Thunder cracked through the dark sky, and the heavy rain poured down mercilessly. A ray of lightning briefly illuminated Yongzheng and Xue Horan. Xue Horan, overwhelmed by despair, felt an urgent need to hold onto something—anything—to confirm he was still alive. He lunged forward into Yongzheng's arms, clinging to him desperately, and began to sob uncontrollably.
They knelt there, hugging, for an immeasurable time until the worst of the downpour finally passed. Yongzheng gently picked up the distraught Xue Horan, carrying him to sit beneath a thick tree. Xue Horan, still racked with silent tears, rested his head heavily on Yongzheng's left shoulder.
In the deep quiet of the night, Xue Horan's crying subsided, but he remained leaning on Yongzheng's left shoulder, his arm tightly wrapped around Yongzheng's.
After a long silence, Xue Horan spoke, his voice cracked with heartbreak. "I always thought that life here was as beautiful as life on Butterfly Island, where there were no heartaches and love always stayed the same." He sniffed, a shudder running through him. "I'm too stupid. My mother was right; I'm too naive, not suitable for the Central Plains." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I thought... I thought finding Zhen Ge would prove her wrong... I..."
Yongzheng's voice was steady and low. "It's not your fault. If the environment is good, life is good. But when the environment turns bad, you see the dark side of human nature, a side that can't be described in words."
Xue Horan turned his head slightly. "Yongzheng, have you ever loved someone so much that you were willing to let them be with someone else?"
"Not yet," Yongzheng admitted, looking down at him. "I'm covered with scars, but I choose to stand up instead of being defeated by something beyond my reach."
Xue Horan repeated the phrase, letting the words sink in. "Not be defeated by something beyond my reach...."
He had thought he was a good match for Rao Zhengsheng, but he'd been completely wrong. He'd believed he had touched Rao Zhengsheng's heart entirely, but he'd overestimated his own significance. Does Rao Zhengsheng love him the way he loves Rao Zhengsheng—a love that transcends brotherhood, friendship, and sibling bonds? He recalled the last full moon, seeing Rao Zhengsheng and Yuan Xiurong bathed in the moonlight, looking like a secret meeting between the Goddess Chang'e and her beloved Hou Yi.
"Yongzheng," he murmured, his voice softening, "would you mind if I rest my heartaches on your shoulder tonight?" Before Yongzheng could react, Xue Horan settled fully onto his left shoulder and closed his eyes.
Yongzheng stared out into the darkness, holding the innocent Xue Horan. Who would ever want him to put his heartaches on their shoulder? He had caused too many heartaches in the past; one shoulder might not be able to bear the weight of them all.
He reflected deeply. If he hadn't met his Shifu, he would still be a person without a name, a merciless killer ignorant of human kindness. His hands would still be smeared with fresh blood, and the list of lives taken by his sword would continue to accumulate.
The rain that day had been as heavy as the rain tonight. He closed his eyes, and the deluge brought him back to that day—the day he finally understood that out in the open night sky, he was not the only northern star.
The woman Yongzheng was chasing, desperately carrying her child and running away from him. Her right calf was severely injured by his sword, blood spewing heavily. The woman didn't know her bleeding calf left a perfect blood trail for him to follow. He hadn't been in a hurry. He had followed the woman slowly, patiently waiting for her to exhaust herself so he could take her life.
After an hour of cat and mouse, Yongzheng followed the woman's blood trail and entered a tall stone shrine. He walked inside. Right in front of him, he saw the woman holding the child, begging the Taoist inside to help her child. Then, she fainted from exhaustion and blood loss.
Yongzheng's sword pointed directly at the old Taoist. He issued a cold command. "Just leave if you don't want to die."
Liang Daoshi smiled, utterly calm, and replied to Yongzheng, "My life is given by my parents, and I rest my fate inside the will of Heaven. My life is not for you to take. Only Heaven can take my life based on my karma."
Yongzheng warned him, his voice flat. "Don't stick your nose into others' problems; it might cost you your life."
Liang Daoshi clasped his hands together. "You cannot decide life or death; only Heaven holds that right." He looked directly at Yongzheng. "If you want my life, come and take it. But if you lose to me, you have to be my disciple and a Taoist." He laid out the terms of his surrender. "Within three hundred moves, if you can't defeat me, then you must be my disciple for three years. After three years, you can leave. If you decide to stay, you must follow the Way of Tao."
Yongzheng, recognizing the challenge, unleashed his sword. He flew over and began to attack Liang Daoshi. He knew his sword was incredibly fast; throughout Yongzheng's life, no one could withstand more than a hundred moves. Yet, the old Taoist easily blocked all his furious attacks.
On the two hundred ninety-ninth move, Liang Daoshi grabbed the very tip of Yongzheng's sword. He spoke with sorrowful certainty. "Every single move is aiming for my life. You are not worthy of this Lightning Sword. This sword is used to protect the innocent and weak. You shamed your Shifu's name."
With effortless strength, he broke the Lightning Sword in half. The sharp, broken piece of the blade pointed directly at Yongzheng's throat. "This is the three hundredth move, and you were unable to defeat me."
From that day forward, the Number One Assassin of Men Of Thousand Faces vanished from the face of the Earth. The organization's assassins never truly knew what each other looked like, ensuring that if they met on the road during a non-missionary day, they would not recognize that they belonged to the same organization.
When the former assassin became a disciple of Liang Daoshi, he was given the name Yongzheng. This name was meant to be a constant reminder that he should always be peaceful (Yong) and just (Zheng), and never betray the innocent people whom many martial artists swore to protect. As far as he could remember, he had no birth name. He was simply called Number One because he was the best assassin—the chief—of the entire organization.
During the three years that Yongzheng and Liang Daoshi spent together, he finally understood that people didn't need many possessions to find happiness. A person's life could be satisfied with just three simple meals a day, a straw bed, a pillow, and a blanket. He learned that if a person ceased seeking, the simplest things in life could actually bring joy.
After the three-year agreement was over, Yongzheng decided not to return to his old life. Those assassins who had escaped the organization knew it was best to keep their mouths shut and never reveal his identity. So, from then until tonight, he had buried those shameful memories deep in his mind. But to protect Xue Horan, he had been forced to pick up the sword and kill again.
He looked down at the heartbroken man in his arms, the words of his own painful admission hanging in the air.
Yongzheng murmured quietly, the sound barely audibles over the dripping rain. "I want to tell you that you are someone that is beyond my reach." He paused, letting the raw truth settle. "But you may not want to listen to what I have to say."