Some hundred miles east of Mount Kunlun Sect the White Snake Village stood on the bank of a river. Near the end of autumn, the village saw frequent travel by farmers looking to sell off their harvest before the cold tendrils of winter took hold of the region.

In a tavern called the Drunk Immortals, people gathered around a farmer from the west and listened to him recount the news of the past couple weeks.

“I was travelling through the Mount Kunlun area a week ago and saw an army marching through the area. Smoke filled the horizon and mixed with a storm of dust left in the air by the soldiers. My horse was so frightened at the sight of it all that he damn near threw me off his back. Neither of us had ever seen imperial soldiers before. I tell you, something big must be going on for them to be this far west.”

The villagers exchanged worried glances as the farmer drank a fragrant rice wine straight out of a gallon jug. A young man wearing tattered clothes stumbled through the crowd and slammed his hand down on the table. Bang!

“There have even been imperial soldiers patrolling this village for the past few days! I believe they’re looking for anyone who has information related to what you just spoke of.” While speaking, the young man wrapped his arm around the farmer and peered deep into his eyes. “What else do you know? I’ve heard that people in the area have been disappearing, even winding up dead.”

The farmer jumped out of his chair, visibly rattled. Anxiously looking around, he did not notice the young man slipping his left hand down into his pockets.

“Well, I’m sure you don’t have anything to worry about,” the young man continued,” you’re just a farmer after all, and are not involved in the matter. If any of the soldiers ask me, I’ll tell them you merely passed by.”

The young man began to stumble back through the crowd and head for the door, but he had scared his target a little too much, as the farmer now wanted to pay his tab and leave the village as soon as possible.

He noticed that his coin pouch was missing, and immediately ran outside and yelled after the young man.

“You scoundrel! He stole my money!”

A nearby group of imperial soldiers heard the commotion and saw the young man running down the street, knocking people over as he ran. They began to chase after him, and the young man jumped onto the roof of a building with lightness Kungfu. One of the soldiers took a knife from out of his pouch and flung it towards the man in a move known across China as Hungry Ghost Chases Its Prey.

A streak of inky black shot through the air and struck the fleeing man in the back. He gasped and stumbled on the rooftop, and a cold chill began to spread through his body. The knife was coated with a deadly poison which slowly paralyzed its victim before shutting down their nervous system. It was often used by martial artists from the east who specialized in hunting down wanted men.

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He regained his composure, yanked the knife out of his back, and continued to jump between the rooftops. His vision became blurry as he ran, but a lifetime of being chased and running through rough terrain had given him the stamina necessary to fight the poison, at least for a few minutes.

After what felt like an eternity, he found himself out of buildings to jump between and hopped down onto the ground. The soldiers had been left far behind him, unable to keep up with his pace as they ran through crowds of people and a maze of buildings.

Now about a half mile outside the village, he gasped for breath and fell onto the ground. The trees surrounding him became a blurred mess as his vision worsened. He knew that the soldiers would catch up to him soon, but he struggled to move his body as the poison began to take hold of him. This was not the first time he had to outrun the law, as thievery was a regular part of his life, but he had never come across a soldier who was skilled with throwing knives.

He laughed as he coughed up blood. This was how he was going to die, as a dog on the road who failed to pickpocket a simple farmer. The humorous nature of it was tinged with sadness as the young man began to think of all the things he would never have a chance to do. As a poor vagrant whose family had died when he was a mere six years old, he had scarcely had the opportunity to enjoy the pleasurable aspects of life. The notion of love and having a caring family to grow old with was entirely foreign to him.

A man entered his vision and began to prod him with the sheathe of his sword.

“Are you alright, sir?”

“I’m very clearly not alright.” Cough. His limbs began to convulse as the poison continued to spread. “At least let me know the name of the last person I see before I die.”

“My name is Lakhuto, and you?”

The two heard a group of heavy footsteps just out of sight. This stranger who had just appeared felt like a gift from the heavens. Perhaps there was a way for him to live for at least one more day before the poison claimed his life, the young man thought. He would, at the very least, deny the soldiers the satisfaction of knowing that he was dead.

“Alright, Lakhuto. My name is Wei Zhen. Unless you help me now, I will be dead in a few minutes. You will earn my eternal gratitude if you mislead the soldiers running toward us. Now help me up.”

Lakhuto helped Wei Zhen off the ground and held the man steady as he regained some of his composure. Using the last of his strength, Wei Zhen jumped into a nearby tree and hid. Lakhuto had not lied a single time in his entire life, but he felt that he would not be able to face his Grandmaster in the afterlife if he refused to help a stranger. Taoists were supposed to offer help to anyone who needed it, regardless of whether they were good or bad.

“Oh and throw me your sword. Quickly!”

Lakhuto threw his sword up towards the tree and a hand shot out and grabbed it, pulling it into the thickly covered branches. The soldiers now ran into sight and questioned Lakhuto.

“We’ve been chasing a criminal and know that he just passed this way. Have you seen anything? It would have been a wounded young man with green eyes and ripped brown clothes.”

Lakhuto paused for a moment before responding, thinking about which story would be the most believable.

“Yes, I saw a man that fits that description a few minutes ago. He went across the river and continued running east. He appeared to be very hurt, so I don’t imagine he will get very far.”

The soldiers thanked him for his honesty and ran in the direction he had pointed out. After a few minutes had passed, Wei Zhen fell out of the tree and gasped, asking Lakhuto to take him to a doctor before passing out.