New Ming Calendar, Year Ten.
There were only three days left before the grand opening of the Seventh National Workers and Peasants Games.
What had begun as a modest experiment in Year Three had, over the course of seven consecutive tournaments, grown into a nationwide spectacle. It was no longer just a gathering of athletes. It had become a symbol of pride, honor, and regional identity. Provinces treated it as seriously as a military campaign. Athletes trained with grim determination. Officials fretted over medal counts as if they were tallying battlefield victories.
Every delegation arrived with ambition burning in their hearts.
Except one.
The Shaanxi team stood at the train station, their mood heavy, their faces tight with anxiety.
An hour before departure, disaster had struck.
Their star marksman, the pride of Shaanxi, had been involved in a carriage accident on the way to the station. His life was not in danger, but his injuries were serious enough to confine him to bed for at least a month.
For a province that prided itself on its mastery of firearms, this was nothing short of catastrophic.
Governor Hong Chengchou paced back and forth like a trapped tiger, his hands clasped behind his back, his brows knitted into a deep frown.
"What do we do now?" he muttered. "Shooting is our strongest event. If we lose that gold medal, Shaanxi will lose face before the entire nation."
An official beside him hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"There is still one option."
Hong stopped pacing. "Speak."
"We invite the old master."
Hong blinked. "Old master?"
"The one and only. Bai Yuan of Bai Family Fort."
Hong inhaled sharply. The name alone carried weight. It was not merely reputation. It was legend.
"Yes, Bai Yuan," the official continued. "He is still the finest marksman Shaanxi has ever produced. If anyone can salvage this situation, it is him."
Hong frowned deeper.
"But he is already past sixty," he said slowly. "To ask a man of that age to compete in a national tournament. That is not just difficult. That borders on unreasonable."
The official gave a helpless smile.
"At this point, it is no longer a matter of reasonableness. It is a matter of necessity."
Hong closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded.
"Very well. Send someone immediately."
The team could not wait. They boarded the train and departed for the capital as scheduled. Meanwhile, a fast rider was dispatched toward Bai Family Fort with all haste.
Three days later, the capital city.
The stadium was packed to the brim. Flags fluttered. Drums thundered. Excitement filled the air like a rising tide.
"I hereby declare the Seventh National Workers and Peasants Games officially open!"
As the announcer's voice rang out, ribbons and colored streamers filled the sky.
And then, something even more astonishing happened.
High above the clouds, a golden light broke through. Within that light, a massive radiant hand appeared, and seated upon it was the long unseen Saintess, smiling gently as she gazed upon the crowd below.
Gasps rippled through the stadium.
"The Dao Xuan Tianzun is here."
"The Saintess too."
"It has been so long since they last revealed themselves."
"To compete under their gaze. This is the greatest honor."
The athletes grew even more fired up.
"I will win gold and dedicate it to the Dao Xuan Tianzun."
"Sichuan will take ten gold medals."
"Henan will take eleven."
"Shanxi will take twelve."
"Do you all think you can just outdo each other like that?"
Even the team leaders joined the shouting, their voices rising in a storm of competitive bravado.
Amid this chaos, the Shaanxi team leader stood silent.
His face was pale.
Bai Yuan had not arrived.
The opening ceremony ended. Events began one after another without delay.
Soon, it was time for the shooting competition.
The Shaanxi team leader clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"It is over," he whispered. "We have lost."
The shooting range buzzed with energy.
A Shanxi competitor stepped forward, raised his rifle, and fired.
Bang.
Nine rings.
Cheers erupted from the Shanxi supporters.
"Shanxi! Shanxi! Shanxi!"
Next came the Hebei competitor.
Bang.
Nine rings again.
"Hebei! Hebei! Hebei!"
The judge nodded, then called out, "Next. Shaanxi."
Silence.
The judge frowned. "Shaanxi? Where is your competitor?"
The Shaanxi team leader opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mind was blank.
Then suddenly, the crowd parted.
An old man in white robes walked calmly through the opening.
His hair was completely silver. His face was lined with age. Yet his posture was straight, his presence refined. When the wind brushed past him, his sleeves fluttered gently, giving him the air of a wandering immortal.
The judge blinked in disbelief.
"Master Bai?"
The surrounding athletes also recognized him instantly.
"It is Bai Yuan."
"He actually came."
The old man cupped his hands politely.
"Judge, I am the shooting representative for Shaanxi."
The judge stared at him.
"You?"
"Yes."
The judge struggled to respond.
"You are quite advanced in years."
Bai Yuan smiled faintly.
"The rules specify a minimum age, but they do not specify a maximum."
The judge was speechless.
The crowd murmured.
He was right.
There was no rule preventing a sixty year old from competing.
The Shaanxi supporters quickly seized the moment.
"He is qualified."
"He represents Shaanxi."
"Let him compete."
Under mounting pressure, the judge finally sighed and raised his hand.
"Very well. Bai Yuan is permitted to compete."
The Shaanxi crowd erupted in cheers.
"Master Bai! Master Bai!"
Bai Yuan bowed gracefully to all sides, his demeanor composed and dignified.
Then he reached into his robes and drew out his weapon.
It was an antique.
A relic from an earlier era.
The very first Xia Saibo breech loading rifle ever bestowed by the Dao Xuan Tianzun.
Though outdated compared to modern firearms, it carried immense symbolic value. The moment it appeared, many Shaanxi spectators found their eyes growing moist.
This was history.
This was pride.
Bai Yuan lifted the rifle slowly.
The entire range fell silent.
Bang.
The judge instinctively looked toward the ten ring.
Nothing.
No bullet hole.
A stunned pause followed.
Then someone shouted from the side.
"Hey. Who hit my target?"
All eyes turned.
On the Shanxi target, right at the center, was a perfect ten.
The crowd froze.
Bai Yuan lowered his rifle, peered into the distance, and scratched his head.
"Ah. My eyesight is not what it used to be. That was Shanxi's target, was it not?"
The silence deepened.
Then he sighed lightly.
"It seems the art of shooting must be crossed out from my list today."
The Shaanxi team leader nearly collapsed on the spot.
Just like that, their gold medal was gone.
Bai Yuan looked slightly embarrassed, unsure how to face his fellow provincials.
At that moment, a man came running into the range, breathless.
"Master Bai. There you are. The capital's calligraphy and painting exchange conference is about to begin. Everyone is waiting for you to strike the opening gong."
Bai Yuan's eyes lit up.
"Oh. That cannot be delayed."
He tucked the rifle away without another word and followed the man out, leaving behind a field of stunned athletes and a Shaanxi team that did not know whether to laugh or cry.
In the end, some legends never fade.
They simply change the stage on which they perform.