Wu Chou met the scholar for the second time at the tavern in the small town. The once polite and shy young man now had disheveled hair and a dirty face. His long robe had turned to a dirty brown. He sat at the entrance of the tavern, begging for leftover food from the serving boy.
Both of his legs had been broken and he could only crawl with his elbows. More tragically, the hand that had once held a brush, carrying half of his life's aspirations, had been twisted into a pretzel shape.
Upon recognizing Wu Chou, his vacant face finally showed an expression. Tears streamed down his face while his mouth widened into a silent, anguished wail.
Wu Chou inquired about what had taken place. Before finishing his drink, he left his cup, drew his sword, and walked out of the tavern.
In less than an hour, he had brought back four severed heads, belonging to the ruffian soldiers who had kidnapped the scholar and broken his hands and legs.
