Chapter Three: The Treasure

In the quiet living quarters of the Taoist temple, a single lamp flickered with a faint glow.

The plump Taoist strode into his room, swept his robe sleeve, and shut the door behind him. Leaning his weight against the door, he slumped heavily to the floor, his face contorted into a bizarre expression, somewhere between laughter and tears.

After a moment, he stuck the crumpled cigarette he held between his fingers into his mouth. With his right thumb and middle finger crossed, he snapped them together with effort.

Snap!

No spark appeared from his fingers.

A simple spell, and yet he failed to cast it.

Snap! Snap!

He tried twice more before finally managing to conjure a small flame at his fingertips. He hurriedly lit his cigarette with it, inhaling deeply.

Bliss immediately washed over his chubby face, smoothing every wrinkle at the corners of his eyes. His tiny eyes brimmed with intoxication.

“Cough, cough, cough!”

The next instant, he was seized by a fit of coughing, so violent that tears and mucus ran unchecked down his face.

After years of cultivation, this Taoist now sobbed as if he were a two-hundred-and-eighty-pound child suffering from a terrible grievance.

…

At that very moment, in the guest room of the temple’s western wing, Fang Xiao, who had just lain down, found himself wide awake.

Exhausted in both body and spirit, he could barely muster any strength at all. Yet the events of the day had been so overwhelming for this sixteen-year-old that his mind refused to quiet. He tossed and turned on the hard bed, and every time he closed his eyes, the day’s scenes replayed vividly behind his eyelids.

To make matters worse, his empty stomach began to protest with growing ferocity.

Fang Xiao sat up, reaching for the military satchel hanging by his bedside—a bag that held all his worldly belongings. Tied to the strap was a faded towel and a Type 65 military canteen.

He unscrewed the plastic cap, taking several long gulps of water to temporarily quell the hunger gnawing inside.

Then he opened the satchel and pulled out three aluminum lunchboxes.

At the sight of them, Fang Xiao felt a surge of emotion.

Just three months ago, he had been a soon-to-graduate eighth-grader. Then, classes were suspended. Urged on by his classmates, he set out for the capital to seek adventure.

Beijing was vast—so vast that even after three days and nights, they hadn’t seen it all.

One day, by chance, Fang Xiao wandered into a narrow alley and found a man lying in the corner, blood pooling around him. Out of compassion, he called his friends to help and rushed the wounded man to the hospital, emptying his own pockets to cover the costs.

The man’s luck was strong. Though he’d been stabbed several times, aside from blood loss, he suffered no grave injuries, and was discharged in a few days.

Thus, Fang Xiao met Li Yuanchao, whom he would come to know as Brother Li. Li Yuanchao, a native of the capital and recently discharged from the army, was open-hearted and generous, treating Fang Xiao as his own younger brother.

In the days that followed, Li Yuanchao showed Fang Xiao all around Beijing—taking him to eat roast duck, to Lao Mo’s for borscht, swimming in the lakes, getting into scrapes, and even sneaking into movie sets.

Those were the happiest days of Fang Xiao’s life.

But good times are always fleeting.

When it was time to leave the capital, Fang Xiao’s godmother—Li Yuanchao’s mother—insisted on stuffing the lunchboxes into his satchel, telling him to eat them on the road.

He never expected that, before he could enjoy her road food, he would find himself in his current predicament.

But no matter what, food comes first.

Eagerly, he opened one lunchbox and found it packed with dumplings.

His godmother’s dumplings were the best!

Fang Xiao nearly cheered aloud, shoving one into his mouth. Chive and egg filling!

Though cold, the familiar taste nearly brought him to tears.

He opened the second box.

Oh! Braised pork belly, an entire box full.

He couldn’t help but smile, then quickly opened the last box.

Three plump steamed buns, stuffed to bursting.

He could wait no longer. Grabbing a bun in one hand and a dumpling in the other, biting into a huge chunk of braised pork, he devoured everything with gusto.

He washed it all down with half a canteen of cool water.

“Burp—”

Patting his now-round belly, Fang Xiao let out a satisfied burp.

Sated, he felt much better—his fatigue, both physical and mental, greatly relieved.

With no trace of sleepiness, Fang Xiao began to sort through his belongings.

An old towel. A canteen. Three empty lunchboxes. A pack of cigarettes. A box of matches. A notebook. A pencil. A stack of bills and ration coupons. A commemorative medal. And…

From the bottom of his satchel, Fang Xiao pulled out a three-edged bayonet.

He paused, momentarily stunned.

This Type 56 military bayonet had been lent to him by Brother Yuanchao when they went looking for trouble, for self-defense. But he’d never actually needed it.

Later, Fang Xiao returned it, but somehow, Brother Li must have slipped it back into his bag.

The bayonet’s blade was a matte gray, with dark blood grooves running along its three sides. It was sheathed in a cloth pouch.

As Fang Xiao drew the bayonet, three lines of small text appeared before his eyes:

[Three-Edged Bayonet]
[Armor-Piercing, Bleeding, Corrosion]
[Big Brother is watching you!]

What was this?

Fang Xiao instinctively rubbed his eyes, thinking he must be hallucinating.

But when he looked again, the same three lines appeared.

This was uncanny!

He hurriedly stuffed the bayonet back into its pouch, scratching his head in confusion.

Unexpectedly, when he picked up the commemorative medal, another three lines appeared:

[Commemorative Medal]
[Intimidation, Bravery, Indomitability]
[All demons and monsters are nothing but paper tigers!]

Fang Xiao was stunned.

With his life experience and knowledge, he simply couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

But he wasn’t an idiot.

Maybe the first time was a hallucination, but the second, the third…

Defiant, Fang Xiao checked all his belongings.

And the facts were undeniable—his eyes and mind were not deceiving him!

[Military Satchel]
[Storage, Concealment, Exchange]
[Abandon illusions, prepare for battle!]

That was his satchel.

[Web Belt]
[Pain, Fear, Broken Bones]
[The weapon of criticism cannot replace the criticism of weapons!]

That was his belt.

[Canvas Shoes]
[Flat Ground, Climbing Mountains, Crossing Seas]
[The future is bright, but the road is winding!]

Those were the shoes on his feet.

Three-edged bayonet, commemorative medal, military satchel, web belt, and canvas shoes.

Fang Xiao examined these five items over and over, certain he wasn’t mistaken.

They were truly extraordinary!

Although these things were beyond his common understanding, at this moment, they were all precious treasures, indispensable to him.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. He quickly reached into his shirt’s inner pocket and drew out a small booklet.

This was his most cherished possession.

[Chi-Yang Manual]
[All weapons bewildered, all magic repelled, all evil kept at bay]
[Experience: 0]
[Those truly strong in heart have weathered storms, scaled peaks and valleys, and witnessed the world’s myriad faces. Only the powerless wail and cry.]