“Master Chen, you must try this,” Old Wang’s weathered hands trembled as he presented a peculiar metal cylinder. “It’s said to grant immortality.”
The dying martial arts master lay on his deathbed, his once-mighty frame now frail beneath silk sheets. His apprentice, Young Liu, watched from the shadows of the candlelit chamber, his heart heavy with dread.
“What manner of elixir is this?” Master Chen’s voice was barely a whisper.
“A mystical device from the West.” Old Wang’s eyes gleamed with desperate hope. “They call it a ‘fire extinguisher’.”
Young Liu stepped forward. “Master, please—”
“Silence!” Old Wang snapped. “The ancient texts speak of a foreign artifact that appears in times of great need. This must be it.”
Master Chen’s fingers traced the cylinder’s cold surface. “It feels… wrong.”
The chamber grew colder. Shadows danced on the walls like malevolent spirits. Young Liu felt it too – a presence, ancient and hungry, stirring within the metal container.
“The instructions say to pull this pin and—” Old Wang demonstrated.
White foam erupted from the nozzle, filling the air with an acrid taste. Master Chen’s eyes widened as the substance touched his lips. The room fell silent, save for the hissing of the escaping chemicals.
“This… this is…” Master Chen’s face contorted.
Young Liu rushed to his master’s side. “Teacher!”
“Bitter…” Master Chen whispered. “Like ten thousand years of darkness…”
Old Wang backed away, horror dawning on his face. “But the merchant said…”
The shadows in the room began to move independently, stretching toward the ceiling. Master Chen’s body started to glow with an otherworldly light, his skin becoming translucent.
“Liu,” Master Chen grabbed his apprentice’s hand. “Some forms of immortality… are worse than death.”
The master’s final words hung in the air as his body dissolved into shimmering particles, drawn into the fire extinguisher like smoke in reverse. Old Wang dropped the cylinder and fled, his screams echoing through the temple halls.
Young Liu remained, staring at the now-quiet fire extinguisher. In the silence, he could have sworn he heard his master’s voice, not from the empty bed, but from within the metal prison:
“Sometimes, my student, salvation has the most bitter taste of all.”
Years later, visitors to the abandoned temple would report strange sightings: a young man practicing martial arts in the courtyard, moving like wind between shadows. And in the master’s chamber, a fire extinguisher that never gathered dust, its surface cool to the touch even on the hottest summer days.
Some say that on quiet nights, when the moon is full, the sound of a lesson can be heard – a master teaching his final student the ultimate technique of letting go.