Chapter 7: A Bowl of Water

In Apricot Blossom Lane stood an ancient well, known as the Iron Chain Well. A thick iron chain, as robust as a young man's arm, perpetually dangled within its depths. When the well and its chain first appeared, and who conceived such an oddity, were mysteries lost to time. Even the town's eldest residents couldn't offer a plausible explanation.

Rumor had it that a townsman, disregarding the elders' warnings of a curse - "For every foot of chain pulled from the well, one year of life is forfeited" - attempted to fathom its length. Scoffing at the superstition, he tugged at the chain with all his might for the time it took to burn an incense stick. He hauled out a massive pile, yet still, there was no end in sight. Exhausted, he left the coiled chain beside the well's pulley, vowing to return the next day, determined to defy the curse. Upon returning home, he suffered a gruesome death, blood streaming from his orifices, eyes wide open and unseeing. Despite the family's frantic efforts, his eyes refused to close. Finally, an old man who had lived near the well for generations instructed them to carry the corpse to the well. Before the unblinking gaze of the deceased, the old man returned the chain to the well until every last link had vanished into the dark water. Only then did the corpse's eyes finally shut.

A wizened old man and a small child ambled towards the Iron Chain Well. The boy, still sporting the telltale trails of a runny nose, recounted the tale with uncanny clarity and precision for one only half a year into his schooling. He tilted his head back, his large eyes like dark grapes, and with a sniff, retracted his nasal streamers. He then gestured to the storyteller, who carried a large white bowl. "I've finished," he announced, "Now show me what's in the bowl!"

The old man chuckled. "Patience, young one. We'll settle by the well, and you can feast your eyes to your heart's content."

The child "kindly" warned, "Don't you dare go back on your word, or you'll meet a nasty end! You'll trip and fall into the well as soon as we get there! I won't be pulling your corpse out, no sir! Or maybe lightning will strike you, turn you into a crisp, and I'll shatter you to pieces with a rock..."

The old man, somewhat alarmed by the torrent of morbid curses, quickly interjected, "Of course, of course! I'll show you. But tell me, where did you learn such colorful language?"

The boy stated flatly, "From my mother, of course!"

The old man exclaimed, "Ah, truly a place of exceptional people and concentrated spiritual energy!"

The child stopped in his tracks, frowning. "Are you insulting me? I know some people like to say things backward. Like Song Jixin!"

The old man quickly denied it and changed the subject. "Does this town often experience strange occurrences?"

The child nodded.

"Tell me about them." The old man requested.

The child pointed at the old man, his face serious. "Like you, carrying a big white bowl, but not letting anyone put money in. My mother said your stories were a bit dodgy, clearly the work of a swindler, so she told me to give you a few coins, but you wouldn't take them. What's really in that bowl?"

The old man was speechless.

It turned out that the storyteller, who had been performing under the old locust tree, had asked the child to lead him to the Iron Chain Well. The boy initially refused, but the old man claimed his white bowl held something extraordinary. The child, known for his boundless energy and restlessness, was easily swayed. Despite his parents' teasing that he forgot to grow a backside when he was born, he loved to wander with the likes of Liu Xianyang. But the boy also possessed remarkable patience, able to endure the scorching sun for half an hour, motionless, for the chance to catch an eel or mud loach.

So when the old man mentioned the bowl's contents, the child eagerly took the bait.

Even when the old man made an odd request - to lift him to see how heavy he was, guessing if he reached forty pounds – the child agreed without hesitation. After all, being lifted a few times wouldn't hurt.

But the child couldn't help rolling his eyes as the old man, holding the bowl in his left hand, strained with his right, attempting to lift him at least five or six times without success. The boy glanced at the old man's thin arms and legs, shaking his head. Chen Ping'an, that poor wretch, was much stronger than this old man. But remembering he hadn't seen the bowl's contents yet, the boy, unnaturally sharp for his age, refrained from saying anything that might embarrass the old man. You see, when it came to arguing, especially with sarcastic and cutting remarks, this child ranked third in Apricot Blossom Lane and Mud Lane. Second was the scholar Song Jixin, and first was the boy's mother.

The old man arrived at the well but didn't sit on its edge.

The well was built from ancient green bricks.

The old man's breathing grew heavy.

The child walked to the well, turned his back to the opening, and hopped, landing squarely on the well's lip.

The sight sent shivers down the old man's spine. If he slipped, the little rascal would fall straight in! Given the well's history, even retrieving the body would be a challenge.

The old man slowly approached, squinting as he examined the iron chain, one end bound tightly to the base of the well's pulley.

"A Feng Shui treasure, the best in the region," the old man murmured.

He looked around, overwhelmed with emotion, wondering, "Who will ultimately claim this powerful artifact?"

The old man extended his empty left hand, gazing intently at his palm.

The lines were intricate and faded.

But a new line had appeared, slowly spreading like a crack in porcelain.

Gods read palms as one might read a landscape.

But this old man was simply looking at himself.

The old man frowned, marveling, "It's only been half a day, and already it's this grim. What about the others?"

The child was now standing on the well's edge, one hand on his hip, the other pointing at the old man, demanding, "Are you going to show me the white bowl or not?!"

The old man reluctantly replied, "Get down, get down! I'll show you the white bowl right away!"

The child, suspicious, eventually hopped off the well's edge.The old man hesitated for a moment, his face solemn. "Little one, we have a karmic connection. Showing you the wonders of this bowl isn't impossible. But after seeing it, you must never mention it to outsiders, not even your mother. If you can do that, I'll let you witness it. If not, even if you scorn me, I won't show you even a glimpse."

The child blinked. "Start then."

The old man solemnly walked to the well. He lowered his head, only to find the little rascal now sitting on the wellhead with his legs spread wide. The old man regretted provoking this lawless child.

He cleared his mind, faced the well, and grasped the bottom of the large white bowl with his five fingers. His palm began to tilt ever so slightly, the movement almost imperceptible.

The child felt like he had been waiting forever, and the white bowl above his head hadn't shown the slightest movement. The old man remained in the same posture.

Just when the child's two snot streams were about to reach his mouth and his patience was about to run out...

A stream of water, as thick as a finger, poured from the white bowl into the depths of the well, silently.

The child bared his teeth, ready to unleash a torrent of curses.

Suddenly, he shut his mouth, a look of surprise on his face. Moments later, the surprise turned to confusion, and then to fear. He snapped back to reality, jumped off the wellhead, and fled towards his home.

It turned out that the amount of water the old man had poured into the well with that white bowl was already more than the contents of a large water tank.

Yet, water continued to pour from the white bowl.

The child felt like he had seen a ghost in broad daylight.

Liu Xianyang casually broke off a newly sprouted branch from a roadside tree and began practicing swordsmanship. He spun around like a rolling cartwheel, completely unconcerned about his new boots, kicking up clouds of dust on the path.

The tall youth left the small town and headed south. Once he crossed the covered bridge built with the money of Magistrate Song, and walked another three or four miles, he would reach the blacksmith shop run by the Ruan father and daughter. Liu Xianyang was, in truth, a proud and arrogant young man, but Master Ruan had won him over with a single sentence, "We are here to open the forge and cast swords."

Forging swords was good! Liu Xianyang couldn't help but get excited at the thought of one day owning a real sword. He threw away the tree branch and began to run and shout, like a wailing ghost.

He recalled the few stances that Master Ruan had secretly taught him and began to practice them. He actually did them quite well, displaying a fierce power.

The youth drew closer and closer to the covered bridge.

On the steps at the northern end of the bridge sat four people: A curvaceous and buxom beauty, holding a boy dressed in a large red robe in her arms. He held his chin high, like a general who had just won a great victory. At the other end of the steps, a tall, snow-haired old man sat, quietly comforting a sulky little girl. She was as delicate and exquisite as the finest porcelain doll. Her tender skin shone in the sunlight, so translucent that one could clearly see the blue veins beneath.

The two children had just had an argument. The little girl was on the verge of tears, while the little boy was even more triumphant.

The old man was burly, like a small mountain. The woman next to him gave an apologetic look, which the imposing old man ignored.

Standing below the steps was a young man named Lu, the eldest grandson of the Lu family patriarch, Lu Zhengchun. Perhaps it was true that a particular land could nurture a particular people. The men and women born and raised in this small town always seemed to be better looking than those elsewhere. However, Lu Zhengchun had long been drained by wine and women. In the eyes of the four people sitting on the steps, he was even more unsightly. The Lu family owned the most dragon kilns in the town, both in number and size. They also had the most clansmen who had left the town to establish branches elsewhere. But Lu Zhengchun, who used to be powerful in the town, looked constrained and pale. He was tense, as if the slightest mistake would lead to the extermination of his clan.

The boy spoke in a language the townspeople didn't understand, "Mother, this little Liu bug, his ancestor was really that..."

As he was about to say the name, the woman immediately covered the boy's mouth. "Before we left, your father told you how many times? Here, you must not easily name anyone."

The boy pried the woman's hand away, his eyes burning. He lowered his voice and asked, "Does his family really possess the inherited treasure armor and sword manual?"

The woman fondly stroked her young son's head and said softly, "The Lu family has guaranteed it with half of their family records. The two items are still hidden in that young man's home."

The boy suddenly pouted and said, "Mother, Mother, can we trade with the Bai family for the treasures? The treasure armor we've planned for is too ugly. Mother, think about it, if we trade for that sword manual, we can take heads in our dreams with flying swords. Isn't that far more powerful than a tortoise shell?"

Before the woman could explain the origins and reasons, the girl next to them angrily retorted, "You think you can lay your hands on our long-lost treasures? We are here to rightfully reclaim what is ours. Unlike some shameless people who come as robbers, thieves, or even beggars!"

The boy turned and made a face, then mocked, "Stinky girl, you said it yourself, it's a 'mountain' treasure. It's only about the seniority of the sect. So what?"

The boy suddenly changed his playful expression. He stood up from the woman's arms and looked down at the little girl with pity, like a teacher scolding a naive child. "The Great Dao is for eternal life, defying the heavens is for struggle. It's all about competition. If you don't even understand this, how will you inherit the family business in the future, and how will you uphold the ancestral precepts? Your descendants of the Righteous Sun Mountain must raise the Righteous Sun Mountain at least a hundred feet every thirty years. Stinky girl, do you think your grandfather and your father did it easily?"

The little girl lost some of her momentum. Her expression was listless, and she lowered her head, not daring to look at the boy.

The burly old man with snow-white hair said in a deep voice, "Madam, although children's words are innocent, if you harm my young master's Dao heart, you will bear the consequences."

The woman smiled charmingly, pulling her son back into her arms, her words containing needles, "Children are just arguing and bickering, Senior Ape, there's no need to make such a big deal out of it. Don't ruin the thousand-year friendship between our two families."

Unexpectedly, the old man had an extremely fierce temper and directly retorted, "My Righteous Sun Mountain has been established for two thousand six hundred years. We repay kindness with kindness, never forgetting for a thousand years. We repay hatred with hatred, never holding a grudge overnight!"

The woman smiled and did not engage in a battle of wills.The journey to this small town was a mission of utmost importance for everyone involved, especially for her. She had gambled everything – her life, her son's future, and the foundation of her family – on this single endeavor.

Though dressed plainly, the woman possessed an air of grace and nobility. It was lost on the townsfolk, who were too provincial to recognize such subtle cues.

Lu Zhengchun remained with his back to the steps of the covered bridge.

He remembered the first time he saw these esteemed guests at the Lu family mansion. His younger brother, impulsive and lacking composure, had dared to steal a glance at the beautiful woman's chest. Their grandfather, enraged, had the boy dragged to the courtyard and beaten to death. His mouth was stuffed with cloth to silence his screams. Lu Zhengchun, continuing the meeting, heard nothing, saw nothing. Only upon leaving the hall did he discover the courtyard cleansed of blood. The four guests, even the children who seemed like celestial beings, showed no reaction, as if this were perfectly natural.

In that moment, Lu Zhengchun felt lost.

How could a person's death be worth less than a dog's?

Especially when, just the night before, that person, his brother, had been brimming with excitement, fueled by wine, promising to rise above their humble origins, to bring honor to their family, to conquer the world together.

After leaving the Lu family mansion, Lu Zhengchun's mind remained blank.

Fear began to creep into his heart. His voice trembled when the guests questioned him, and his steps faltered as he led the way. He knew his behavior was shameful, that it would disappoint his grandfather and disgrace his family, but he couldn't control the terror that seeped from his very bones.

Last year, his grandfather had led him and his brother into a secret chamber, revealing that the Lu family would soon be serving certain dignitaries – a great honor, but one requiring utmost care. Success would pave the way for their future, granting them unimaginable wealth and status with a mere nod from these important figures. It was then that he understood why he and his brother had been forced to learn so many obscure dialects.

Lu Zhengchun watched Liu Xianyang approaching the bridge. A sudden wave of hatred washed over him for this former nobody, this dog he had once left for dead in an alley. Had a meddling brat not cried out, he and his friends would have humiliated the boy beyond repair. Lu Zhengchun still didn't understand why these high and mighty figures were so interested in Liu Xianyang. He half-understood their talk of enchanted armor, sword manuals, the Zheng Yang Sect, the path to immortality, and the struggle for fate and fortune, but it all felt beyond his grasp.

However, one thing Lu Zhengchun knew with certainty: he desperately wanted Liu Xianyang to die.

He dared not admit, not even to himself, the true reason.

Deep down, Lu Zhengchun couldn't bear the thought of a wretch like Liu Xianyang seeing the privileged Lu family scion reduced to the same level as himself.

It was an intolerable humiliation.

The beautiful woman murmured, "He's here."

The tall youth was approaching, practicing a martial art. His punches grew faster and more powerful until his body was swept up in the momentum.

To an experienced eye, the nascent martial intent hinted at the potential for true mastery, a balance of strength and flexibility.

A common saying among martial artists held: "Without grasping the true meaning of the fist, one remains a novice for a century. With one glimpse of the true meaning, one can defeat ghosts and gods in a decade."

The beautiful woman sighed in relief. This Liu Xianyang was indeed the one they sought. His talent was undeniable, comparable to those found in their own immortal dwellings.

Of course, in her and the white-haired elder's vast world, such individuals were a dime a dozen.

She rose and instructed Lu Zhengchun, "Go and ask the boy what he wants in exchange for the armor and books."

As he turned, Lu Zhengchun bowed low, answering in a dialect incomprehensible to the townspeople, "Yes, Madam."

The woman added softly, "Remember, speak to him kindly and watch your tone."

The boy, looking down from the steps, sneered, "If you ruin this, I will flay you alive, extract your soul, and use it as a lamp wick! You will suffer unending torment until the light goes out!"

Lu Zhengchun flinched, bowing even lower in fear, "I would never dare to fail!"

The little girl, finally feeling vindicated, giggled, "So brave in front of these commoners! I wonder who was called a 'bastard' to his face on the way here and didn't dare retaliate?"

The burly elder, who had disliked the avaricious mother and son from the start, added, "She's mistaken. It wasn't that he didn't dare retaliate; it was that he didn't dare talk back."

The boy in crimson robes gritted his teeth, glaring at the girl with a sinister expression. However, he restrained himself from uttering any threats, instead forcing a bright, unnatural smile.

The woman remained impassive, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. Whether she harbored any resentment was anyone's guess.

The little girl huffed and ran down the steps, squatting by the stream to watch the fish.

Schools of carp, both red and blue, swam through her view.

The older townsfolk often told tales of seeing a golden carp swimming beneath the covered bridge during thunderstorms.Some old-timers claimed the golden-scaled carp was no bigger than a palm, while others insisted it was huge, at least half a man's length, practically a demon in fish form!

The debate raged, with the elders arguing so fiercely that the children listening to their tales dismissed it all as fanciful.

Now, a little girl stared intently at the crystal-clear stream, propping her chin in her hands, her gaze unwavering.

A white-haired old man squatted beside her, chuckling softly. "Miss, if the Lu family wasn't lying, this great opportunity has already fallen into someone else's hands."

The little girl turned her head, grinning, revealing a missing front tooth. "Grandpa Ape, maybe there are two!"

She quickly realized her exposed gap and hastily covered her mouth.

The old man suppressed a smile, explaining, "Immature dragons, before they journey into the rivers, are very particular about their territory. They don't allow others of their kind to approach. So..."

The little girl hummed in understanding, then turned back, resting her chin on her hands, murmuring, "But what if there is?"

The normally benevolent old man, who always treated her with kindness, suddenly adopted a stern, elder's expression. He gently pressed down on her head, saying gravely, "Miss, remember this: the word 'what if' is our greatest enemy! Never rely on luck! Even though you are of noble birth..."

The little girl pulled one hand away, waving it dismissively, complaining sweetly, "I know, I know, Grandpa Ape! My ears are going to get calluses."

The old man said, "Miss, I'm going to keep an eye on the other side. Although they are our allies from the surface of Mount Zhengyang, their family's nature and character... well, let's not speak of it, lest it sully your ears."

She simply waved him away.

He had no choice but to leave, sighing inwardly.

The burly old man, who seemed to be a servant, walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his back slightly hunched as if carrying a great weight.

On the bank, the girl suddenly rubbed her eyes vigorously.

She noticed that the water level in the stream was visibly rising, bit by bit!

If they were outside the town, such as on Mount Zhengyang, or anywhere in her homeland, even if the entire stream dried up instantly, she wouldn't be surprised.

The little girl wondered, "Didn't they say that all mystic arts, divine powers, and Taoist practices are naturally suppressed here? And the higher your cultivation, the stronger the backlash? Grandpa Ape said that even the legendary figure, if he stays here for too long, would be in a difficult situation, like a clay Bodhisattva crossing a river, making it hard to truly stop anyone from fighting..."

She shook her head, too lazy to ponder the riddle any further.

The little girl turned to look at Grandpa Ape's tall back.

She thought happily that when this place was completely unsealed, she would ask Grandpa Ape to move the mountain called Píyún Mountain away.

She'd take it back home and use it as her little flower garden.