World of Martial Arts - A Collection of Fantasy Martial Arts Works

Author: Luo Jie
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-06
Features: Back then, I wasn’t called the Broken Sword, and my sister wasn’t called the Broken Rainbow. Back then, my tear-streaked sister and I buried our dead parents under the crooked willow tree by the river, kowtowed twenty times, and then turned and left. Back then, my sister was eleven, and I was nine. We didn’t know who our enemies were, from which sect or clan, or where they came from. We didn’t know why they killed our parents. We only remembered that it was a young swordsman, with a commanding presence and an even more intimidating aura of killing. So cold and ruthless. Years later, we realized that the boy was just a tool—a killing tool. Such tools usually had a cool, imposing name—assassin. By the time we understood this, I had become the Broken Sword, and my sister had become the Broken Rainbow. In other words, we had both become assassins.
Back then, the boy slowly walked into the village from a distant official road, smiling, with his eyes straight ahead, politely nodding and greeting the villagers passing by. The boy had sharp, starry eyes, wore white robes as pure as snow, and held a slender long sword slung across his chest. The blade was snow-white, and the tassel was pale yellow. Everything was so beautiful and harmonious, pleasing to the eye.
Back then, Father wielded a large iron hammer, and Mother used a guidi dao (a type of cleaver). They were both old. They shouldn’t have been using such heavy weapons anymore. So that year, even though I was only nine, I knew then that Father and Mother were no match for the boy assassin. Although, my uncle, Father’s older brother, was the former leader of the martial arts alliance, and their skills were only mediocre. After entering the village, the boy went into the only simple but clean shop and sat down. The shop had only about seven or eight tables, almost all of them occupied, with various guests drinking, eating, and chatting loudly. When the boy entered, there was a brief moment of quiet, but then it returned to its usual liveliness. No one paid attention to the boy, and the boy didn’t care either. After a quick glance at the door, he walked straight to the only empty table in the middle.
The waiter immediately approached with a beaming smile and greeted him. The boy politely nodded and smiled, ordering a bottle of Nianghong (a famous type of strong wine) and a few specialty dishes. When the waiter was serving the boy the last dish, the two tables sitting near the shop door suddenly started arguing.
The table outside the shop was occupied by five merchants, who had stood up, glaring, and surrounded a couple sitting at the neighboring table. The couple looked like newlyweds—the man wore a long-sleeved robe and had a pale, scholar-like air of despair; the woman had delicate eyebrows and eyes, and was now clinging to her husband, looking terrified at the five menacing men. From their shouts, it seemed that the woman had stolen their silver notes from their wallets upon entering and was demanding a search.
As one burly man stepped forward, his face filled with lecherous greed, the woman dodged his outstretched hand, her face pale with fear, tears welling in her eyes. The other guests, who were drinking, eating, or chatting, paused their utensils and conversations, all turning to look, but were driven back by the fierce glares of the other four men. So, they picked up their utensils again, continued their chatter, and pretended not to see anything.
Unable to restrain himself, the boy was about to stand up when the waiter stopped him. The waiter lowered his voice and whispered, "Don’t get involved. Those merchants are..."