The north wind howled, sweeping up heaps of snow.
Beneath the gloomy sky, two small, thin figures huddled in a street corner. The icy wind whipped snow at them without pause, leaving them shivering.
They were two beggar children, around eight or nine years old, dressed in rags and thin as skeletons. Their little faces had turned an unhealthy purplish red, and their toes were already swollen and red from the cold beneath their flimsy straw sandals.
The pile of firewood before them was already covered in a thick blanket of snow.
They had hawked it all day, but no one had shown any interest.
As night fell, fewer and fewer people passed by. If they still couldn't sell the wood, they would freeze to death in the snow.
The boy shuddered as he pulled half a hard, black bun from his coat. With stiff fingers, he held it out to the girl resting against his shoulder. Just as he was about to speak, a violent gust of wind swept in, and snow blinded him.
"Eat some bun."
The boy rubbed his eyes as he spoke.
His hands were red and blue, covered in chilblains and giving off a foul stench.
"Brother Changming, you haven't eaten in two days. You should have this half bun. Otherwise, neither of us will make it back to the temple..."
The filthy, thin girl weakly shook her head.
Her voice was faint and feeble. As soon as she finished speaking, a strange flush crossed her face. Her frail back began to convulse, and she curled up like a shrimp, clutching her throat and gasping for air.
The girl's asthma had flared up.
Fortunately, her luck was good this time. The wind suddenly died down, and after the boy patted her back repeatedly, she returned to normal.
The boy's nose was running from the cold. He shoved the hard, black bun into the girl's hands and said nonchalantly, "Eat. If we can't sell these bundles of firewood today, we'll take them back to the temple and burn them."
When he finished, he looked at the deserted street, his gaze dimming.
The snowfall was heavy, and the clouds hung thick as lead. It would probably keep snowing until noon tomorrow. Apart from this half bun, the two of them had run out of food. Whether they could survive the long, snowy night was anyone's guess.
The girl took half a bite of the bun, then suddenly began to pant. She spat it out in one breath.
Huff, huff...
The girl's shoulders trembled, and pain filled her eyes. Still, she struggled to reach for the tiny piece of bun in the snow.
That bun was life itself. Not a crumb could be wasted.
The boy was quick. He snatched it up and tossed it into his mouth, chewing with relish.
"Little Sister Linger, I'll eat that filthy bun..." The boy smiled as though nothing had happened, then shrugged. "Hurry up and eat. Then we'll head back."
Looking at the boy's dark face, the girl silently took a bite of the bun. She had barely chewed twice when tears surged from her eyes, and she burst into sobs.
The boy panicked, at a loss for what to do.
Like beads from a broken string, tears streamed down the girl's face as she wept. "Life is too bitter. I don't want to come back in my next life..."
The boy fell silent.
The icy wind blew into his clothes, cutting his heart like a knife.
Little Sister Linger had once lived in luxury, but her family had fallen into ruin. Later, her parents had been killed by wicked men.
The boy had originally been named Chen Changan. His parents had died in a natural disaster, and from the age of three, he had depended on his grandmother for everything.
Because he had black moles on the soles of his feet, people had taken them as a sign that he was short-lived, so his name was changed to Chen Changming.
When he was seven, his grandmother passed away.
Now nine years old, Chen Changming had already spent two years wandering the streets.
Su Linger had been thrown into a dry well by bad men. Chen Changming had rescued her, and the two children had relied on each other ever since. They had been together for half a year.
"Little Sister Linger, don't worry. Once the snow stops, I'll find a way to catch a pheasant for you to sink your teeth into."
After a moment of silence, the boy spoke softly.
He had lived at the bottom of society since childhood and was used to hardship. As long as he still had a breath in him, he wouldn't despair of life.
He had endured hunger, cold, and starvation before.
"I'm taking this firewood."
A drunkard staggered over. His face was red as he lifted the firewood in one hand, looking down at the two children with brazen arrogance.
He was tall and fat, like a small mountain looming over the children.
"Three copper coins."
The moment he saw the drunkard, Chen Changming's heart skipped. Ma San was a rascal in Xiliang City, lazy and gluttonous. On this street, he made a habit of bullying the weak, the old, and the disabled. He never paid for anything he bought and threw punches and kicks at the slightest provocation.
Normally, Chen Changming would have put up with it.
It was only a bundle of firewood. He could let Ma San have it.
It wasn't worth getting beaten over a bundle of wood. After all, Chen Changming barely reached Ma San's waist and had no way to fight back.
But today was different. That bundle of firewood was his lifeline. If he couldn't get copper coins for it, he and Linger would freeze to death in the temple.
"Little bastard, you dare ask me for money?"
Ma San glared, his eyes flashing with menace. He raised a fist as big as a wine jar, ready to bring it crashing down.
The boy slowly got to his feet. His face was fearless, his voice neither servile nor overbearing. "Three copper coins, or nine buns."
Seeing the boy refuse to back down, Ma San flew into a rage. His fist whistled down as he snarled, "You little bastard, you've got some nerve! You dare ask me, Ma San, for money?"
If that punch landed, Chen Changming would be seriously injured at best, dead at worst.
"Master Ma... Please, take the firewood. We don't want any money..."
A timid voice sounded.
Linger, gaunt and frail, struggled to her feet and dropped to her knees, bowing repeatedly.
"Haha, you black-haired brat has some sense after all!"
Looking at the tiny figure, a lecherous gleam flashed in Ma San's eyes. He turned his fist into an open hand, grabbed Linger by the shoulder, and lifted her up.
With his other hand, he grabbed the firewood and turned away, laughing loudly as he left.
"Let go of me!"
Linger's face was deathly pale. Panic-stricken, she flailed her arms and legs in midair.
But she was so small. How could she possibly break free from the grasp of a burly man?
"This is too much..."
The boy trembled, fury blazing in his eyes. He drew a breath, then pulled a woodcutter's knife from behind his back.
Neither the bitter wind nor the heavy snow could hold back the boiling blood in his veins.
With every step the boy took, his aura grew stronger.
Ma San sensed something and looked back. When he saw the boy approaching with the woodcutter's knife, he froze for a moment, then sneered. "You little runt, tired of living? You dare pull a knife on me in Xiliang City?"
The boy pressed his purplish lips together and walked forward, step by step.
He knew that Ma San had people backing him, which was why he had been able to tyrannize the people of Xiliang City for so long. But Ma San had taken Little Sister Linger. Whatever it took, he had to save her.
The two were only thirty feet apart when the boy suddenly quickened his pace and charged, swinging the knife at the burly man.
It was the very same motion he used to chop firewood.
He had practiced it over and over until it was second nature.
But this was the first time he had used it to chop a person.
Chen Changming moved quickly, but to Ma San, who knew a little about fighting, he seemed slow. A mocking smile appeared in Ma San's eyes. He kicked out in a flash, striking the boy in the chest.
Pfft!
The boy spat blood and slammed hard into the snow.
The stone paving beneath the snow was hard and cold, dealing him a second blow.
Though injured, he never let go of the woodcutter's knife.
Cough, cough...
Lying in the snow, Chen Changming stared blankly up at the snowflakes plunging through the leaden clouds. Fresh blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
I can't beat him...
The boy sighed inwardly. The wind and snow whipped around him, and the cold sank deeper into his bones.
He was too weak. In every way, this scoundrel crushed him.
"Haha!"
Ma San laughed wildly. "You little bastard, weren't you so brave? Why don't you come chop me now?"
"Brother Changming!"
Seeing the boy lying in a pool of blood, Linger's eyes blazed with fury. She struggled desperately, letting out a hysterical cry.
The sky grew darker and bleaker.
The bone-chilling wind raged even harder, sweeping countless snowflakes across the frozen world.
The street was deserted.
The girl's anguished cry reached Chen Changming's ears, and a final surge of strength rose within him. He actually used the knife to prop himself up and slowly got to his feet.
Ma San was stunned by the sight.
He hadn't expected the badly injured boy to stand up in weather this bitterly cold.
The boy panted heavily, took one labored step after another, and gripped the woodcutter's knife tightly. He stared at Ma San as tears streamed from his tiger-like eyes.
"Little Sister Linger, you were right. Life is too bitter. I don't want to come back in my next life either..."
The boy smiled bitterly. His eyes were bloodshot, and blood kept flowing from the corner of his mouth.
"Haha, you two pieces of trash should've been dead long ago!"
Ma San threw his head back and laughed. For some reason, hearing the boy say that put him in a particularly good mood.
The badly injured boy had only taken a few steps before collapsing.
"Am I going to die..."
The boy sighed. A sense of release suddenly welled up inside him. But when he saw Ma San's arrogant grin amid the snowflakes, he still raised his knife and slashed once in a wobbling, off-balance stance.
Buzz!
Just as the boy finished that slash, two streams of warmth surged from the soles of his feet and instantly coursed through his entire body. At the same time, a voice like a thunderclap boomed deep within his mind.
"Strike with a blade, ten thousand times!"