When the appointed day arrived, Li Ping'an went to the smithy to collect his saber.
Old Mo tapped his pipe and took out the saber wrapped in rags on the counter.
Li Ping'an accepted it and unwrapped the cloth.
Just as he had imagined, the scabbard had become that bamboo walking stick.
And the saber lay hidden inside.
Li Ping'an took a deep breath, inexplicably nervous.
Holding the hilt, he slowly drew it out.
A glimmer of light seemed to appear in Li Ping'an's eyes, while a lively aura swirled and coiled around the blade.
He stretched out a finger and lightly flicked the blade.
Clang!!
A clear note rang out, cold light flashing in all directions.
Li Ping'an frowned slightly, thinking he had misheard.
He brushed his hand over the blade and felt a chill wash over him.
It was as though a layer of mist had veiled the edge, and the temperature abruptly dropped.
Li Ping'an asked in bewilderment, "How did the Fusang Wood turn into... a steel saber?"
No matter how good Old Mo's craftsmanship was, surely he could not have changed the very material of the Fusang Wood.
Without turning his head, Old Mo said, "Fusang takes countless forms, having no fixed shape, and can even divide itself into a hundred bodies.
"If what you envision is a saber, then a saber it becomes."
Li Ping'an nodded thoughtfully, marveling inwardly at its wonder.
Old Mo added, "With it, you'll be able to fight cultivators.
"Fusang can break all arts. To put it simply, suppose you're fighting a Qi Refining cultivator.
"If he breathes a mouthful of fire at you, could you handle it with an ordinary saber or sword?"
Li Ping'an shook his head.
Old Mo continued explaining, "But with the Fusang Saber, things are different.