We Are Guilty, We are Not Guilty.

"Wang Xiaoer! A basin of hot water, a basin of cold water, hurry!"

"Are there still any bandages left? Bring them here quickly!"

"Where's the Huo Zhi San powder!? Didn't you take it to have a look last time?"

Life and death were in his hands.

Zhang San had studied medicine for many years, but every time he used it, every time it was for himself. Except for that night, although this was the second time he had saved someone, it was the first time he treated such serious injuries. He was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan.

That night, who knows how much time had passed.

In the secret room, Zhang San removed the arrows and finished the final bandaging on Xiu Wangchou's chest wounds.

Wang Xiaoer was not there because Master had said more cold water was needed, so he went out to draw some.

Xiu Wangchou lay quietly on the makeshift "bed" made up of tables joined together in the secret room, still unconscious.

...

...

Midnight, a light rain falling outside.

In the secret room, Zhang San's hands were covered in blood. He slowly slid down against the wall of the secret room, his expression clearly haggard. It was evident that treating the wounds had taken a lot out of him.

Wang Xiaoer struggled to carry a bucket of cold water down the stairs back to the secret room.

"Master..." Wang Xiaoer looked at his master sitting exhausted on the ground and froze for a moment.

Zhang San looked at Wang Xiaoer, and Wang Xiaoer looked back at Zhang San.

Wang Xiaoer finally turned his gaze to Xiu Wangchou, gingerly asking, "Master, will the warrior...?"

"There's no saving him," Zhang San said coldly, seemingly devoid of emotion.

Wang Xiaoer's eyes instantly grew damp.

The bucket of cold water spilled onto the floor, beyond recall.

Wang Xiaoer collapsed to the ground. Zhang San silently gazed at Xiu Wangchou lying on the table.

What else could be done?

Everything that could be done had been done, every medicine that could be used had been used to the fullest.

But what else could be done?

Such was the way of Jianghu.

Zhang San seemed much stronger and more indifferent than Wang Xiaoer, perhaps because he had seen countless lives and deaths over twenty years and had long since developed a heart of iron and stone.

Zhang San took out some incense from a box, lit it in the corner. Oddly, as soon as the incense was lit, a strange fragrance immediately permeated the secret room.

Zhang San then walked over to Xiu Wangchou and took out a blood-red pill.

"Master..." the still teary-eyed Wang Xiaoer asked what Zhang San was trying to do.

Holding the pill, Zhang San said, "The aromatic incense combined with this pill and my previous treatment along with his inner energy, it can bring about a brief revival. He should be able to live for the duration of one stick of incense. Let's see if he has any... last words."

Propping Xiu Wangchou up to sit on the edge of the table and feeding him the pill, Zhang San leaned him against the wall in a half-reclining position on the table.

Zhang San then returned to his original spot, sitting on the damp floor, quietly waiting for Xiu Wangchou to regain consciousness.

...

The eyelids felt so heavy.

But instinctively, there was still the urge to open one's eyes to see what kind of scene lay before them.

It turned out to be a scholar in tattered robes and a little boy in black.

So it was them...

Noticing Xiu Wangchou regaining consciousness, Zhang San directly said, "You have one stick of incense worth of time left."

Sensing the intense pain in his body, Xiu Wangchou quickly understood the circumstances, yet he remained very calm as he replied to Zhang San, "Thank you."

"..."

"The man in white who saved me was you, correct?"

"Yes, it was me."

"Who would have thought your lightness skill was so high. Your martial skills must be outstanding as well, and such medical expertise too."

Looking at Xiu Wangchou with his chest wrapped in bandages, Zhang San said ashamedly, "You praise me too much."

With an air of tranquility, Xiu Wangchou said, "That blade has severed my heart vein. Brother Zhang need not blame yourself. Even if the best doctor alive came, I would undoubtedly die today. It's just a pity... in twenty years ultimately I still fell short, still it is I who was incompetent in the end."

Zhang San was silent for a while. Xiu Wangchou also did not speak.

After all, the two had not known each other for very long. Where would so many words come from?

The oppressive atmosphere made it feel as though a long time had already passed.

Xiu Wangchou spoke, "Oh right, is that grass ring still there?"

Zhang San was startled for a moment, then took it out from his sleeve, "Here it is."

"What a shame, I cannot repay your kindness anymore. As for the grass ring, brother, you may as well discard it."

Seeing the man who was not far from death, Zhang San could not bear to deceive him further.

Zhang San said, "I cannot discard it, how could I?"

"Why not?" Xiu Wangchou asked in puzzlement.

"This... this is also something from my hometown," Zhang San replied.

At this moment, Xiu Wangchou's eyes widened, seemingly in disbelief.

Zhang San slowly lowered his head, softly saying, "Sifang Village, north corner of the village, there was a family surnamed Lin. Their family made the best grass rings out of all the surrounding villages. For us poorer families who could not afford longevity locks when a child was born, the parents would go to the Lins, to ask Uncle Lin to make a grass ring..."

Tears fell.

Xiu Wangchou's expression was tranquil, yet ceaseless tears flowed from his eyes.

Xiu Wangchou tremulously asked, "How old were you that year?"

"I was eight years old," Zhang San answered.

Xiu Wangchou raised his head and then gently wept...

While Zhang San kept his head lowered, his appearance unseen.

Listening to the two men's conversation, Wang Xiaoer had finally stopped crying, but tears were once again welling up in his eyes.

Time slowly trickled by.

Regaining his composure, Xiu Wangchou looked at Zhang San.

Yet Zhang San kept his head lowered the entire time.

Xiu Wangchou said, "In fact, I am not a hero."

Upon hearing this, both Zhang San and Wang Xiaoer raised their heads to look at him.

You're not?

Then who is?

"I cannot even pass for a young hero. I'm merely a... coward," Xiu Wangchou added.

Wang Xiaoer seemed as if he wanted to say something but was interrupted by Xiu Wangchou's next words.

Xiu Wangchou went on, "That year, I was twelve. I saw that child hide in the haystack. In order to escape, I took off my shoes and left them in front of that haystack..."

He recounted the events of that year, the nightmare that had persisted for twenty years.

To do so, Xiu Wangchou had mustered all the courage he had.

Actually back then after Xiu Wangchou had fled from the village, he had turned back to look. He saw that the hunter had indeed been fooled by the lone shoe, going to that haystack to drive out the child.

And after that, Xiu Wangchou knew nothing further. He only knew what he had done and how despicable he had been.

Therefore these twenty years, Xiu Wangchou neglected food and sleep for single-minded cultivation of martial arts. Not a single day had he leisure time to enjoy.

Even after cultivating his martial skills to the upper levels, he continued posing as an impoverished wandering knight who possibly could not even afford twenty coins.

His boots and clothes were washed and mended countless times.

Xiu Wangchou couldn't even recall the last time he slept in a bed.

All he knew was that whenever someone else was in trouble, no matter who the opponent was, he had to draw his sword to intercede.

He knew only in doing so could he gain a brief moment of peace in his heart.

Yes.

Pursuing knighthood was merely to attain tranquility in his heart, not because of any grand missions of saving the common people and eliminating evil.

He merely sought to redeem himself through these acts.