Fang Baishi's gaze drifted to the leaping campfire, his eyes filling with remembrance:
"Actually, I met that old man when I was very young. He appeared out of nowhere before the broken door of my home."
"He was filthy all over, his hair a complete mess. At a glance, he looked like an old beggar—pitiful to behold. Every day, he curled up in the corner by the wall, half-asleep. His mind seemed rather abnormal, his eyes vacant, always staring blankly into space."
"At first, I ignored him. I thought he would leave on his own after a few days."
"But several days passed, and he still slept outside my door without eating or drinking. I was afraid he would starve to death, so... I gave him a little steamed bread and some water every day."
"The old man did not refuse. He simply took them and ate. Some time passed like that, then one day, he vanished into thin air."
"I did not think much of it then. I only assumed he had failed to beg for food and left on his own."
Fang Baishi gave a soft laugh, his tone tinged with faint melancholy. "My family was not well-off either. From childhood until then, it had always been just my mother and me, relying on each other to survive."
"I had always wanted to learn martial arts, because life for a widowed mother and her orphaned son was truly hard. Everyone wanted to push us around. I always thought that once I learned martial arts, no one would ever bully us again, and I would surely let my mother live a good life."
"Only, before I had the chance to grow up, my mother suddenly fell ill."
"I begged everywhere and exhausted myself trying to earn money for a