Chapter Two: The Hundred-Armed Sword Immortal

Dog Egg was momentarily stunned, but quickly caught on and replied, “I won’t take you as my master. I haven’t been a beggar for years now.” Old beggars rarely had children, and even if they did, their offspring were often heartless. After all, how could dutiful children let their aging parents survive by begging for food? Thus, old beggars usually took in a young beggar as an apprentice or adopted child—not only to pass on their craft, but also to have someone care for them in old age. Dog Egg thought, ‘He took three coins from me the moment we met. If I become his apprentice, won’t he get my last coin too? But the title “Hundred-Armed Sword Immortal” is far more impressive than my “Noodle Assassin.” Someday, I’ll ask Brother Li to come up with a mighty nickname for me. That’ll be dazzling to say aloud.’

The Sword Immortal Zhou Xun’s face fell, displeased. “I, Zhou Xun, am a renowned figure in the martial world. My swordplay is unmatched north and south of the river. Among the Three Heroes of the Dust, my name ranks second. This beggar’s attire is merely to test your character. Do you truly take your master for a mere beggar?” He was clearly set on making Dog Egg his disciple.

“You’re not a beggar?” Dog Egg eyed him skeptically. Indeed, Zhou Xun was different from ordinary beggars—tall and imposing. Dog Egg grew excited. “Are you truly one of those legendary heroes, like the ones in tales who leap high and low, punishing evil and promoting justice?”

Zhou Xun stroked his beard, smiling with satisfaction. “Exactly. Can I be your master?”

“If you don’t take my silver, I’ll accept you as my master!” Dog Egg considered.

“You really see me as the sort who’d sneak around stealing chickens?” Zhou Xun huffed, beard bristling with annoyance. Dog Egg stammered, unsure what to say. Zhou Xun rolled his eyes. “What are you standing there for? Go fetch tea for your master!” Clearly, he was annoyed by this obtuse apprentice.

“Yes, Master.” Dog Egg hurried to bring him a cup of tea. Seeing Zhou Xun silent for a while, Dog Egg cautiously asked, “Master, should I perform the three kneels and eight kowtows? That’s what they do in the plays.”

“A clever one,” Zhou Xun grumbled. “Actually, it’s three kneels and nine kowtows. No rush. Once you’ve mastered your skills, I’ll host a grand apprentice ceremony and invite martial artists from far and wide. For now, just remember you’re my registered disciple—so you don’t disgrace me.”

“Master, when will you teach me the art of leaping from rooftops?” Dog Egg, still young at heart, longed to learn peerless martial arts and battle the evil prince or the fortress lord in the storyteller’s tales—though first, he’d like to teach Li Yuanwai’s servant Zhao Si a lesson for always bullying him.

“No rush, no rush!” Zhou Xun smiled mysteriously.

“Master, what shall we do now?” Dog Egg asked, thrilled.

“I’ve only heard people call you Dog Egg. Do you have a proper name? Who are your parents?” Zhou Xun inquired.

“I don’t know,” Dog Egg replied, bewildered. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve been begging for food with other beggars. Then I met Chef Wang at the market. He took pity on me and gave me shelter. After two years, he fell ill and died, and they kicked me out…”

Seeing Dog Egg’s lonely and confused expression, Zhou Xun felt a pang in his heart. He too had struggled through hardship, deeply aware of the pain and difficulty at the bottom of society. His new apprentice must have suffered greatly as a child. Softening, Zhou Xun patted Dog Egg’s head and spoke gently, “Dog Egg can serve as a childhood nickname—humble names bring good fortune. But it’s not fitting for your real name. How about I give you one?”

“What name will Master give me?” Dog Egg asked.

“My surname is Zhou, so yours shall be Zhou as well. As for your name, the Book of Changes says: ‘Qian begins with the ability to bring prosperity to the world, though it does not speak of profit.’ The Qian hexagram means heaven moves with strength, and a gentleman constantly strives for self-improvement. You will bear the surname Zhou, do upright deeds, and take the name Qian, embodying perseverance.”

“Zhou Qian, Zhou Qian,” Dog Egg repeated, delighted. “From now on, I’ll be Zhou Qian. No one’s allowed to call me Dog Egg anymore!”

“I finally have a name!” Zhou Qian suddenly cried out.

As he recovered, Zhou Xun smiled warmly. “Qian’er, remember: when the moon rises, I’ll wait for you at the burial ground west of the city.” With that, he displayed his martial prowess—bounding up the wall like an agile monkey, his form as lithe as a dragon, vanishing in a flash.

Zhou Qian was beside himself with joy, wanting to roll on the ground in excitement. He fantasized about learning the art of leaping rooftops, thrilled to have a name, and feeling a growing admiration for his newfound master. He stood there in a daze until noon.

Soon, two more figures arrived. The older was Wang Hu—thick-browed, square-faced; the younger was Li Sanxi, with a jade-like face and shifty eyes, clearly not a good sort. Wang Hu wore short clothes, his robust frame stretching the fabric taut, while Li Sanxi sported a bright red brocade robe, flowers in his hair, looking quite comical.

Zhou Qian greeted them with delight. “Brother Wang, Brother Li, you’re here!”

Li Sanxi called out from afar, “Dog Brother, did you make that braised fat chicken? I can’t smell it anywhere!”

“Brothers, I took a master—forgot all about it,” Zhou Qian scratched his head sheepishly.

“Sanzi, what master? Tell us,” Wang Hu frowned.

Zhou Qian recounted his story. The three had known each other since childhood, all once beggars. Their temperaments matched, and they’d shared hardship—when food was found, they ate together; when none, they starved together—their bonds as close as true brothers. Li Sanxi, being clever, suggested they emulate the heroes of legend and swear brotherhood. Wang Hu, five years older than Zhou Qian, became the eldest; Li Sanxi the second; Zhou Qian, the youngest.

Each had their own stroke of fortune. Zhou Qian learned to cook; Wang Hu, strong from childhood, first worked as a servant in a wealthy household, then caught the eye of a guard, who taught him martial arts. Wang Hu became a bailiff, helping guard the house and collect rents. Li Sanxi’s fate was more peculiar. Once, when the eldest and youngest were out begging, Li Sanxi was left starving in a ruined temple, nearly faint with hunger. According to his own boast, he smelled the aroma of roast chicken, followed it for several hundred steps through alleys, and found himself before the Spring Breeze and Moonlight Pavilion—a lavish brothel with beautiful women in sheer silks and richly dressed guests drinking and feasting. Li Sanxi later learned it was a brothel. Starving and desperate, he slipped over the wall and found the kitchen abundant with delicacies, feasting until discovered. He was caught and beaten by the brothel's manager. Yet, being shrewd, Li Sanxi didn’t resist; instead, he played the pitiable orphan, showering the manager with flattery. The manager, himself a sycophant, had never been praised so, and seeing Li Sanxi’s handsome face, took pity, spared him, and even introduced him to the brothel. Li Sanxi became a junior attendant there, his quick tongue and keen eye for opportunity earning him favor. Within half a year, he was thriving.

Though the three rarely met, their friendship remained unchanged, and they met when free.

After hearing Zhou Qian’s tale, Wang Hu was overjoyed. “Third Brother, fortune has smiled on you! You met the Hundred-Armed Sword Immortal—my master spoke of him, a true legend. Who’d expect such a famed elder to appear in our little Changzhou—and take you as his disciple!”

Li Sanxi, pleased but skeptical, said, “Such a renowned figure must live well. Why would he come to our shabby town, let alone choose you? Could he be a fraud?”

Wang Hu too became doubtful. With so many aspiring heroes, he’d never heard of the Sword Immortal taking apprentices. Such good fortune seemed unreal.

“So, what should I do, Brothers?” Zhou Qian asked, full of uncertainty.

“The old master invited you to the burial ground tonight, but didn’t say you couldn’t bring company. In that case, your two brothers will go with you. If he’s a fraud, well—my fists aren’t just for show!” Li Sanxi’s eyes sparkled, hatching a plan.

“Excellent idea!” Wang Hu exclaimed, pounding his fist in approval.