and streets became the most pitiful sight in the world, attracting many unwelcome stares and sneers.
The boy spent most of each day sleeping. With this pace, it was an uncertain journey – when or where they would reach was unknown. When he was hungry, he would beg for food; when he was tired, he would find a deserted place to sleep, undisturbed by imminent death, causing no ripples.
Even they did not know how long they had walked on. Under the instruction of the old man, they eventually arrived at the entrance of a valley. The little boy looked up and saw nothing of note. As he took a few more steps forward, suddenly, an invisible barrier blocked his way. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel something. The little boy turned around and looked at the curious old man.
The old man seemed very excited and elated, looking a few years younger. The elder bit his tongue gently, let the blood spill in the air. In an instant, a flavoured light rose and then calmed down, disappearing into the invisible.
Before long, a few individuals came running out. The barrier disappeared; it was either forcibly compromised by an external force or opened by the kin of their family. Only the blood of their clan could open this barrier normally.
"Are you our ancestor?" one of them asked with hesitance, unable to fathom. The old man merely nodded his head, and the onlookers exhibited a look of disbelief. In their eyes, this man was as god-like a figure, the very change in him was inconceivable. "Quick, go and inform the chief, our ancestor has returned!" a man suddenly realized.
They gently carried the old man from the child and hurried along with the boy. Another individual carried the little boy, advancing along a jade-laid trail. The path seemed to have no end in sight. The picturesque scenery around him left him awestruck. Further down the path, small bridges over running water, pavilions, towers, and palaces appeared before their eyes, it was as if they had stepped into a fairyland.
A group of people hurriedly made their way toward them. The boy stole a glance; all were dressed in grand attire. From afar, they exuded an overwhelming pressure. The middle-aged man leading the group was handsome and robust. He burst into tears at the sight of the worn-out old man, dropping on his knees and holding the elder's hands. The scars on the elder's body felt like knife wounds in the man's heart, making it hard for him to breathe.
"Father, what happened? Who did this to you?" he demanded, an aura of strength radiating from him. The people nearby felt as if their breath might seize; dust billowed around them. The jade tiles beneath the young man's knees shattered, the resulting cracks extremely eye-catching.
"Feng, let's talk later, we are tired now." The old man barely finished his sentence before he fell asleep; he and the young boy were truly exhausted.