The Sword of the Third Master
aka: San Shao Ye De Jian [三少爷的剑], Saam Siu Ye Dik Gim [三少爺的剑], Yến Thập Tam, Yen Thap Tam, Pendekar Gelandangan.
This novel was written in 1975.
The aura of the sword roams for 30,000 li.
The thrust of the sword chills nineteen provinces.
* * *
Late autumn.
The leaves on the trees rustled in the setting sun.
Beneath the rustling leaves, stood a man, looking as if he had already merged with the autumn scene.
Because he was too still and quiet.
Because the ground was too cold.
There was a chilling detachment and fatigue about him that had seeped deep into his marrow, yet there was also a certain forceful aura of death.
He was tired, perhaps because he had already killed to many people, some of whom should not have been killed at all.
He killed, only because he never had a choice.
He had a sword in his hand.
A long sword in a leather gold-mouthed scabbard that was set with thirteen bright bean-sized pearls.
There were few people in the jianghu who did not recognise the sword, or know who he was.
The man and his sword were already well-known in the jianghu since the age of seventeen. Now, he was almost middle-aged. He could no longer put the sword down, for people did not allow him to put it down.
The day he put the sword down would be the day his life came to an end.
Fame. Sometimes, it was like a piece of luggage, a piece of luggage that could never to thrown away.
* * *
The tenth time-period (5-7 p.m.), the nineteenth day of the ninth month. Beneath the ancient tree by the old road outside Luoyang City. Wash your throat clean and bring your sword!
The sun set in the tenth time-period.
The autumn sun had already set. Leaves fluttered about.
A man walked boldly up the old path. He had luxurious clothes, a pale hardened face, and a long sword slung across his back. His eyes, which looked like swords that had left their scabbards, were fixed on the sword beneath the tree.
His footsteps were heavy and firm, yet very fast. Seven feet away, he stopped and asked: "Yan Shisan?"
"Yes."
"Are your 'Thirteen Life-Seizing Swords' really peerless?"
"Not necessarily."
The man laughed, a laugh that was both sarcastic and cold. He said, "I am Gao Tong, 'The Single Sword that Pierces the Heart Gao Tong'."
"I know."
"Are you the one who asked me to come?"
"I know you are looking for me."
"That is correct. I am looking for you because I am bent on killing you."
Yan Shisan answered lifelessly: "You are not the only one who wants to kill me."
Gao Tong said: "Because you are too well-known. Once I kill you, I will become famous immediately." He laughed coldly and continued: "It is not easy to become famous in the jianghu, but this method makes it easier."
"Very good," said Yan Shisan.
"Now I have come," said Gao Tong. "I have brought my sword and washed my throat clean."
"Very good."
"Where is your heart?"
"My heart is already dead."
"Then, I will let you die once more."
A sword left its scabbard in a flash of light and headed towards Yan Shisan's heart like lightning.
A single sword through the heart.
It was with this sword that he had pierced the heart of many a man, so many that he could no longer remember. He was the ultimate assassin!
But he did not pierce Yan Shisan's heart. When his sword went forward, his throat suddenly felt icy-cold.
Yan Shisan's sword had already pierced his throat.
An inch and three-tenths into it.
Gao Tong's sword fell, but he had not died.
Yan Shisan said: "I hope you know that becoming famous is not a rewarding task."
Gao Tong glared at him, his eye-balls popping out.
Yan Shisan continued calmly: "So it is still better for you to die."
He pulled his sword away, taking it slowly ... very very slowly ... out of Gao Tong's throat.
So that blood did not splatter on his body.
He had a lot of experience in matters like this. Once his clothes became stained with the scent of blood, they would be very difficult to clean.
Washing away the scent of blood from his hands was even more difficult.