You already know what I'm going to decide, don't you?
"I wouldn't be much of an Elder if I didn't..." There was a moment of silence as Young and Old regarded each other.
"But if you already know, why give me a choice?"
"You're not here to make the choice. You've already made it. You're here to understand why you made it." The Elder smiled, eyes gleaming. The young man muttered to himself, sheepishly, as if suddenly exposed. "So... may I pick the red one? I think it suits me."
He felt his consciousness drift up from his body like a feather caught in the wind. The mortal wound in his side faded into the distance, as did the sense of pain and all the other emotions he had been feeling up until then—rage, sadness, joy—everything faded into a dull fog. One of the last things he wondered was what would happen to his family and his wife after he was gone...
There he was in a vast and emotionless sea when two hands suddenly yanked him back to gravity. There was a strong, spicy sensation... what was it? Liquid being poured down his mouth! He began to feel legs. Arms. Sensation. A sense of control.
His hearing returned shortly after. He was surprised by how clearly he could hear a man yelling, "Hurry, Long Fei, come quick! He's alive! He really is alive!"
A peculiarly dressed outlander arrived at the bustling marketplace. His long, black hair was tied up, and he wore a neat training outfit, complete with a bronze beast-shaped belt and a crimson gourd hanging at his waist. His steps appeared unsteady, yet each was a subtle maneuver to dodge the vendors' flying sweat and greasy hands.
The man curiously observed everything around him, strolling and pausing along the way. Eventually, he walked out of the city with the same swaying gait. "So, you've been trailing me all this time. Quite the patient one, aren't you?" he remarked all of a sudden.
"You don't belong here, and you aren't one of the rebels either. Who are you?" A gray-haired man carrying double swords on his back stepped out of the shadows and replied.
"My name's Long Fei. My master and I left the mountains to gain some worldly experience, but we got separated. This town's far better than the last few places I've been. Maybe I should stay here and wait for my master to find his way here." With that, Long Fei took the gourd from his waist and twisted the cap, only to find it wouldn't open. He muttered, "Guess it's still not time yet..."
"Thinking of staying? You need to prove yourself first." A fierce clash erupts between the double swords and the gourd.
"Young man, are you saying your father is here too?"
"It's my master."
"A red-nosed old man who walks all wobbly... Ah! Your master must be Marlin!"
" Marlin? I don't know him. And let me correct you—the so-called "wobbly" steps are actually a basic footwork technique of our sect, called " Above And Beyond."
"Alright, alright. I didn't understand a word you just said. So, if I manage to find your master, will you let me have a sip of that fine wine in your gourd?"
After hesitating for a moment, Long Fei finally replied to the %<1> Stonemason, "This gourd is a treasure. My master said it can only be opened when the time is right."
