In the fields full of Lu Wei, everywhere were blood-stained weapons, some broken, some abandoned casually, just like their owners, born not knowing why and dead not knowing why.
"Child, what is your name?"
The old man with white hair held his hands and stood on the battlefield, his feet surrounded by pools of blood, yet his garment was immaculate, his shoes unstained with blood.
"Who are you?"
Only nine years old, yet forced onto the battlefield, he fought hard, but still lost.
His head struck, he fell into unconsciousness.
Perhaps it was luck; he was covered by the body of an enemy, and due to his small stature, he escaped a disaster.
Nevertheless, he was discovered, by the old man standing before him.
"I am a sword without a master."
He had heard such a phrase before: "Am I going to become a slave?"
"No."
The old man said, "I am looking for a student."
"Student?"
"You."
